Fused harmony

10.

A young man walks into a building with his face hidden from view before he starts moving backward, faster, faster and faster.

Until the young man is a teen, then a child.

The picture is rough and grainy, almost as if the film of an old camera had been damaged with time. The barely recognizable features of the boy, as he plays his first guitar, slams his first chords into a keyboard. The joy on his mother's face, his father's distorted, inhuman features.

It jumps as if half of the story was lost, the boy now a little older, running in a park with a football at his feet. Dribbling through cones, passing to other kids, and looking at the, even more hideous face of his father, which was practically just black lines by this point. The image flips, the panic of the boy as he looks around frantically, a hole burnt into where his dad was stood.

The film skips again, this time, the boy is a teen, much larger than when he was a boy. He's seen fighting. Throwing his weight around at the request of others. Before lines are drawn around him, looking like the wool of a sheep. It jumps again, the now teen getting his ass beat down an alley way.

It shows him limping home in the rain, his face still hidden,  barely visible as if he were hiding in plain sight. But the familiar red dripping down his lips makes his state clear.

It shows the struggles of his mum, everything she sacrificed over the course of a few years, her time. Her money. Her attention.

Jumping in and out of the now teen, keeping his head down, unable to speak, unable to listen, constantly hiding with his hands over his ears and his mother busting her ass before crying as the rest of the house sleeps.

It jumps to the airport, the scene where the boy says goodbye to his brother.

"The best thing I can do is run from the person I thought I should be... But I don't even know myself so that kinda tricky."

It Jumps again, as time passed, the image got clearer and clearer, the sounds less and less distorted. It shows him in a familiar room playing a ukulele. It shows him talking to a man. It shows him performing in the audition stage. It shows him moving into his dorm. The excitement he had jumping from room to room, more child like than when he was an actual child, opening his house warming gifts.

It cuts to the scene of (y/n) on the railway tracks holding his ukulele up as he tries to balance, his back turned and his hood up..

"It's like I'm walking on a tightrope. One wrong move and... it's all coming down."

It jumps to the warehouse, the sunset casting his shadow.

"I used to do stuff like this all the time back home... makes it feel a little less far away."

The music cuts.

"I'm 18 years old from Manchester, England."

The video shows a clip of (y/n) running down the halls of the Hybe building with Rachel chasing him

"My name is (y/n)(y/l/n), and this is my new home."

The last part of the video is (y/n) pushing the camera away playfully.

(y/n) stares at his computer screen, the youtube upload on his company monitored account pulled open with another tab for his instagram. The link to the video had been posted on some of the other Hybe groups instagram stories, as well as a shorter clip of the video being posted on reels, shorts and tiktok.

"This is actually happening. Damn,"

He sat there staring blankly at the screen.

"Damn? That's it are you fucking kidding?!"

Rachel sounded pissed, and his mum just laughed behind him. He was happy, excited but so damn shocked, it was really happening.

"Oh please, he's screaming inside I can see his lips quivering"

Claire, his mother, wasn't wrong. Even though for once he wished she was wrong. He was internally dying.

His first instinct was to facetime his brother. Who might I add picked up immediately.

(y/n): MAX SEARCH MY NAME ON YOUTUBE

He watched as his brothers face widened

Max's dad from the background: You've been gone for a week and a half how has this even happened

(y/n): MUM IS THE GOAT THATS HOW. Also this is my place, let me give you a tour.

(y/n) took his time showing his little brother his new apartment.

Max: That bed looks bouncy when can I come visit?

(y/n): Maybe on the summer holidays? You'd have to ask mum mate.

After a little more catching up, the boys end the call

"We have a month till the album is released so I have a lot less time in the studio right now. Just training and Korean classes." 

(y/n) sighs knowing there is a small weight lifted, much less pressure on his shoulders than prior. His mum was proud, she knew that bringing him here was going to be hit or miss, but she didn't think it would hit so fucking hard. He was training under an amazing and innovative company in something he has loved his entire life, whilst documenting the entire process. She could watch him flower out of his shell on repeat for the rest of her life.

She gave him a tight squeeze around the shoulders as he sat in his chair, and then Mr Seong arrived.

"You rat you recorded me without me knowing"

(y/n) said sarcastically

"Was cool though, think it made a nice touch."

Mr Seong gave some snark back as their fists made contact, something (y/n) had taught the older man a few days prior.

They all huddled around and watched the video again. Pointing out the bits they liked and things they would change looking at it now.

"Seriously, thank you all. It wouldn't have been possible without any of you. Not this fast anyway."

(y/n) joked, he was grateful, he just had to thank Mr Park, who was away in America for a meeting of some sort.

"Oh, (y/n) tomorrow, wear something easy to change out of, you're meeting a stylist and then meeting some... colleagues. Look your best and make sure to shower."

Mr Seong, clearly spending too much time around (y/n) and Rachel teased.

"Yea stinky. Shower for once."

Rachel backed the man up.

"I shower more than you, the fuck you mean?"

(y/n) snorted out between laughs.

He wasn't even remotely prepared for his day tomorrow. He was still riding his high.


(Who's it gonna beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee)