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gnabnahc-143 · 7 months

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Stuck with you | B.C

Pairing: Bang Chan x reader

Summary: 4 times people were convinced you and chan were in love + 1 time you finally realized why

Genre: 4+1, best friends to lovers, indenial motherfucker, high school AU, just fluff really

wc: 5.8k (the way this is the longest fic I’ve ever written, not my fault I love Chan)

Song suggestions: Sick of you - Suriel Hess

Note: pretend Minho and Chan are the same age😅. Also this is me trying to delay posting chapter 2 of the way I loved you.

BONUS | skz reaction to you two finally getting together

God you fucking hated math. It’s funny you chose to take the hardest math class offered, funny how you transferred from a class way easier, getting way better grades, claiming to love the subject and wanting to be challenged, all because of a boy.

Bang Chan had been your best friend for a little over 3 years in your junior year and you felt yourselves drift a part as you chose classes far different from each other, to better suit the paths each of you were going to take. Spending most of your time with him online or the passing times in the hallway when you encounter the other as he spent most breaks with his own set of friends, the boys you grew fond of, whilst you spent it with your girls. Transferring became an option when you realized your math grades were outstanding, having a natural gift for it albeit your hatred, and your friends started questioning why you hadn’t chosen a harder class. When you brought it up, he had eagerly begged you, being in that very class, he wanted to spend more time with you.

Being utterly weak (and whipped) for him, you relented, figuring it couldn’t be that much harder as the class you were in was only a level easier, oh how wrong you were. Now in your senior year you sat in the corner table of the math class, away from the chaos of your gifted peers carelessly chatting, clutching your hair in confusion.

“I can’t believe they have time to talk, I’m actually going to fail this class” your friend Lisa, a girl you got closer to after transferring, had said as she sat in the table in front of you. The class was built so that each table could only fit one person, and you two had always chosen to sit on the tables in the corner end of the classroom, finding it better to focus that way.

“I know, I’m pretty sure the shit we’re learning is university level” you groaned, releasing the grasp on your hair as you leaned back into your chair. She laughed and agreed, you two fell into a light conversation whilst continuing to focus on studying, eyes trained precisely on the piece of paper that you were sure would haunt your dreams from now on. You noticed she had gone quiet and you turned ahead to see why.

“Need any help?” Speak of the devil that had put you in the very situation that had you miserable. He was smiling at you, amused at the way you had your eyebrows furrowed almost permanently. You turned to glare at your best friend, rolling your eyes, “I don’t know how you convinced me to transfer” you pouted. He giggled as he pulled up a chair next to you, squeezing his way into the table, frowning you turned to him, confused to why he had opted to join your struggles instead of joining his chattering friends. Chris was, to put it lightly, a genius, so he had no reason to join your misery parade yet he did like many times before. You were friends with the people in your class, but you preferred to stay away from the chaos, indulging in your introverted nature. Chan, although an extrovert, always seemed to join you instead of the crowd which confused you but you never questioned it, instead welcoming his company.

“I wouldn’t have supported it if I didn’t know how smart you were, maybe you’re just making it harder than it needs to be” he said in sympathy, continuing on to explain the shortcuts you could take to solve the exact equation that were filled with scribbles of your past attempts. In the end you noticed he was right (or maybe he had a gift of making you memorize and analyze any of his words) as now you had easily finished all the equations given…and in record time.

“See, wasn’t that hard was it?” He teased, patting your head proudly. You rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless at the caring boy, glad you had him next to you. From then on you two had continued into a conversation, laughing at his attempts to joke, and opting to stay with each other instead of joining the group. By the time the bell had rung, you both were in the midst of a very competitive online chess game (which both of you were a completely novice at).

“Guess we have to end the game” he said with a shining smile, you laughed at his glee, claiming he was only happy as he was clearly losing whilst he laughed in response. He went back to his table to pack his bags, while you chuckled, shaking your head fondly at your dimpled best friend.

Your next class was English which you had also shared with Lisa, turning to her, you were about to ask if she was ready to go when you saw her smirking at you, lifting her eyebrows. “Finally back to earth?” She asked, laughing at your confusion. “I swear you guys are in love” she said, you blushed at the statement, jumping to deny her. Her laughs increased at your refusal shaking her head as she packed her things.

