#no exaggeration. i considered going to the ER until i realized.... nope just a 'normal' flare level. just have to power through it

[rubiesintherough]

.

[kisskissbanggang]

The Sabotage of Simkung House pt. 5 — The Finale

[Stray Kids Multi Fic - 40Min Read/11.2K Words - Bang Chan x Female Reader - Non-Idol!au, Variety!au - NSFW/Smut, Plot - Reverse Harems, Variety Shows, Unfolding Plot, Suspicion, Scheming, Hostages, Overstimulation, Playing Pretend, Camboys, Secret Hook-Ups]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Masterlist | Feedback

>>I’m watching the raw feed did I just see you leave?

>>If you don’t want to get us in a mountain of trouble you need to get back to set NOW. 

You sighed at Felix’s berating on the screen in your hand, shifting uncomfortably in your heels where you stood in the cool night on the sidewalk. The house was only a block behind you. Looming. You took stock of what you had on you. You had the clothes on your back, your phone, and your apron balled up in your first, with your panties still shoved in the pocket. As if you hadn’t been thinking on your feet most of this time already, you needed to come up with something fast. You kept walking. 

>I had to leave. You saw what happened back there. 

>>NOW. 

>I walked off in such a frenzy that I’m lost like a complete idiot. Please come get me. I don’t want to get in trouble. 

You weren’t lost. You remembered a cute cafe that might be open late a few blocks away. If you hurried you could get there with enough time to look like you were waiting. 

>Please Felix? I need you. 

You paused on the sidewalk now. If Felix didn’t get back to you, you would need a new plan. 

>>Okay. Tell me where you are and stay put.

Somehow, Felix took longer than expected to come get you, but the reason became apparent as a company car rolled up. For some reason you had been expecting him to come by himself instead of in a company car with a driver. Felix didn’t roll the window down, instead beckoning you inside with a curt wave of his hand. You looked grateful as you sat beside him and let out a giant sigh as the car lurched forward. The time on your phone let you know you’d only been out of the house for an hour. Felix was dressed casually, still in a buttoned shirt with jeans. You could imagine him back at his place, languidly watching the raw feed after an already long day of work. 

“Thank you, really,” you gushed, “I was freaking out.”

“Me, too,” Felix exhaustedly laughed. He reclined limply against the back of the seat. “What happened, exactly?”

“It was stupid,” you sighed, and you weren’t exaggerating now. “Hyunjin and Jisung got into a fight. Over me. It was so childish.”

“Well, then, congratulations.” 

“Congratulations? Is that sarcastic?”

“Nope,” Felix shook his head, “you may have lost 60 million each since they found out about each other, but you remember that secret prize level I told you about?”

You gawked at Felix, leaning up against your seatbelt. “That’s cruel.”

“That’s true,” Felix grimaced. “You got 70 million won each because they fought over it. It’s cruel, and it’s true, and you signed up for it without asking more questions.”

You sank back against the seat, miserable. “I wonder why Jeongin didn’t intervene.”

Felix shrugged. “He was probably being careful.”

“Is that part of why the boys don’t know who Jeongin is?”

His shrug renewed. “He really is only there for you and the equipment. The boys are taken care of.”

You had to think quickly if you wanted more answers, better answers, answers that could help stoke this fire that was burning up under you. The questions that had been stacking up had to tip over at some point and you were resolved to find out what you could, however you could. As for right now, the most pressing issue was how the hell anyone in this supposedly on-the-level production let you sleep with Jisung under the impression that he wasn’t a virgin. You felt taken advantage of, but Jisung was flat out exploited. No first-time performer knows what they’re getting into as is, and Jisung knew even less. You wanted answers, and you were going to get them. You sympathetically put a hand on Felix’s. 

“How about you? Are you taken care of? I appreciate you coming to get me.”

“I’m just doing my job,” Felix shook his head as he eyed your hand. “I would do anything for you.”

The car pulled up to the front of the house. You checked the time on your phone and took a solid, confident breath before you pulled on a sweet smile. “Do you want to come inside? The boys are all going to be asleep by now. I still have my mic pack and I don’t want to go to the attic by myself in the dark.”

“Er,” Felix bit at his lip, considering you as you opened the car door and waited, “no problem.” He took your offered hand and let you lead him up the steps to the front door. 

As quiet and dark as the house was, you still didn’t expect to find the attic completely silent as you opened the door. In all the excitement, Jeongin must have taken the opportunity to leave and try to find you. You closed the attic door before taking Felix by the hand and leading him to a small couch in the corner that the assistants and writers normally lounged on during downtime. Felix watched you carefully, even as he let you seat him on the couch. His breath cutely caught in his throat as you sat beside him, leaning into his space and letting him get the idea as your lips ghosted over his. It was almost sweet, nearly innocent, with how he instantly grew hard from your hand just resting high on his thigh. 

Felix almost squealed as you roughly grabbed onto his erection, only silenced by your hand clamped over his mouth. He stared at you wildly in the dimly lit room, his whimpers muffled by your palm. 

“What the hell kind of gonzo operation are you running here having me sleep with a virgin without any prior knowledge?” You hissed. Felix bit into your hand and slid out from under you. He landed on the floor with a thud and you quickly pounced on top of him, wrestling him around until you got a hold on him. You whipped Felix’s belt out from his jeans and lassoed it around his wrists behind his back before manhandling him up, grunting as you shoved him onto a chair from in front of the control console. With a confrontation like yours and a response like his, there was no way this was some huge misunderstanding. 

“Who’s a virgin?” Felix panted. 

“Jisung,” you growled, eyes narrowed. 

“He never mentioned that to us,” Felix shook his head. 

“Right, and none of them watch porn,” you scoffed. Felix shrugged helplessly. You spied another cord to bind Felix’s tied wrists to the chair backing. Finding two more in the grip’s toolbag, you were able to bind his ankles as well. He wasn’t even struggling, but you couldn’t be too careful. “I have more questions, and I’m sure I’m not the only one,” you warned, when you heard a buzzing emanating from Felix’s pocket. You reached forward, digging into his jeans for his phone. It was a text from Jeongin. 

>>I could’ve sworn I was on her trail. 

You eyed Felix and he stared you down, challenging you and ultimately unable to stop you as you began typing. 

>It’s fine. I found her. I don’t see your stuff at the house so I’m guessing you took it. Get some rest and I’ll deal with this.

>>Are you sure?

>Yes. I got it. 

“You stay put,” you warned.

“What’s stopping me from calling for help?” Felix smirked at you, unimpressed until you casually unfurled your apron, dropped in the scuffle, and pulled out your used panties. You stuffed them in his mouth before you found a roll of gaff tape.

