kyaa-q - Tumblr blog

[kyaa-q]

A Train Wreck (part 2)

Lee Minho x fem!reader warnings: lots of angst and tw for verbal abuse/toxic relationship wc: 10k6> AO3 link :) | Part 1 synopsis: Your life has changed a lot throughout the past 6 months, since you started dating Jun. Events lead you to slowly distance yourself from some of the people you loved the most - Stray kids. Even your friendship with Bang Chan, your closest friend, was damaged after that day. Now, you find your life to be like an unstoppable train wreck hurtling toward disaster. You're gradually losing the bonds that had always kept you sane, for a serie of events that turned your world upside down. It feels inevitable: you will crash. Could someone help you avoid the collision? Could someone take the wheel with you, and help you get control over your life again? You don't know anymore. There's only one thing you do know: you are not welcomed and Lee Know, in particular, might hate you. And his opinion about you hurts more than you wanted it to.

Or: Y/N is in an abusive relationship and ends up distancing herself from her friends (Stray Kids). She thinks everybody hates her, especially Lee Know. She doesn't understand the effect he has on her (and vice-versa).

Minho’s chuckle still echoes in your mind as you’re slowly pulled back to the present. The faint buzz of your phone on the table catches your attention. You don’t recognize the number showing on the screen.

Still not feeling entirely as yourself, you pick it up. “Hello?” The sound of your voice rings weird in your ears.

You reach for your cup and sigh melancholically when you find it empty. Should I get another one? At the counter, the barista laughs a little too loud of something the cashier just said.

“Hi.” The male voice greets you from your phone, though you barely register it.

Maybe I should go home.

A nausea knot twist in your stomach at the thought.

But where else can I go?

A sudden shattering sound makes you jump and you whip your head. The cashier quickly makes his way going through the tables until you spot the source of the crash. The couple begins a succession of anxious apologies, met by constant reassurance from the cashier.

You could’ve sworn the noise had come from your phone, though.

You shake your head. I definitely need to go home and get some sleep.

“Who is it?” You hold the phone between your shoulder and ear and start collecting your stuff.

“Ouch. So you actually don’t have my number saved.” You hear a soft laugh, followed by a frustrated click of a tongue. “That is fair, I guess. Why am I hurt, though?” He murmurs what you can assume that is mostly to himself. You grab your bag to leave and force yourself to snap out of the heavy haze clouding your mind.

There is something familiar about the man, but you can’t really put your finger on it. It bothers you. The feeling of missing something important is there, but it’s overshadow by exhaustion and you decide that thinking takes too much energy – which you have none to spare.

You rub your temples. “I’m sorry, I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding. Who do you wish to speak to?” You take a quick look at your phone screen on your way out, realizing it’s way later than you thought. “Are you sure you called the right number?”

“Very sure, Y/N.” His voice is soft and reassuring.

You sigh again. “So, how can I…” You start, but something makes you stop.

The way he says your name itches a particular spot of your brain. It’s not simply familiar – it’s somehow intimate, and you picture the warmth that wraps you when you go inside a house after walking through the cold in the middle of the winter.

A face also comes in your mind, but you almost laugh. It comes out as a weak breath instead.

It’s unlikely. Flashes of angry howls through closed doors bring back the pain and shame from that specific day, that hasn’t stopped haunting you even weeks later.

It is unlikely, you tell yourself. Very unlikely.

Still, his name falls from your lips before you can stop it. “Minho.”

“Hello, Y/N.” He replies and you know that it is, unmistakably, Minho.

In a heartbeat, the clouds in your mind vanish and you feel particularly awake. You resist to acknowledge the feelings – of relief and… yearning? Longing? – that filled your heart after the realization that Minho was calling you.

Minho, of all people.

You step outside and the cold spring air fill your lungs. Your gaze shifts to the darkening sky, extending beyond the towering buildings that rise above the ground. You wish you could see stars.

It was impossible to ignore the strangeness of it. Minho never calls you. Literally. In fact, you couldn’t remember a single instance where it had happened. Not in the beginning, when you first started showing up at the studio as Chan’s friend, and especially not after Jun, when his despise became obvious and spread like dark tentacles that you tried so hard to overlook.

“Hey. How can I help you?” You ask coolly. Then, a thought surfaces in your mind making your panic spike. “Is everything okay?” The words come out rushed. “What happened?”

“Everything is fine, Y/N.” He reassures you and, for some reason you don’t understand, you believe him. “Nothing happened.”

Thank God. You exhale audibly.

The relief is short-lived. “Then why are you calling?”

Minho chuckles, but you don’t allow yourself to feel bad for being straightforward.

“Are you free on Saturday?” The casualty in Minho’s voice is still off-putting.

“It depends.” You reply, warily.

His laughs reverberates in your chest. “Of what?”

“You’re acting weird. What’s going on?” You blurt out.

“Weird how?” There is amusement in his voice, the realization leaving you almost disturbed. He’s enjoying it.

“Come on, Minho. Get to the point.”

“You’re no fun.” He sighs, though clearly still enjoying himself. “The comeback is around the corner and Chan has been working relentlessly. Even though it’s nothing new, it still doesn’t mean it’s suddenly good for his health.” You bite your lip as he continues. “We managed to bargain with him, so he is taking a day off and we thought it would be a good idea to celebrate the comeback. Or whatever the excuse was. I guess you can call it a group effort to give that guy a break, even if it’s just for a night.”

All your defenses are dismantled, you know it. The familiarity of the situation threatens to suffocate you as your throat tightens, unable to stop the gratitude of squeezing your heart at the picture of those guys taking care of each other.

And somehow including you.

The tears burn the back of your eyes. God knows how Chan has been and still he had called you on that very same day. You don’t remember what you said – if you even said anything – and you can’t help but wonder if, maybe, he had called you in search of a friendly ear.

If that were the case, you had failed him terribly.

While you desperately tried to fix everything, you ended up making things worse. You knew now how mistaken you were when you thought that distancing yourself would make things better. Yes, you knew why you were acting so wary and evasive, but how could Chan have any clue? None of them did. How could they? By being scared of bothering your friends, by trying not to burden them, you singlehandedly decided to withdraw yourself. Simple as that, you pushed all of them away and then you went further. You had convinced yourself that you were doing this for them.

How could this be considered a selfless choice in any shape of form? How much of your actions were guided by altruism and love for your friends, and how much of it was led by selfishness and, especially, fear of being hurt again?

You shake your head, chasing off the thoughts in your mind and wiping away a single stubborn tear that escaped rolled down your cheek.

Perhaps you had been annoying the boys to no end. Perhaps they all had grown seriously tired of you and simply didn’t know how to bring it up. Perhaps you had crossed their boundaries and became a source utter of discomfort and displeasure. Perhaps they even hated you, while you remained oblivious to it.

Perhaps.

But then what?

“Just so you know,” Lee Know interrupts your thoughts and you wipe another tear from your face. “You are coming. I’m calling just to make sure you cancel whatever you may have planned in advance.”

You raise your eyebrows in confusion, stunned. “Excuse me?”

“I mean it. It’s not up to discussion.” You open your mouth but nothing comes out, and when he continues, his voice is quiet and soft, “Chan misses you, you know.” Your heartbeat falters in your chest. “And it’s not just him.”

The thoughts fly chaotically inside your head and you stop yourself from stating out loud once more how odd the situation is. The fondness in his voice isn’t new, you’ve heard it before. You’ve heard it when he spoke to Han, discreetly checking how he was feeling in the after stage. You’ve heard it when he bickered with Chan and the way he called hyung afterwards. You’ve heard it when he teased Hyunjin, when he complimented Jeongin and when he spoke of Seungmin to other people.

You witnessed different and subtle ways of caring Minho had toward every member. Outside the group Minho was extremely reserved, many times seen as cold-hearted – a huge mistake. It was hard to know how much it affected him really, though. You’ve always admired him secretly and from afar for his strength and resolution.

From afar, you say, because you were part of the “outside the group” team, obviously. Minho was a mystery to you, a distant figure that you respected and stopped trying to understand a long, long time ago.

In the beginning, you had wondered if you were the problem.

Because you had seen his affection when it came to the members, the indifference towards you was awkward to say the least. He was never directly rude, though his detached attitude could be – and indeed was – seen as such sometimes. One day, you were chilling on the couch at the studio as 3RACHA worked on a track, Minho suddenly stormed into the room. You immediately sat straight, surprised by the sudden and unusual burst of excitement coming from him, breaking the quite monotonous atmosphere the room had acquired. Minho walked past you and went straight to Chan and Changbin, giggling as he showed them something on his phone. Han left the live room, confused about the fuss.

Minho turned the screen to Han and they both spoke energetically, with Chan laughing along. Even Binnie, though shaking his head, clearly bit back a smile. The latter caught you staring in confusion, and waved off the commotion. “Silly boys, Y/N. They’re like children.”

“Excuse you!” Han exclaimed dramatically, “The new chapter of Demon Slayer is anything but silly!”

Chan laughed louder and Minho’s head jerked in your direction. He blinked a few times, assimilating the unexpected presence of a fourth person he had not realized before. Suddenly, he stiffend his posture and gave you a short bow, murmuring something to the boys and then turning to leave the room right after.

Not before you caught the bright pink shade in his ears.

“Is it me?” You asked a little later on that very same day. “Have I done anything to upset him?”

“What are you talking about?” Asked Changbin, swinging in one of the leathered chairs.

“Minho.” You explained, waving off the surprised expressions on their faces. “I’m just wondering if I did something and if I should apologize to him.”

“Are you serious?” Han’s shocked face seemed a bit of an exaggeration, you thought. “Do you think he doesn’t like you?”

“Come on, Hannie. I’m not blind.” You shrugged, though it came off a little forced. “I just don’t want to be in bad terms with any of the members.”

You were grateful for your friendship with Chan. He was an amazing person and you were so lucky to have him in your life. His life wasn’t easy, obviously. When he wasn’t busy with schedules of an idol life, he was busy working and doing music, so it was heartwarming when he went out of his way to introduce you to the others, especially to 3RACHA. Changbin and Han had welcomed you from day one, and you rarely felt so immediately comfortable around people you had just met, like it happened with them. You met the other boys a couple times, and even ended up hanging out with Hyunjin and Felix once or twice. They were wonderful, you knew, and you also were highly aware of the importance the group had to them.

Your heart ached watching what true love and acceptance looked like.

And because you knew how much each of them meant to each other, you started worrying about Minho. What if Minho didn’t like you? What would it mean to Chan, and the others? You didn’t expect everyone to love you, obviously, but you hoped to hold a neutral image at least. What if you couldn’t? Then what?

 “You haven’t done anything wrong, Y/N.” Chan said, and he pondered his words. “I can’t speak for him, but I’m sure that, with time, you’ll both get to know each other better.”

“So… does he not hate me?” You tried one last time.

Binnie’s eyes widened and Han chocked what you thought to be a laugh. “Absolutely not.” Han said, cleaning his throat. “I can assure you that.”

You rub your eyes, trying to stop a headache from forming.

In the end, it all comes back to Chris. It’s obvious that Minho cares about him, and so do you. It makes sense to unite forces for a greater cause. Kind of. It almost makes sense when you think of this as some common ground.

“Okay. Sure.” You say finally, feeling like your brain was replaced with jelly. “I’ll go.”

“Great!” Minho sounds pleased with himself, oblivious to the conflict happening inside your head. Good for him, you think bitterly. “Oh, there’s one more thing.” You grunt, but he continues. “No boyfriends allowed.”

Your body tenses and you feel your stomach drop.

This is not gonna end well.

“Minho…”

“That’s not up for discussion either. Sorry, Y/N,” He says, not sounding sorry in the least. “I don’t make the rules. Text me if you need a ride.”

“Minho, I don’t think this is a good idea.” You urge, scared he might hang up on you.

He does not. Instead, his voice becomes lower but steadier and assertive. “What is a not a good idea, Y/N?”

You take a shaky breath. “I know you don’t like Jun…”  You start, but your thoughts are a mess. They stumble upon one another and the necessity of having Minho understanding inflates more and more inside your chest. He waits in silence, patiently, as you struggle to put your thoughts into coherent words. “And maybe that’s all you see, someone who you don’t like and you want to avoid. And I get that, I really do. I don’t blame you, but… But it’s not that simple, Minho.” You try to swallow the lump growing in your throat, in vain. “And you know it is not. It’s easy when you are not the one dealing with him afterwards. I know you don’t like him, but this is not the way out.”

Minho doesn’t speak for another moment and your words linger heavy in the air.

“Is that what you think?” His voice is restrained and devoid of any strong emotions. It’s difficult to know what he is feeling and you can’t help but resent him a little for it. He’s able to keep himself collected while you’re a goddamn mess. “Do you think it’s because I don’t like him?”

“I mean… Yes?” You laugh but it comes out lifeless and dry. “Come on, Minho. Are you gonna tell me you actually enjoy Jun’s company?”

“Of course not, Y/N.” He breathes out, exasperated. All the teasing and amusement from earlier are gone without a trace you could actually think you’ve imagined it all. “It’s evident I don’t like the guy. That’s not the point.”

The blunt admission doesn’t trouble you near as much as you thought it would. Rather, it’s the determination weighing in on his last sentence that makes you stagger. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m missing, Minho.”

“Don’t be sorry.” The determination is still there, along with what you think is anger. You don’t feel like you’re the target of it, though. He takes a deep breath and, when he speaks again, he chooses his words carefully. “What would happen if you came without him?”

The answer is awfully easy. The fight unfolds vividly in your mind and you look past it. You know Jun will be mad when he finds out, that he will ignore your calls and texts for weeks – maybe days, if you’re lucky. It’s not up to you anyway, since Jun appear to have his own time that changes depending on his mood. You know he will come back as if nothing happened despite that, eventually. You know that none of you will speak of it until another fight breaks out, only then might it be brought up again. Which is fine! It gives you plenty of time to worry about it in the future instead. The first few days are always the hardest, though, and the guilt is suffocating – you can feel it, even now. A chocked wry laugh comes out of your throat. How is it possible to feel guilty for something that has not even happened yet?

It’s because, you realize, the remorse doesn’t come from this specific and hypothetical scenario. The lingering heavy pressure that fills up your chest comes, alternatively, from all the other countless arguments you had throughout the past few months.  These fights planted seeds of shame and guilt in your heart and watered them. The seeds bloomed into thorny vines and craved marks in your heart like carving stone.

These apprehensions run through your veins blended with your own blood. The constant fear and dread of taking too much space, of being too loud, of being selfish and a burden, they are part of you like stretch marks.

You’re aware that fights will happen regardless of what you do, but still, deliberately giving them motives feels even worse.

“I don’t want him to be mad, Minho.” You say instead, and silently wonder why you feel comfortable talking about this with Minho, when it’s something you hardly feel with yourself. “You know the picture it paints. If I went to a party where he was specifically asked not to come, that’s like cheating.” You cringe at your own words. “Kind of. I don’t know, Minho. You know what I mean, you’re not dumb. You would get mad too.”

“Of course I wouldn’t.” He states nonchalantly and it surprises you. You scoff, annoyed, but he continues. “I’m serious. You’re asking whether I’d be mad if my girlfriend went to a party with her friends without me, right?” You feel a frenetic energy growing inside you, your entire body buzz with tension. It feels wrong, forbidden. Minho, on the other hand, is still as tranquil as he has ever been, unaware of the vileness of the conversation. “If so, then the answer is no. Of course not. Thinking my partner will cheat on me only because I’m not around is kinda dumb, isn’t it? If my presence is the only thing stopping them from doing it, then why am I with them? I obviously don’t trust that person at all.”

Your heart pounds against your ribs and your breath is caught in your throat. You know Minho is not teasing you, his tone is devoid of malice, and he comes off as anything but judgmental – which makes it somehow worse. Deep inside, you wish he were disapproving, critical of you. You wish he showed disappointment and disdain for your choices and actions, anything that would sustain the twisted image you had of yourself. You wanted him to put the blame on you, right in your face, with the same fierceness he had displayed that day at the company building. You needed him to, so you could maybe start making some sense of things.

