A/N: This chapter is almost entirely a flashback and a character study. I wanted to write a little bit about them before the story started. Everything in italics is a flashback, btw.

- - -

ksy 

He walked into the room, guitar slung over his shoulder. He looked around for a moment, unsure if he was actually in the right place: his housemate had looked pretty convinced when he’d told him where to go, but he had a feeling he wasn’t very reliable when it came to directions.
 
He stood there for a couple of seconds, until he grew tired of staring at his own reflection, which stared back from every angle of the room, which, other than that, was completely empty.
 

He’d almost stepped back into the hallway to try and find the place he’d actually been supposed to go all along, when he noticed something that had completely slipped his attention out of the corner of his eye.
 
There was someone, sitting in the middle of the room, seemingly analysing a bunch of sheets of paper with incomprehensible gibberish scribbled on it. The other person probably hadn’t seen him either, because they were still focused on what they’d been doing.
 
Seungyoon asked himself how he’d completely missed their presence, at first, but maybe it had to do with the fact that he was lost. And he felt like he couldn’t allow himself that mistake. People probably had some expectations on him already, considering that he was already famous; which was nice and all, but it was something he didn’t really like.
 
He just wanted everyone to see him for just what he was: a trainee like the rest of them; and he would keep being one until he was happy enough with how he’d improved. Or until president Yang decided he’d become good enough to be in that company, he guessed.
 
Snapping out of his thoughts, he realised that he probably had to say something, because he didn’t exactly want to come out as rude, especially considering he’d just gotten there and—well, he didn’t want the people he would have to spend more time than he imagined with to think that fame had gotten to his head or something.
 
“Hello?” he called out, his voice steady but slightly more confused than he’d intended it to be; he just—didn’t really want to bother them, that was all. They were probably doing something important, whatever it was.
 
The other immediately turned around, as hearing a foreign voice had probably distracted them from their work. It was a boy, probably a couple of years younger than he was, wearing a crooked beanie that covered one of his ears. He didn’t have anything out of the ordinary, he just looked like a normal trainee, like many others were.
 
But there was one thing that struck Seungyoon, one detail that made him think that he was there to stay: his eyes. He didn’t even think he’d ever seen such determination in the eyes of someone so young. For a second, he found himself thinking that he envied him, and wondering if he’d been like that, once. He knew he wasn’t anymore; everything that had happened in the past year of his life had made him realise how bittersweet things could be, and how difficult it truly was to become famous.
 
Once he’d only been a boy who didn’t think he needed anyone or anything, who thought he would magically become the next big thing only with his willpower. And then everything had come crashing down on him, as something he’d never thought would get him anywhere had thrown him into a world he’d never known and maybe had never wanted to be part of.
 
He had changed, he thought. Everyone had expected to take the easy route and immediately become a superstar, but he’d realised that it wasn’t what he wanted, because it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. He wasn’t good enough and he didn’t see why he would lie to himself and say that he’d reached his full potential, he was the best he could be, when he was barely anything. He’d had confidence, once. Now he just thought he wanted to have something.
 
But that boy—that boy was different. He was sure he wasn’t going to let anyone tear him down, tear him away from his dream and he wasn’t going to be swept away by difficulties or simple harsh words. For a second, he found himself hoping that nothing would. That he would keep being like that, so young and innocent and yet so though, like he was ready to take on the world. Like he was screaming to the world that the fire in his eyes burned brighter than anything they could throw his way.
 
There was still something that reminded Seungyoon of himself, in him, and he didn’t know what to think; in everything else, he seemed so different it was almost chilling. He’d always thought nothing of that stupid survival he’d joined, but the boy seemed to already think he was someone, seemed to already have everything he wanted clear in his mind, and it was strange.
 
He focused his attention back on him and stared as he got up from the floor and walked right to him, giving him his hand. Seungyoon lowered his eyes to look at the extended hand, asking himself why he was being so formal, since they were both really young, but taking it anyway after a few seconds, observing his face, studying him, somehow, wondering if he was going to become a friend or, he didn’t know, a threat.
 
“Hey, nice to meet you. Are you a new trainee, too? I’m Kim Hanbin, but you can call me B.I. That’s what everyone calls me here,” the boy smiled sideways, and his gaze softened slightly, much to his surprise. Up close, he could understand that he was fundamentally kind, but he was probably just so focused on his goal that he wanted to make it clear that no one could distract him from reaching it.
 