“I saw a roll of packing tape over there,” you taunted, “tell me how many cameras and mics are in the house and I’ll use that instead.”

Felix’s knee bounced nervously as he stared at the gaff tape in your hand. He pathetically spit out your panties. “Your show doesn’t have any dedicated mics, only the on-board audio on the cameras. Three each in the common areas and your room, one in each hallway, one in each bathroom pointed away from the toilet, one in the laundry room, and one in each bedroom.”

“Night vision?”

Felix shook his head defeatedly. 

“That’s such shitty coverage,” you smirked, “and here I was thinking there were more I hadn’t noticed.”

“Nope,” Felix grumbled, “just a tight budget.”

“You stay put,” you directed as you strolled over to the table on the other side of the room and grabbed the roll of packing tape, “and you stay quiet.” 

You shucked off your heels and softly clicked the attic door closed behind you before you navigated your way through the dark house. Thankfully, being here and getting so familiar with the set over time helped you know where everything was, every jutting edge and squeaky spot in the floor. You didn’t predict that your paranoia would make every creak of the house unsettling, though. 

Chan was bleary-eyed and bruised as he opened the door, and nearly exclaimed when he realized it was you. You pressed a serious finger against his lips as you pushed him back into his room and shut the door behind you. He watched curiously as you looked around his room until you came to his desk. You surreptitiously knocked over a wireless speaker while reaching for the lamp and quickly dropped a blanket onto the fallen device, adding a pillow for good measure. 

“Did you know there was a camera hidden in your room?” You asked. In the light you could see Chan was actually still icing a bruise on his chin from the brawl earlier. He stared. 

“Sure, but I was told the crew would always let me know me when it’s on.”

“Apparently not,” you shook your head. “I need your help. I have a problem.”

“Anything,” Chan eagerly said as he stepped forward earnestly. You stepped back away. He winced, almost as if he was burned by an iron he didn’t realize was still hot. 

“I need to know what you know. I need to know I can trust you.”

Chan bit at his lip before he tiredly sat on the bed. He reached for his hoodie and pulled it on over his bare chest, zipping it up and snuggling into it. The sigh he let out felt preparatory. “I thought you looked familiar on the first day,” he began carefully, “but I wasn’t sure. I’d only ever seen parts of your face at once, you know? And I had to lie through my teeth and scrub my portfolio clean to even get this gig, like I already graduated two years ago, but I still said I’m younger in case they wanted younger. The big thing they sold me as the hook was that there was going to be a staff member casted to try and trip us up during the show. I thought that was exciting. And everyone thought it was the cook, because of course they did. And, I don’t know…”

“You thought it was me?” You smirked. The cook was outrageously villainous-looking, with severe features and a ridiculous mustache to boot. 

“Yes, I thought the cook was too obvious,” Chan admitted shamefully, drawing his hands up into his sleeves before burying his face in them for a moment. “So I kept my distance. That morning you joined us for yoga, I knew it was you, and you were plotting something, I was so sure of it. Later that night I went to go see if I could find anything out and—“

“Me and Changbin?”

“You and Changbin,” Chan rubbed his face in his hands again. “And I knew for sure that I recognized you, because of, you know… your moaning. I at least know how you sound. It was unmistakably you, but I couldn’t tell you I’m me. I thought it was a crazy coincidence, being here with you, but I was afraid of anyone finding out and me getting kicked off the show.”

“So you knew it was me. What then?” You asked patiently as you pulled out the chair for his desk. There wasn’t a ton of time, but you had time for this.

“The next morning we had that challenge right at dawn. And we all had hints planted for us when we woke up, and you remember Minho had the red herring?”

You shrugged, vaguely remembering something along those lines earlier in the series. Chan charged on. 

“The hints could’ve only been planted overnight, and you were, er, busy. You went to bed and I didn’t hear you come out before I gave up and went to sleep.” 

You watched, almost touched by how clearly Chan was upset with himself, refusing to look at you as he fidgeted with his fingers, the zipper of his hoodie, your necklace he was still wearing.

“Originally, when Changbin was first wondering about you, I made up that thing about you wanting more screen time. I just didn’t want him to flirt with you. I didn’t want your big break to be filled with guys being creeps.”

“How ironic,” you mused. 

“The more I saw you flirting with the guys, the more weird I felt about it. Something felt so off, and I was so on edge and paranoid, that I started to wonder if maybe you were that person, maybe you did want extra screen time or something. I had the brilliant idea to confront you in the attic, but I didn’t expose you or anything, I was only making an ass out of myself because I knew you were telling the truth as soon as you said it. I knew I was wrong. I was just being an asshole.”

A thought suddenly came to mind. “So the other night? When you were listening in on me?”

Chan flopped back into his bed in exasperation. “I was trying to see if it was a good time to talk, hopefully apologize.”

He sat back up, his head falling right back into his hands. You gingerly leaned forward to pick his head up. You’d imagined this, something like this, innocuous touches like this. It was odd to think just a night ago you didn’t know you’d actually be doing this with someone you’d known for years but never met. 

“I’m so sorry,” he lamented as he leaned into your hand, “I hope I didn’t ruin acting too much for you. I’m an awful friend.”

“No,” you sighed, and you meant it. “I wanted to expand my acting resume, sure, but you knew I’d been wanting to try expanding my AV career more. I took the gig mostly for that.”

“What do you mean?” Chan stared blankly at you, head lifted from your hand. You stared back. 

“What do you mean?”

“What does this show have to do with your AV career?”

You shook your head, flabbergasted. “It doesn’t have anything to do with it. At least, your show doesn’t. Mine entirely does.”

“Your show?”

Chan leaned forward as you leaned back, both of you with your lips parted in grand-scale confusion until you realized. And then you were furious. 

“I told you I have a problem. You need to come upstairs. Right now.”

You pulled Chan along by the sleeve in the dark hallway and back up the stairs to the attic. He almost yelled when he saw Felix tied and gagged in the chair. You shut the door behind you. Chan was frozen, hand over his mouth in surprise. This looked bad, you realized. You took out your phone and played an audio clip. Felix’s voice crackled out of your phone, explaining how much money you’d won for inspiring the fight earlier that night. Chan’s face was cryptic. 

“Do you know who this is?” You asked him. Chan barely shook his head as he still tried to process everything. “He knows who you are. Felix is the assistant to the executive producer of my show. Maybe yours, too. I have no idea, since I’ve never met either of them.”

“What exactly,” Chan murmured, “is your show?”

“Simkung House,” you sighed, arms folded. You felt so tired, so sore. “One lucky housekeeper has to try and seduce five young bachelors during a show they’re filming, without them finding out about each other.” You peeled off Felix’s gag and pulled your panties from his lips to drop them on the floor. “And tonight I fucked a virgin without my knowing.”