Instead, he was collecting the few convictions you had and putting them under a different light, showing you how they change and distort when viewed from other angles.

He is wrong, you feel it in your bones. He does not understand. Minho is not getting the full picture. You open your mouth to tell him, to explain what he’s so badly missing.

Nothing comes out.

If my presence is the only thing stopping them from doing it, then why am I with them? I obviously don’t trust that person at all.

You squeeze your eyes shut. He is wrong. He doesn’t understand.

“What if you don’t tell him you’re coming?” He questions, and you inhale air back into your lungs.

“What?” The night has fallen and you shiver.

“Are you seeing him on Saturday?” He asks, with a low but stern voice.

You try glimpsing inward, at the hurricane of thoughts swirling in your mind. Silently, you thank the solid wall helping you to maintain balance.

No, you're not seeing him on Saturday—at least, you haven't planned anything. Of course, you haven't. Jun went silent for over a week and only came back today. Before you could plan anything, you both ended up in a fight. There's still a chance you might make up before Saturday, though.

Actually, Jun can call you at any moment. Or not. He can call you in the next five minutes or in the next five days. He can simply show up at your place at any time, as he’s done before.

Including on Saturday.

The possibilities of things going wrong are endless.

But, obviously, you’re not saying all of that to Lee Know, so you stick with simplicity by saying, “I don’t think so.”

“Then come.” He appeals, making your heart squeeze, “And don’t tell him.”

Oh, if things were that simple. You shut your eyes, imagining how it would be to see the world through his eyes.

What would happen if he were to be standing in front of you right now? What would you see? Would you catch the same glimpse of disappointment you did that day? Would you find shame and pity in his face, when facing the mess of person you’ve become? Would you find anger and contempt?

Or would you see his face matching the softness and understanding you hear in his voice right now?

You open your eyes wide.

It made no sense. You question your own sanity.

“Why are you being nice?” You can’t help but ask. Fuck it. “It’s weird, Minho. Why would you even care?”

“The way you talk, I’m actually starting to wonder how poorly I’ve treated you.” The trace of hurt among the playfulness in his tone did not go unnoticed. “Am I this monstrous?”

“That’s not it.” You cut in quickly, your thoughts and feelings tangling to the point of becoming an unrecognizable mess.

“Y/N.” He says, and you curse the effect he has on you every time he says your name.

Why does it feel so intimate? Why does it feel so profound, like he’s reaching for the edges of your broken heart and feeling its wounds with the tip of his fingers?

But most importantly, why does he sound to be in as much pain as you are?

“You will be safe.” He says, and the certainty in his tone makes you defensive. He means well, you know, but it is hard to stop the hold back the grim laugh.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Minho.” You are safe now. Who does he think he is, implying otherwise? He knows nothing about Jun and your relationship.

He knows nothing about you.

“Sure. I probably don’t.” He dismisses, a little far-fetched, and the graveness in his voice fades away. “Anyway. Come up with a dozen theories of why I’m suddenly being nice now, I don’t mind. Actually, I’d love to hear them on Saturday, so be creative.” You want to protest, but he continues, “And save my number, for God’s sake. Is Chan’s the only number you have saved on your contact list?”

Contrasting feelings battle inside your heart and mind. You feel on the edge, like your world has been turned upside-down. The exhaustion weighs in on your shoulders, and you ache for your bed.

You look up at the sky again, allowing the darkness of nocturnal silence embrace you. It’s a shame you can’t see stars. “I actually have Bin’s and Han’s too.”

“Really?” He wheezes, untying just a little the knot of tension between you two.

“And Hyunjin’s.” You don’t know why you add.

“Now you’re just trying to hurt me.” The smile grows on your lips. “See you on Saturday.”

You hum, too tired to argue, and he hangs up.

You stare blankly at your phone. Your body is both numb and buzzing with a weird energy you can’t name. The thoughts in your head spin so quickly that, just as a Newton’s disk, a blank space is left.

A notification pops up and catches your eye.

Unknown: I really meant it when I said I’m not giving you the chance to skip this one.

Unknown: Lemme know if you need a ride.

Unknown: and save my number.

On your way back home, through bright streets and packed sidewalks, you allow your mind to wander.

Going to anywhere explicitly without Jun was a powerful statement by itself. The fact that it was with the members had an extra impact. Until now, the boys had maintained an overall neutral approach when it came to Jun (except, obviously, for Minho). This changes things, though. Could it be that the request came from Minho individually, and not from all of them? Did Chan know about it? Had he agreed with it? What if Minho was asking you to come without Jun for his own amusement, for the drill of it?

You rub your temples, finally arriving to your apartment. I’m going insane.

As you press the elevator button, one thought stands out amidst the confusion of feelings.

Why would it matter?

What would change if it were a request coming from Minho or even from Chan himself? Jun was never the biggest fan of your friends and he never tried to hide it, not once. They, on the other side, although never explicitly stated not liking Jun, always kept an overall polite approach toward him. Being honest, you’d be surprised if they had any slightly positive opinions about Jun. Could you even blame them? Could Jun blame them? What right had Jun to be upset if the people he so clearly disregarded ended up despising him back?

You step into your apartment, close the door and take off your shoes. The place is pitch dark, but you know all the corners and walls.

If, in the worst case scenario, Jun did end up throwing a tantrum, then what?

You shake your head, reluctant. It is like a big silent lake in your mind with dark and still waters – you do not wish to know what lays underneath. This train of thought is like throwing stones on the water, disturbing the unprovoked.

A resentment starts blooming in your chest, and you direct your mind toward Minho and his motives.

That is not the point, though. The voice echoes in your head.

Even though your better judgment tells you that you should not trust people this easily, still, you believe him. The resentment and anger that had barely bloomed withers, powerless.

Minho hadn’t called you for some evil plan to sabotage your relationship.

Minho called to give you a second chance.

You arrive in your bedroom and turn the lights on at last, flinching from the sudden brightness. The bedroom isn’t cramped, but looks rather small due to the expanded bed. Normally twin-sized, the bed had the structure to be pulled out and expanded, turning into a full-sized one. It looks comfier, and the messy sheets call as siren songs.

In between pillows and blankets, you sigh in relief.

There are many things you still fail to understand, that day at the company is, certainly, the biggest of them all. As time passes, you struggle more and more to make sense of what you’ve heard back then, and in other circumstances, you would’ve thought you had imagined it. Minho and his motives were just a small part of the whole picture.

In the end, one feeling stood out from the tangle: you want to make things right.

Shutting yourself away would not solving anything – in fact, it had only made things worse. It did not help you feel better with yourself. You still couldn’t think of a good way to talk to Chan and the others about it. The disappointment glazing in Minho’s eyes still haunt you to this day, hand in hand with the anger in his shouting.

And on top of all of it, there was what Minho had said on the call. He did imply that they, Chan at least, were suffering, didn’t he? Chan misses you. And it’s not just him. These two sentences kept repeating in your mind like a broken disc, being as soothing as they were painful.

How did it change things?

Could it be that, by trying to push them away so they would not get hurt, you had caused even more harm?

Certainly, there were a lot of missing pieces from this huge puzzle you were trying to solve. Regardless of that, by the time you fall asleep, you are sure of two things:

First, you want to make things right.

Second, you want to go to that party.

The days passed with no major events and you ended up not telling Jun. You weren’t entirely okay with that, as the guilt was still very much there. The sense of wrongness persisted in not telling him all of your plans and routines, especially if they didn’t include him. It was hard to shake off the feeling of betrayal, and you relied on Minho’s words for comfort more often than you were willing to admit.

Jun also had his part on making things easier. For the first time, you thanked the absence and the silence from his end. It’s easier to not speak about something when you simply don’t… well. Speak.

For once, you chose to be bold and you chose to be selfish. You would go and hang out with your friends, leaving the consequences for the future you to deal with.

It was around 5pm. You had already showered and was going through your wardrobe, thinking about what to wear. That was when your phone buzzed with a notification.

Lee Know.: I meant it when I said we are not giving you the alternative of not coming. This is not up for discussion.

Lee Know.: Lemme know if you need a ride.

Lee Know.: and save my number.

Lee Know.: I’m coming to pick you up at 6.

You rolled your eyes. I never said I needed a ride. Minho seemed to be pushing all your buttons and being very aware of that.

You: Thanks, I’ll pass. Tell me where it is and I’ll call an Uber.

The response was almost instantaneous, and made you frown.

Lee Know.: can’t. sorry.

The audacity. Two words and your felt your blood boil.

You: ??? what’s your problem?

You: I said I’m going, you don’t need to escort me.

Annoyed, you let the phone on the coffee table and marched towards your room. You chose a black romper that, even though the neckline was lower than what you would usually wear, it had long loose sleeves that made it one of your favorite pieces of clothes. It was elegant, but mainly comfortable with a very casual vibe to it. It fit the occasion. You dried your hair and put some makeup on, keeping it the simplest you could. Although Minho had called it a “party”, you had attended some of these gatherings before and you hoped it was going to be the same: just some close friends reunited in the dorms. Nothing classy and no glamour. Just a bunch of people hanging out with each other and having fun.

You picked white sneakers and went back to the living room.

You were putting the sneakers on and Minho had yet to reply. If you ended up being late, he would be the one to blame.

Between tying your shoes and cursing Minho, you heard a jingling of metal followed by the click of your front door being unlocked. Your breath was caught in your throat when you saw Jun crossing the doorstep, his gaze finally finding yours.

Fuck.

The argument unfolded unsurprisingly, but by no means coolly. It was like a scene of a movie that you’ve watched countless times and you know all the lines by heart. He flipped out about you sneaking out, as expected, but nothing came even close to the way he looked at you after you said he could not come along.

First, he was furious, thinking you were doing so to make him jealous. Then, when he understood that it was, actually, the boys themselves who asked you to come alone, he was livid.

You tried to cool it off. You explained how stressed the boys were and how this was something to distract them when comeback is so close. You tried telling him that it was something for them and by them, and that they had all the rights to invite whoever they wanted. It was understandable they wanted to keep it between actually close friends – which Jun, clearly, was not.

It had little to no effect. At least, not the one you wanted.

Between cursing and outrageous claims, Jun accused you of choosing them over him. You asked, bordering on pleading, when has it become a competition? Why does it have to be one over the other?

Tears burned on the back of your eyes as you begged for understanding, for sympathy. Jun, meanwhile, laughed wryly. I can’t tell if you’re this naïve or if you’re simply playing dumb. Almost like you both spoke different languages, and you hated how dumb you actually felt.

You like the attention. He said spilling venom, and you looked at him horrified, unable to form any words. I’m right, am I not? I’m so disappointed, Y/N.

That rang a bell in your head.

Maybe it was because you had spent even more time recently thinking back to that time in the elevator, but, even involuntarily, the comparison was inevitable. By putting that event with Minho next to the current Jun, it became obvious to you how little the latter affected you – especially when set side by side. The tears rolling down your cheeks started to dry.

So now, even as you stare at Jun’s horrified expression, like he’s just seen the most atrocious of atrocities in your phone, the fact that the quarrel happened in such a predictable way doesn’t weigh in your conscience as much as you thought it would.

Jun laughs sharply and you know that, whatever it was that Minho had the fortune to text back in the worst moment possible and catch Jun’s attention, made Jun angrier. It is pointless to argue and you don’t feel particularly angry having Jun going through your phone. When you lay back on the couch, all you feel is tiredness.

Jun speaks again but the words go past you without much solid meaning. Joke. Humiliating. Rich. Whore. He drops your phone carelessly, falling to the carpet with a muffled thump. He leaves the apartment with big and loud steps, slamming the door shut on his way out.

Seconds slowly tick by as you’re left alone in silence, the ringing in your ears reflecting the state of your own mind. You force yourself to take deep breaths, calming down your wild heartbeat at the same time that the lump in your throat starts to shrink.

When you finally reach the phone laying on the carpet, your mind is blank and you feel oddly numb. You unlock the device and find the chat with Minho already open. You tell yourself it is normal for your hands to shake.

Lee Know.: I meant it when I said we are not giving you the alternative of not coming. This is not up for discussion.

Lee Know.: Tell me if you need a ride.

Lee Know.: and save my number.

Lee Know.: I’m coming to pick you up at 6.

You: I never said I needed a ride. Tell me where it is, I’ll call an Uber.

Lee Know.: can’t. sorry.

You: ??? what’s your problem?

You: I said I’m going, you don’t need to escort me.

Lee Know.: your boyfriend. he is the problem.

You sigh heavily - God damn it, Lee Know.

At that moment, as if he was listening to your thoughts himself, the phone rings in your hands. You answer it and the words seem leave your mouth on their own accord, “He just left.”

“Where are you?” He asks, after a moment. Minho’s voice is hard, while yours is shaky. You feel exposed, and you vision blurs. You don’t want to start crying again.

“I’m home.” Your voice trembles as you sniffle. I can’t do this now. “It’s okay. Everything is fine.” You gather yourself and speak with a confidence that you both know to be a lie.

“I’m outside.” Minho tells you and it takes you a moment to understand what it meant. Outside…?

You bolt upright and dash toward the balcony, spotting him as soon as you reach the ledge. Even from several stories high up, Minho’s dark figure stands out, standing next to a black car parked across the street. When his eyes meet yours, even at this height, your heartbeat hiccups.

“Do you want me to come up there?” He questions, maintaining eye contact despite the distance.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to.” You dismiss promptly. You were confused about many things, but having Minho in your apartment at that moment sounded undoubtedly like a bad idea. “I’ll be there in five.”

“Y/N, are you sure you are okay? I can call Chan and…” Minho’s voice trails off, his glance shifting from you to something across the street. “Oh, fuck me.” He swears under his breath, so lowly you barely catch it.

“What’s up? Minho?” You bend over the ledge a little, as an attempt to see whatever caught Minho’s attention.

Then your mind connect the dots, and you feel an utter idiot for not considering it earlier.

Jun just left the apartment. It couldn’t be more than five minutes since he had slammed the fucking door behind him. Which meant that Jun was still in the building by the time you picked up the phone.

Was indeed, because you’re sure the other figure you see stepping out the main entrance right now is Jun.

Your eyes dart toward Minho again and you say, soberly and carefully. “Minho.” All the weakness from a moment ago was gone. “Don’t.”

You start hearing Jun’s voice on the background and, though you can’t tell what exactly he is saying, you don’t have to. He’s angry and you watch his figure slowly approach Minho standing as still as a statue on the other side of the street.

You turn around and run.

Jun’s voice gets gradually louder and clearer, indicating he’s getting closer. You press the elevator button anxiously multiple times, but the elevator seems to take forever to arrive. You curse it silently. You curse the elevator and the lack of technological advance to build faster elevators. You curse the building for being too high and curse yourself for not living on the first floor.

“Leave.” Minho’s voice is cold as ice and sharp as a knife and sends shivers down your spine. “You don’t wanna do this.”

Fuck it. You take the stairs.

Jumping two and more steps at a time, you fly downstairs. “Minho.” You call brethless – a beg, a plead, an order, even you can’t tell. He cannot get into trouble, especially an argument in public. If Minho is seen by anyone in public, a fan or not, and it ends up reaching the internet, he’ll be screwed. He cannot stain his image, he’s a fucking idol, for God’s sake! “Please.”

“What is your problem, dude?” You make out Jun’s words, and his bold anger is maddening. Jun should know better than to cause a scene with Minho. He needs to know better. Jun cannot be that immature.

He can’t be. Right?

But rather than the idiotic bad temper, it is the fact that you can clearly hear him now, meaning that he is closer to Minho than you thought, what really troubles you.

Hurry, hurry, hurry. Your loud footsteps echo across the staircase mixed with the sound of you panting.