“What do you mean by that, I swear you guys always say it but I really don’t understand why” chuckling in disbelief you’d stated. Her laughter came to a halt, now looking at you in disbelief, finally realizing you were genuinely confused. “You’re joking right?” She said, halting her actions “think about it y/n, you guys are closer than normal friends, he looks at you differently to everyone else, he even acts differently around you. The minute any of you are in each others presence it’s like everyone else doesn’t exist, you guys get into your own worlds, in your own conversations” she pointed out, listing to what you thought were nonsense.

“He’s friends with a bunch of girls, mr popular remember? He’s like that with everyone, that’s why people love him, he makes them feel special” you rebutted, spluttering against your words. “Do you feel special?” She countered, asking. You stayed silent but truly the answer was predictable, he truly made everyone feel like they meant something. “Just think about it, he’s friends with me too, I know how he is with girls, he isn’t like how he is with you. Plus in the hour of our class, he never once looked or spoken to me, it’s always like that whenever you’re in the room, he won’t talk to anyone else or pay attention to them.” At that she ended the topic, you tried to brush it off as you both left the class and fell into mindless small talk but the lingering thought of her words stayed still in the corner of your mind.

“Have you decided where you’re gonna go for uni?” Chan asked as you both sat on the school field, under a tree watching his friends play football like their life depended on it. On any other day you two would part ways during lunch, spending time with each others respective friend groups, but today he’d ask you to join him. In his seasonal clingy nature, claiming he’d barely spent time with you lately.

“You know I’ve always wanted to go overseas, see a different part of the world” you replied, being truthful as you never thought of staying in Korea. University always seemed like your chance of a getaway car, leaving your life left behind, leaving parts of your self you hated behind, memories of past regrets. Recently though you’ve come to realize maybe your past would never leave you and that the only thing you could do was accept that you’ve grown, accept that you’ve changed, these epiphanies coming to light with the aid of your dimpled best friend.

Speaking of which you’ve notice have become silent as you uttered your thoughts, simply lost in thought, keeping his eyes trained on his friends. “If I do, don’t miss me too much yeah” you teased, trying to break the tense atmosphere. He snapped his eyes towards yours, a small smile broke on his face as he rolled his eyes, ruffling your head in the process. He adjusted your positions to lie his head on your lap, as you started stroking his black locks.

Truthfully he was the only thing holding you down, the idea of leaving not being phased by even your friends as they too had ideas of leaving to different countries to study, so really there was no reason for you to, no reason except him. You knew Chris would stay in Korea, having dreams of producing music with his friends, studying it’s art and working freelance until he eventually gets signed (which you knew would happen considering his talent).

“I will miss you” He said, his sad expression coming back, your eyes softening at the look. Although your friendship was always playful, filled with laughter and teasing, he also never held back his affections. It was clear to everyone he loved you, whether that was as a friend or lover was the debate, he spoiled you as his best friend and you reciprocated. There were even days where you cherished each others company so much that all you did was lay on his bed on your phone in silence as he worked on songs on his desk, simply cause he wanted you to be there.

You frowned, continuing your ministrations on his hair after a soft pat to his cheek. “Come on, I haven’t left yet let’s not be all sentimental” you chuckled “hell I haven’t even decided if I am gonna leave, all is still on the fence”. He chuckled nodding, an ounce of hope bringing a blinding smile to his face, his eyes forming to crescents. For the rest of the lunch you continued to talk to each other, some topics even leading to animated arguments and ending in laughter, when it came back to the topic of the future. Somehow in the midst of the conversation, you started talking about marriage, the idea of a perfect future with whoever you chose to love forever.

“Well I want one kid, maybe a son if I got to choose but of course I’d love them all the same if it was a daughter. I’d spoil the death out of them, give them everything and raising them well enough to be grateful for it, well enough to make them want to give as well. I’d have to work for it though so I’d want a husband whose job wouldn’t be as demanding as mine, maybe an artistic type? That way they could be at home whilst still focusing on their dreams, not letting it get in the way of achieving what they want” you ranted, rambling in a daze of recounting your daydreams. Unknowing of the loving fond gaze that was held in Chans gaze as he grinned at your running rambles, holding his laugh in at your enthusiasm in the topic.