Chan watched the deep frown etching into your face. You could see his fists clenching by his side. “Who—“

“Jisung, apparently,” Felix rasped with a weak smile. “Tonight’s episode is yesterday, so tomorrow our paying audience is going to watch you take that nice right hook to the face he gave you.”

The slap Chan landed across Felix’s cheek reverberated in the attic before you could stop him, pressing your hands into the rough rise and fall of his chest as he seethed. Chan still elbowed past you and grabbed Felix by the collar of his shirt, pulling him against his bindings. “I have some questions,” he growled, “the first being why you didn’t get talent that actually fucking do porn.”

“Nice guard dog,” Felix laughed meanly as he looked at you, “does he do any tricks?”

“Yeah, I know a pretty fucking good one,” Chan gritted as he cocked his hand back into a fist this time. 

“It wasn’t my fucking idea,” Felix spat, “but performers like her cost too much. The execs decided it was easier to hide clauses in your contracts.”

“Oh,” Chan scoffed, “so I could’ve gotten more money if you pricks were on the level.”

“Felix,” you stepped in, “what’s the bigger reason for you to use no-names and actors who never did AV’s? It can’t just be for authenticity. There’s too much liability. They don’t know how this all works.”

Felix wriggled in Chan’s grip as he eyed you warily. “Liability isn’t an issue if you sign it all away. Control and authenticity, that’s what we wanted. You were the most knowledgeable of the cast aside from maybe him and even then you both didn’t check all the clauses closely enough. Liability was defined as consequences and results of the show, and we’re absolved. None of you have good management, if any.”

Chan dropped Felix back into the chair, roughly enough that he tipped onto the floor with a crash. Neither of you paid him much mind as you leaned back against the console table with your arms folded. Chan was fuming as he paced with his hands on his hips. “You used her, and you used us, so give me a good reason why we shouldn’t walk right this second.”

“Because of your contracts, idiots. If you talk or walk, no one gets their winnings, on either show, and the producers have the right to sue for damages.”

“Winnings? We’re mostly getting tuition and grants,” Chan retorted.

“Not her,” Felix grinned. “She has 500 million won on the line.”

Chan’s head whipped toward you, slack-jawed. You nodded. In comparison, it was insulting. You looked up at Chan, who stopped his pacing to look at you. “You ever bundle up a bunch of blankets to look like you’re still in bed and then sneak out?” 

“Sure,” Chan said, distracted by clearly wanting to beat up Felix still turtled on the floor, “why?”

“The cameras don’t have night vision. I’ll cut the lights in case anything is still on, and you get the boys. Don’t use your flashlights. We all need to talk.”

You walked over to the breaker box on the wall and opened it, flipping everything off but the attic. Chan nodded, giving Felix a wary look before creeping downstairs. 

Felix let out a disgruntled sigh below you. “Didn’t you slap the shit out of him earlier? I saw it in the raw feed. I thought you hated him.”

“No, I’m just mad at him,” you grumbled. 

“Hyung, it’s three in the fucking morning,” Changbin tiredly groaned as the boys filed in behind Chan. He had his arms crossed over the thin tank top barely shielding him from the cool air of the attic. Minho was still wearing a sleeping mask, pulled up onto his forehead. Hyunjin was sporting a dark bruise on his cheek to mirror the one on Jisung’s. Both the younger cast members looked particularly hurt, but in different directions — Hyunjin’s contempt versus Jisung’s heartbreak. All four boys froze as they took notice of you standing over Felix tied up on the floor. 

“Apparently,” you sighed, “we’re not all on the same page. This is Felix.” You looked down and matched his nasty look. “Explain, dirtbag.”

Felix muttered under his breath before grumbling out the story as you all understood it — who he was, you were, the separate shows, the shady contracts, and your exorbitant prize at stake. You and Chan filled in the other pertinent details. The hurt in their eyes was heartbreaking, realizing they’d been played when they thought they each had your attention all to themselves. Bruised egos and hurt feelings and fear all around. They’d all shot porn without knowing it, and most of them had already had their scenes broadcasted. The boys all stood astounded and silent as Felix finished his story until Minho finally piped up, towards Chan. 

“Hyung, they told you there would be a saboteur and you still didn’t think it was the cook?”

“It was too obvious!” Chan reeled, “and none of you knew?”

The boys collectively shook their heads.

“We were trying to make sure you would take the lead in the show, but we didn’t predict you to make it interesting by being stupid,” Felix sneered up at Chan, cut off into a yelp as he kicked at the chair. 

“So if any of us walk, we all lose everything?” Changbin asked. 

“Fine,” Jisung muttered, “you all do what you want, but that’s what I’m doing.” He turned to walk down the stairs and the remaining boys exchanged looks. 

Chan folded his arms. “I think it’s the best thing to do, too. We’ve all been used.”

“No,” you shook your head, “we may have all been used, but I think the best thing to do then is wring these monsters dry. I’ll split the prize money.”

“Is that all?” Hyunjin glowered before Changbin shushed him. 

“If you can all last today and finish the show, then I can, too,” you assured them. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“It sucks,” Minho shrugged, “but we understand. I do, at least. You were playing the game. You just didn’t know you were playing by yourself. I’ll stay.” Changbin and Hyunjin grumbled in reluctant agreement. 

You gave Minho a grateful smile. “We should get some rest then. I’ll talk to Jisung.” 

The boys sleepily trudged back downstairs but Chan hung back and detached Felix from his chair. Felix spilled onto the floor, wrists still tied. Chan rolled him onto his stomach with his foot before dropping down to sit on his back, trapping Felix against the hardwood. 

“I know your plan now,” Felix grumbled into the floor. “What’s keeping me from outing you?”

“Because you’re just an assistant,” you pitifully shook your head at Felix as you lowered to squat down in front of him. You spoke in plain English now. Felix was the first to fixate on your multiple languages, and you’d always assumed it was at least partly spurred on by his own. Chan’s eyebrows quirked at the switch. You reached forward and grabbed Felix’s bound wrists, pulling them up and away from his back enough to make him grunt in discomfort. Chan watched, half curious, half goading as you kept a firm hold on him. “You’re just an assistant, Felix, and we’re not the only ones held hostage by this show. You’re such a good boy for the Big Boss that the moment something goes wrong, he’ll pin everything on you.”

Felix struggled hard under Chan’s weight and your hold. “Fuck you! I’ve put a lot of time into this—“

“Exactly, Felix,” you chided. You did drop his wrists now but lifted his chin to look at you. His English was cute. It was too bad he was a creep. “You put so much time into both these shows. You helped with casting and keeping production on time and within budget, you probably helped with costuming and product placement and location scouting and writing. You have your hands in a lot of pots. What I have are multiple texts of you being a flirty creep. And I have you recorded saying you would do anything for me and even come into the house with me.”