“Have you not caused enough damage to that poor girl?” Jun goes on mockingly.

“Excuse me?” You hear Minho say between gritted teeth.

“I know your type, big boy. I see what you’re doing.” The proximity between them makes your stomach sink, you can hear Jun even now that he’s not shouting. “You never liked me, huh? Was it because I stole your little toy?”

You feel sick.

“I don’t like what you’re insinuating.” Minho says grimly, “And I’d ask you to not come any closer with this finger pointed.”

“Minho!” You call out again. He needs to back off now. You feel the tears burning on the back of your eyes. Where the fuck is the first floor? Faster, Y/N! Faster faster faster faster.

Jun cackle dryly. “Oh, Cut the crap. We’re not dumb, you know? We heard that little show you put on.”

Jun wouldn’t tell him that. He wouldn’t do it.

“Minho, don’t do anything!” You plead between short breaths, over Jun’s voice. Minho can’t listen to him. “I’m almost-“

The momentary lapse of focus makes you stumble upon your feet, and you let out a yelp as you stumble down. You desperately grab the handrail to stop yourself from falling. The attempt, however, is awkward and you barely manage to steady yourself as one of your foot continues its descend as the rest of your body is jerked backwards.

You find yourself laying stiffly lying on the stairs, still holding on the handrail with one of your hands. Your heartbeat is as fast as the wings of a flying hummingbird, it is stuck in your throat. You let out a breath, then follow to take multiple deep breathes as a way to slow down your heart. Still, you don’t attempt to stand up just yet, not trusting your legs to not act like jelly after the shock. You’re okay.

A moment after, you register the slam of a door being opened extremely close. A fear of having someone seeing you like this, sitting on the dirty ground of the staircase so obviously affected starts forming in your mind. Before you can articulate it, and perhaps stand up to compose yourself, Lee Know enters your line of sight. Oh, so I was on the first floor.

Damn, so close.

His eyes widen as he assimilates the scene in front of him, and you fear his eyes might pop out of his skull. He went paler by two tones at least, and you wonder how bad you look. You start reassuring him you’re fine, but when you’re about to stand up, Minho already flew and is by your side, stopping you.

“Do not move.” He takes your hand from the handrail in his, holds it for a moment, and places it on your side. You watch him as his eyes run through your body, inspecting it. Being the main focus of his attention is intense, and you shift in place, uneasy. “Did you hit your head? Your back? Do you know what your name is?”

You blink, surprised by the overflow of questions. There is something so tender about the look in his eyes that lit up an entire lighthouse in your chest. There is also a fear of someone who has seen a ghost – or went through a near death experience from falling down the stairs – and you have the urge to take his hand on yours, but you hold yourself back. The apprehension in his demeanor is something new to you and worth to note. His hair looks soft and it’s shorter than it was last time you saw him. The shade also changed, a chocolate kind of brown replaced the black – and you decide you like it just as much. Your eyes travel down to look at what he’s wearing.  The black bottom-up shirt has the first and second bottom open, making you instantly shot your eyes back up. You find Minho tilting his head to the side. “Y/N?”

“Yes?” The word comes out as breathless as before, and you blame it on the fall. You cough and close your eyes, breathing in slowly. Calm down, Y/N.

“I’ve asked you a question.” Minho says, and you spot a hint of amusement in the sea of concern in his voice.

You open your eyes. “You’ve asked several questions, actually.”

He smiles softly, which works against your goal of slowing your heartbeats. “Yet, you haven’t answered not even one.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m fine.” He doesn’t say anything and keeps staring, waiting for you to go on. “Really. It was just not the most graceful of my falls, I guess.”

He cracks first and chuckles, which gets a laugh from you and soon you’re both cackling.

The laughs have calmed down when he inhales deeply, close his eyes and let his head fall back, “What the fuck were you thinking?” He breathes out. Even though he’s not looking at you, you feel the need to look down, fidgeting.

You murmur, “I was scared you could get in trouble.” It doesn’t give half the picture of what was going through your head and it sounds pathetically silly, but you don’t elaborate any further.

“So you thought that running downstairs would be a good idea?” There is a shadow of teasing in his voice. You had expected Minho to make fun of you. You could see him telling you how dumb and reckless you were, saying how even kids know they shouldn’t run when going downstairs. You expected to be blamed for something so stupid. Instead, you encounter fear when he asks lowly, “Do you have any idea how badly you could’ve been injured?”

This rough concern coming from him was unsettling – you knew he was a caring person, but he’s only shown it when it came to the other members. You had never experienced it yourself before. “What else could I do, Minho?” Your voice doesn’t falter. “What was I supposed to do? Just wait and hope you’re not seen causing a scene? Chris would kill me.”

“I was not causing a scene.” He’s bitter, and you understand. After all, he is right. He wasn’t the one adding fuel to the fire.

“Would that even matter?” Your question comes out as a plead, and for once you’re not embarrassed. You both know what you mean. You’re aware of how they have to watch even the most innocent of actions when in public. Tabloids have the power to mess with someone’s image, it doesn’t matter if they are true or not. The public doesn’t care, and neither does the company. His carrier is intrinsically involved with public image. What could happen if someone recognized him arguing with Jun, and ended up posting on the internet? Idol Lee Know, fighting with a random civilian on the street. Would it matter who was the one who started it? The company had taken severe actions for much less. “You should’ve gone back inside the car and locked the damn door.”

It’s his time to roll his eyes, but before he respond, the slam of a door echoes throughout the staircase. You tense, your gaze shifting towards the stairway. Minho, on the other hand, simply stands up, but with his eyes still fixed on you.

Jun goes up a few stairs and shortly reach both of you. “What the hell?!” He shouts at Minho, spotting him first. Minho doesn’t acknowledge his presence. “What the fuck is wron-“ He follows Minho’s stare only to find you and, probably thrown off by the strange image of you half sitting half laid on the floor of a public staircase, Jun’s behavior shifts. The aggression is replaced by concern and confusion “Oh my God, Y/N. Are you okay?” He mentions to step closer towards you, but Minho blocks his passage with an arm. You see Jun’s face getting red with anger again. “Who do you think you are?! She’s my girlfriend!”

Although Jun storms at Minho, the latter doesn’t even glance at his direction. Instead, you find Minho searching for your eyes – and when they do find them, you don’t think of your heart skipping a beat. Somehow, you understand the silent question in his gaze: he wants to know from you whether he should allow Jun to come closer or not.

It makes your heart swell.

You don’t want Minho to give in – you don’t want yourself to give in. Although it shouldn’t be some kind of competition of who has more power over who, you think. First, to get some of your dignity back, you should at least look at them in the eye. You grip on the handrail once more and propel your body upward, rising to your feet.

At least you did, for a brief second. Then, you’re taken by a sudden strike of pain that hit your right ankle like a lightening. You cry out and collapse to the floor again – or you would, if it wasn’t for Minho. Before you know it, Minho has one arm around your body and pulls you closer to him. Leaning on him, you regain your balance and stand on one foot – the one not hurting.

“Are you okay?” He asks lowly as he stares down at your feet.

“Yes.” You breathe out and follow his gaze. “Fuck. Shit. It wasn’t hurting before. I swear.” You look at him apologetically, and you don’t understand the need to apologize.

“I know, Y/N.” He meets your eyes and soothes your side with the hand steading you for a moment. “It’s okay. Let’s take you to the hospital.”

You shake your head anxiously, “It’s fine. We’ll be late if we don’t leave.”

“I can take her.” Jun chimes in with a hint of smugness, reminding both of you of his unfortunate presence.

“I don’t need to be taken anywhere.” You snap at him and unconsciously try to step back from Minho. The pain shots through your body once again and you clench your teeth, instantly leaning back on him again.

Minho lets out an annoyed sigh. Suddenly, he lifts you up and holds you bridal-style. “Ya! I can walk!” You squeal, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach and the increasing warm on your cheeks.

“I’m sure you can. But as you said it yourself, we’ll be late if we don’t leave and we don’t have much time.” He says, turning around. You see Jun’s shocked look, and becoming more and more horrified after Minho says, “If you excuse us, you’re in the way.”

“I said I can take her. You can go on and meet your friends.” Jun doesn’t hide the venomous intent.

“Oh, I will.” Minho replies, indifferently. “With her. Now, move.”

Both yours and Jun’s faces get redder and redder, but you guess it’s from different emotions. “Or what?” He growls, and it sends a shiver down your spine. It’s gone too far. This bickering went too far.  You want to apologize, to clarify things. You open your mouth and nothing comes out – you don’t know what to apologize for. You almost say “It’s not what you think!”, but you realize it sounds as idiotic as not saying anything.

“I’ve been told to keep myself away from problems, and, as you can see, my hands are quite busy.” You groan quietly, and hides your face on Minho’s shirt. Slightly bad choice – his scent wraps around you like a blanket, and you become hyperaware from the steady thud coming from his chest, far slower than yours. Oh my God, can he feel my heartbeat? “So I’m afraid we’ll have to stand here for hours just staring at each other’s faces. It doesn’t sound much fun, does it?” Minho tilts his head to one side, “Although my face is way more pleasant to look at.”

You tug Minho’s shirt, “Minho. That’s enough.” Jun makes an outraged noise, and you exasperate, “Come on, Jun. Stop being childish, you two. Can we go, please?” The last request, directed at Minho, comes out way softer than the rest and you feel your face burning once more.

In disbelief, Jun steps aside. As Minho passes by him, you murmur a sincere apology. You feel Minho’s shoulder tense, but he doesn’t stop walking.

Jun doesn’t follow you outside the building. Minho crosses the street toward the parked car in silence. There is a tension in the air, and you know he is angry. Minho is definitely mad at Jun, for being an ass, but you feel he is mad at you too. The silence is intimidating, though, and you don’t dare to break it.

When he reaches the car, he shifts his hold onto you to just an arm for a brief moment, enough so he could open the car door. He does it so smoothly you could’ve missed. Gently, he places you on the passenger seat, pushing the seat backwards to give you plenty of space to stretch your leg.

His hands hover for a moment, hesitantly, but before you can ask, he removes them and let them fall on his sides in closed fists. Minho’s expression is grave, and you can almost see the gears spinning in his head. He inhales deeply and runs his fingers back on his hair.

When he comes to look at you again, the somberness is gone. He’s locked his thoughts and emotions somewhere far away inside his mind and if you had one wish, it’d be for you to have the key.

Although his voice is soft, it feels somehow forced. “Are you comfortable? Does anything else hurt?”

“I am fine, I promise.” You shift anxiously on the leather fancy seat, “Extremely comfortable.” You add, giving him both thumbs up and a smile.

He scoffs dryly, though some tension washed off his body. Pleased with easing things a little, you think that, perhaps, leaving with Minho and then going to the party to meet you friends again doesn’t have to be so painfully awkward. Things are fine, you think. There is a big chance that the awkwardness exists only in your head, that it might not be the same to the others. Maybe, hanging out with them will be as natural as it always was. Maybe, they don’t hate you. Maybe, things will be alright.

After all, they are your friends. You don’t need to be on the edge.

You thought Minho was going to close your door and walk to the driving seat. Instead, out of nowhere, he comes closer, hovering over you. You yelp and hold your breath, dizzy by the unexpected and definitely not usual proximity. His perfume hasn’t left you yet. His side profile is so close that you can see all the small dots on his skin. You want to caress it. Your eyes move to his long dark eyelashes. You’re jealous. You are amazed by how sharp his features are, and you wonder if it would be weird to have your fingers tracing his jaw. Then his cheekbones. Then his nose.

Then his lips.

“Found it.” He whispers to himself. Suddenly, your backseat reclines a little and you’re caught by surprise. “Is it better?” He finally turns to face you. Still close, but not as close as before, you’re sure it doesn’t take much to notice the flushed mess you are. You feel you were caught doing something very, very bad. And wrong. Oh my God, so wrong.

You shake your head, trying to shoo the wicked thoughts away. When you look your eyes, though, you feel your sanity slipping through every crack in your mind as a smirk grows on Minho’s lips. “I asked you a question, Y/N.”

God help me.

All you manage to do is nod once, gaining a hum in satisfaction from him. He backs away and close your door, and you watch him walk around the car and enter on the driver’s side. You close your eyes and take deep breaths, trying to calm down the pounding inside your chest. He puts his seatbelts on and you wait for him to start the engine. There is a moment of silence, forcing you to open your eyes.

Minho is staring at you. With an eyebrow raised and failing to hold back a smile, he looks at you with curiosity. You look at him back, challenging. “What?”

“Seatbelts, Y/N. Or should I put them on too?” He teases, and your eyes open wide. Definitely not. Shortly you are fastening your seatbelt as Minho finally gives up on holding back and laughs. You cross your arms and curse him under your breath, while he starts the engine and pull off.

A few minutes later, the car dashboard signalizes Minho is receiving a call. Involuntary, you glance at the screen at the same moment Minho takes the call. It’s Chris.

“Yes, Hyung?”

“Hey, are you on your way? Did you get Y/N?” Chan’s voice comes through the speaker. Your heart aches a little, realizing how long it has been since you started avoiding them, and how much you missed the casualty and warmth.

“I don’t think we can make it, Chan-hyung. Y/N probably got a sprained ankle or something of the sort.” You catch Minho’s eyes shifting from the road to your stretched leg just for a moment. “I’m taking her to the hospital.”

“To the hospital?!” Chan’s surprised squeal makes you blush, embarrassed for causing trouble even now. “Oh my Gosh. I’m gonna kill that dickhead. That was him, wasn’t it? That fucker I will-”

The sudden shift from surprise to anger caught you off guard. You open your mouth to say something, but the words don’t come.

“It was not the dickhead, for the matter.” Minho cuts the flow of cursing off. “Also, you’ll like to know we’re in the car right now.” He adds quickly, at the same time you try to think of something to say. “She can hear you.”

Chan audibly chokes and coughs. “Oh, fuck. Sorry.” He manages to say, cleaning his throat. “I’m sorry. Hi Y/N.”

He’s obviously embarrassed, which makes you feel slightly better. “Hi Channie.”

“You should’ve started saying that, Minho.” Chan says, lowly, and a smile grows in your lips once more when Minho murmurs something under his breath. “Are you okay, sweetheart? What happened?”

His soft voice was enough to dismantle any kind of discomfort, you thought. “I’m okay.” You start.

“She fell downstairs.” Minho chimes in, and you shoot an angry look at him, which he ignores bluntly. “She thought it would be a great idea to run down several stories of stairs, like a damn child.” Minho says wryly, keeping his eyes on the road. “She’s lucky it’s not anything more serious.”

“I was trying to save your ass!” You protest.

“My ass did not need to be saved.” He states.

“Oh, sure.” You roll your eyes. “Clearly you were not about to jump at my boyfriend’s throat. I wasn’t even there and I could tell.”

“Excuse me?” His voice falters with anger and he scoffs, “I was about to jump at his throat? I think you might mistaking the parties here, dear.”

You ignore the pet name and point your finger at him. “You should’ve gone back inside the car the moment you saw him and you know it.” His eyes travel from the road, to your face, then to your finger and back to your face.

“Are you actually pointing a finger at me right now?” He raises his eyebrows and turns his eyes back to the road. Heat spreads in your cheeks and you recoil your hand.

“Should I ask or…?” Chan speaks up hesitantly.

“No.” Minho says fiercely and you huff, crossing your arms across your chest and looking away.

“You didn’t get into trouble, right, Minho?” Chan asks again.

“Of course not.”

“You’re welcome.” You chime in, grimly, and you don’t face away when Minho shoots an angry look at you.

“Good to know you two are getting along.” Chan offers, with a hint of fun in his tone.

You gasp and utter “We are not getting along.”

At the same time, Minho says nonchalantly, “A hundred percent.” You stare at him in disbelief, but he refuses to glance back at you.

