Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was always the same lately.

The group chat pinged with messages Woochan hadn’t seen until hours too late. Photos of ramen bowls, blurry karaoke selfies, and inside jokes that he used to be a part of.

He used to be the first one there, pulling up memes, dragging Youngseo into TikToks, throwing paper balls at Tarzzan until Annie threatened to report him to staff. But somewhere along the way, things shifted. Slowly, without warning.

And now, he was always late. Late to the calls. Late to the plans. Late to the friendship.

“Sorry, I had a test today,” Woochan mumbled as he entered the rehearsal room, slightly out of breath. No one looked up. Tarzzan and Annie were deep in conversation. Youngseo was scrolling through her phone, giggling at something Bailey showed her. Bailey sending her more funny Tik Toks.

Not one of them noticed he had arrived.

He stood there for a moment, swallowing the lump rising in his throat. Then he walked past them, quiet as ever, and stretched in the far corner of the room.

⸻

It got worse the week of their performances.

Their stylists buzzed around them backstage, pinning accessories and powdering foreheads, but Woochan felt invisible even in the chaos. He watched as the other four leaned on each other, giggling about a joke Bailey had made. Annie stole Tarzzan’s drink and ran off, prompting Youngseo to chase her down the hall.

He chuckled quietly, waiting for someone to ask him to join.

No one did.

He looked at the mirror in front of him. Hair perfectly styled, eyeliner sharp, stage outfit impeccable. He looked like a member of ALLDAY PROJECT.

So why didn’t he feel like one?

⸻

“Woochan-ah,” a voice called as the coordinator peeked into the room. “Ten minutes.”

“Got it,” he replied, standing slowly.

His chest was tight. The lights and pressure didn’t scare him, he’d done this many times. But the loneliness? The way he stood in a room full of people and still felt completely unseen? That fear was starting to drown him.

He slipped out into the hallway without telling anyone. Just a moment. He needed air.

Cool, quiet, empty. Finally.

He leaned against the wall, head tipped back, blinking rapidly to stop the sting in his eyes. He couldn’t cry before the stage. Not here. Not like this.

But he was so tired of pretending it didn’t hurt.

Of being the one they forgot.

Of seeing every group selfie posted without him, every plan made while he was “too busy with university,” every time they laughed at something and said, “Oh, you wouldn’t get it, you weren’t there.”

Maybe he didn’t belong anymore. Maybe they were just too polite to say it out loud.

“Yo,” a deep voice cut through his thoughts. “You okay?”

Woochan turned his head sharply, startled. Standing down the hall was BM of KARD, brows drawn together in concern. Behind him, Jiwoo, J.Seph, and Somin followed, all dressed and ready for their own stage.

“Oh,” Woochan said, straightening quickly. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Jiwoo asked, cocking her head. “You look like you’re about to quietly crashout.”

Woochan laughed once, short and bitter. “That obvious, huh?”

They didn’t press. Just stepped closer, forming a soft semicircle around him like a windbreak. Not overwhelming, just… present.

“Wanna talk about it?” Somin offered, voice low and kind.

And for some reason, the words spilled out.

“I just feel like… I’m not really part of my group anymore. They don’t wait for me, don’t tell me things. I’m always the last to know. Maybe they’re right, I’m always busy. But… it’s like they moved on without me. And I don’t know how to fix it.”

Silence.

Then J.Seph said quietly, “That sucks, man. I’m sorry.”

BM nodded. “That’s the worst feeling…being surrounded and still alone. You shouldn’t have to feel that in your own group.”

“Do you want to hang with us for a bit?” Jiwoo asked casually, like it wasn’t a big deal. “We’re gonna grab snacks after our performance. You should come.”

Woochan blinked, thrown off. “…Really?”

“Of course,” Somin smiled. “You don’t have to be alone. We’re always down to hang out.”

For the first time in weeks, something warm sparked in his chest.

“…Thanks.”

And he meant it.

⸻

Over the next few days, things changed.

Woochan didn’t wait for his group’s texts anymore. He answered when he had time, but the urgency was gone. He spent his breaks with KARD-eating snacks, watching funny edits, doing random dances, and just being silly.

The group didn’t ask where he was.

But they noticed.

Bailey frowned when she saw Woochan laughing in the hallway with Somin, whispering something to him in his ear.

“Has he been with them every day?” Annie muttered, as she watched them walk away.

“Guess he found new friends,” Youngseo said lightly. Too lightly.

Tarzzan stared at the photo KARD had posted: Woochan center frame, head thrown back in laughter, like a weight had been lifted.

When had he last looked like that with them?

He couldn’t remember.

“Did we… push him out?” Bailey whispered.

No one answered.

Because maybe, just maybe, they had.

⸻

That night, just before their performance, Woochan was tying his shoes when Bailey crouched beside him.

“Hey,” she said softly.

He looked up. “Yeah?”

She hesitated. “Can we… talk after the show?”

He stared at her a moment, unreadable.

Then nodded. “Okay.”

She smiled—small and a little sad.

“Cool.”

And then she walked away.