“Pig,” Chan shook his head disgustedly as he lifted Felix’s wrists behind his back himself this time, straining him until Felix cried out and you slapped Chan’s hands off. 

You brought Felix’s chin up to look at you again. “If you’re proud of your work, then let us finish the shows. You’ll get your credit. If this ever does come to a head, I’ll destroy the recording and say I was encouraging you to flirt with me from our first meeting. But if you rat on us, the Big Boss will throw you to the wolves when we tear this down and there will be no help for you.”

Felix looked hard into your eyes, the pain of his choice apparent as he reluctantly nodded. You waited patiently for him to say something. 

“Fine.”

You reached forward to untie Felix and motioned for Chan to let him up. Felix cracked his neck and massaged his wrists. You found yourself fixing the collar of his shirt as Chan carefully watched. “Thanks, Felix.”

Felix held his hand out expectantly and you thought he meant for you to shake it before you realized you were still holding his phone and belt. You placed them back in his hand, hoping the deadly look in your eye reminded him how serious you were. He sighed miserably, looking between you and Chan before silently turning to walk downstairs. 

Now it was just you and Chan. You collected your panties from the floor before you walked over to the breaker box and flipped everything downstairs into the proper place. Your feet were sore as you slipped your shoes back on. 

“I know I said we should walk,” Chan said as he gathered the bungee cords and put the chair back in its place, “but I admire you splitting the money.”

“Could’ve had more to split,” you tersely shrugged as you took the cords from him and put them back where you found them. You gave him a pointed look. Chan winced as you breezed past him and down the stairs. 

You could’ve checked Jisung’s room to find him, but your feet brought you down to the study. Sure enough, there was Jisung, looking over the books on the shelves. 

“You going to miss it?”

“Sure,” Jisung shrugged, “it’s my first show. Just last month I found out about the audition after my improv show one night, and now I’m being humiliated in front of a paying audience.”

“Jisung,” you lamented as you set a hand on his shoulder. He regarded it warily. 

“I know you were just playing the game as you understood it,” Jisung sighed, “but my pride is hurt. All those people are going to watch me lose my virginity and get into my first fistfight.”

“That was your first? You don’t punch like it was your first,” you gave a light smile, and he eventually returned it. 

“If you’re giving me a performance review, did I seem like a virgin?”

“Not at all,” you shook your head, “you’re great. You keep surprising me.”

“Thanks,” Jisung said quietly. 

“Help me make this work,” you pleaded. “It’s not enough, but we’ll take home some extra money for our trouble. Please stay, and then you can forget about me and the show forever. I’ll leave you out of the aftermath as much as possible.”

Jisung meditated on it for a moment. “What if I don’t want to forget about you?”

“Then I’ll come see you when you go back to doing improv, maybe sit in on your campaign back home,” you reasoned sweetly, and it made him give up a wider grin. 

“I’ll stay, then,” Jisung decided. “After all, it’s just acting.” You let out a thankful sigh and cautiously drew Jisung to you, careful that he might still be cold to you, and gently hugged him close. As he eventually returned the gesture, you softened and kissed his cheek goodnight before heading downstairs. 

A glint in the light of the basement caught your eye as you neared your bedroom. Chan’s necklace hung on the doorknob. You held it in your hand, the light material heavy with the events of the day. There were still DM’s from Chan you hadn’t even read yet, and you eyed your phone suspiciously from where it sat on your blankets as you changed for bed. Finally, you allowed yourself to look through your notifications. You felt oddly bashful as you scrolled too far, up to the video he’d sent you the other night. Words were escaping you, attached to feelings that hadn’t even picked a shape to form into. However, you knew something needed to be said.

>I may have been too mean up there. I understand why you were being a dick for the most part. 

>>I have been such an asshole. I’ve been out of line since day one.

>You were playing your own one-sided game, too. And with an extra obstacle thrown in. 

>>Thanks for not saying anything to the guys, by the way. 

>Too many surprises for one night. Do they even know you speak English?

>>Do they know YOU speak English? They know I’m older than I said, but I don’t think they know I’m older than you. They don’t know my real name. 

>Well I know you speak English, and I know you’re older than me. Do I get to know your real name?

>>Chris. 

>I like that. It’ll be weird to get used to, though. 

>>How about Chan is an asshole, but I’m Chris. 

>Nice try. Get some sleep. 

>>I should’ve told you the moment I was sure. I’m sorry. Goodnight. 

🎥🖤🎥🖤🎥🖤🎥

What little sleep you’d received couldn’t even be bolstered by the incredible amount of coffee you swallowed the next morning. You caught Chan doing the same over the lip of your mug and he choked on his coffee, ears reddening as he went to finish getting ready. The other boys looked just as puzzled at Chan’s outburst. Minho was quiet as he slid up next to you at the counter in the kitchen, letting the rest of the room talk over him. 

“Porn, huh?” He wasn’t judgmental, he wasn’t rude. He was simply curious. He watched you carefully nod into your mug. “It’s good? You enjoy it?”

You nodded again. “Do you mind?”

“No,” Minho smiled, “I’m a little jealous, but that’s not your fault. I’m just glad you didn’t sleep with Hyunjin just because you wanted to. He’s been so dramatic about the whole thing.”

You tried not to laugh too loudly, settling instead for another helping of coffee. 

“Who was best?” Minho smirked at you. “Objectively speaking, of course. Was it Channie-hyung?”

You did laugh now, but tried to keep it down. You shook your head. “I didn’t sleep with Chan.”

“Ah,” Minho smiled, “so I was probably the best.”

The two of you shared a snickered laugh between you before you set about the rest of the day. Truly, it was a bizarre experience. You and the boys all shared looks like you all knew something was running in the background. They were hyper-aware. Some of their actions and banter seemed stilted, distracted. Jisung had to run a line five times because his mind was so firmly somewhere else. Not to mention Minho and Changbin would not stop looking at you, and Chan was back on his trajectory of nervously avoiding you altogether. 

Chan also happened to be where you were the most lost. You were still hurt, of course, that hadn’t changed, but you were conflicted. Here was this guy, this friend, this confidant that you’d known for so long, but now an unexpected series of events put a strain on that relationship, on that trust. You were confident that guy was still in there, but you couldn’t quite make an estimate on when you would be open to returning to that. Despite all logic saying otherwise, you almost hoped it would be soon. However, if he kept avoiding you, whether for shame or shyness, you wouldn’t get it in the near future. 