“Do you think it’s serious, Minho?” Chan asks and the shift in his voice is so abrupt that, for a moment, you don’t know what he is referring to.

You catch Minho’s eyes shifting from the road to your legs again, and you feel the growing heat in your cheeks. You’d give anything to go back in time and choose some jeans or anything that covered your legs instead.

“It’s probably just a strained ankle, hyung.” He glances away and you shift anxiously.

“I am fine.” You say, exasperated. “I even told him we should head to the dorms instead.”

“That’s because you’re stubborn, not fine.” Chan cuts you, and you see the corner of Minho’s mouth turning up. “Keep me updated, Minho. We’ll talk later.” Minho agrees monosyllabically and hangs up.

Minho stays quiet during the rest of the ride. You risk one or two glances in his direction, but he seems to remain unaware, his attention fixed on the traffic. Sometimes, you catch his jaw clenched, and he holds the wheel so tightly for a moment that his knuckles go white.

But here's the thing: besides these small and subtle gestures, his expression remains painfully plain. It's puzzling, and it intrigues you against your will. You keep telling yourself that not only do you not care, but also it has nothing to do with you. The man would probably not even make the effort to reply if you asked, or maybe you'd hear a 'None of your business,' if he felt like it.

After a moment, you decide that you don't mind. You reach for the air to ask what's bothering him, to seek permission for a glimpse into his inaccessible mind, but you exhale right after. The question dies on your tongue when he takes a turn, and the large white building emerges.

Maybe for the best.

He parks swiftly, quickly turning the car off and getting off. When you turn to open your own door, he’s already standing outside and doing it first.

“Should I get a wheelchair?” Minho tries, hesitant, his hands dance on the air unsure of what to do.

A short laugh escapes you before you can stop it. “It’s not necessary, Minho.” You mention to get off and, when he offers his help, you accept it. “Thank you, it’s okay. I’m sure I can handle it.”

He holds your hand with one hand, while the other presses your back giving you balance. Minho doesn’t answer right away and when you look up, he has a confused look on his face. He blinks once, then twice, assimilating your words. “What?” You can’t help but ask.

“I’m not leaving.” He declares, and it’s your turn to blink confusedly.

“Chan is waiting for you.” You explain, firming your weight to your good foot.

“Yes.” He moves to your side still holding your hand firmly, while having his other hovering on your back. “And for you too. So let’s go inside.”

You don’t move, still staring at him. “You’re going inside with me? You don’t have to.”

A soft smile blooms shyly on Minho’s lips. “Silly. You can barely stand. Shall we?”

A feeling of déjà vu fills your chest, and you shove it back inside. You let him guide you into the hospital, scolding yourself silently for finding yourself in front of this building with Lee Know by your side more often than you deemed appropriate.

[kyaa-q]

A Train Wreck (part 1)

Lee Know x fem!reader warnings: fluff but heavy angst and themes of abusive relationships wc: 8k>. AO3 link :) synopsis: Your life has changed a lot throughout the past 6 months, since you started dating Jun. Events lead you to slowly distance yourself from some of the people you loved the most - Stray kids. Even your friendship with Bang Chan, your closest friend, was damaged after that day. Now, you find your life to be like an unstoppable train wreck hurtling toward disaster. You're gradually losing the bonds that had always kept you sane, for a serie of events that turned your world upside down. It feels inevitable: you will crash. Could someone help you avoid the collision? Could someone take the wheel with you, and help you get control over your life again? You don't know anymore. There's only one thing you do know: you are not welcomed and Lee Know, in particular, might hate you. And his opinion about you hurts more than you wanted it to.

Or: Y/N is in an abusive relationship and ends up distancing herself from her friends (Stray Kids). She thinks everybody hates her, especially Lee Know. She doesn't understand the effect he has on her (and vice-versa).

important a/n: This work deals a lot with topics of toxic/abusive relationship. There is no physical violence, but it does show cases of emotional manipulation and the potential impacts it can have over someone. The reader is in a toxic romantic relationship (I'm sorry to all Jun's out there), and the story is basically about how it affect not only the reader herself, but also the people around her who she held dear to her heart. It does contain a lot of self-doubt, anxiety, depressive thoughts and having your world reshaped by someone else, taking down important pillars to someone's life, finally facing what it means to have been deceived and accepting it (eventually). Having said all that, if you think this is a sensitive topic to you, please proceed with caution (if you choose to do so). I suck at tagging, but I hope this note made things a little clearer. In the end, it's supposed to be a way of comforting and healing - which will come, eventually -, especially with the help of someone else. I'm not sure how long this will be, but there's still a long way to go. Also, I use "Lee Know" and "Lee Minho" interchangeably, depends on the feeling. A final note is that this chapter has a lot of flashbacks of the past, so the timelines might be confusing to some, but hopefully it is clear enough and I can convey the message and feeling I aimed for. Lots of love, everybody!

You just finished ordering when your phone rings. Your stomach drops and you catch yourself being scared that it might be your partner, Jun. It hasn’t been an hour since the fight you two had over the phone, and if you were being completely honest, you can’t even recall the exact reason for the argument. What you do recall, though, is the aggressive silence, followed by yelling, aggressive silence again, a very passive-aggressive monologue about how you simply can’t understand. Why are you making things so difficult?, a quiet rage when you tried to speak, finally ending with Jun hanging up on you. In that order, specifically.

You force yourself to analyze the conversation. You remember calmly asking him where he had been the past few days. The overreaction you got threw you off. After days of complete silence from his end, could anyone actually blame you for genuinely being intrigued? Did that mean you were you a control freak? That you did you not trust him? That had never crossed your mind, for God’s sake! You only wanted to know! It was insane what he accused you of, for simply wondering whether he was busy or something similar. Suddenly trying to justify your question as coming from a place of sadness, not control, felt like a weakness. It didn't matter nonetheless, since he had hung up so abruptly. A mix of shame and guilt engulfed you, with a hint of anger that you very consciously denied.

Before you knew it, you were outside walking without direction, just desperate to unwind your mind. You hoped the fresh spring breeze healing powers would be enough. So, you walked and walked and walked, crossing streets and taking turns mindlessly. Or so you thought. You cursed your feet when you, at last, realized where they had dragged you, spotting the JYP-Entertainment building at one corner. A few buildings away, you remind yourself, your favorite coffee shop still stood. You actively deceived yourself, claiming that that is the place your feet had been leading you all along and resuming a much more determined march. It was the craving for coffee that had brought you here, you told yourself, and not the fear of running into any of the boys.

“Ma’am?” The cashier, a boy that probably is still in school, brings you back from your daze. He has a painfully obvious worried look on his face. Do I look on the outside as shitty as I feel in the inside? The phone stops ringing and you blink, hoping your mask is good enough to pull off a relaxed demeanor. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You reach into your bag and aim for your wallet, doing your best to ignore the pity on that young boy’s eyes. Shame swirls inside your chest and you’re scared you might start crying in front of this poor kid.

You hand him the money and allow your eyes to wander around for a moment. The mechanical sounds the cash register makes are relaxing, and you take in the place you so dearly liked. You aren’t alone in the shop — in fact, it is quite busy for a Thursday afternoon. It is better this way, you think. The sensation of merging with the crowd and disappearing is welcoming. The boy hands over your change, and your phone starts ringing again.

The color of your face must have disappeared, by the look of the cashier’s face. “Can I do anything to-“

“Keep the change.” You smile once more, cutting him off. You turn around before he can finish his sentence and head to the farthest table you can spot. On your way, you wonder whether you look as pathetic on the outside as you feel on the inside. Without realizing it, you made a decision. The decision of avoiding Jun as if it could make anything better — as if it could even change anything by any means. You hated yourself for being scared, afraid of something you can’t exactly name. It couldn't be Jun. Why would it be? Apart from the occasional raised voice, he has never done anything to you. It's just a phone call, you tell yourself. If it goes downhill you can simply hang up, just like he did to you before. As simple as that. By the time you reach your seat, you're determined. This is foolish, you swear under your breath. Still, you hesitate to take the ringing phone out of your pocket — but end up doing it anyway.

The word Chris glowing on the screen feels like a cozy blanket being wrapped around your cold body. You must have audibly exhaled, perhaps muttered some thanks — whether to a higher being or to Chan himself, you're not sure — because you notice a few people turning their heads toward you . It’s okay, everybody! Everything is fine now!, you want to say. You clear your throat before answering it.

“Hey there.” Hopefully you don't sound so gloomy. You put in a double effort to sound as cheery as possible. Perhaps, if Chan believes you’re okay, you might as well just be.

“What’s wrong?” Straight to the point, you wince by the dry, clearly worried tone. Tough start.

You know Chan and the way he worries extensively about everything and everyone — not enough about himself, some would argue, but you'd slightly disagree. It’s simply part of his nature, you’ve learned. As much as you admired deeply his instinct to help, you did not want to be the object of such attention at that moment. He is a great friend – fuck, he is the best friend. In normal instances, you wouldn't hesitate before sharing your mind and soul with him. Right now, however, worrying him also meant being faced with too many questions, none of which you wanted to answer — perhaps not even knew the answer to. Not only that, you were also vaguely aware about the upcoming Stray Kids comeback in less than two months. Having witnessed the boys go through times like this firsthand before, the last thing you wanted was to add your name to the list of “Things That Keep Bang Chan Up At Night”. In reality, you knew he couldn't do anything about your situation regardless. Therefore, you conclude, worrying him would simply be counterproductive.

“Ouch. Not even a hello?” You play it off, fidgeting with your bag’s strap. You know you can't fool Chan. You shake your head to ward off the thoughts.

“Hello. What is wrong, Y/N?” He insists and you shift nervously in your chair. Your eyes travel to the cashier, who is talking to the barista, a boy as young as him, keeping them both in your line of sight. “Why didn’t you pick up the first time?” Chan questions.

“Is it that weird for me to not pick up immediately?” You joke quietly. You know Chan is not buying your act. “Actually. I think I should be the one asking you. Why do you sound so urgent? What is going on?” You deflect, but Chan doesn’t take the bait. He takes a deep breath, audibly through the speaker, and you feel bad for making things difficult for him — you really do. But you know it’s the best option. You will sort all the awkwardness in the future, hoping it won't be too late for it to have settled and stained your friendship irreversibly. You want to fill the silence, but your tongue feels heavy in your mouth.

Is it really the best option? What would be worse — telling Chan and burdening him with your own confusing problems, at least having him know what’s wrong, or avoiding talking about it? Certainly, he will sense that something is wrong, but at least he won’t feel bad for not helping if he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on.

But where to start?

Chris exhales audibly once more. “Nothing. I’m sorry.” He wants to insist, you can tell, but you’re thankful he’s holding back. “I just miss you.” He says it so softly the phone barely captures it. It hits you like a truck, and tears are rolling down your cheeks before you acknowledge them. The lump in your throat grows, and you're afraid your voice will betray you if you try to speak. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. When was the last time you came to the company?”

And it has been weeks - months, actually. You’re sure you can hear your own heart shattering like glass inside your chest. You can touch the sharp edges of the cracks and spot bruises that were supposed to have healed long ago but linger still. You miss him too. Not only Chan, but you you’re your routine with him and 3RACHA. You miss Changbin’s loud teasings and Han’s snuggles. You miss spending the hours on end holed up in a practice room with the eight of them, watching as they dance and sing and spin and fight and laugh, as if their own life depended on it. You were just a lucky spectator who has been very much avoiding the fact that you've been neglecting your most precious fortune. When did you become this mess of a person?

You’re bothering them. The male voice resonates in your mind and you close fiercely your eyes. You are not one of them, Y/N. You’re just being a nuisance all the time. Why can't you see it?

You try to stop it, but it's in vain. The memory memory comes back regardless.

“I never said I was one of them. That’s silly.” You replied as you entered the company’s elevator, followed by Jun. With your hands occupied holding plastic bags filled with snacks handpicked for each of the boys, you press the button with your elbow. “I just don’t think they see a problem with me coming over from time to time. It's not like I'm showing up every day." You glimpsed at your watch. You were early and Chris wouldn't be waiting for you. Perfect, you could surprise them. "You know, Channie was the one-“ He scoffed and you felt a puncture of guilt. “Chris.” You corrected yourself, not wanting to get into a fight because of this again. “Chris was the one who texted me asking if I was planning to come or not.” You tried to conceal the pride warming your chest with that statement.

“Maybe it’s because they just want to go home, but they can’t because there’s always the chance of you showing up out of nowhere. Have you ever thought about that?" His tone was harsh and took you by surprise. Actually… No. You have not thought about that, in fact. He inhaled deeply, massaging his temples in a sign of stress. “Of course not."

“I didn’t ask you to come.” You mumbled, fighting against the flush of shame on your cheeks. What if he's right? What if you've been bothering and annoying some of the most important people in your life this whole time, and they've just been putting up with you? Your heart sank at the thought.

“Babe.” Jun appeared in your line of sight and placed his hands on both your shoulders. "You know I'm only saying this because I love you, right? I just don’t want you to embarrass yourself in front of those people, that’s all." You tried to avoid his gaze, but he gently turned your chin and held it. "Okay?”

His voice was soft, but clear. Too loud for your ears, perhaps. The soft tone did not make it easier to absorb the painful words. It took you a moment to register that the elevator's bell had run the doors had already opened. Your partner stepped back, taking some of the bags from your hands and turning to exit. Had you been paying attention, you would've noticed the cynical smile on his face as he turned toward the figure standing at the entrance. You only registered the other party after Jun's venomous tone. “If you excuse us.”

The shadow, meanwhile, did not excuse him. He didn't move not even an inch to the side, and you caught Jun trying to pass by them smoothly - but failing. The figure didn't show to care when he bumped into him, murmuring curses under his breath that were very much audible. You turned your head and found, as already expected, Lee Know standing there. Nonchalantly, hands in the pockets of his jeans, you met his piercing dark gaze, already fixed on you - and you only. He paid as much attention to Jun as he'd do to a fleck of dust.

Although it had been about two months since you started dating Jun, all the boys had already met him. You held a habit of visiting them regularly at the company after being close to Chan for so long. Dating Jun hadn't stopped you from doing that, in fact, for some reason, he'd insist to come along. You tried questioning him if that came from a place of jealousy, but gave up after a few attempts. Mentioning Stray Kids was usually the motive for big arguments, which never led anywhere. Coming to the company to hang out obviously gave Jun as much amusement as he’d get from attending a seminar on top 10 best lore of teenager’s movies, and it was up to him how he spent his time. You actively did your best to dismiss his mean comments about the most insane things, be it the lightening of the place or the paint color they chose to paint this one specific wall or the supposed secretary’s rudeness. Every aspect of the building had something wrong with it that deserved a specific remark about it. Jun had learned not to make any unpleasant comments about - or even to - the boys. That was the only instance you would not let slide. In return, you learned to let him rant about how god damn cold or hot or crowded or empty the building was.

You never told Chan - or anyone, for that matter - about it. Practically any of the members, even Chris himself, had ever explicitly stated whether they liked or disliked Jun, and you never asked them directly. They maintained an awkwardly polite demeanor in Jun’s presence. At least they tried to keep it civilized, even when Jun was being difficult. Well, practically because there was one exception.

Lee Minho clearly disliked your boyfriend, and the feeling was mutual from day one. The first day Jun came along and you introduced him to your friends, they were all respectful and dealt fairly well with Jun’s special ironic remarks. Minho, on the other hand, had withdrawn into a state of heavy silence and deadly stares that alternated between you and Jun. You tried to ignore it, initially, not giving it too much thought. That was until Minho questioned, in a very audible and shameless, almost whiny voice, 'Ah, Hyung! When is this thing leaving? It’s so annoying.'