He found peculiar that he’d already found himself a stage name when, in fact, he’d just gotten accepted into the company, it seemed, but he didn’t question him about it. Maybe he would find out, he told himself, if they both stuck by long enough and didn’t get kicked out after the first monthly evaluation.
 
A soft, unwanted exclamation left his lips before he could introduce himself as well, but the other didn’t seem to notice it.
 
“Oh. I’m Kang Seungyoon. It’s nice to meet you, too,” he reciprocated the smile, unsure what to say next, and proceeded to study Hanbin’s face for a moment longer. He had to admit that the boy intrigued him, and he couldn’t help but wonder what was going to be of the fire in his eyes, again.
 
He didn’t know why, but he just knew that flame was going to blaze brighter and he was going to become someone people could fear. It was just a feeling he had, but maybe it still had to do with the fact that he reminded him of himself, even though he knew that he was different; maybe it was exactly that difference that made him think that.
 
He then realised he was still holding his hand and dropped it like it had stung him, without even knowing why he was reacting that way. Maybe it was simply because he’d been holding for too long onto something he was supposed to let go.
 
“Well, I guess I’ll see you around,” Hanbin said, taking a step back, seemingly determined to go back to the work he’d left to talk to him; he felt like he was intruding and needed to leave, quick.
 
“I suppose you will,” he answered and stepped back into the hallway, after awkwardly waving at the younger boy, without even knowing if he’d seen him.

He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t shake away that feeling of uneasiness that had taken hold of him. Not that he actually believed in such things, but he had a bad feeling about this, like he somehow felt that something was going to happen involving the two of them, but he couldn’t say what, and knew that it was dumb to think that. Of course, he’d been right, back then, he just didn’t know that it would take more than two years for everything to start crumbling to pieces.

- - -

WIN. When he looked back at the past one hundred days, they didn’t seem real, not even in that moment, the moment that could be the beginning or the end. He could remember every single detail of it, every single painful detail, every single painful second of that endless nightmare, that endless chase that could lead nowhere. And he felt like it was something he would carry with him his entire life, no matter what the result was going to be. He didn’t think he wanted to know. He did, of course, but another part of him was scared.
 
He didn’t want to lose anyone; he didn’t want to lose s, but he would’ve hated to have to watch the other group leave. He didn’t want to know. He wished he could stay stuck in those seconds, those seconds that felt like the last of his life. They already felt like they stretched out impossibly longer than they were supposed to be, and he hated it.
 
He hated all of it. He hated the sufferance they’d all had to go through, he hated it. He hated it, and yet, he knew that, no matter what happened, he didn’t have any regrets. And he knew everyone felt the same way. They’d put all of themselves in it, and it was okay. Or so he hoped.
 
He knew that there would be no resentment between the two opposite teams, because they were brothers, and, for how much they’d tried to divide them, it could never change, and they refused to let it change.
 
And there they were, standing on that stage, in front of the eyes of millions of people, of their parents, their hearts pounding in their chest louder than the screams of the crowd. He knew he was supposed to be nervous, and he knew his hands were shaking, but he only felt strangely numb.
 
It wasn’t the first time he found himself in a similar situation, but everything was so different he didn’t even truly know what he was supposed to feel. Maybe it was just because he knew how much their lives would change once the winner was announced.
 
Yet, he’d tried everything he could and was extremely proud of s for how much they’d changed and improved and, for once, he was proud of himself, too, and felt that he couldn’t have done more. Maybe that initial mind-set would change, once the result was released, but he wanted to live those few moments thinking that it wouldn’t.
 
He’d never once thought he would become a leader and he knew that role was given to him because of unfortunate circumstances and somehow felt like he’d robbed Minho of something that was rightfully his, but he hadn’t had much time to think about it, he’d just told himself that he was a leader and so he needed to be a leader, he couldn’t complain and he couldn’t falter.
 
He wasn’t like Hanbin, who’d been born for that position, as he should’ve guessed the first time he’d met him, who had carried his five members for all that time, without crumbling, without losing the strength of the fire in his eyes, but he’d tried his best and he hoped it was enough, because he didn’t want to let his groupmates down. Perhaps he hadn’t been born to be a leader, but he was one; he just didn’t know for how long he would still be.
 
Without even realising they were moving, him and Hanbin reached for each other’s hand, meeting in the middle, in that line that should’ve divided Team A from Team B; they looked at each other briefly, and the younger nodded softly, before turning towards his group.
 
They both knew what that action meant, what the viewers would think when they noticed that; the leaders of two rival teams holding hands only meant that they hadn’t succeeded in dividing them, even though they’d been supposed to despise each other, they still respected and valued each other like brothers. After everything, they’d never been rivals at all, they’d only had to think more about themselves than others, following the dream they couldn’t and wouldn’t let go of.
 