You were still keeping up appearances, even so close to wrapping the show, taking care of the odd chore here and there and helping the boys pack. You were heading to Jisung and Hyunjin’s room to fix the beds when a hand shot out from the bathroom and grabbed you. Changbin held a finger to his lips as he did the same to yours while Minho leaned over and turned on the shower to its hottest and hardest setting, quickly filling the room with steam and the minor roar of running water. The three of you were huddled by the toilet, with Changbin letting you go so he could sit up on top of the tank and Minho leaned against the sink. The boys signaled for you to be quiet until the door opened again. It was Hyunjin. All three boys reached for their mic packs to turn them off and Hyunjin crowded in beside you. 

“You didn’t sleep with Channie-hyung,” Minho said quietly as he eyed the camera, apparently hidden in a vanity light over the mirror. 

“Yeah,” you ogled, “so?”

“So, noona,” Changbin explained, “that puts us in the odd predicament of—“

“We want that money,” Hyunjin blurted. 

“We want that money,” Minho confirmed.

“What?!”

All three boys pounced on you to quiet your outburst. 

Minho was the first to pipe back up. “Noona, you said it yourself. You want to wring these monsters dry. We’re not exactly doing that if you don’t run away with all the money you can. Don’t you want to win?”

“I am not sleeping with Chan,” you laughed tepidly. 

“Why not? He’s crazy about you,” Hyunjin reeled, “at least, I hope he is with how he acts about you. Otherwise he’s a lunatic.”

“Well I’m not crazy about him,” you insisted. 

“Then it’s work! It’s work like you were hired to do in this stupid game,” Changbin persisted. “What did Chan-hyung ever do to you?”

“Aside from being a creep?” You deadpanned. The boys all looked a bit guilty. You knew they were right, but you hated how much personal bullshit was in the way. “Besides, what would you even be doing with your shares? Hyunjin, you’re fucking rich.”

“And I’m very fucking close to being cut off by my parents when they find out where I’ve been this whole time,” Hyunjin retorted, “which is not at a couple conventions for school like they currently think.”

“Jisung isn’t rich,” Minho pressed, “he wants to open a game bar with his friends and needs a starting investment. I’m not rich either and while I would appreciate tuition to finish culinary school, tuition won’t help me move to Japan to keep training.”

“Well?” You looked at Changbin, exasperated. “Go on, then, tell me the awesome thing you’re doing with your share.”

“It’s a nest egg for my physical therapy doctorate,” Changbin admitted. 

You let out a thorough groan. “Well, I can’t do it,” you flippantly explained, “and even if I did, I don’t have a plan.”

All three boys beamed at you, but Minho looked particularly proud. “We do.”

🎥🖤🎥🖤🎥🖤🎥

Finding Chan wasn’t difficult once you figured out his game. Whatever his reason was for avoiding you, you at least knew he would be doing his laundry again before he finished packing. You listened carefully in your room, waiting for footsteps to travel from his room down to the basement. This lined up with how you were sure you caught him coming down here earlier in the day. You stepped lightly, trying not to let your heels click on the floor as you let yourself in. Sure enough, there was Chan, oblivious as he finished loading his laundry into the dryer. It took him shutting the door to the machine to finally see you still standing at the doorway. You quietly pulled the door closed behind you. 

Chan stood, surprised and silent while he waited for you to do something, say something. His eyes were on your fingers, watching as they gathered at the top of your blouse and plucked open the top button. Chan gulped. His throat apparently ran dry. 

“What’re you—“

“Oppa,” you said clearly as you eyed the camera in the back of the room, “I’m sorry for yesterday. I was so intimidated when you revealed your age to me, but I know you only told me because you want to trust me. I want you to know you can. I trust you, too.”

It was cheesy and ridiculous and entirely unsubstantiated, enough so that Chan was bewildered as he checked the settings on the dryer and surreptitiously scanned the room to find the camera you were clearly acting for. He found it, nestled amongst the detergents and cleaning products on the shelves lining the back of the room. Chan rigidly turned back to see you undo the next button on your blouse. He visibly swallowed again before he started the dryer, the machine instantly broadcasting a solid hum as he warily approached you. 

“What’re you doing?” He asked quietly as you worked at the third button. His ears burned crimson when you switched off your mic pack and drew him close, sliding your hands around his waist and doing the same for his, flicking the tiny black switch. 

“I trust you,” you breathed, “do you trust me?” Chan nodded timidly. You looked up at him, your gaze meeting his and you could swear you could hear your heart thumping. Maybe his, too. You leaned forward first. He hesitated. His fingers swept your hair back like they had the previous night, only cautiously now. The pouty lips that inspired his username were parted, almost as if Chan wanted to say something, but instead closed the gap between your mouths as he finally kissed you. 

You’d pictured this more than a few times, being kissed by Duckie — Chris — Chan — but you still hadn’t predicted how passionate this would feel, how he would groan low in his throat the moment you reciprocated as if he’d been craving it. 

“Are you sure?” Chan murmured. He waited for your shallow nod before he kissed you again, his firm hands gently pressing you against the door and his parted lips grazing your neck. “Any rules?” 

“Yeah,” you smirked, “make it look good.”

“Got it,” Chan laughed quietly, but even then he was surprised as you pushed him back and started working at the buttons of his shirt. He charged ahead and pulled off his blazer and shirt for you, dropping them to the floor and you found yourself suddenly confronted once again with this chest that you were very familiar with. You attempted to convince yourself that you were just making it look good, but you knew damn well that the camera could not see as you took a moment to run your hands over him, letting your fingers roam the dips and planes of his body. It was a surreal experience, walking your fingers along the lines of his arms, his torso, his hips, previously only committed to memory from pictures and videos. Chan capitalized on your distraction to take over in finishing undoing the buttons of your shirt, but even then his hands hesitated to open your blouse more until you finally came back around and did it for him. 

If Chan was going to be as gentle as you predicted, you’d known you would have to wind him up. You had reviewed the entire Rolodex of mental notes you’d taken since knowing him before even coming in here, and hopefully it would pay off. Mostly, you’d hoped it would successfully rile him up, but you had to admit you mostly wanted to see his focus set entirely on you. Your hands swept up his arms to his neck to pull him close for another deep kiss, the speed of the gesture making you fall back against the door with him in tow. Chan instantly grunted at the move, especially as your knee rubbed up against his thigh. His hands were quick to respond, and you gasped as he grabbed your leg, wrapping you around him so he could press against you. He paused as he felt the garter holding up your stocking, intrigued by the discovery. Chan leaned away, enough that you could see his impressed smirk. You’d tried to remember every piece of lingerie, every hairstyle, every nuance of your makeup he’d ever complimented, just in case he’d needed any extra convincing, but that apparently wasn’t so necessary as he dropped your leg and pulled you along to back you up against the washing machine. 