Woochan turned back to his shoes. His heart felt tight again—different this time. Not like rejection.

More like hope.

But even if that hope didn’t last, at least now… he knew where he was wanted.

And that made all the difference.

Chapter Text

The crowd’s screams still echoed in Woochan’s ears long after they left the stage. Sweat clung to his neck, his chest still heaving from the final chorus. Their stage had been clean, tight formations, synced vocals, and beaming smiles.

At least, on the surface.

But under the lights, behind the rehearsed grins, Woochan had still felt that quiet ache. The same ache that followed him for months. The same ache that reminded him that no matter how well they danced in sync, he was still out of rhythm with the people beside him.

Bailey found him in the hallway, just like she said she would.

“Hey,” she said gently.

Woochan nodded. “Hey.”

“I… want to talk. Can we go somewhere?”

He followed her without question. They ended up in the stairwell backstage—quiet, dim, far from the noise of managers and makeup touchups.

She sat two steps above him, fingers fidgeting with her mic pack. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then:

“You’re mad at us, aren’t you?”

Woochan looked up, surprised.

“No,” he said honestly. “I was. But not anymore.”

She glanced at him. “Why not?”

He exhaled. “Because I stopped expecting anything.”

Bailey flinched like he’d slapped her. “Woochan—”

“I’m not trying to guilt you,” he cut in. “I just… I don’t know when it happened. When I became optional. The fifth wheel in a five-member group.”

Her voice was a whisper. “You were never optional.”

“You guys made plans without me. You guys filmed vlogs without me. You guys got dinner together after practice without me.”

She closed her eyes. “We thought you were too busy. You were always saying you had lectures or tests or meetings—”

“So you stopped asking,” he said quietly.

Her throat bobbed.

Woochan leaned his head against the wall, eyes closing. “I used to think it was my fault. Like I was the one drifting away. But then I realized… I was standing in the same place. You guys were the ones who moved.”

Bailey’s voice cracked. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

He looked at her then, and for the first time in a long time, didn’t hold back.

“Because I didn’t want to beg for space in a group I helped build.”

Silence. Heavy. Real.

“I thought,” she said slowly, “if we gave you space, you’d feel less overwhelmed. I didn’t realize it looked like we didn’t want you around.”

“It’s fine,” he murmured.

“No, it’s not.” She took a shaky breath. “We messed up.”

For a moment, all he heard was the soft hum of a backstage monitor echoing in the stairwell. Then she continued.

“We got used to each other. The four of us. But that shouldn’t have meant leaving you out. We were lazy. We assumed you’d always be there. I… I think I didn’t notice how far you’d gone until I saw you with KARD.”

Woochan didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. His silence said enough.

“We were jealous,” Bailey admitted. “Annie even said it out loud. Youngseo keeps bringing up old group memories like it’ll bring you back. Tarzzan… hasn’t stopped looking at their posts with you in it.”

He blinked. “…Why?”

“I think he’s trying to figure out when you started laughing like that with them, but not us.” She looked down. “Truth is, we don’t really deserve that laugh right now.”

Woochan swallowed thickly. His chest felt heavy but not in the hopeless way it had before. More like a dam cracking.

“You didn’t just forget me,” he said. “You all left me out so often I started to believe I wasn’t wanted.”

“I know.” Bailey’s eyes shone with tears. “And I’m so sorry. I think we owe you more than an apology. We owe you effort. Time. Space to talk when things feel off.”

He looked at her, expression unreadable. “And what if it’s too late?”

Bailey went quiet. Then, she offered something honest.

“Then we’ll keep showing up until you believe it’s not.”

He let out a shaky breath. “That’s not something you fix overnight.”

“I know,” she said, standing slowly. “But we can start. If you’ll let us.”

He hesitated.

Then gave a small nod. “Maybe.”

⸻

The next day

The group’s chat was active again.

YOUNGSEO
🌸 brunch tomorrow?? woochan included or i’m slashing your tires.

TARZZAN
already made a reservation for 5 😌

BAILEY
we’re picking you up, woo. no excuses.
unless it’s a real emergency.

ANNIE
also i made a playlist for the car ride so you better not skip my songs 👺

Woochan read through the messages with a slow smile tugging at his lips. It wasn’t perfect. But it was something.

And maybe that was enough for now.

⸻

Later that week
KARD’s studio, late night.

“Yo,” BM said, tossing Woochan a bottle of water. “Your crew’s been blowing up your socials lately. You guys patch things up?”

Woochan took a sip and smiled softly. “Sort of. We’re… figuring it out.”

J.Seph smirked. “Did the heart-to-heart convo happen in a dramatic stairwell scene?”

“…Yes,” Woochan deadpanned.

Jiwoo whooped. “Knew it!”

Somin sat beside him, nudging his arm. “I’m glad they came around. You deserve that.”

He looked at her, then at the group around him—the people who made space for him when his own couldn’t.

“You guys helped more than you know.”

BM shrugged. “Sometimes you just need people to remind you what you’re worth.”

And now? Now Woochan believed it.

Whether he was with his group or with KARD, he knew one thing:

He wasn’t invisible.

Not anymore.