Before you could decide whether you’d argue with Minho or Jun, your short-tempered partner was already looking, outraged, for the source of the voice. You grabbed his arms and tried to drag him toward the door, saying goodbye to the boys with a hasty 'Yes, I’ll see you soon! Take care!' And, 'Let’s go, Jun, we have to—'

But as you left the room, both you and Jun saw that Minho had stood up and was leaning proudly against the wall. His deadly stare had followed you to the exit and you caught when the shadows on his face gave place to a malicious smile forming on his lips. He was looking at Jun, as he gave a tiny wave, somehow a sign of imminent violence. Just before you closed the door, you couldn't stop the shiver running down your spine when you noticed he was staring at you. You couldn't read what they said, but your stomach churned nonetheless.

Minho was the primary target of your boyfriend’s distaste ever since, and a common fight motive. Jun had always been the type to overthink, but it was ridiculously worse when it came to Lee Know - which was tragically hilarious. From all the eight, he had chosen Lee Minho to pick on? You'd try to argue, but his reply would always come to You can’t be this blind. It was maddening, always as if you were both arguing about two completely different things.

Thus, you weren't surprised to find Lee Know in front of you - that particular mocking tone coming from Jun in If you excuse us, would only be used with Minho. What did surprise you, however, was Minho himself. Standing as still as a statue in front of you, the man emanated annoyance and deep displeasure. His dark eyes exuded an anger you were certain you could touch. It made the air surrounding you heavier and colder. The chill reflected in your stomach as your face grew hotter. You couldn't look away, as if you were under a spell - and perhaps you were. You didn’t know if you wanted to scream, to run, or to hide. Maybe all three options. The knowledge you were the reason behind this anger was as clear as running fresh water, and it gave you goosebumps. Somehow, it wasn’t a question. You didn’t know what you could’ve done to trigger such fierce feelings from Lee Know. Although his feelings were as transparent as clean glass, you were unable to read his thoughts. Honestly, you weren’t sure you even wanted to.

How long it passed, you couldn’t tell. How long you stood there, pitiful and unable to move or look away, a mess of flushed face and glassy eyes, remains unclear to you to this day. What was very clear even at that time, however, was the shadow of disappointment you spot on the vastness of his deep dark eyes the moment before he turned around. He walked to the opposite direction of the hallway without saying a word. The abrupt withdraw left bad taste in your mouth. The spell was broken and you could breathe again, but the air was too icy in your lungs, making you wonder whether it'd be better to go back underwater - to be back under his gaze. That shadow of disappointment in his eyes persisted like an annoying fly you couldn’t shoo away, accompanied by a heavy weight in your chest.

“What the fuck was that?” The angry whisper suddenly reminded you that you weren’t alone. You might as well have been, though. The world could have ended and the universe collapsed at that very moment, and yet, staring into Lee Know’s eyes, you knew it wouldn’t make any difference. Under his gaze, you wouldn’t have noticed anyone but you and him. Your eyes followed the dark spot going down the corridor, until the moment he finally took a turn and disappeared completely. You collapsed against the elevator’s wall, finally breathing in as deep as you could until your lungs ache. Hold for one. Two. Three. Four. Exhale.

“Hello? What the fuck Y/N?” For a moment you considered yelling at Jun. You felt your nerves on the surface of your skin, and your heartbeat was distractingly loud in your head.

“I don’t know.” You breathed out, realizing that, in fact, you didn't have energy to fight. Your legs were unsteady and you realized your hands were shaking. The fog in your mind dissipated a little, and the pleas in your mind for Minho to come back died out. You tighten the grip on the left bags on your hands and push yourself forward. In automatic mode, you got out the elevator and headed to the first and closest safe place your mind could think of: 3RACHA’s Studio.

Perhaps you should have realized that you were heading in the same direction you had just seen him go, only a few minutes before. That you would, unavoidably, end up facing Lee Know again - although 3RACHA’s Studio wasn’t the only active room on that floor, that was the most obvious conclusion to arrive at. Maybe you knew it, unconsciously. Today, you wonder if you didn’t turn back that day simply because following Minho was like an instinct. You were confused, sad and scared, but still, going to Minho felt as natural as searching for a shelter during a storm. In this case, Minho was both the storm and the shelter. You should’ve turned your back and gone home, but you didn’t. Your mind was a hurricane of confusing feelings and images that, in the end, returned to the same name being chanted again and again. Lee Know Lee Know Lee Know.

Jun kept saying things you didn’t register. His voice was just a bit more than an agitated whisper, and you wished he would just shut up. Or even better, stayed at home. The doubts and fears resurfaced and you couldn’t shake them away. What if he was right? What if what had just happened was a statement of how much you annoyed and bothered this people?

Did they hate you that much?

As this last thought crossed your mind, a loud thud echoed, followed by a harsh voice. You froze, realizing it was emanating from 3RACHA’s Studio, and the door was half-open.

“Why is it still going on? It’s ridiculous!” It was… Minho? Could it be? You had never seen him raise his voice in anger - at least not seriously. It was unmistakably Minho, but the so intense anger was foreign to you. You couldn’t place it to the so coldhearted and detached person that Minho had always shown.

“YA! Don’t go around slamming things!” Changbin’s scolding came even louder, followed by mumbles you thought was Han's, but they were too muffled by the distance and walls to be sure.

They were fighting. They were very seriously fighting, and the realization sank in.

You should run. Run run run. Something was so clearly and deeply wrong. You should not be here. Now. Run.

Your members didn't follow your mind’s orders, and you caught yourself frozen in place.

You couldn’t move.

Your eyes snapped to your left, where Jun started moving. The sparkle of hope was extinguished when you realized he was moving forward, and not back to the elevator. He took one step closer to the door, and then another. Slowly, but surely trying to get a better listen. This isn't right.

“What do you want us to do, Minho?” Chan’s voice was also alien. The hasty, firm and contained anger just didn’t fit his patient personality. “Should we yell at her? That’s your solution?”

Her. Obviously this was about you. The word solution haunts you to this day, but even back then, the harm was starting to settle in. The need of a solution arises from the existence of a problem. You. In the end, you were the problem they were looking for a solution for.

“I can’t do this.” It was Lee Know again. Although his voice was much lower, it was as clear as it would’ve been if you were in that room with them. Pain and exhaustion overflowed from his words, and you felt their weight on your own face, in the form of tears that welled up and streamed down nonstop. His agony was overwhelming, and you felt as if your own heart was a broken dam. “I can’t, Hyung.” It was getting harder to understand his words - not only for the walls muffling them, but also for your own heartbeat was deafening. For a moment, you considered whether they could hear it too.

You sized your options. First, you could casually knock on the door and hand them the bags – somehow still in your hands –, then find an excuse to leave right after. Oh, sorry! I’m super busy, just wanted to give you guys these. No, it’s fine! Enjoy! It could work. Except the atmosphere inside was beyond intimidating. You would never be able to put on such an act that convinced them you weren't listening. The second option was simply leaving the bags in front of the door and leaving instantly. You shook your head, discarding the idea as soon as it happened. Leaving without saying a word would be a clear statement that you heard them, then felt bad and left. While it was precisely what had happened, you did not want them to know that. No, you couldn’t bear having Chan forcibly explaining to you in which ways you were a problem to the boys. The fact that he felt this way - or at least knew the others did - and had not talked to you prior stung at the back of your brain. Lastly, you could just leave. Dragging Jun and all the bags, you would leave no traces behind and, hopefully, Minho would think you didn’t even leave the elevator. Maybe he would think you had seen him and finally realized you were not welcome, then you had made the smartest choice – the one you should definitely have taken – and had gone straight home. He would ignore it and not mention it and-

Shouts suddenly pulled out from of your daze.

“GONE! OUT OF HERE! OUT OF MY FUCKING SIGHT!” Someone vociferated, followed by the sounds of a chair being dragged and steps. You grabbed Jun's hand and started pulling him after you before you even register doing the action. Desperately going back to the direction you both came from, you prayed to find an unlocked door before anyone heard your footsteps and plastic sounds. Not sure how, your pleas were quickly answered. In a moment of despair, trying to open an unknown door, you pushed both you and Jun inside the empty dark room. Shortly afyer you shut the door and locked it, hoping the thud noise went unnoticed. 

 “Are you crazy?” As soon as he started, you dropped all the plastic bags and covered his mouth with both hands. You closed your eyes – to avoid the tears that threatened to spill or to hear if anyone had left the studio and came after you, you didn’t know. Regardless, you couldn’t hear anything over your heartbeat and a high buzz in your ears.

“Y/N?” You blink, coming back to the present. You open your eyes, and the barista is in front of your table holding your coffee. You notice his uncomfortable gaze and blush in embarrassment, murmuring thanks and apologies as he hands you the cup and leaves. He must’ve called you and you didn’t hear, giving him extra trouble to leave his spot and hand it to you personally.

It can also be due the tears flowing uninterruptedly on your face. Who knows.

You look at the black screen on your hand, laying on your lap now. You unlock your phone and blink to try to clean your vision from the tears, regardless, there is no new notifications. You can't recall the conversation with Chan exactly - if it could even be called a conversation. You don't know whether it was you or Chan who hung up, or even if you got to say goodbye. Had he noticed you crying?

You stare at the ceiling, doing your best to stop the tears. That was the last time you went to the company, and that was months ago. You miss Chan. You miss Changbin and Han. You miss spending the afternoon simply watching them working on music. You miss how they were loud and lively and intense. You miss how you felt when you were with them, and knowing that the feeling was only one sided broke your heart in ways you have no idea how to heal. You can’t shake the feeling of losing them - it seemed inevitable, and you wanted to scream.

You don't know why you act the way you do - running away since then. Evidently, it wouldn't magically make things right again. It wouldn't wipe out your memories of that day, or care less, for that matter. Some of the dearest people in your life thought of you as a problem to be solved, and it simply hurt. Minho’s anger and disdain were far too ingrained in your brain. You’ve been ignoring the acute pain that always followed remembering his exasperation and fury. Gone, he had shouted at the top of his lungs. He wanted you gone and couldn’t fathom why no one had talked to you yet. Honestly, it's hard for you to not question the same. 

Something very solid and real had broken inside you that day. Your attempt to pretend nothing happened was reinforced by the fact that, that day, Minho had, indeed, did what you hoped he would do. You texted Chan a little after, apologizing for not showing up, and he didn't say anything about you being there. Minho hadn’t told them about meeting you, and you felt relieved – maybe you could work things out by yourself, without having to make things even harder for them. You still didn't know how - but you planned on finding out.

The weeks that followed that incident were a messy blur. Thankfully, Jun didn’t mind your absentmindedness. It didn't bother him – interacting was an action that had to come from your end, and, since your mind was preoccupied with something else, he wouldn’t even try pulling you out from your thoughts. You couldn’t focus on anything else for too long, your thoughts would always, somehow, end on Minho’s resentment. On Minho's angry pleas to the winds for you to go away. On Minho's eyes. On Minho. Minho. It drove you mad. You felt bad and didn't want to admit you resented Chan a little. As you learned, asking Jun for advice proved to be completely unhelpful – in fact, it made things worse most of times. The situation was as clear as crystal to him: the boys were busy people, while you were someone desperately clinging to their attention, and, in the end, it saturated them. They were also not assholes - except that guy, he'd add - and that’s why they had been trying to give you hints. Then, you could arrive at the conclusion yourself, and there wouldn't be a need to go through the confrontational phase. Unfortunately, you hadn’t done your part and didn’t read between the lines, that's why you stood where you did. Why are you so upset about it? Fuck them! I never liked those guys anyway, and variations would usually put an end to the "conversation".

At work, however, you didn’t have the comfort of having your absentmindedness be dismissed. That was quickly noticeable not only by your clients and colleagues, but also by your manager. He was a patient man, but seemed to be in a permanent state of exhaustion and you guessed that's what capitalism did to a person. He never raised his voice and treated employees as human beings – an unprecedented event according to your own experience -, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have the company as top priority. He tried to listen and help, but wouldn’t hesitate to fire someone if they messed up. The first time you were called to his office, he questioned, impassive, about the embarrassing decline in your productivity. He didn’t seem exactly worried - employees had ups and downs all the time. You tended to overwork yourself, and, although you weren't the employee of the month, you knew you did a good job overall - so did your superior. “It’s just proceeding, you know?”

The downs persisted, unfortunately, and two weeks later you were called again. This time, his approach was more assertive and concerned.

“You can’t stay like this, Y/N.” He turned the monitor on his desk to face you, showing the numbers you had missed the last 15 days. “What is going on?”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You bowed deeply one more time, having no explanations or justifications for your bad performance. You couldn’t tell your manager you had your confidence undermined, that you were questioning every single act and interaction you had. You couldn’t tell your superior how deeply you missed your friends, missed love and hugs and affection and care. You missed yourself. You couldn’t tell him about the constant presence in your head that kept saying you were doing everything wrong. Everything. All your achievements, be they your job or your relationships - all of them were product of luck and you clearly weren’t good enough to keep them. Chan instantly came to mind. Even though he was texting you regularly, you couldn't get rid of the overwhelming sadness gripping your neck and kept your replies short. Obviously he had noticed, but respected your space - he stopped asking what was wrong after the first week. Knowing him, it was good that he didn’t know where you live, and that his own job kept him busy through day and night, or else you were certain he would’ve shown up at your door already. “It’s all my fault and I am deeply sorry I am bringing losses to the company and-"

“Y/N.” Your manager cut you, “When was the last time you slept?”

Confused, you blinked. “Excuse me?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “That answers it. You need to see a doctor.”

“I’m fine.” You raised your hands in surrender. “I promise, I don’t need to-“

“You can be a lot of things, Y/N. Sleep-deprived. Careless. Stressful. Anything but fine.” You flinched on the bluntness.

“Don’t you mean stressed?” You mumbled, embarrassed, trying to play off a joke.

“No, I said what I meant. Stressful. I cannot go on even for one more day if I look at my window one more time and see you staring blankly at your hands for God knows how long.” Before you could protest, he stopped you again. “I’m serious. I can’t afford the trouble of having an employee passing out because of lack of sleep. Take the rest of the day off and go to the hospital to get checked up. Come back tomorrow with the results in hand stating you are not dying or turning into a damn zombie.”

Left with no choice, you headed to the hospital. The feeling of guilt lingered in your chest a little, wondering if the insomniac nights were obvious in the dark bags under your eyes, if your anxiety was that evident in your eyes, words and walking.

You expected your health to be in check. You were certain modern medicine wasn’t capable of curing broken hearts yet – unfortunately. In worst case scenario, you’d probably walk out with a prescription to help you sleep and that’d be all. You took a deep breath before going in.

“Y/N?!”

Your body reacted before your mind and your eyes snapped in the direction of the source – Chris. He was already walking toward you, emerging from inside the huge building you had been staring at. You wondered if you were finally at the stage of hallucinations, and perhaps it was good it was happening next to a hospital - but this thought soon evaporated. Before you registered your own actions, you were also walking toward him, falling into the so missed and familiar hug your heart ached for.

It was the first time meeting Chan in almost a month. Usually, it wouldn’t have been a big thing, but it was for you. Your heart had been bleeding out for the past four weeks, and you hadn’t found a way to stop the pain. Chris was instant medicine, one that you had been actively depriving yourself of. You allowed yourself to be selfish for a moment. It was okay if you disturbed them and if you were an overall headache to them. In that moment, though, it was just you and Chris. You let yourself to believe that the love and appreciation you received from him were as real as they felt.

“Hi.” You murmured against his chest, inhaling his familiar perfume. His body vibrated with a chuckle, backing off just enough to look you in the eyes.

It was short, but you saw when the fun and joyful semblance turned into a concerned expression. You thought you sensed Chan becoming rigid, stiffening the hold on your shoulders just a little, as if you could run away if he let you. You remembered how you awfully sick and tired you might look. “How are yo-“

“I’m fine.” You cut off him, not being able to hold back a smile. “Do I look that terrible?”

He shifted, trying to cover up for his shameless stare. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”

Your smile widened; it was so easy to mess with him. “I’m just joking. I’m really fine, though.”