They weren’t broken, they were still standing and nothing would crush them, ever; they’d survived that program, they would survive everything. Even failure. They would only try harder to reach their star.
 
Tonight, we’re flying and we will go up, up, up, up.
           
“The winner is—Team A!” and suddenly he found himself turning around, trying so hard not to cry, knowing that everyone else around him was, knowing that they were reaching for each other and breaking down without caring who might see them.
 
He didn’t even know what to think anymore, he couldn’t even think. He just knew that he hadn’t expected to win and that some part of him wanted to scream that it wasn’t right, that there shouldn’t have been a choice, because he didn’t want to see anyone go to waste, because it wasn’t fair, after everything they had all done. He didn’t know anything, everything after that was blurry, and he didn’t know if it was because there were tears in his eyes.
 
He only knew that when they shoved a microphone in his face he muttered out a thank you and that he thought that Team B’s performance had been better that night, and to keep supporting them.
 
His gaze caught Hanbin in the sea of people that had started to flood the stage and he noticed that everything he’d seen in his eyes for all that time was gone, swallowed into the darkness, and that he didn’t seem to care if s were seeing him like that, almost to the point of being swept away.
 
After a few seconds that stretched out impossibly longer, as time still seemed to have troubles flowing correctly, he moved without even thinking, trying to dry the tears that had fallen on his cheeks, without even caring if they’d just given Hanbin a microphone to ask him some pointless question, when they should’ve left him alone.
 
He crossed the stage, the distance between them, and wrapped one of his arms around his waist, pressing his face against the back of his neck. He didn’t care what the people watching thought of him, he didn’t care if they thought he was doing this for show, because he knew he meant it. He didn’t know what he meant, but he meant it.
 
They swayed forward, lightly, as Hanbin kept talking, as if nothing had happened, and he could feel his heart beating painfully fast and his voice reverberating through his body. Then, the younger placed his hand on his arm, squeezing lightly, almost imperceptibly, but he knew he was trying to tell him that he understood. He understood everything he wasn’t telling him and maybe even more.
 
For a second he felt like nothing could break them apart. And he knew he didn’t want to have to watch that boy leave. He hoped president Yang was going to give his team another chance, because he would’ve hated for them to be forced to abandon their dream because of them.
 
He pulled away, walked back to s, thinking that no, he somehow was confident that it wasn’t the last of them, differently to what they’d all been told. Kim Hanbin wasn’t someone who would ever give up and he was going to keep fighting, carrying s along the way. He was sure of it.

When he turned around he saw his group (Winner) holding out their arms to him, asking him to join their hug, and he smiled at them, seeing the tears glistening into their eyes, reaching them in a couple of steps. He was grateful to have them in his life, and promised himself that he would always protect them and lead them towards their debut and after that with everything that he could, because they deserved it. He hadn’t asked to be a leader, but it was okay as long as he had them. Everything was going to be fine.

- - -

'Sometimes I’m sorry that we won. Because you worked so hard and you were so close to the sky and we somehow stole everything from you. And for that reason, I’m glad that the fire in your eyes isn’t gone; I was right, it was only dimmed, not burnt out. But now I’m afraid you’re going to kill yourself just because you don’t want to let anyone down. I didn’t realise the first time I met you how dangerous your determination could be.'
 
He didn’t say anything, of course, but he seriously thought about it, and believed every single syllable. It wasn’t any of his business, to be sincere, but he was scared to see what would happen to him if he continued working that much.
 
People talked a lot around the hallways of the company, and he’d heard himself many trainees saying that B.I never left the training room and that they wanted to be like him, to never give up and give everything to try and reach their dream, because if would’ve been an insult to him if they didn’t.
 
Not that he could exactly disagree with them, but he was also very aware of what could happen to someone that didn’t take care of themselves, because he’d felt it on his own skin. He still clearly remembered not being able to move an inch, without a voice or enough concentration.
 
He’d never gotten to that point again, but he’d gone truly close to it and had always tried to stop when he’d realised it was getting too much. Something that Hanbin absolutely wasn’t doing, he wasn’t going to stop until his body gave up on him and maybe it scared him, because he felt guilty about it.
 
He already had the weight of a failure on his shoulders and was trying his best to make up for it and he knew that if they hadn’t won—of course, he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t glad they had, but it didn’t seem right that they’d taken victory from their brothers, and he was sure that if the opposite had happened, they wouldn’t feel differently.
 