As you turned to him, you mistook the fondness for amusement, blushing at the influx of words that had spilled out of you. “Sorry…” you apologized sheepishly, fiddling with your ear. “It’s just something I’ve always thought of to be honest, a perfect ending you know” you continued, trying to save yourself from looking like a crazed planner. He laughed and nodded, assuring you that he too has thought about it like every other person. As you asked him what he thought of, he drifted off in thought, trying to gather all his daydreams. Before he could continue, the boys had joined you, sitting down next to you both…well more like collapsing onto you both.

“Who the hell suggested to play on the hottest day of the year” you heard Jisung complain as he was lying starfish next to Chan. You both looked at each other and laughed at the dramatic mess of boys amongst you, forgetting your past conversation and involving them in a new one. You were again oblivious to the occasional stares and smiles to you gifted by the boy who unknowingly to even yourself caught your heart.

When lunch came to a close, you left with Minho, who unexpectedly became one of the closest friends you’ve gained from Chan, only second to the boy himself, as both of you were heading to home EC.

“Sooo what were you and Chris talking about” the cat-like boy teased whilst wiggling his eyebrows, as you wondered the implication of his question.

“Just our hopes for the future, why?” You asked.

“I don’t know he looked pretty…whipped if you know what I mean” again smirking knowingly at you, whilst you were still stumped to the looks given. You explained the conversation in detail, knowing the nosy boy wouldn’t accept any less. As you went into a ramble on how you had detailed your ideal type to Chris, you saw realization crawl into his face as he muttered an “ahh…”, nodding in confirmation. You looked at him in question, wondering what he discovered to confirm his suspicions of Chan being so called “whipped”.

“God you guys are meant to be or something” he said, chuckling in disbelief still holding the same knowing smirk (one you used to be consistently annoyed by before getting used to it). He shook his head as the confusion has yet to leave your face, ever the menace, he pinched your ear in response. Rolling your eyes you realized this is another one of your friends agenda to insist the romantic love between you and Chris, your conversation with Lisa still plaguing your mind. “Don’t look at me like that, in a few months we’ll be able to say we told you so. With the rate you two are going it might actually be a few years” he said, whispering the last sentence to himself.

Chuckling you decide against arguing as you both had arrived to the class, before it could start however he turned to you “just do me a favor and ask him his ideal future when you see him yeah” he said, ending the conversation as you added the interaction to a collection of thoughts you’d stored in the back of your mind, where many moments revolving Chris was safely repeated. You wondered how you were ever going to concentrate on school as this section of your brain had gotten increasingly big, sometimes even taking the forefront of your mind.

You were concerned, very fucking concerned. On any other day, you wouldn’t bat an eye at the fact that you hadn’t spent time with Chan in a long time (which to you two was only a couple days). That being said, you couldn’t help but grow suspicious when the boys had come to you in confusion as they realized that they too had not seen the eldest of the group in days. At first you brushed it off, as it had been the seniors break before the exams, you blamed his silence on spending time with the family or studying for the finals. Though as you saw him continue his swimming practices in a concentrated face, in silence and away from his usual peers, your concern grew. The only reason you had come to campus was to spend the day studying at the library, hoping to catch some of your teachers for help, but that plan was completely abandoned as you saw your best friend sit quietly by the pool.

“Never took you as a loner” you said as you approached him, smiling in comfort as you noticed his frustrations. He smiled back but you knew it was forced, you had known the guy for almost 5 years at this point and when you say that there was little you could hide from each other, it was not an exaggeration. Being almost tied to the hip for the first 2 years of knowing each other, over the years you grew to read him extremely well, and vice versa.

Silence overtook the two of you as you waited for him to open up, him knowing you caught on to his facade. “What if I don’t make it?” He started “I’ve done everything to make my parents proud, medals from the swim team, good grades, hard classes. I did all of it to make them proud because I know that when I graduate, it will be long until I’ll be able to do that. I’m not gonna be a successful producer from the get-go, I know that, so what if I’m wasting all of this? Making them proud and leaving them with disappointment just to see it was for nothing” continuing into a rant. You looked at him in sympathy, rubbing his back as you saw tears well up in his eyes.