He glanced at you suspiciously. You could’ve well said you won the Olympics, and a quick look at you was enough to say that both of those things – being fine and winning the Olympics – were equally unlikely. And you didn’t account for the fact he had caught you standing in front of a hospital, just about to go in. Then it clicked, a hospital he just walked out of.

“Wait, what were you doing there? Are you okay?” It was your time to shamelessly look for wounds and signs that could hint if there was anything wrong with Chris. You noticed his clothes – shorts and a black long-sleeve shirt, it’s not something he’d normally wear outside, and rather stay inside working or even practicing.

He laughed shortly. “I am fine. Jeongin had an accident during practice and-“

“Jeongin had an accident?” Your voice was high pitched. Your eyes shifted to the entrance, past Chan, and you tensed, afraid you could see a badly hurt I.N.

“He is fine, Y/N.” He put his hand on the top of your head and turned it back to him. Looking into his eyes, you searched but found no traces of lying. Indeed, Chan looked quite chill, given the circumstances. “We feared he had a strained ligament or something, but he’s fine. I'll still hurt for the next few days, for sure. But he'll survive."

You breathed out in relief. “That’s great.” The story also explained his clothes.

Chan smiled at your concern. “Actually, they should be here at any minute now.” He glanced at the watch on his wrist.

“They?” You looked at him puzzled, but as if waiting for its cue, a loud calling Hyung! drew his attention.

When he turned around, keeping one hand gently on your elbow, he stepped aside and gave you a clear vision of the hospital's entrance.

Your heart caught in your throat. It wasn’t the imagery of an injured Jeongin, who limped just a little toward you and Chan, using a crutch to support his body. Oblivious, you didn’t even notice the way he was happily surprised to see you after so long, his dimples showing even after he had just left the hospital.

No. In all honesty, you had barely registered Jeongin’s presence at all at first. Instead, your eyes met with the figure following him, just slightly behind. The simplicity of the large white shirt and gray sweatpants would have made anyone else look comfortable, casual at most – but Lee Know wasn’t just anyone else. He wasn’t just comfortable or casual. He was so goddamn attractive - he was hot, you dared. His dark hair was even longer than it was the month prior, falling a little on his eyes depending on the movement of his face, and you had the urge to place a lock behind his ear.

He stopped walking suddenly, his gaze locking with yours. In that moment you knew the word that best described Minho: breathtaking – quite literally.

It lasted for a moment. Chan called for I.N and Minho started walking in your direction. Your eyes instantly deviated from his, and you forced yourself to focus on the maknae, rather than the burning stare coming from Minho or the blood flow running in your ears.

“Y/N!” Jeongin smile was contagious.

“Hey there, baby bread! How are you feeling?” You wanted to hug him, but you were unsure about his injuries, so you chose to stick with the smiling. Lee Know caught up to you all and placed himself by Jeongin's side.

“Oh, it’s nothing serious.” You saw him blushing. “This thing helps," he jiggled the crutch, "but it makes it seem way worse than it actually is. Ice will do just fine.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, Innie”. You smiled at him, and he smiled back. Keeping your hands in front of your body, highly conscious - conscious of your posture, choice of clothes, and greasy hair. You felt like a prey being watched by a predator – but choosing to avoid the predator’s eyes instead.

“What’s wrong with you?” Although Minho’s voice didn’t carry any resentment or accusation, you still winced. The sensation was like having a burnt hand and then someone grabbing it and placing it under a stream of cold water for relief. Yes, the relief would come right after, but first came the moment of shock and instinct to move away, before realizing how much you needed the cold water (his voice?) to relieve the pain of your burnt hand (your heart?).

“Come on, Lino. That’s not how you greet people.” Chan began, glancing at you apologetically. Unable to ignore him any longer, you let your eyes shift towards him.

His expression was a mystery, as hard as if it were sculpted in marble. Minho's face revealed no emotions, nor did his words. The bluntness could be mistaken by indifference, still his gaze was intense, making it hard to breathe and sending chills down your spine.

“Why would anything be wrong?” You questioned. Your voice somehow didn’t shake, and you hope you didn’t look as affected as you felt.

“Because I have eyes.” You felt your face growing hotter.  “And because you are in front of a hospital. What is wrong?” A sparkle of defiance lit in your chest – you owed him nothing. In fact, last time you checked, Lee Minho had made it very clear he did not want to see you.

“That’s not nice, Minho.” Chan scolded him, more fiercely this time.

“No, Chan.” You began, smiling warmly at Chris. He had so much on his shoulders already, you wouldn’t let Minho become another topic of trouble for him. “I’m fine, Minho. I’m here only to get checked up. Routine, that’s all.” You sustained his gaze with one of your own, hands held in fist so tight you’d later find red marks on your palms.

Minho raised a brow, almost mocking your poor explanation. The maknae spoke before him, “Are you sure you are well, Y/N?” The gentleness appeased your heart.

“You have to be joking.” Lee Know scoffed, apparently to himself but audibly to all of you. He was infuriating, daring to demand answers he had absolutely no right over! Why was he pressing on this? Why did it matter, anyway? Before you launched on him, Chan spoke.

“Okay! We’re done here.” He felt the weird energy between you two and wanted to prevent a war. “The driver is waiting for us, we need to go back. I.N, can you walk by yourself?”

“Yes, Hyung.” The maknae responded, particularly confused for the sudden shift but not daring to ask any questions.

Chan clapped “Okay, great. Minho, let’s-“

“I’m staying.” Minho said simply, placing himself by your side. Both you and Chan turned your heads to him abruptly.

“You are what?” You stepped away from him in disbelief. Your voice was a little higher than you wished. His face remained impassive, but there was something in his eyes that you quite put your finger on. “No, you are not.”

“Oh, come on. I’m not gonna do anything to you.” He exasperated.

You tried to sense his motives, but it made so little sense that it was hard to put some logic into it. Did he get some twisted pleasure from upsetting you? It could be. But again, not a month had passed after the incident at the company. Back then, the sight of you had triggered as far as rage in him. But even now, he didn't look exactly the type of person that was getting any satisfaction from being in your presence.

Chan’s tone was serious. “Minho,” His eyes left yours and shifted to the oldest, changing his demeanor in a bit. His posture was rigid, but his gaze carried a determined defiance. “What is going on?”

Minho pointed at you without adverting his eyes from Chan. You gasped angrily, about to protest, but he didn’t give you the space. “She is going on, hyung. Look at her. If not for the obvious signs of being ill, then for the fact she’s missing work to come to the hospital.”

You argued. “I’m missing work because my boss told me to!"

“Which only proves my point.” He continued, letting his hand fall right by his side. “Something is so obviously wrong that it was up to her boss to step in, or else I doubt she’d come by herself.”

Ouch. “Listen." You interrupted. "I don't know what's going on with you, but you’re making it way bigger than it actually is. I am okay and I most definitely do not need your help.” You glanced at Chris, but his attention was still directed to Minho. You could see the gears working in his head, but you decided it was time to leave. “It was great seeing you guys. I mean it. But I really don't have time for this. If you excuse me.” You turned your back and tried to leave, but in vain. Not even two steps later did a hand wrap around one of your wrists. Minho’s hold was gentle, but firm, and you tried to hide de burning in your cheeks. “YA!”

He pulled you closer than you were before, and his voice was deeper when he spoke. “How long has it been since you last saw your boyfriend?” You were dizzy. The sudden shift in subject, accompanied by the warmth Minho's hand transmitted to your wrist and the disdain he had put into the word 'boyfriend,' clouded your thinking.

“Jun?” You blinked, trying to disperse the fog, but the scent of his perfume was inebriating. Minho was too close. “I saw him yesterday.”

“You saw him yesterday?” Minho’s voice had a hint of disbelief, and he searched for lies in your eyes. You saw him becoming tense, and you prepared to feel his grip tightening, but the hold on your wrist remained the same. “Are you sure?”

“What?! Of course I am sure! What kind of question is that?” Angrily, you pulled your wrist away from his grasp. He let you, keeping his stare a little longer. “What is wrong with you?!” You turned your eyes to Chris, begging a way out of this insanity. You caught I.N behind him, almost as uncomfortable with the scene as you were. Chan sustained Minho’s gaze for a moment, and your eyes darted between the two of them. No words were spoken, but obviously they weren't needed. The silent conversation through telepathy or whatever the sorcery clearly didn't include you.

After what seemed like forever, Chan sighed, defeated. “Okay. Y/N," he turned to you. "do you mind if he accompanies you?”

“What?! This is madness! Of course I mind. I’m not a child!” You begged.

“It’s not that, sweetheart.” He got closer and you let him when he pulled you to a hug. “We’re just worried about you. We all know you’re very much capable of taking care of yourself.” He added the last phrase when he felt you were about to protest. “We just want to make sure you are okay and can go home safely afterwards.”

“I can do this by myself.” You mumbled.

“I know, I know. But Lee Know can’t. He won’t be able to rest if he doesn’t make sure you’re safe and sound.” He kissed your forehead. “And my mind will also be at ease if I know you’re with him.”

After a moment, you sighed. “Fine.” You accepted reluctantly, stepping away as Chan positioned himself next to the waiting maknae.

“Thank you, Y/N. You’re amazing. Lemme know how things go, yea?” Chan’s warm smile was impossible to be angry about. You nodded with your head and waved a tiny goodbye to I.N and watched them walk away.

Lee Know, didn't move an inch throughout the entire time.  When you turned to him, somehow, he seemed relaxed. Even his eyes had changed. Although they still carried a wince of something unknown - similar to concern but deeper in a way -, they were calmer. They were almost… gentle. It could’ve made you mad. He had made a huge thing out of nothing, stressed both you and Chris, and now dared to look at you with tenderness in his eyes. You exhaled, knowing it'd be pointless to yell at him. You were exhausted and had no energy spared to bicker. His motives was still undisclosed, but perhaps they weren’t important right now. You decided that your main task was to get whatever prescription as easily as possible, and then have a doctor to state you were not about to collapse. Then, not only would it solve the matter with your boss, but also it meant you would finally get rid of the man in front of you.

Okay, that sounds like a plan.

“Shall we?” Minho reached out his hand with an overly soft voice. You rolled your eyes.

"Weirdo." You cursed under your breath and avoided his hand, heading, finally, straight to the entrance. You did take note of the small chuckle he let out, and how he smoothly followed you behind.

[kyaa-q]

Bang Chan and baby Rowoon ♡

[kyaa-q]

01. take a break

bahng chan x fem!reader - established relationship (they're both dorks and very much in love) a/n: just realized that "break" might imply like taking a break in the relationship but that's NOT it. it's literally just two adults having different lives but finding comfort in each other warnings: it's a little angst but mainly fluff? the reader is an academic so feelings of anxiety and feeling overwhelmed obviously but i think that's it. word count: ~8k synopsis: You are passionate about your field, but you'd be lying if you said that being in academia wasn't stressful, especially lately. Thankfully, you have Chan, the best person in your life and probably the only thing keeping you sane, although he's been having some problems himself with work too. What if all you both need was a break?

“I can swear you’re in the exact same position as you were when I left this morning.” You jump, startled by someone gently taking your headphones off, the statement almost as gentle. “Have you moved at all?”

Your boyfriend is smiling at you, a smile that is as if he’s caught you doing something bad. “Chan-“ you blink and realize when did it get so dark? Confused, you glance at the clock on your laptop. “Oh my- it’s 11pm?! Shit-” You stand up clumsy, rubbing the blurriness of your vision off your tired eyes and quickly go for a hug. He chuckles, hugging you back. “Hi baby. I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you coming in.”

He makes circles on your back with one of his hands, the other caressing the back of your head. “Yeah, I could see that.” He pushes you back a little, still holding you and kisses your cheek. “The question still stands, though.” He raises an eyebrow, glancing at your laptop screen and back at you. “Have you actually not moved at all? Have you even eaten?”

You chuckle, pulling him closer again and snuggling on him. “Of course I’ve eaten. I made some quick pasta for lunch.”

“For lunch?!” His voice is high pitched for a moment, showing his surprise. He squeezes you lightly without realizing. “You’ve had only lunch the entire day? You do know it’s eleven, right?”

“It was 3pm only a moment ago, I swear!” You rise your read so you can catch a glimpse of him, which he returns, looking at you tenderly. “I didn’t realize it was so late, I got a little caught up I think…”

The corner of his mouth lifts just slightly. “You think?”

You try to punch him playfully but he holds you stronger on his embrace, you both laughing. You take a deep breath and allow your body to relax in his arms. His familiar scent surrounds you and makes you dizzy. Would it be humanly possible to melt into someone else’s body? You both stayed like that for what seemed an eternity and a second at the same time, as time didn’t exist.

Academic life was hard. Researches and papers felt like never-ending tasks, quite literally. There’s this one specific thing you have to read about, but to understand this one thing you have to understand another three different topics that are important. So you get to that and then there are more and more references you need to check, also there’s that author that might have a different perspective and… Before you know it’s 11pm. The day has passed and the feeling of not having done anything adding to the already existing stress starts to sink in. Your thoughts are racing, the anxiety spiking as you start listing the priorities you gotta do tomorrow. Have I achieved anything today? And yesterday? There are a few errands that you need to get done by the end of the week and –

This all goes through your mind in less than a second, and Chan senses it. Suddenly, he’s holding your face, cupping your cheeks and keeping your eyes to his level. “Hey, it’s okay. What’s going through your mind?”

You can’t help it when your eyes start watering. “There’s so much to do.” You let out instantly, “so much to read still and it never ends –“ You’re not sure of anything anymore. Why are you so stressed? You take a deep and long breath. “Why is there always more? Why can’t things be as simple as thing X happens because of phenomenon Y because nature said so, thank you for your time?”

He coos, holding back a smile.  “Oh my poor smart baby,” His eyes full of overwhelming affection and admiration that warms your own heart. Still holding your face in his hands, he starts to kiss you everywhere, while compliments and words of admiration keep leaving his lips. “So smart” Kiss. “And intelligent.” Kiss. “And so-“ Kiss. “So-“ Kiss. “Pretty.” Kiss.

You’re giggling now and doing your best to push him away. “Okay! I get it! Stop!” He does the opposite and doesn’t stop, only kissing you more until there’s no spot on your face and jaw that he has not pecked, and you’re both laughing out loud. He pulls you closer one more time, hugging you tight and you squeak. “I understand how important this is for you,” he starts saying before letting you go. You exhale, fixing your hair and clothes. Chan takes his backpack you didn’t even see from the ground and places it on the couch, “but you really need to take care of yourself, Y/N. One meal isn’t enough and spending the whole day staring at a screen isn’t good for your eyes eith-“

It’s your turn to raise an eyebrow and he catches your smirk. “Oh, really? Tell me more about how one meal isn’t enough and how staring at a screen for too long isn’t good, Mr Bang Chan.”

He mimics your expression. “I hope you’re not insinuating anything?”

You shrug, smirking. “If the shoes fit.”

He laughs, pointing his finger at you. “Careful.” He walks back close to you and glances at the laptop again on his way. “Are you done? For tonight, I mean.”

Your shoulders fall. “Not really…” You’re hesitant. The whole thing has been stressing you out too much and after a whole ass day working on it without making any progress, the frustration is very real. Should I keep going? Can I stay up until what time without fucking up my entire sleeping schedule? Chan can see the engines spinning in your head and if he knows that if he waits a few more seconds, smoke might as well start coming out of your ears. He rushes to you, putting his hands on your shoulders and leveling his eyes to yours, trying to catch your eyes.

“Hey hey, it’s fine.” He puts his hands on your shoulders and squeezes them little, comforting. “It’s really late, right?” You mumbles something that he deduces to be an agreement.  He continues with a comforting and soft voice. “So I can go first, make some meat for you and, while I do that, you can start wrapping things up.” He pauses for a moment and he can see you thinking. “Tomorrow you’ll feel more rested and it’ll definitely be more productive, don’t you think?” He tries again.