It still seemed unfair that there had been a choice, when they all deserved it the same (and well, the fact that president Yang still hadn’t split Team B up and said that he was still considering them was positive, although strange coming from him). 
 
He couldn’t help but sigh when he decided to check on him and found him exactly in the only place where he could’ve been, even at that hour in the night: meaning, sleeping on the floor of the training room clutching his choreography schemes and song lyrics in his hands, as if his first instinct was holding on to something that could save them.
 
It really made him sick to see him like that, willingly destroying himself because he only wanted the best for his group, because he wanted to carry them to debut, scared he would one day have to face them and tell them that everything was over and that their dream was unreachable if he didn’t put enough commitment in his work.
 
He didn’t want to wake him up, but he knew that he was going to find himself with sore limbs and a bruised back if he kept sleeping in that uncomfortable position, and he wanted to try and persuade him to go home.
 
Walking close to him he noticed that there were deep bags under his eyes, and that he probably hadn’t slept properly in a very long time. Crouching next to him, he gently shook his shoulder, trying not to startle him. Hanbin tiredly blinked up at him, staring for a moment with his eyes half-open, as if he couldn’t understand where he was or who he was looking at.
 
“What’s going on?” he then asked groggily, his voice hoarse, sitting up supporting himself with his arms, and waiting for an answer, like he truly couldn’t explain his presence there, and he couldn’t blame him, after all, since probably it shouldn’t have been any of his business what he did or what he didn’t.
 
“I think you feel asleep,” he simply replied and noticed that the younger seemed somehow alarmed, but he couldn’t tell if it was because he’d realised he’d been working too much or because he’d realised that he wasn’t working when he should’ve had.
 
An answer to that question was quick to come when he abruptly picked all his papers up from the floor and sprung on his feet, looking left and right frantically and proceeding to almost fall back on the floor when dizziness from his thoughtlessly fast movement hit him.
 
Seungyoon caught his arms to steady him before he could actually collapse and looked at him worriedly, somehow only then realising that he was only eighteen and that was how he’d spent his life since he was fifteen and how he would spend his entire youth, and, for some reason, it made him angry, but there wasn’t anything he could say.
 
He wanted to ask him if he was okay, but he knew that it was a useless question, when it was pretty clear that he absolutely wasn’t and would never be, as long as his group was in that precarious situation.
 
“, I don’t know how I feel asleep, I have so many things to do—” he trailed off, looking at his hands and realising that the sheets he’d been holding had flown back onto the floor, without considering that he’d almost went with them.
 
Seungyoon didn’t know what made him act that way, (but maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t stand seeing how much the other was sacrificing because of president Yang and his awful ideas he should’ve never had; that was something he would never dare to say and it already scared him that he thought about it, considering he knew exactly what he was getting into when the joined the company), but he tightened his grip on his arms when he tried to get free to pick everything back up. Understandably, Hanbin looked at him with a surprised expression on his face, probably asking himself what he was doing.
 
“You can’t help your group if you die,” he bluntly told him, really trying to make him understand the situation he was in; he didn’t think twice before speaking, because he knew that, if he had, he would’ve stopped himself, but he knew that he needed to tell him that, hoping that he would partially realise that he couldn’t go on like that. The younger froze for a second, scanning his face and trying to fully comprehend the words that he’d heard with his tired mind, before sighing resignedly, lowering his eyes to the floor.
 
“I know but—I’m their leader and I know that I can’t let them down, so sometimes I don’t know when to stop,” he said, his voice sounding just as exhausted as he was. Seungyoon grabbed his hand out of nowhere, surprising even himself, but reasoning that it was the thing that had come to mind more naturally and decided that he couldn’t let go.
 
“They wouldn’t want to see you suffer, though,” Hanbin hung his head low, as if he was embarrassed by his own actions, but slowly nodded anyway, and wriggled out of his grasp, kneeling to grab what had fallen on the floor, before stuffing everything in his backpack.
 
Somehow, he’d regained his ability to walk without support and immediately stepping towards the door, like he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone in that room; he didn’t mind, to be honest, he just hoped he would be able to get some sleep. He still wasn’t sure how he’d managed to convince him so quickly, and hoped he wasn’t just going to go to his dorm and keep working all night anyway, because he looked like he needed a good night of unbothered sleep.
 