“Chris look at me” you said, wiping his tearful cheeks as he turned to you. “You are the most selfless person I know, you gave up your childhood to be the best student I know, took in a group of juniors and sophomores for no reason just to help and now they’re also some of the smartest people I know. Look you are so fucking talented, you’ve been making music since you could talk, I think your parents have known for a long time what you wanted to do and considering I’ve had long talks with them about our futures, they have no doubts in you, trust me they’ll be happy no matter the path you take. Be selfish Chris for once in your life, you won’t regret it, because at the end of the day, no matter how smart I know you are, you could never do an office job” you rambled, ending the rant with a slight tease to bring a smile to his face and successfully doing so.

“And when you inevitably become a big shot producer, because I know how talented you are and so I know you will, I’ll be cheering you on the sidelines in MY boring old office job as your biggest fan. No pressure though CB97.” You continued, teasing him lightly again with an alias you knew he’d started going by as he finally started publishing his music. After a moment of silence and exchanging grins, he thanked you, putting his arm around your shoulder.

“Ew you’re still wet” you said, scrunching your face but not leaving his embrace, the sour look on your face quickly disappearing as you heard his laugh. After a moment of small talk, both of you parted as he had to go to the showers whilst you had to continue your initial plans of studying, all whilst the grins on both of your faces had yet to leave your face and would continue to be etched on for the rest of the day.

Days after, Minho told you that Chris had gone back to replying to texts, seeming to slowly go back to normal, but he had also still avoided plans to hangout with them. This confused you as Minhos text had also been accompanied with a text from Chris to hang out, either way you were happy to spend time with the boy and eagerly accepted.

Now you sat in the movie theater with him, excitedly waiting for the new Deadpool sequel to start. As the ads and trailers played you fell into a comfortable conversation, not once mentioning his absence and break down, knowing it would be a sore subject for quite some time.

“I would think the boys would want to see this with you” you said. He looked as if he was caught, starting to scratch his neck nervously. “I don’t know, I didn’t think this was their thing” he replied stuttering, you knew he was hiding something but decided to brush it off. Remembering your conversation with Minho, you decided to subtly drift into a conversation about the future, you were successful in doing so as he often got lost into a trance of passion when talking about music.

“I love children but I don’t think I could handle many to be honest. I love my parents but with how busy they are and how busy I was trying to make them proud, I never got to spend much time with them, so I’d want a house with a studio so I could still work late without going home late. That way I could spend a lot of time with my family without compromising my work you know, I don’t think I could ever give up music. In terms of my wife, I don’t really care what they work as, as long as they’re happy, but I do have a thing for ambition so I’d say as long as they’re dedicated to whatever path they choose I’d love them all the same, whether it’s working a big corporate job or a loving mother and housewife.” He rambled, going into the same daze you had been just a month before on the field.

You were overwhelmed with fondness at the caring nature of the boy, gazing at him with a feeling you’d never noticed had always wrapped your heart when looking at him until now. You were still oblivious to the feelings (nor the realization of the similarities in your futures, bless your heart), but you had an inkling that the emotions clouding your head and heart for your best friend wouldn’t leave any time soon.

“Aww Channie, who knew you could be such a sweetheart” you teased, hoping to calm the erratic beating in your chest as you pinched his cheek. The conversation flowed comfortably after that as you both fell into the dynamic you both knew and loved, occasionally laughing until your stomach’s hurt, throwing popcorns into each others mouth to try and pass time before the movie starts, oblivious to the knowing looks and smiles from strangers amongst you.

Before the movie had started you felt your phone vibrate, seeing you had received a text from the boy who had left you in that conversation in the first place.

Minho 🐰😈: have you heard from Chan? Is he okay?

You: why don’t you ask him yourself…

Minho 🐰😈: I have a reputation to uphold

You: okay tsundere

You: [insert image of you two in the movie theater]

Minho 🐰😈: are you guys watching the new Deadpool movie together?!?

Minho 🐰😈: He promised to watch that with us. Bros before hoes my ass😒

Minho 🐰😈: And you say he isn’t in love with you, yeah right

Rolling your eyes, you decided to leave the boy on read. Too many thoughts plaguing you mind to answer, even as the movie began to play.

You tried to ignore the erratic beating in your chest that had never resided. Tried to ignore the way his gaze would pierce into your face occasionally throughout the movie when he thought you wouldn’t notice. Tried to ignore the way his hands felt on your face as he jokingly fed you a piece of popcorn. Tried to ignore the similarities in the way you saw your futures. Most importantly, tried to ignore how he had basically gone M.I.A for days but decided to hang out with you first amongst all his friends, even though they had promised to watch the movie together after seeing the first. But you couldn’t.

