Bang Chan: For You

~ Bang Chan ~

The days as a JYP trainee were filled with endless exhaustion, and the constant pressure to improve, to get closer to the dream we all shared. There were days when it felt like I was drowning in the weight of it all, and then there were moments that kept me going, the small things that made it all worthwhile. One of those moments, unexpectedly, was when I first met her.

I didn't know her name at first. She wasn't someone I'd seen around much, but she was there, sitting in the corner of the practice room, scribbling in her notebook. Something about her caught my attention. Maybe it's how she seemed so absorbed in whatever she was writing, or maybe it was because I couldn't quite figure out what she was thinking, or how she was doing. Either way, there was something about her that intrigued me.

I'd never been good at talking to new people. I'd been so afraid that if I got attached to anyone, they'd leave, not make it. Maybe it's because it happened to me so many times already. I became closed off, scary as others said. But that day, something felt different.

"Hey," I called out, unsure of what else to say. "You're new right?"

The girl looked up, startled. She blinked at me a few times, as if trying to place me in her memory. Was she scared? It made me feel awkward for a second, but she gave me a small smile.

"I guess I am," she replied. "I've been around for a little while, but I haven't really gotten to know everyone."

I nodded, trying to figure out what to say next. I didn't want to sound to forward or too forced. I decided to take a seat next to her.

"Are you taking a break?" I asked, glancing around at the practice room around us. "Seems like you've been working hard."

She glanced at the clock and then back at me. "I guess so... just thinking for a bit. What about you? You've been training almost all day, right?"

I gave her a small chuckle. "Yeah it's been a long day. Training's never been easy, but I guess I've been here so long that I'm used to it."

She smiled, a smile that was almost... sad? It was then that I noticed how tired her eyes looked. There was something in her eyes... something that told me she wasn't just drained from being a trainee, there was something deeper she was holding in.

She was a stranger to me, and yet, there was something about her that made me feel like I could relate.

"So... what's your name?" I finally asked.

"I'm... I don't think I've introduced myself yet, have I? I'm Alynna."

I smile back, relieved. "I'm Bang Chan. It's nice to meet you."

~ Cho Alynna ~

I don't get it. Is this who they're calling scary? Maybe from afar he is, but I know he's hurting. I can tell. His eyes... they're drained. Lost. Almost out of hope.

I'd seen him in practice rooms before. Heard the whispers from other trainees.

"That's Bang Chan," a girl once whispered to me. "He's been here for almost four years now, and still hasn't debuted. I heard he's cold, I would steer clear from him if I were you."

But now, sitting here, talking to him. He's not mean. He's not cold. He's not scary. He's just... tired. Tired like me.

But why is he talking to me?

Does he see something in me?

Does he want to help me debut?

Can he see right through me?

Does he know... what I've been trying so desperately to hide?

~ Bang Chan -

From the moment I met her, and on, things felt different. I felt like I wasn't alone in the whirlwind anymore. Even though we hadn't known each other for long, something between us clicked. We understood each other in a way that no one else did. We both carried the same weight of the dream, the same fear of failure, and the same determination to make it no matter the cost.

Over the next few months, we started spending more and more time together. Sometimes It was sitting next to each other during breaks, other times it was after a grueling training session when we'd both stumble into the cafeteria, exhausted and barely able to keep our eyes open.

We found comfort in each other presence.

I found myself looking forward to seeing her, to hearing her talk about her day or whatever was on her mind. Alynna wasn't the loudest or the most extroverted, but she had this quiet strength about her that I admired.

One night, we found ourselves sitting on the floor of the practice room, taking a much-needed break. The lights had been dimmed and the only sound in the room was the air conditioning and our soft breaths.

"You ever feel like you're just chasing something that's... always out of reach?" Alynna asked, her voice quiet as she stared ahead.

I knew what she meant. The feeling of always being so close, yet so far from where I wanted to be. It was the same feeling that haunted me everyday—the fear that maybe, just maybe I was never meant to make it.

"Yeah." I said.

Alynna nodded, and I noticed the way her eyes spoke volumes of something I couldn't quite place. She looked at me then, her gaze steady and determined.

"Even if I don't debut... just the thought of being on stage makes me feel alive," she said, her voice cracking a little. "Promise me, Chris. One of us has to make it."

I heard the quiet desperation behind her words. Alynna had never been one to show vulnerability easily, but in that moment, it was like she was laying her heart bare for me to see.

"I promise," I said finally, my voice steady. "One of us will make it. I'll make sure of it."

Alynna smiled, and I could see the relief in her eyes. I didn't know then, but I should've paid more attention. She was fighting, struggling, and I hadn't seen it. I didn't see how much pain she was hiding behind that beautiful smile of hers.

I was too focused on how in love I was, that I didn't see her pain.

The weeks went by, and our bond only grew stronger.

The weeks went by, and I found myself wanting my lips on hers.

The weeks went by, and I hadn't noticed a thing.

—

I walked into the practice room to find it unusually quiet. Though, It was a bit earlier than usual, Alynna was always here around this time. I went to the back to get my bag, but when I glanced around I couldn't find her anywhere.

I didn't think much of it at first, but as the hours passed and I still hadn't seen her, worry began to eat in. I asked other trainees if they had seen her, but no one had.

It wasn't like her to disappear like this. To not respond to my texts.

I made my way to one of the staff members who had been around for years, hoping they'd seen her. But when I asked about Alynna, their face immediately changed.

The staff member looked down... a heaviness in their eyes. "Oh Chan... I'm so sorry. You didn't hear?"

I felt uneasy. "Hear what?"

"Alynna... she passed away," they said softly.

My heart dropped.

"P-passed... away?" My voice was a whisper. "W-what do you mean passed away?"

"She was sick for almost all of her time here. I'm so sorry, I thought you knew. She passed last night."

I stood there, numb.

Sick?

Passed?

How?

Why...?

I hasn't been here for her. I hadn't seen how much she was struggling. I hadn't known. A part of me was angry at her. Why didn't she tell me? Why would she just... leave? But then I would remind myself that it was my fault. I was supposed to look out for her.

But one thing was clear in my mind.

I promised her.

I promised her one of us would make it.

And I wasn't going to let our dream die with her.

I would make it for both us.

I promised her.

—

It's her.

The photo's a little worn, edges frayed from being handled so much. She's smiling in it, eyes crinkled, hair a little messy. It's the only picture I have with her. We never used to take selfies.

I lean back in my chair, rubbing my thumb against the edge of the frame. "You'd probably laugh if you saw me now." I murmur, eyes not leaving hers. "Still overworking."

A soft chuckle slips out, but it fades quickly. My lungs feel heavy. There's a strange pressure on my chest—something between pride and grief. I don't know how to name it.

I glance at the notebook behind my keyboard. Lyrics scrawled in blue pen, scribbled out, rewritten and scribbled again.

I grab my pen and write another line.

"We're working on album." I whisper to her. "ATE."

For nine years, I carried this guilt. That I didn't see how sick she was. That I didn't ask more questions, push harder, make her rest. But she didn't want to be treated like glass. She wanted to fight.

And she did.

Tears sting at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back.

"I think you'd like it."

The room answers with silence.

But somewhere, I hope she sees me. Somewhere, I hope she knows.

I hope she knows that I will keep working hard.

Track by track. Line by line.

Because I made her a promise.

And I'm going to keep it.

For you, my love.

—