He’d almost already gotten out when he seemed to remember he was there as well and turned around, sending him a rather awkward smile and waving softly. He almost told him that if he ever needed someone to talk to, he would be there, but something stopped him, probably the knowledge that the younger didn’t want any distraction and even someone who was willingly to be his friend without any other relation would be unnecessary. After all, he truly was made of stone, because he needed to be and he was going to be the next big thing because he wanted to, and nobody would stop him.
 
How many things he didn’t know, back then. He couldn’t even have imagined them, he could’ve never imagined how difficult it would be for them in the future, because he’d thought the worst had passed, and yet he’d been wrong. It wasn’t even something in particular, it was more of a mix of everything, everything that he didn’t know was going to happen with their groups, everything that was going to happen to their hearts.
 
More than five years had passed, and many unexpected things had happened, enough to break them to pieces and enough to stitch them back as they originally were, still different and somehow the same, unsteady and ready to collapse again. He didn’t know why he’d started to think about the times when him and Hanbin weren’t actually friends, when they still hadn’t started talking on the roof, when they still hadn’t fallen in love. The first time they’d met and the first time they’d been broken.
 
And he didn’t know why those moments had struck him more than others. Maybe it was because every time he’d held his hand without even thinking about it, just the opposite of what had happened the first night on the roof, when the younger had taken his hand trying to comfort him.
 
He would’ve never thought, the first Hanbin had walked out to him to greet him in that training room that he was going to end up falling in love with that kid with a crooked beanie and fiery eyes, exactly like he’d never thought they would have to fight each other in a survival program to begin with.
 
He hadn’t thought anything the first time he’d seen him, expect everything that he could easily see in his eyes, and he hadn’t been even slightly wrong about them. He’d never given up once in his life, because he knew what it took to reach his dream, until giving up had been the only thing he could do to protect his group; he didn’t have any other choice.
 
And Seungyoon didn’t have any other choice either, but try to forget him and keep fighting for everything that he still had, keep climbing up to the sky to stay close to the star that he’d already touched, promising himself to never give up as well, because if he ever dared to even think about it, he wouldn’t only insult Hanbin, but also himself.

- - -

2019.06
From: wind
 
Don’t miss me.
Don’t answer to my messages.
Don’t text me.
Forget me.
I just want you to be happy.
 
To: wind
 
(unsent)
I can’t forget you.
 
2019.06
From: wind
 
I miss you.
 
To: wind
 
(unsent)
I miss you, too.
 
2019.09
To: wind
 
(unsent)
How are you? You haven’t written in a while.
 
2019.10.22
To: wind
 
(unsent)
Happy birthday. I hope you’ll be able to smile. I miss your smile.
 
2019.12
To: wind
 
(unsent)
I wish I could hold you.
 
2020.02.06
To: wind
 
(unsent)
You should be with them. That’s where you belong.
This isn’t fair.
 
2020.02.27
To: wind
 
(unsent)
Everything’s going to be fine. Now, there’s nothing they can say.
You’ll come back stronger than ever.
I want to believe it.
 
2020.03
To: wind
 
(unsent)
I really hope you will come back.
They need you.
I need you.
 
2020.04.03
To: wind
 
(unsent)
I miss Jinwoo already.
this.
I wish I could talk to you like I used to, but—
 
2020.04
To: wind
 
(unsent)
I wish I could ask you how you are.
I’m worried.
Is everything okay?
 
2020.05
To: wind
 
(unsent)
I feel like I never actually told you how much I felt about you.
I never told you how much I longed to hold you and just look at your face.
And that you made forget everything when you kissed me.
I miss you. I’m so stupid.
 
2020.06
To: wind
 
(unsent)
It’s been a year.
Why haven’t I forgotten you, yet?
And where are you?
 
2020.07
To: wind
 
(unsent)
It happened, right?
You fell out of love and I just—
God. You probably have much worse problems to think about.
I’m so selfish.
 
2020.08
To: wind
 
(unsent)
I heard you’re coming back, finally.
Is it true?
I don’t want to get my hopes up, but—
Some trainees said they saw you.
 
2020.08
To: wind
 
(unsent)
You are back.
Please, say something.
Give me a sign that I’m not gone for you.

- - -

A/N: Is this a good time to say that Hanbin actually comes back to YG in this story (wHY would he do that)? It’s already pretty clear from the messages, I feel like. Well, when I wrote this story it was around march of 2020 and, for some reason, I thought there was still a chance that he would come back. Let’s say this is an AU in which he did, so, at least in this universe, iKON is back to being ot7, no?

I low-key apologise for the giant time skip, but I didn't feel comfortable writing about Hanbin's time away and I feel writing anything from Seungyoon's point of view would've been pretty uneventful.