He is right, of course. It’s so late and obviously there’s nothing you can do now that it could be productive, plus spending the whole day working is starting to play a tool on you, and you know you won’t last long. You hum, still stubborn because admitting that the best thing to do right now is to wrap everything up and continue tomorrow doesn’t make the guilt go away. Finally meeting up with his gaze, you see a growing, bright, genuine and hopeful smile on his face. You can’t help but giggle “Alright! Fine! You’re right! Understood, sir.”

He laughs and kisses the top of your head. “Sir? I like how that sounds.”

You pinch his arm, both with wide smiles. “Stop! I understand! I’m finishing it in a few minutes and I’ll go to you.”

“I win!” He steals a quick peck on your cheek and heads to the kitchen. You notice your cheeks hurt after smiling for so long. Not only that, but something else hurts. What is it? My heart? You place your hand over your chest and feel your heartbeat racing. It’s not hurting, you realize. You’re happy.

“You didn’t win shit, Christopher!” You yell. “I’m just tired and you happen to suggest it!”

You can hear his loud laugh from the other room.

Ten minutes later, you’re sitting in the kitchen watching Chan’s back while he’s humming some song you don’t recognize while finishing to cut some mushrooms. He was just so… perfect. Everything that he did, from the way he spoke, the way he acted, the way he saw the world and the way that he was just so… him. The way he existed and breathed and- “Which one is that?” You ask suddenly, cutting your own trail of thought before you could zone out too much, only by watching your boyfriend’s pretty back and hands while cutting some damn mushrooms.

“I haven’t showed this one to you yet.” He answers, finishing it quickly and putting it all in the pot. “It’s a track I made a while ago not really with anything in mind. But Han is working on this song and when I heard it, I immediately thought it’d fit, still…” He turns to you not stopping to stir the meat and mushrooms in the pot. “It’s still so… raw, you know? I know it has potential, but it’s not quite there yet.” He sighs heavily. “I’ve spent the past week working on it, it still feels like something is missing and it’s so frustrating.” He pauses and stares at nowhere, you know his thoughts are back to the studio, analyzing what could possibly be missing on this track.

You smile at him fondly, resting your head on your hand and elbows on the table. “And you won’t stop until you’re satisfied.” It wasn’t a question and you both know it, of course. He shrugs, holding back a smile. He knew it had potential, he knew that that specific track would work better than any other, so he was not going to give up until he finally achieved what he knew it to be possible. What he knew he was capable of doing.

“It’s not like we have a deadline or anything so I’m taking my time. Han isn’t in a rush either, although Bin threatens to beat me up at least three times a day for.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Why?”

“Apparently, seeing me frustrated makes him even more frustrated. He says that if I don’t figure something out soon, he’s gonna steal my laptop and run away with it so I can, quotes take a god damn and stop frowning for the love of god.” He tried to copy Bin’s way of speak and you laugh.

“He’s got a point.” You say and it is Chan’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“Should I be worried? Are you running away with my laptop? You know I got it saved in other places yeah?” He says, as if he suddenly needed to convince you that it was not worth the trouble.

“I mean that maybe that’s what you need.” You say, trying not to laugh.

“Someone disappearing with my stuff?” He says and, for a moment, he does consider the fact that you might steal and hide his laptop. You laugh, while he takes the pot out of the oven and serves you a plate.

“A break, dummie.” You take it and look at him worriedly when he puts all the content on your plate and sits on the chair in front of you. “Aren’t you eating?”

He shakes his head and lean his chin on his hand, with a fond smile on his face that it makes your heart swell. “I’m not hungry.”

You furrow, “Not being hungry is not an excuse to not eating and you were the one who taught me that!” You were already standing up to get him a plate as well when he grabs gently your wrist, still smiling.

“Love, it’s okay. I mean I’ve already eaten” You stare at him, trying to find a trace of lie but all you can find is love and affection and you melt under his touch, he holds such an effect on you. He slides his hand down and intertwines his fingers with yours. “Sit back and eat well, yeah? I made it for you.” You simply nod and sit back, not letting go of his hand. You’re still holding hands over the table, his thumb caressing the palm of your hand.

“I don’t like the idea of you working all day, coming back and still having to take care of me.” You mumble. He raises his eyebrows surprised. “At work you’re always watching over the boys, the crew, the staff, everyone! And when you get home there’s me being a burden.” You meet his eyes, he blinks, confused waiting for you to finish your thought when you pause. “But who takes care of you, Chan?” Your eyes start watering again, but not from sadness and you know it. It’s from the overwhelming love you feel, and how you wish you had the power to protect him from everything in the world. It’s from love.

“Ohhh no! We’re not doing this!” He stands up quickly and grabs his chair with him, swiping it to your side so he can sit closer and look at you directly in the eyes. He places one leg at each of your sides, caging yours between his, also taking his hand into his “You.” He squeezes your hand. “You are the answer. You’re the answer not only for this matter but for any and all matters, do you understand me?” You’re holding his gaze and his hands, both are steady and firm, keeping you grounded. “You should never feel like a burden and I-“

“Chris, I don’t want you to comfort me.” You quickly interrupt him, letting go of his hands only to grab his face instead, just like he did to you earlier. You sit at the edge of your chair, getting closer and closer. “I’m not saying this for you to comfort me.” You say it again. Can I transmit the same feeling of security and steadiness to him as he does to me? You try, hoping that all the certainty of your feelings that you hold in your heard might be passed to him through your eyes. “I’m saying this because I love you. I love you so much, and I want to take care of you too.” How can I put all my feelings into words?

He leans his face onto your touch and kisses the palm of your hand. “You do already, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes, cupping his cheeks and bringing his eyes to meet yours again. “I’m serious!” He cups your face as well.

“So am I!” Now you’re two weirdos almost touching foreheads, holding each other’s faces. “You’re my safe place, do you understand that?” He emphasizes his words by squeezing your cheeks and moving your head slightly. “You give me comfort. Even if I have the most stressful, frustrating and upsetting day of my whole life, I know it’ll be okay. You know why?” He pauses, intensifying his gaze and you feel like your eyes might pop out. “Because I get to walk through that front door and find you, always here.” His grip is lighter and at this point your hands have fallen from his face to your knees, at the mercy of his feelings. You don’t answer, absorbing his words as if you could breathe them in or assimilate them through your skin. “Because I have these hands to hold.” He continues, now dropping his hands also to your knees, gently picking yours. “Because I have these arms to come back to.” He motions to your bare arms. He smiles slightly when he notices the goosebumps on your skin and you feel your cheeks heating up a little. “Because I have these shoulders to lean on if I ever need to. Because I have you. Actually, no.” He interrupts himself, and his speech is steady. “It’s because the world has you. Because this universe has you and I get to live in the same timeline as you. Because you, in all your mercy, have allowed me to be part of your life.” You rolled your eyes back, laughed and almost had tears falling down your face, all in one phrase and he holds back a smile. “That’s it. Because you allow me to be part of your life. And, even if I have the worst day ever, nothing matters when I’m with you and everything is perfectly fine again.”

You’re both silent for a moment. His hands are warm against your cold skin, a coldness that does not reflect the way you feel inside. You feel like there’s a Sun burning in your chest, and you wish you could rip yourself open only to give that burning star to the man sitting in front of you.

“Understood?” He asks. You bring his hands closer to your face and lips, kissing them tenderly and resting your face in them. He watches, caressing your skin. You mumble something against his palm and he chuckles, “Hm?”

“You have me.” You say again, louder and clearer this time, with eyes still closed focusing on the comfort of his touch.

“Excuse me?” He hesitates briefly and you open your eyes, meeting his slightly confused look.

“You corrected yourself when you said you could go through hard times because you had me. Then you said it wasn’t because of that, but because I allowed you to be in my life.” You pause for a moment.

“Okay. And?” He says and you continue, kissing his knuckles once more.

“And I’m saying you have me. I am yours. I just wanted to make it clear.” You finally open your eyes and find him staring at you. “I’m yours. You have me.”

With no surprise, he leans closer and your lips meet his, soft and warm. You rest your hands on his bare chest you smile. You can feel his heartbeat under your palms, as fast as yours. Good. I’m not the only one.

“And I love you.” You whisper between the kisses, suddenly realizing you hadn’t said it.

“I love you more.” He whispers back and deepens the kiss suddenly, stealing your breath away and making your head spin. He lean back and breaks the kiss as sudden as he deepened it. The sudden movement made you whine involuntarily, but he chuckles. “And because I love you, I need you to eat well so you have energy.” He stands up again and grabs the chair, ready to go back to his original place in front of you at the table. You hold his hand before he can walk away, looking up at him as you’re still sit. He looks down at you and the view is stunning, you don’t think it’s fair someone to look this good by just standing. His lips are puffy and his cheeks are a little rosy, his eyes are dark and shining with mischief. Have I died and I’m being welcomed in heaven?

“Why are you like this?” You let out before you can think about it, turns his head slightly, confused.

“Like what, love?” His voice is deep when he answers.

You let your breathe out, one that you didn’t notice you were holding. “It’s so unfair.” You start, and you know it’s pointless to try to size words now. To him, you, your life and your thoughts are all an open book. “You’re such a good person. What did I do to deserve you? Why do you still stick with me?” You say, instead.

He lets go of the chair and reaches the side of your face, caressing it. “Have you not heard anything I said in the past 10 minutes?” His tone holds a hint of humor, you both know, but it’s soft. His eyes are darker, hiding something you can’t quite tell, but it makes your heart skip a beat.

“You’re such a good person.” You repeat, as if he didn’t say anything. You lean onto his touch and close your eyes, trying to crave this scene into your head so you may never forget it. Chan watches you patiently, allowing you to use his hand for your own comfort while he stands in front of you. “It makes me want to hide you from everyone and everything that could potentially cause you any type of harm.” It’s silly, but it’s good to say it out loud. When you look at him, he’s smiling and his dimples are showing.

“I don’t think you can do that, sweetie.”

“I can, actually. It’s called kidnapping.” You quickly turn to bite his fingers lightly. He’s too immersed on you that he does not see it coming and squeaks, stepping back and holding his hands next to his heart, his face in an exaggerated shock.

“So we went from stealing things to kidnapping in only one night? What’s next? Murder?” Before you can reply, he continues. “Also, don’t get offended baby…” He goes to the other side of the table dragging his chair with him, and lets his body fall on the chair. “But I’m just a little stronger and bigger. I don’t think you could kidnap me that easily.” You turn to him, consciously avoiding the undertone in that statement. With the fork in one hand, you reach for his hand with the other over the table. He meets your hand instantly and you don’t know if it was conscious or if it’s just part of the habit now.

“I work smarter, not harder.” You say shrugging it off and taking a bite of your dinner.

“Calling Changbin to knock me out isn’t working smarter. You know that, right?” He replies instantly and you start coughing, caught by surprise by the accuracy of it and almost choking on the food. He laughs and stands up quickly, coming back with a cup of water the second after. You thank him, but your hand now feeling empty.

Can he read minds? “He wouldn’t say no. It’s for the greater good.” You shrug again, pretending to be unaffected – which you clearly wasn’t.

“And what is this so greater good?” He sits back and crosses his arms, and you feel his stare at you burning your skin. He knows the effect he has. He’s so hot it’s annoying. You clear your throat and goes back to eating, but you can swear his smirk grew wider.

“You. Taking a break. That’s the greater good.” You say after one or two bites. Still, unable to meet his eyes, as the room is too hot out of sudden. All you can do is just hope that your face isn’t as red as you feel it is. “It’s really good.” You glance at him quickly, pointing at the food, turning your eyes down back to the plate. He’s enjoying your embarrassment and it only makes you feel your skin get hotter.

“I’m glad.” He’s sincere. “It’s not like I’m overworking, though. Why would I need a break?”

“Your parameters of overworking aren’t exactly the best to decide it.” The words leave your mouth before you can think them over, but you don’t regret it. You finally get the courage to look at him and he’s still smiling, unaffected, clearly having fun.

“Ouch. What does that even mean?”

“Overworking for you is like… Not being able to walk because you’re too tired for not sleeping for three weeks because of some comeback or something.” He ponders for a moment and you watch him, he raises his eyebrows and makes a face that says Yeah, actually. “You should allow yourself to have some breaks even before you reach your breaking point. No pun intended.” His eyes are back to yours. “Maybe that’s what you need. A break, some space to breathe and allow your mind to relax.”

“I am relaxed, though.” Chan says.

“You know what I mean.” You point the fork at him and he raises his hands in a sign of withdrawal. You hum, approvingly. “Have you ever thought that maybe that’s what you need to finish that song? A little bit of inspiration?” The question is genuine, no judgments whatsoever and he knows it, it just came to your mind.

Chan looks away from you for a second, thinking about what you just said. “I don’t know if inspiration is the right word. I just… I don’t know why I’m stuck.” He shrugs, “I’ll get over it eventually.”

“As you always do.” The words come out naturally and he smiles.

“You have a lot of faith in me, huh?” He comes closer to the table again, resting his chin on both his hands over the table.

You try not to get affected by how stunning he is and how hot his smirk looks. “You’re Christopher Bahng Chan. You can do anything.” And, from the bottom of your heart, you mean it. Chan reaches your hand over the table again and you allow him, intertwining your fingers together. He doesn’t reply and neither do you, so you just focus on finishing the great meal your incredible boyfriend had prepared just for you, as good as it’d be if it was a meal prepared by a famous chef in a fancy restaurant. Actually, it tastes better.

You wake up a little groggy and confused to the sound of your ringtone. Where’s the damn phone? You stretch your arms and legs on the bed, trying to find the phone when you finally find it on the ground. You reach to it to see Chan’s name on the screen. What time is it?

“Morning, sunshine.” Is it even possible to hear the smile on someone’s face? “Did I wake you up?” His voice is gentle, knowing that he did. You groan a little, with the face still buried on the mattress.

“What time is it?” You muffle.

“It’s seven right now, love.”

“P.M?!” You jump, sitting straight. PM?! How could I’ve slept so much?! You hear his laugh on the other side while you get up and start fold your sheets.

“No love. t’s 7 AM.”

You breathe out, blinking in the dark room, letting yourself fall onto the bed again.  “Do you want me to have a heart attack?!” You stretch and sit back. “Wait, isn’t it Sunday?” You check your phone while on the call. “It is Sunday.”

“It is Sunday.” Chan repeats and you can hear him smiling.

“Chan.” You say, trying to get your thoughts in order. It’s 7 in the morning. Of a Sunday. Why am I awake at 7 in the morning of a Sunday?

“That’s me.”

“Why are you awake at 7 in the morning on a Sunday?” You question instead. “It’s literally the only day you can sleep in.” You rub your eyes, as your vision is getting used to the darkness.

“I had some plans.” He says simply.

You look around your room. Could you go back to sleep after that? Was it worth to try? “And why are you calling me at 7 in the morning on a Sunday, may I ask?”

“You’re fully awake now?” He asks back.

“What?” You groan, standing up. You head to the window, giving up on the thought of going back to sleep. “I guess so? Why do you a –“ you finally pull the curtains, allowing the sunlight to come in and blinding you for a moment.

When your eyes adjust with the light, it’s hard to not see the fancy black car on the street with the handsome man casually leaning on it.  The view stands out. He’s wearing a black shirt and dark green shorts, you can see the fluffy slightly curly dark hair and when you meet the man’s eyes. He smiles and waves one of his hands, keeping the other one on the side of his face. Of course it’s Chan.

“Morning, sunshine.” The smile you hear matches the smile you see on the face of the man standing in the front of your building.

“It’s too early and I’m confused.” You let out. “What –“

“I know.” His voice is so soft and gentle, caressing your skin even though he’s meters away. He takes a step and turns away, placing his phone on his shoulder so he can keep talking to you while having both of his hands free. He opens the car and grabs a paper bag and a cup from inside. “I have coffee and croissants for you.” He waves them to you.

