Chapter Text
The day Joshua Hong was told he would debut in SEVENTEEN, he cried.
Not tears of sadness, not quite. It was joy, confusion, and disbelief stitched together in one overwhelming wave. He had worked hard, silently, for years in a company where louder voices were often noticed first. But someone had noticed him. Someone had chosen him.
But he didn’t know that someone else had been unchosen.
PLEDIS had called him in late at night, just after practice. His shirt was soaked in sweat, his legs trembling from hours of choreography.
"You're debuting with SEVENTEEN," the manager said. "We made the final decision today. Prepare to move into the dorm. You'll meet the others tomorrow."
He barely remembered the rest of the conversation. He nodded, smiled, bowed deeply. His heart beat so fast he felt it in his throat.
When he got back to the practice room, it was empty. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. His fingers touched the edge of the glass like it could anchor him.
"I'm debuting," he whispered. His voice cracked.
He didn't sleep that night.
The next day, Joshua stood in front of the SEVENTEEN dorm door, suitcase in hand. His palms were sweaty. He kept rehearsing what to say: Hello, I'm Joshua. Thank you for having me. I hope we can get along.
The door opened.
Jun was the first to greet him. "Oh... you're the new guy."
Joshua bowed deeply. "I'm Joshua. It's really nice to meet you."
Jun gave a short nod, smiled politely, and stepped aside.
The dorm was loud, chaotic. Laughter from the living room, music from someone's phone. But when Jun announced, "The new member's here," the room fell strangely quiet.
Twelve pairs of eyes turned to him. Their expressions shifted, fast, like flickers of something hidden. Surprise. Resentment. Grief.
Then Jeonghan stood up. "Hi, Joshua. Welcome."
It sounded practiced. Polite.
Seungcheol followed with a handshake. "Looking forward to working with you."
The others followed, one by one. Names, short greetings, forced smiles.
Joshua felt it immediately: the heaviness.
Something was wrong.
The dorm was clean but packed. Joshua was assigned the corner bed in a shared room. Mingyu offered to help with his suitcase, but didn't speak much.
That night, he lay on his new bed, staring at the ceiling.
He could hear them talking in the living room. Laughing again. Whispering.
He sat up, just enough to hear a voice say, “I still can’t believe they replaced Minjae.”
Another voice replied, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
And then Jeonghan, quietly: “He’s not Minjae. But it’s not his fault.”
Joshua's chest tightened.
He laid back down and closed his eyes.
The next few weeks were a blur of practice, vocal training, and group meetings. Joshua tried his best. He learned fast. He smiled often. He complimented the others and offered to help.
But the space between them stayed.
He’d sit beside them at meals and they’d politely nod. He’d bring vitamin drinks to practice, and they’d mutter thanks without looking. He laughed at their jokes. They never laughed at his.
He watched them share inside jokes that didn’t include him. He saw the way they touched each other casually — a hand on a shoulder, a nudge, a shared glance — and realized no one ever touched him that way.
He tried to initiate conversation with Seokmin in the van one night.
"That high note you hit during practice? That was insane. I don't know how you do that."
Seokmin smiled briefly. "Thanks."
Joshua waited for a return question. None came.
The silence stretched awkwardly until he looked out the window.
One afternoon, he walked into the dance studio early and found Jihoon alone, working on a track.
"Do you need help setting up?" Joshua offered.
Jihoon blinked, surprised. Then shrugged. "Sure."
They worked in silence. When the room was ready, Jihoon handed him a bottle of water.
"You work hard," Jihoon said, almost like it hurt to say it.
Joshua smiled softly. "Thank you. I really want to do well."
Jihoon nodded once. "Just... don’t try too hard."
Joshua tilted his head. "What do you mean?"
Jihoon turned back to the laptop. "It’s not about you."
That night, Joshua wrote in his journal:
_"I think there are ghosts here. Not real ones. But the kind that live in people’s hearts. The kind that I can't compete with."
There was a photo on the fridge. A blurry polaroid. Thirteen trainees lined up with their arms around each other, sweaty from practice. Joshua wasn't in it.
Minjae was.
He didn’t ask questions. He just stared at the photo every time he reached for water.
Their first group photoshoot came fast. Coordinated outfits, fake snow, borrowed laughter.
Joshua stood beside Wonwoo and Jeonghan. They posed like they belonged together. Like they had years of shared memories. Joshua followed the photographer’s cues and smiled.
Later, when the photos came out, Joshua saw how perfectly the others looked together. Like a complete puzzle. He was the mismatched piece, obvious if you looked too long.
He stared at the group shot. Zoomed in on himself. Tried to convince himself he looked like he belonged.
He even asked Jeonghan once, cautiously, while fixing his mic.
"Do I... do I fit in okay?"
Jeonghan blinked. "What?"
"With the group. I know I joined late."
Jeonghan hesitated. "You’re doing fine."
Not great. Not amazing. Just fine.
The only person who gave him warmth was Seungkwan. One night, Joshua found him crying on the rooftop. He didn’t ask why. He just sat beside him and offered a small carton of banana milk.
Seungkwan took it wordlessly.
After a while, he whispered, "Minjae was my best friend."
Joshua nodded. "I’m sorry."
"I know it's not your fault," Seungkwan said. "But it still hurts to see you here."
Joshua didn't reply. He just kept sitting there, shoulder barely touching Seungkwan's.
That was the closest anyone had come to telling him the truth.
One day, Joshua came back to the dorms early after a schedule. He walked in on the others watching old practice footage on the TV.
It was a clip from the pre-debut days. Joshua wasn't in it.
Minjae was. Laughing, dancing, falling dramatically into Seungcheol’s lap while the others cracked up.
No one noticed Joshua at the door.
He backed away quietly.
That night, he didn’t eat dinner.
Debut day arrived.
Backstage, Joshua stood with the others, heart pounding. The lights, the noise, the cheers. He looked at his members. They looked calm. Focused.
He wanted to hold someone's hand. Say something like, "We did it." But his hand stayed at his side.
When the curtain rose and the music started, Joshua smiled like his heart wasn’t aching. He sang every note with the hope that maybe, just maybe, they’d learn to love him too.
The fans screamed. Cameras flashed.
In that moment, no one saw the cracks.
Only Joshua felt them.
And still, he smiled.