You didn’t want to seem delusional, as he, again, always had a way of making people feel special. God did you feel special.

You didn’t know why you were crying.

For a couple months, you and Yeonjun had been talking. You liked him, he was funny, smart, handsome, and you two had been friends beforehand so it all never seemed forced. You knew a part of why you had sought out a romantic interest was to distract yourself from an ongoing dilema plaguing your mind for months, but you weren’t ready to confront that. Everything with Yeonjun was nice, fun, casual. So it shouldn’t be surprising when he decided to end your situationship abruptly for a more serious relationship with another girl, shouldn’t be surprised that he so quickly moved on with a lovesick smile to the girl next to him. More shocking than anything was the way you found yourself crying in your best friends arms, infiltrating his home suddenly, jumping on his bed to cuddle him for comfort.

You felt guilty for intruding, especially as you felt a slight drift between you two as of recently (not realizing it had started the minute you had begun to talk to Yeonjun). Though your guilt disappeared as you felt him hold you tighter, running his hands through your hair, and whispering comforting words and shushes to help calm your cries. As he heard hiccups replace your sobs, he slightly pulled away gently, just enough to wipe your tears whilst still keeping you close. Fixing the hair on your face in the process, holding your face as if you’d break, looking at you in concern. “If you’re not ready to tell me what’s making you cry like this, it’s okay, but just know you can trust me yeah” he said, his patient and caring nature pulling at your heart strings, making you pull away from his hold just to tuck your face back into his neck.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying, I didn’t even like him that much” you muttered, more to yourself than him, shifting your body to talk more comfortably but still lying your head on his shoulder as you laid next to him instead of on top of him. He used his arm around you to continue running his hand through your hair, you knew friends shouldn’t be this close but you also weren’t ready to face that. “Yeonjun?” He’d asked, your head still tucked in his neck, you couldn’t see the heavy furrow of his eyebrows.

“Yeah…he uhh he’s with another girl now, they’re serious, even though he told me he never wanted anything serious. To be fair to him, I told him the same, but it hurts cause in a way I was waiting for him you know, I would’ve never said I didn’t want anything serious if he didn’t. Now knowing that he only didn’t want something serious with me…” you drifted off, you now knew your cries weren’t for the boy you simply held an attraction to, but for the insecurity you had felt as he chose someone else. “I just…am I not good enough? I’m always the girl before you know, before you find the one, there’s always that one girl. I’m always saying I’m not ready for a relationship but it’s because no one seeks me for a serious one, it’s always flings, friends, nothing more. I’m never gonna be first choice, always the one people settle for cause they don’t want something permanent or until they find something permanent.”

Feeling tears crawl back into your eyes, you chuckled bitterly. “God I’m pathetic” you said, playing with your fingers to will the tears back in.

“Of course you’re not, you deserve to feel sad about this, deserve to feel these emotions y/n. Look this may not be much coming from me but you’re enough, you’re more than enough, anyone would be lucky to have you” Chan said softly in reply. You shook your head chuckling, “you have to say that, you’re my best friend” you pointed out, arching an eyebrow as you faced him.

You saw his face grow serious at your attempt to brush his compliment off. “I’m serious y/n, remember when you told me I’m the most selfless person you know, I think that’s wrong, cause for me that’s you. You don’t see how amazing you are but I do, the boys do, your friends do, and anyone in their right mind would know how lucky they are to just have the chance to know you. That girl is great, sure, maybe Yeonjun will end up happily with her, but the greatness of a person is not the absence of your own.” he said, not once breaking the stare on your eyes. “And if I’m being honest, I’d choose you over her any day, because after knowing you for 5 years, I know how lucky I am to even have you as a friend” he continued.

His words had rendered you speechless, not knowing the boy in front of you had felt so strongly about your friendship (god you were so far deep indenial). “Thanks Chris” you smiled tearfully at the words, he pulled you impossibly closer, tucking your head back into his shoulder. He spent the day trying to cheer you up, watching movies on his bed, and even showing you some of his tracks he knew you’d been looking forward to hearing.