“Chan, why didn’t you simply come in? You literally have the keys.” You say tired and exasperated. Chan didn’t need to call you to come to your place. He had stopped doing so a while ago and, even though he felt awkward in the beginning, it made you extremely happy. He had started treating your apartment – your home – as his home too.

“Because we have plans” He says. “And there’s a chance that if I were to go in and saw you sleeping comfortably and all tucked up in your bed, I would simply give up on them and stay in bed with you.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad plan to me.” That had been a plan of yours so many times. He follows your smile.

“It doesn’t.” He laughs and puts the bag and the cup back in the car, closing the door with his foot. “But again, this isn’t our plan for today.”

“Is it not?” You tilt your head, visibly so he can see. You’re speaking staring at him directly.

“The coffee is getting cold.” He warns simply.

You shift and comes back inside. “I need answers!” You’re looking around, lost and dizzy, still waking up. “What do I need to do?”

“Come here?”

“I need to know where we’re going!”

“You will know. In time.” He’s having so much fun.

“Chan, I need to know what to wear!” You start going around your wardrobe, you don’t have many items anyway.

“Oh, true.” He hums. “Yeah, okay.” He sounds defeated. “I don’t want you suffering with bugs or mosquitos. We’re staying outside today, that’s all I can say. So… I don’t know.” He pauses.  “Maybe pants so you don’t get bit?”

“Should I bring sunscreen too? A bag? Should I bring a backpack? What do you mean with staying outside?” Your thoughts are racing and confused, as it was expected for a Sunday morning. “Should I have planned anything for this?” Your heart skips a beat. “Oh my God, what day is today?”

He laughs. “Hey, breathe! It’s okay! There’s no special date today!” You exhaled, relieved. “Don’t worry about bringing anything, I got everything.”

You find some baggy pants and a white top. That will have to do it.

“Thank God.” You say without thinking – forgetting things were your specialty and, although Chan knew it and never blamed you for forgetting birthdays and stuff like that, it never stopped you from feeling guilty every time it happened. You grab the jacket laying on your chair. “Give me 5 minutes and I’ll be right there, okay?”

“Take your time.” He says and, before you can hang up, he adds “Seriously. Take your time.” You walk back to the window and looks at him, waiting. He says, “The cup is empty. I wouldn’t give you cold coffee, we’ll get fresh ones on our way.”

You raise your eyebrow, “Wait, did you seriously lie about the coffee just to make me walk quicker?”

“Maybe. I love you.” He sends you a kiss and hangs up. You reply with an offended and shocked face before you turn around to walk towards the bathroom to wash your face.

What does he have in mind?

“Lying about the coffee was a stretch.” You say, entering the car on the passenger side and kissing him on his smiling lips.

“Was it though? I wasn’t planning on it, but the cup was here from yesterday. Also, how else would I get you out of the bed in…” He checks his watch. “Whoa, 10 minutes? That’s a record.”

You roll your eyes. “You could’ve said my handsome boyfriend was waiting for me outside. I would’ve made it here in 5.”

“You know that’s a lie.” He says and leans to put the seat belt on you. You jump on him, kissing him all over his face. “As if coffee didn’t come first.”

“I’d quit caffeine completely if you asked me to!” You say, dramatic, and he laughs.

“Liar.”

“I’m serious! Is that what you want?” Your eyes are wide open. “Okay. Fine. I’ll quit caffeine. I’m never drinking coffee ever again.” You say, decisively, while he finishes putting your seat belt and leaning back on his seat.

“Why would I ever want you to suffer like that?” He starts putting his own belt and turning the engine on.

“You’re my caffeine, I don’t need anything else.” You smile batting your eyelashes.

“Is this you trying to flirt?” He raises an eyebrow, and smirks at you “Why? Because I’m hot and keep you awake?”

You say instead, “I mean you’re my priority and I’ll do anything. You want me to stop caffeine? Fine. Sugar? That’s okay. Water? Food? Who needs those things? I can –“

“I don’t know where this is coming from, but if anything, I want you to drink more water and eat better, not the other way around.” He glimpses at you, smirking. He’s so handsome when he’s driving.

“Ouch. Okay. Fair.” You give up and turn to face the window for a moment. “Wait, whose is this car?” You start looking around, it smelled like it was brand new. Plus it was definitely hella expensive. “Did you steal it? Is that why we needed to leave soon? Are we running from the police?” And you look at the street, looking for sirens.

He laughs. “Why? Can’t this be my car?” He plays to be offended and you stare at him.

“You barely spend money on anything for yourself.” You say. But he did say that the empty cup was here already… He’s smiling.

“I did buy this one, though.” Your eyes shoot at him.

“There’s no way.”

“It is. I was kinda tired of asking the company for cars and drivers. It’s good to have a little bit of autonomy.” His smile is gentle, not mischievous, and you can’t find a trace of lying.

“Oh my god, you did buy it.” Your mouth falls open. “What the f – That’s so cool.” You can’t help but laugh. Chan did it, he bought a car for himself. “Oh my God this is so cool! This car is amazing! When did you buy it? Why did you choose this one? Wait, when did you buy it? Why am I only knowing about this now?”

“Are you capable of just enjoying today without asking questions?” He gives you a side eye and smile.

You cross your arms. “I just found out my boyfriend got an expensive ass car and is taking me to God knows where. I have the rights to ask questions.”

“We’re going to a coffee shop get you fresh coffee.” He takes the turn and at that moment and you see yourself in front of your favorite coffee shop. He turns his face to you and signalizes with his head. “One americano for me, please. I’ll wait here.” Giving him a break from the questions, you’re about to open the door when you realize that, after leaving in such a rush, the only thing you brought with you was your phone. Everything else was at home – including your wallet. “Hello?” He waves his card in front of you. “Go ahead.”

“But –“ You start saying before he interrupts you.

“Baby, it’s just a coffee. You’ll get me something another day, okay?” His smile is soft and you know it’s not an empty promise, since you both are always paying for each other.

“Why did I forget the god damn wallet?” You mumble grumpily as you leave the car.

“Thank you, love!” He says louder before you close the door.

“Okay, so where are we going?” You take a sip of your iced coffee and hand it to Chan, letting him take a sip of yours while you hold it. Both his hands are busy: one on the wheel, and the other laying on your knee.

He takes a big sip and then you bring it back to you. Indirect kiss. You glimpse at the GPS on the screen to know where you’re heading to, but all it says it’s that it’s almost two hours away. “Thank God it’s not raining today.” It’s all he says.

“You’re really not going to tell me?” You take a sip of your drink.

“You won’t stop asking questions? You’re making it seem like it’s bigger than it actually is.”

“You’re the one not wanting to tell me! What if I had plans today?”

His eyes widen open and he turns to you, tensing his grip on your knee slightly. “Did you?” You reach him the cup again, allowing him to have another sip from your drink while you have one from his.

“Eyes on the road, driver.” You point forward and he instantly looks straight. “I didn’t.” And you add. “But I could.”

He visibly relaxes. “You scared me. I thought about doing this yesterday but you said you’d hang out with your friends to a pub. Since you didn’t say anything I assumed you didn’t have anything today.” He was right. You were supposed to go out with your friends last night… You reached him his drink, allowing him to have a sip from his americano for once.

You shrugged it off. “I canceled yesterday.”

He shoots a look at you again arching his eyebrows. “Why?”

“Just didn’t feel like it.” The hand on your knee gently squeezes it.

“Liar.” He says simply, and suddenly the ice in your cup seemed interesting, so you avoid his eyes.

You stayed quiet for a few minutes, before speaking again. “Alright. I just… I don’t know, okay? I have this huge essay due Tuesday and have barely started it! I’d feel so guilty” You mumble the last part. He caresses your knee, reassuring.

“Oh, baby.” His voice is sad. “Did you get anything done?” And you know it’s as important to him as it’s to you.

“I did, actually!” You smile, assuring him. “I’m okay. It’s fine, really. I really didn’t feel like going out to drink anyway, the work wasn’t just an excuse.” You aren’t lying, and you can see his eyes jumping from you to the road repeatedly.

“Great!” He gently taps your leg. “Thank God! Because I could really turn around and go back to your apartment if you wanted to, but I really think that’s for the best.”

“And that is…?” You put your empty cup on the cup holder of the car, letting your hand land on his. His hand, holding and squeezing your knee eventually, now turns around and holds yours back, his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

“Day off for both of us!” He replies, brightly. “You’ve been drowning yourself in papers and researches lately, more than ever. One day I might get home only to find you buried literally in mountains of papers and papers.” Your heart aches when he refers to your apartment as home. His home. “What would I tell people then? Oh sorry, my girlfriend died from reading too much? Her brain got so big from being so smart that the body didn’t follow and it just shut down?” You both laugh.

“What about you, Sherlock? Your sleeping habits are the worst I’ve ever seen and that’s not even an exaggeration! And you literally work almost twice as much as I do.” You add. “What will I do when I go to the studio and find that your headphones have melted into your head? It might be changing the shape of your skull and you don’t even know.” You poke his head playfully, after you placed the other cup between your tights, and you run your hand through his soft hair.

His eyes widen, playfully. “Is that possible?” You laugh steal a quick kiss on his cheek, right on his dimple. “See? That’s why I said today is a day off for both of us, and not only for you. I was thinking about what you said the other day, about me needing some inspiration…” He doesn’t the sentence.

“Did you finish the song?” Your hand slid down, laying behind his neck and massaging him gently.

He makes a tsk sound. “Not yet. But it’ll be fine.” He turns his head to you and smiles fondly. “It is fine now.”

You kiss his cheek again. “Eyes on the road.” He chuckles and does as he’s told. “So?”

“So.” He smiles and continues, keeping his eyes on the road. “Maybe inspiration isn’t really the word I’m looking for, but just fresh air, you know?” You hum, of course you know. “Maybe I just need to do something different, look around in different places, maybe I’ll find what I’m looking for.”

“And do you know what you’re looking for?” You keep putting pressure on his neck and he tries to lean into your touch slightly, making your heart swell.

“Not really.” He says simply.

“But you’ll know when you see it.” You say in a calm voice. Again, it wasn’t a question.

“But I’ll know when I see it.” Chan says back and holds your gaze for a moment, then turning it back forward. You press the button and open your window glass. “Baby the A/C is on, wh-“

You lean on the door and rests your arms and head on the now open window. Feeling the strong wind on your face and messing your hair, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. You put one of your arms out the window, and watch your fingers dance with the strength of the wind.

“You okay?” Chan asks after a moment, caressing your leg gently.

You turn to him, still keeping the arm outside, and smile at him. “I’m enjoying.”

He smiles back. He takes his hand off your leg and you pout secretly, he opens his own window and switches hands on the wheel, keeping one arm out the window just as you. You turn to appreciate the landscape. There are a few houses here and there, but it’s mostly trees and you love it. You’re far from any city now, and you love it.

Chan turns the music on, putting The View on speaker and you can’t help but laugh. “Too cliché?” He asks, looking for other songs.

“No!” You take his phone away from him, locking the screen and giving it back. “It’s perfect.” And you kiss him on the lips, only for two seconds, tenderly and softly, and sits back on your seat.

“Eyes on the road?” He says uncertain, predicting what you’d say next, but smiling. You show him thumbs up before leaning back onto the door. “Head inside the car, please!” You hear him saying as you sing I like the view right now from the top of your lungs, to the whole world to hear, followed by Chan’s wonderful laugh.

The road is straight and empty, and it seems endless until your eyes can reach. It could as well be endless and you wouldn’t mind. Suddenly, two hours seemed too short.

And it was, indeed, too short. Although the road wasn’t always straight. At some point, you started heading upward the hills, taking so many turns you just hoped the GPS never stopped working or else you both would stay lost in the woods. The trees closed around and everything was green green green, but before you could think about asking for a stop to explore around a little bit, Chan takes another turn and you see an open space with two other cars parked. “A parking lot in the middle of the woods?” You can’t help but ask out loud.

He laughs, parking the car perfectly and with no difficulty. He turns the engine off and gets off the car, and before you can even finish unlocking your seat belt, he’s already by your side opening the door for you and reaching your hand. You accept and hugs him as soon as you stand up, throwing your arms around his neck and looking up to him. “Am I getting any information now?”

He wraps one of his arms around your waist and closes the door with the other, he leans on the car and pulls you closer standing between his legs. “The way you speak, people will think I tricked a pretty girl into bringing her blindly to the woods. How would that sound?”

“Didn’t you just describe what happened?” You tilt you head.

He laughs and gently puts a strand of your hair behind your ear, letting his hand rest there. “It’s not much.” He says, softly. “We’re having a day off. A little bit of hiking, being around nature, a picnic… There’s a point that apparently you have an open view of the entire world.” He whispers this last part in your ear and you chuckle, his warm breath tickling your skin. “Wouldn’t you like that?”

“The entire world?” You whisper back in an exaggerated awe.

“I know, right?” He follows. “But that’s it. Just you and I today, and our only job today is to enjoy the nature.”

“And each other.” You complete his phrase and he smiles, knowing you got his goal and you never felt so grateful. Being around nature was healing, and being with Chan was even more. You lean closer and bring your lips to his, allowing yourself to melt under his touch. One of his hands lays on the back of your head and the other palms your back, pulling you closer and closer. It’s not enough. You want to dive into him. You want to merge your body to his. Having him hugging you tightly and conducting the kiss, you feel like you’ve been holding your breath your entire life and now you can finally breathe. “I love you, have I told you that?” You whisper into the kiss, making he laugh.

He leans toward you once more, kissing you fiercely for a moment and then leaning back. You whine at the loss. “Hmmm.” He looks away and pretends to think, tsking. Both his hands are on each side of your hips, his hands softly caressing your body over the top. “I don’t think you did.” And he looks back at you.

“I love you. A lot.” You say quickly, and he tsks again.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you. What did you say?” He smiles, turning his ear to you. You have the urge to yell you love him, and you almost do, but when you lean closer to his ear and breathe in, you whisper instead.

“I love you, Bahng Chan.”

And maybe he thought you’d scream too, because your whisper clearly caught him off-guard and he blushes slightly. He cleans his throat and gives you the most tender kiss on the forehead. “I love you too.” He mumbles in your skin. “So let’s enjoy today, yeah?”

Honestly, you don’t know if it’s something in the air. Maybe it was the trip set that you in a good mood. Maybe it was only your eyes, your imagination, but you couldn’t help but think the sky looked bluer than usually. Maybe it was the fresh air and the smell of wood and leaves flying around. Maybe it was the cold breeze that crossed that made your whole body get goosebumps. Or maybe it was the coffee from you had with him earlier, that somehow tasted better than any other coffee you’ve had your entire life, even though you ordered the usual. Perhaps the birds chirping and the wind blowing the tree, maybe the rays of sunlight crossing the layers of leaves and branches until they reach the ground, that made it all seem like a painting. Maybe that’s all it. These might be the some of the reasons why you feel the way you feel right now.

But then you’d be fooling yourself. You know what it is, in fact. It was him. Chan had this effect on you from day one. He had the power to set you in a good mood regardless of the circumstances. Because you felt like the world shone in a different light when you were with him. That, by his side, the sky would always look bluer and the sun would always shine brighter. Because his touch was electrifying and your body reacted to the most tender and light of his motions, giving you butterflies from his smile. Even the coffee. You had it with him, and anything experienced next to him would feel like the best of your life. The birds were chirping and you could hear the rustle of the leaves, but, truth be told, if you had to choose only one sound to hear for the rest of your days, it’d be his laugh. The sunlight diving through the branches was indeed pretty, but you didn’t notice much other than how his skin looked under the golden light.

Bahng Chan is the reason why you’re feeling the way you’re feeling right now. Because you could be in the middle of the woods, in the depth of the ocean or thrown somewhere in the desert, in a busy pub or on the top of a mountain… Anywhere really, and if you were with him you’d still feel the same.