You were excited to see if Chan could think on his feet as much as you had been, and he didn’t fail to surprise you as he hazarded a quick glance at the camera to make sure you were both positioned at a good angle for coverage before he reached forward and brazenly unzipped your skirt. He watched with satisfaction as the garment fell to the floor, better revealing your garters and the panties that smartly complemented your bra. His gaze wasn’t just hungry, it almost looked affectionate, and you didn’t even know what to do with that realization before he thankfully interrupted it by easily picking you up and pushing you on top of the washing machine. Chan swept your hair back before he kissed you again, his hands gliding over around your waist and behind you to unclip and slip off your bra. You let out a content sigh as his lips trailed over your neck and shoulders, only stopping as he caught you unbuckling his belt. Chan kicked off his shoes and slacks, but suddenly put a hand on yours as you dipped your fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs. 

“I swear to god,” he laughed into your shoulder as he kissed you there again, “do not make me get naked on this show.”

You couldn’t contain your giggle and Chan quickly stifled you with another kiss to your lips, planting a trail of kisses down your chin and throat, down between your cleavage and down over your stomach before his warm breath ghosted over your soaked pussy. He tugged your panties off and let them drop to the floor before he grasped at the straps of your garters on your thighs, spreading you open and slinging your legs over his shoulders as he finally placed a kiss to your soft pussy lips. Your groans echoed each other as his tongue explored you, getting to know you on this new level as his hands hungrily grabbed onto you, rubbing affectionate little circles into your thighs with his thumbs. Somehow, it almost seemed like Chan also remembered some notes of his own as you felt his fingers probe against your entrance. He wasn’t fast with the thrusting digits, just like you liked it, as he slowly scissored them in and out of you in contrast with his quick tongue.

Chan held you down as you writhed against his mouth and fingers, easily making you sit and take it while he worked you into a breathless mess, and you could feel the seeds of an orgasm being planted. You quickly dismissed the thought; getting too caught up in the idea would put too much pressure to finish, especially with him. This, however, didn’t seem to be an issue that occurred to him as he continued to goad you into cumming, his other hand snaking up your belly and between your breasts to gently grip your throat. He didn’t squeeze, he really only placed his hand possessively around your neck — just the way you wanted it. You might’ve casually mentioned that to him, once, months ago, and that realization was what sent you over the edge into a shuddering orgasm, whining and whimpering as you threaded your fingers into Chan’s hair and tugged since he still wouldn’t let you grind your hips against or away from his tongue. 

Chan finally pulled back, chin glistening and a satisfied smirk on his face as he came up for air and stood to straighten his back out. You caught your breath while you looked him over, his flushed cheeks apparent even through his light makeup and still contrasting with the pretty shade of pink that had spread through him, down to his chest and further down still to Chan’s rigid erection still concealed in his boxer briefs. From prior knowledge, you were sure his length was blushing as well and fit to leak precum at any moment. You caught each other’s eye, exposed in ogling each other and inexplicably bashful from it before you broke the tension and sat up on the washing machine to hop off onto the floor. Chan watched, patiently curious as you switched places now and pushed him back against the machine. His pupils were blown wide with arousal, taking in the sight of you pulling out his cock into your warm grip and, sure enough, it was cutely red and leaking the moment you felt it bare in your hand. Chan choked out a shivered moan as you gently stroked him. 

You leaned up now, meeting his gaze before you kissed him deep, your tongue languidly swiping against his before you pulled back, just enough to make a show of letting a single drip of saliva fall from your lips and onto his cock in your hand before massaging it onto his length — just the way he liked it. Chan leaned forward, resting his head on your shoulder as you firmly stroked his cock, his moans almost pretty and restrained as he clenched his fists. He apparently didn’t want too much, his head leaning back once as he let out a thick groan before he grabbed your hips again, now impatiently bending you over the washing machine. The soft, slick head of Chan’s cock pressed up against your sensitive pussy lips before prodding into your entrance. You could hear him let out a steady breath, punctuated with his gripping fingers on your hip as he teased the length inside you. He bottomed out with a content sigh and, with the angle figured out, he pulled at your elbow to hold you back against his chest as he finally fucked you. 

Chan was precise as you felt his fingers slide down your torso and between your legs to toy with your clit and you gasped, a sharp tingle of overstimulation shooting straight through your hips. 

“Wait, wait,” you gasped, “too much—“

“I know,” Chan murmured as he dragged his lips along your shoulder and up to your throat, “I want to try something.”

Your nails dug into his arm as he softly stroked your clit, still soaked from his tongue as he fucked you. You knew exactly what he was trying. Again, ages ago, you had told Chan about the first time a guy got you to cum twice and you didn’t have to fake it, and it was by doing exactly this, fucking you from behind as he played with your clit. Chan almost growled against your neck as he worked you over, his turgid length hitting you at the right angle where he had you stood up like this so he could rub up against your most sensitive spot. You knew this had to be loud as hell, Chan groaning and you whining as his cock rammed into you, but you found it hard to worry about being heard when all that currently occupied your thoughts was white noise. The only thing you could focus on was Chan and fucking Chan, and fucking Chan while he intently worked to make you cum again. 

“You feel so good,” he panted behind you, and it wasn’t a revelation, it was a confirmation. You wondered, for a moment, if he’d been thinking of this just as often as you had, if he casually thought about it every once in a while as you had for years now. 

“You feel so good,” you gasped, even more so as his other hand moved up to gently hold your throat again. It hadn’t even occurred to you that another orgasm was actually building in you again until that pot boiled over, and Chan cursed and moaned out loud as you whimpered through your climax on his cock, the depths of your pussy contracting around and constricting his length. 

Chan gently slid out of you and turned you around in his arms so he could lean you back against the washing machine to regain your composure. You allowed the exhausted kiss he pressed to your temple. He caught his breath as well, but he seemed preoccupied as you clung to him, your arms around his waist. It was for support, sure, but actually experiencing his presence like this was still a little surreal. His cock, streaked in your juices, was nudged up against your thigh as he held you. He raised a curious eyebrow as you lifted your leg and wrapped yourself around him as he had you do earlier. His eyes silently implored you as you reached down between your bodies to guide his slick erection back inside of you. 

He hesitated. Really?

You nodded. Yes. 

Between you still recovering from both orgasms and Chan still working on getting his, you both struggled out a moan as he rocked into you again, his persistently hard cock dragging along your sore walls. You were both a mess of tangled hair and perspiration. Chan held fast onto you, one arm around your waist and a hand still holding your spread leg around his hip, so intent to chase his peak that he wasn’t even opening up for the camera anymore. An odd sense of intimacy raised the hair on the back of your neck; it was just you and him right now. You reached for him, your fingers cupping his face and drawing him close for a shaky kiss. It was apparent from his eyes shut in concentration, his breathy gasps, his stuttered moans, that he wasn’t going to be able to hold back much longer, but you knew you wanted to be the one to push him over the edge. 