It’s been a few days since that night, you had made peace with the fact that you were just not the one for Yeonjun, no longer wasting tears on the boy. You saw him approaching you cautiously as you closed your locker, smiling at him in reassurance as you held no grudges, after all you were friends before everything.

“Hey…” he started off, still looking nervous. You replied with a “hi” and a smile of encouragement, trying to emit comfort as you truly held no bad blood against him. “I just…I wanted to say sorry” he continued looking guiltily at the floor, you shook your head in reply earnestly trying to convince him that he had nothing to be sorry for. “No no, I do owe you an apology, I was an ass for leading you on. I know we agreed for nothing serious but I mean I wouldn’t like it if a girl I was talking to suddenly dropped me for another, no matter how casual it was, especially if she were to leave for something serious even after saying she didn’t want it.” He said.

“It’s okay, really.” You chuckled, smiling at him in understanding, “Yeah at first it didn’t feel so good but again nothing serious, you and her seem happy”. He smiled in relief, chuckling at a thought, “can I be honest with you?”. You looked at him quizzically “shoot. We were friends before anything, you can trust me” you said. He took a moment to form his words, taking a deep breath before chuckling again.

“A part of why I never wanted something serious with you wasn’t because you weren’t great, hell your reaction to this whole thing reminded me how amazing you are” he continued to chuckle, shaking his head. “Your understanding, caring, patient, got a heart of gold. Though I knew you were never mine, and never going to be mine.”

Your confusion wasn’t resolved, if anything the furrow on your eyebrows seemed to deepen. “What?” You uttered softly, silently asking for an explanation. “After how many years, you two have still not figured it out huh? Maybe it’s not my place to spell it out for you but if we’re being honest, I’ve always known you were in love with Chan. Even as I started to talk to you, you know romantically, I tried to ignore the fact that I knew, thought maybe over the weeks of getting to know you that maybe I was wrong, maybe everyone was wrong. Hell I really wanted everyone to be wrong at one point” he explained scoffing.

“I was going to tell you that you’d find a guy who makes you feel the way I feel for her but I think deep in your heart, you know you already have. Friends don’t look at each other the way you two do y/n” he ended. You had gone silent, thinking over his words, thinking over the moments you’ve had with Chan, thinking over the feelings you had long buried. He smiled knowingly, silently celebrating the fact that someone’s words have finally gotten to you, and the fact that it was his made him feel victorious. “Think about it, ‘you’ll never know what you have until it’s gone’” he quoted, leaving you to think.

Days of these thoughts turned into weeks, now you lied on Chans bed as he worked on his desk. In his eyes you looked as if you were on your phone scrolling mindlessly, you were on your phone but you weren’t mindless, far from it. The same conversation with Yeonjun were repeating in your head, mixed with conversations with Minho, conversations with Lisa. As the scrolling of your phone was through pictures you had curated over the years of you and Chan, on the several hangouts you’ve had, just the two of you, and you smiled at the endless memories.

You knew you loved him, you knew for weeks now, even knowing your love for him didn’t just span those few weeks but rather a few years.

“Chan…” you called out to him, knowing he heard you as he, as a force of habit, always left one ear open from his headphones. He hummed, quickly pausing his work to turn to you quizzically. You stared at him full of emotions, searched his face as best as you can with the distance between you. He tilted his head as you stayed silent, muttering a nervous “what” accompanied by a giggle which left you looking at him in endearment.

“I love you” you confessed, it wasn’t rare for you to say it, being best friends, but the intention behind your words were now different. You knew he knew it was different. That he knew what you meant. That he knew you finally realized. For a moment he was frozen, all his pent up emotions coming to surface, once it reached, a blinding grin you’ve yet to see until this moment was planted on his face. The dimpled and crescent eyed grin, implanting one of your own on your face. “Finally.” was all he said before making his way quickly to jump on you, collapsing his body on top of you, pulling away to leave kisses all over your face muttering I love you’s after every peck as you giggled at his affection.

“Took you long enough” he teased as he momentarily stopped his eager pecking. You laughed in response, “shut up” you muttered before pulling him into a kiss. You both knew you didn’t need to talk anymore, knew you both were it for each other, knew that starting this moment, there wouldn’t be anyone else. Though it didn’t stop you from uttering one last sentence, “you know this does mean you’re stuck with me right”, wanting a confirmation that this was serious, your past insecurities getting to you. “Please baby, if you weren’t so god damn oblivious you’d have been mine a long time ago. Whether you like it or not, I’ve been stuck with you for a long time” he teased, leaning in to kiss you again.

You no longer felt bad for never being the first choice, because really, for you, every man has always been second to Chris.

Me projecting my failed friends to lovers arc to all of my stories LOL

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linos-luna · 1 year

Text

I’m all you Need 🔪☁️

Yandere!Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

Warnings: yandere behavior, suggestive, light grinding, making out, hair pulling, crying

(Request)

(f/n = friend name)

Your boyfriend doesn’t like you going out. He wants to keep you here with him forever, to shield you from the cruel world. He constantly tells you that but you brush it off as him being too possessive. However, one day that changes…

————————————————————————

Chan frantically texted you as you haven’t answered in the past few minutes when you suddenly come in.

“Where were you?!” He yelled while grabbing you by the arm. “I was so worr—”

“I’m sorry channie…” you whimper, wiping a tear. Chan let go when he realized your eyes a bit puffy and face stained with tears. You had been crying.

“Babygirl, what happened?!”

“You were right, channie!” You cried while hugging him. “People are mean! You were right!”

“I told you, y/n…” he said with a sigh while hugging you tight. “This is why you need to stay home.”

“Babygirl…” Chan wiped your tears with the sleeve of his hoodie. “You’re not going outside anymore,”

“W-what?”

“I’m all you need.” He said with a smile. “I’ll take care of you.”

“But what about my friends and fam-”

“I’m all you need!” He interrupted while gripping your hair but not pulling it… well not yet at least. “I take care of you now! Got it?!”

“But—…”

“I take care of you!” He said more sternly while pulling your hair, making you cry out.

“You’re hurting me, channie!”

Your boyfriend instantly softens up and let’s go. “Sorry baby. Didn’t mean to…”

He then picked you up, almost how someone picks up a baby and takes you to the bedroom.

After sitting you on the bed, he removes your shoes and grabs your pajama pants. It’s not even 8pm but he didn’t care. He helps you take off your jeans and get into the soft warm pants then takes off his hoodie to put it on you. Adorable. He thought to himself.

Chan laid you back on the pillows and cuddled up next to you. He loves cuddling with you. He looks for every excuse to do so. Chan loves the feeling of holding you and never letting go.

You leaned into his embrace and buried your face into his chest.

“My sweet girl…” Chan sighs. “This world doesn’t deserve you…”

Tears formed again, staining his shirt.

“Who hurt you, baby?”

“I thought she was my friend…” you cried.

“Who?”

“F/n!” You cried out.

“You could never trust people again!” He responded angrily. “What did I tell you?! I knew she couldn’t be trusted!”

“I know, channie…” You laid in your back and he wiped your tears.

Chan kissed your lips and gently rubbed your waist.

“I’ll love you forever, babygirl.” Chan said as he continued kissing you. “Only I can love you…”

He continued kissing you while lightly grinding over your clothed crotch, making you moan into the kiss.

“You’re mine, yeah?”

“Mmhm…” you could barely get the response out as he continued making out with you.

You drifted off to sleep and Chan continued to hold you.

“Kill her… I’m going to fuckin kill her…” he whispered. “No one will hurt you ever again… only I can love you…”

————————————————————————

Ko-fi

530 notes · View notes

skz-streamer · 7 months

Text

Chan as Reminders

Simptober Reminders M-list

Pairing: Chan (skz) x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff ;))))

Warnings: mention of food?

Notes: EWWW MY WAS TEXTING SO WEIRDDD I DIDNT LIKE IT😭😭😭 SO I DIDNT ADD IT DONT BE MAD☹️

-please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Wake up love"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains as you lay in your cozy bed, the warmth of the covers enveloping you. It was one of those perfect mornings when you could sleep in a little longer, and you were relishing every moment of it. Your phone, which sat on the bedside table, chimed with a gentle notification sound.

As you stirred from your slumber, you reached for your phone, still half-asleep. The message on the screen brought a smile to your lips, instantly brightening your morning. It was from Chan, and it read, "Wake up love."