You leaned back just enough that he could sense you looking up into his eyes, but still staying close enough that you could speak to him under your breath. He gazed at you under his heavy eyelashes, his eyes soaked in infatuation to the point of intoxication. 

“I want to try something,” you grinned exhaustedly. Chan couldn’t even muster the stamina to say something; he only nodded. Your fingers curled into his hair and drew him close, and your breath tickling his ear made him shudder. 

“Cum.”

Your one-word command seemed to send a shock through Chan as he gritted and groaned through his orgasm, starting at his hips and emanating through to his fingers clutching onto you as his weight collapsed against you. His hips stuttered as he rode it out, your exhausted pussy still responsive enough to throb and milk his cock of every drop of cum he probably ever saved for you. 

You held him like that, still dazedly stroking his hair with your fingers as he gasped for air where he was deadweight against your shoulder. Finally, Chan seemed to gain enough wherewithal to let himself slide out of you and finally grab his pants, digging out his phone to check the time. His eyes grew comically wide, blinking back to life as he realized he needed to put himself back together in time to film the formal finale when he was distracted by your fingers on his wrist. He looked pointedly at your hand there before his eyes followed your arm back up to your eyes, trying hard to make sure you wouldn’t forget this. His tense shoulders softened and he stopped where he stood, about to snatch up the rest of his clothes, and switched tracks to instead pull you close again. Chan stroked your hair back away from your forehead and kissed you gently on the lips when a crash came through the laundry room door. 

You both jolted as Minho came clambering into the doorway of the small room, dragging Hyunjin by the collar of his shirt. They were both interrupted by the sight of both of you, practically naked and still embracing each other. 

“You whore!” Minho theatrically denounced. He was aghast as he tugged Hyunjin to attention, who was currently distracted by your exposed form. “I was going to ask you why the hell I found your underwear in Hyunjin’s luggage while I was helping him pack, but I can see you’re a bit busy.” Minho even brandished the offending garment for effect. 

Chan warily eyed the boys and then you before the pieces locked into place. He surreptitiously shoved his cock back into his briefs before he marched forward. You watched as Chan snatched the panties from Minho’s hand and quickly wheeled around to confront you. 

“I’m sure there’s something I’m not understanding here,” Chan insisted, “I’m sure Hyunjin just stole these from you, right?” 

You were suddenly very glad you were mostly turned away from the camera in the back of the room as Chan’s sudden dramatics nearly made you crack. Thankfully, Hyunjin saved you before you could be caught laughing. 

“No, stupid,” Hyunjin sneered, “she let me have them after we fucked. Why do you think Jisung got all pissy with me last night? He fucked her, too.”

“Hyunjin, you fucked her?!” Minho reeled. Chan stepped forward, squaring up against Hyunjin in the doorway. 

“When?!” Chan interrogated as he dramatically balled his fist into the collar of Hyunjin’s shirt. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Hyunjin giggled, his shit-eating grin wide before Chan beat his other fist into the door of the laundry room. The three of you silently alerted to Chan’s outburst, feeling a touch more genuine than the rest of the charade. Admittedly, the finer details of when and where you slept with them all was a bit glossed over in your impromptu meeting the previous night.

“Tell me, you little shit,” Chan theatrically pushed him, getting back on the level, “you get one last chance to say you’re lying.”

“Chan, I—“ you piped up behind them. All three boys glared back at you and you nearly broke into a fit of laughter again. Chan turned his attention back to threateningly cocking his fist back. 

“You better admit you’re lying,” Chan warned, before Minho clapped a hand onto his fist. You quietly tried to grab your clothes as the boys hashed it out. 

“What good is that going to do? I slept with her too,” Minho admonished. Hyunjin and Chan turned to gape at you in disbelief. 

“Besides, I don’t need to tell you anything,” Hyunjin laughed as he turned his attention back to Chan, “she knows I was better anyway.”

“Or she pitied you,” Chan retorted. This was all so much more exaggerated than you’d imagined, and doubly so as he apparently struck a nerve with Hyunjin, who proceeded to headbutt Chan directly in his nose. He rocked back on his feet, a hand clapped over his nose as he cursed. You and Minho both gasped, unable to stop Chan as he reacted with a swift punch to Hyunjin’s stomach and sent him crumpling to the floor. Minho squared his shoulders against Chan as you sneakily began to get a little more dressed. 

“You fucking brute, I’ve had it with you—” Minho barked, and Chan got in his face. 

“Don’t be mad at me because I fucked her, too,” Chan shook his head, when Hyunjin got back to his senses enough to tackle into Chan’s knees. Chan dragged Minho down with him, and all three boys were suddenly in a scuffle on the floor, blocking you from leaving the laundry room. 

It didn’t look like it could get much worse until Changbin strolled downstairs, supposedly unaware of all the commotion. 

“Hey, we’re going to be filming soon—“ and Changbin was cut off as he witnessed all three boys wrestling and scrapping on the floor, with you still half-dressed behind them. Even as Changbin tried to break it up, the three boys accused him of sleeping with you as well and he was promptly dragged into the fray. 

It was getting out of hand fast when Jisung finally arrived down to the basement. He stood, paused at the bottom of the stairs, and you again nearly burst into a fit of laughter at how preposterous this whole thing became. Now as Jisung entered the conflict, the boys all slowed to a stop to regard him. Comically suspicious looks were cast all around, from the boys tangled in a bruised heap on the floor, to Jisung pulling off what was probably the best performance of his life looking utterly destroyed, to you as you did your best to look as guilty as you had been. To top it all off, Jisung quietly shook his head before silently retreating back upstairs. It was a scene straight from a drama. 

Seungmin came bounding down the stairs then, no doubt trying to find the cast and looking shocked at the scene he stumbled into. The boys all looked downtrodden, eyes shooting daggers as they untangled themselves and sulked back upstairs. Each of them caught your eye as they headed up, the small looks you caught ranging between bemusement to trepidation of if this would even work. Chan raised an eyebrow at you as he was finally able to grab his clothes. You were tempted to reach out, to try and tend to his nose still spilling blood, but he pulled away, seemingly in disgust as he gingerly pawed at it. 

“Holy shit,” Chan laughed quietly as he turned away from the camera, “I didn’t know they had it in them.”

The finale itself seemed like such small stakes after the brawl in the basement. All the boys had a quiet intensity to them, especially after the fit the production crew threw after they had shown up bruised and beaten. They refused to tell the staff what exactly they were fighting over, so now they just sat, bandaged and extra made up, while they waited to film. 

You had your own role to play, of course, the finale following some ridiculous plot where the ominous ‘headmaster’ had sent an inspector to expose a saboteur amongst their care staff. There was a chance for you, the chauffeur, and — of course — the cook to make your cases. You looked over all the boys as you stood before them, trying to decipher all their indecipherable looks. 

“I wish I didn’t have to prove my innocence to you,” you told them, and it was like the cameras and crew weren’t even there as you were all assembled in the dining room, “and I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt me or distrust me. I care for all of you.”

The line girl behind the camera was bewildered at your admission, entirely improvised from what was on the script, but the director waved to signal that you were alright. Each of the boys all seemed to soften, to relax a little for the rest of the scene. Chan had a guilty smile until it agitated his nose (which had apparently been dislocated and needed to be reset before filming, much to Hyunjin’s pride and chagrin.) Minho looked pleased, either with you or himself, while Changbin still looked a bit concerned and nervous. Hyunjin was just bored by now, his ideas of acting completely thrown into perspective by all this. Jisung was harder to pin, and you still felt ultimately responsible for whatever he was coping with. 

Obviously, the inspector spouted out a ton of exposition and off-screen reasoning before revealing the cook. Everyone looked the appropriate amount of scandalized before the cook was carted off by the inspector. The rest of the finale went just as smoothly, but felt so insignificant now. The boys looked humble and excited as they received their prizes and accolades, but everything was run through a filter. Did the staff see it like you did? The farewells after wrapping the show didn’t even feel final. Each embrace from them lingered, sharing meaningful looks that promised you would find them again, if only to make sure they got their cut. 

Felix arrived then, the red bruise on his cheek contrasting humorously with his blue suit. Seungmin, the other staff, and even the director gave him a previously unseen gravitas, greeting him and sucking up as if he were the Big Boss himself and not just his assistant. Felix curtly congratulated the cast for wrapping the show and offered them company cars for rides. Everyone exchanged glances before tersely declining. Felix nodded, understanding, and all five boys exited with looks back over their shoulders to you as they left you in the house. You heart thumped, almost in pain as you watched them go. 

The crew began to clear out as well, and soon it was just you and Felix, eyeing you suspiciously. The turnover was fast, a new crew rolling in right away  to set up. Jeongin cheerily greeted you before helping light the living room. Felix was still staring you down. You approached him warily. 

“Your face is going to get stuck like that,” you mused. 

“I can’t believe what I saw in the raw feed today,” he glowered. He waved over a gofer and asked them for a coffee before turning back to you. “You’re greedy, you know that?”

“You’re going to be fine, Felix,” you scoffed. Felix paused as a coffee was promptly placed in his hands and he regarded it, disgruntled.  

“I just have no clue what I’m going to do if I lose this job. I love my job.”

“Yeah, well,” you raised an eyebrow, “your job exploited some pretty great guys.”

Felix sighed, still gazing into his coffee cup. You took one step closer to him. 

“You were exploited, too, Felix. I’m sure you’re great at your job. Don’t waste it on these people.”

The sigh in Felix’s chest renewed. He hung his head before he finally looked at you again. “You look good, by the way.”

“I know,” you deadpanned.

You sauntered away in search of Jeongin, hoping he’d be the one with your pages and a breakdown of the finale. It was certainly less fanfare and a lot less setup than the boys’ finale had been. 

A host you’d never met before arrived and introduced himself, saying he loved working on your show as he shook your hand. Your finale was really an interview, where you got to pretend to be super proud of yourself and comment on the different cast members. The host’s questions were vacuous and no less exploitative than the rest of the show, and you spied Felix beyond the lights looking thoroughly miserable. 

Your finale felt meaningless as well, just another step towards washing your hands of this forever, and you were grateful when you wrapped and went to change. The only significant part of your farewell was seeing your bedroom emptied of your belongings. A soft footfall at the door alerted you and you turned, finding Felix there again. 

“I’m entirely on the wrong side, aren’t I?”

It wasn’t much of a question from him. You turned, now changed into a comfortable pair of jeans and a hoodie before you approached him. You set your luggage down, raising your hand to gently cup his face and careful to avoid the bruise Chan had slapped into him. 

“You’re on the wrong side,” you agreed, “but you can choose to be better. Maybe I’ll run into you again someday.”

“Maybe,” Felix nodded with a reluctant smirk. 

“Don’t stop being a fan, okay?” You grinned. Felix laughed before offering you a company car for a ride as he had with the boys. He wasn’t even offended as you laughed sarcastically and refused. You grabbed your bag and ascended the stairs. You walked into the living room. You walked into the foyer. You opened the front door. 

And you walked out onto the street. 

🎥🖤🎥🖤🎥🖤🎥

You picked a direction and walked. The house was only a block behind you, looming, when you found him. Chan sat atop his rolling luggage on the corner, flicking through his phone when he noticed you coming his way. He hopped off to greet you, only for you to breeze right past him down the sidewalk. Chan grabbed the handle of his bag and trotted after you. “Did everything go okay?” He asked as he kept up beside you. You nodded with a shrug. 

“Sure. Sorry I can’t talk long; I have to meet up with a friend.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” you nodded earnestly, “I need to return something of his.”

Chan watched curiously as you fished the pendant of his necklace out from under your hoodie where it hung. “Weird,” he smirked, “I had a necklace just like that.”

“Weird,” you agreed. “Who are you again?”

It was your turn to grin as Chan dramatically slapped his forehead. “Of course; I’m terrible with introductions.” He stopped you on the sidewalk and grabbed your hand in his to shake it. “I’m Chan, but my friends call me Duckie, and my really good friends call me Chris.”

You grinned as you shook his hand. “Ah, right, Chris. I thought you looked familiar. I have something that belongs to you.” 

Chan — Duckie — Chris — tried to restrain a bashful smile as you unclasped his necklace from around your neck and reached your hands up to clasp it around his. The moment it hung on him, his smile dropped. “I’m sorry again.”

“I know,” you nodded, “but you were there for me and I appreciate it.”

“I would do it all again if I had to,” Chris smiled softly. 

“What,” you mused, “take advantage of a sleazy production like this to run off with way more money than expected?”

Chris nodded heartily. “In a heartbeat.”

“Sure,” you giggled as you waved down a taxi, “and while we’re at it we can make our own show that’s actually worth watching.”

“I mean, I don’t see why not,” Chris retorted. He paused as he watched you load your bag into the taxi that pulled up to the curb. He looked like he missed you already as you pulled open the door and looked back at him. 

“Am I going to see you again?” He asked. 

“What a dumb question,” you laughed as you waved goodbye. “Call me next time you have to do some laundry.”