You blinked away the remnants of sleep, your heart feeling warm at his affectionate message. It was a sweet and endearing habit of his, something he had done from the very beginning of your relationship. Those little texts never failed to make your day.

With a sleepy yet contented sigh, you replied, "Hey, where are you?"

His response came quickly, "Just picking stuff up from the store."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his straightforwardness. Chan was always so practical and to the point. You texted back, "Come home soon," before snuggling back into the covers, feeling a sense of warmth and anticipation as you waited for him to return. It was moments like these, the simple exchanges of love and care, that made your relationship with Chan so special and comforting.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The room was filled with a peaceful hush as you lay nestled in your bed, wrapped in the warmth of sleep. The soft glow of the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle radiance over your room. It was one of those serene moments when the world felt still, and dreams danced on the edges of your consciousness.

In the midst of this tranquil night, your phone chimed with a familiar notification sound. The message was from Chan, your beloved, who was in the living room as he usually was, working on his tasks. The message simply read, "wake up love."

The noise of the text interrupted your dreams, and your eyes fluttered open. A smile immediately tugged at your lips as you read his message. With a sense of excitement and anticipation, you hopped out of bed, the sleepiness dissipating quickly. You couldn't wait to see what he had in store for you.

With silent footsteps, you made your way from the bedroom to the living room, where Chan was absorbed in his work. The soft glow of the laptop screen illuminated his features, and you couldn't help but admire the way he was always so dedicated and focused.

As soon as he noticed you entering the room, Chan removed his headphones and set his computer aside. His eyes lit up with affection and warmth as he welcomed you. You couldn't wait any longer and eagerly took a seat next to him.

Without hesitation, Chan reached for you, his strong arms encircling your waist, lifting you gently into his lap. Your heart skipped a beat as he cradled you against his chest, your bodies fitting perfectly together like two puzzle pieces.

His head nestled into the crook of your neck, and he whispered, his breath sending delightful shivers down your spine, "Good morning, baby girl."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The tranquility of sleep had you in its gentle grasp when suddenly, the familiar chime of your phone pierced through the silence of the room. Groggily, you reached for your phone, squinting at the bright screen as you tried to focus.

The sender's name brought a smile to your face even before you read the message. It was Chan, your beloved, who was at work while you enjoyed the comfort of your cozy bed. With a small chuckle, you unlocked your phone to see what he had to say.

"Wake up love," the message read, and a warm feeling washed over you. Despite the initial grogginess, you couldn't help but giggle softly to yourself. It was moments like these that reminded you of just how head over heels you were for him.

You quickly typed out a response, your fingers dancing over the screen. "Thanks, Channie," you texted back, the words flowing effortlessly from your heart to your fingertips.

Almost immediately, a reply came, and it was a simple heart emoji. It was amazing how a single heart symbol could convey so much affection. With that sweet exchange of messages, your day had already started on a wonderful note. The thought of Chan thinking about you while at work warmed your heart, and you couldn't help but feel incredibly lucky to have someone so perfect and caring in your life.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Tags: @eee5533 @mixtape-racha @cherry-edibles @ren0325 @felixvsp @hwangrimi @sanriiolino @painstakingly-juno @herarcadewasteland @dabiscrustyfeet @kai-jilee @sungiesoonie @slvtty4channiee @revelaffee @buckys-pillow, @staygirl86 @chlodavids @jinnie-ret @bbygrlhannie @rebecca-johnson-28 @turtledove824 @interstellarairwaves @yearofthetiger25 @minhos4thkitty @fiqire @backintomykpopphaseagain @liknws @tinyelfperson @aaasia111 @yangbbokari

271 notes · View notes

byullielle · 8 months

Text

Walls Could Talk // Bang Chan x Mafia!Reader

Part 1/3

Trilogy Playlist, Till Death Do Us Part, is what the vows contain. Hitched off to notorious mafia boss Christopher Bahng, and despite her volatile and bratty attitude–it'll be only through her that anyone gets to kill her husband.

Tags: Yakuza/Mafia AU, Est. Marriage, Marriage for Convenience, Eventual Lovers, Resolved Sexual Tension, Smut, Hurt/Comfort

Disclaimer: how chan looks in the freeze mv is exactly how he looks in this fic. themes and graphic descriptions of violence, drugs, substance abuse, panic attacks and disorders, trauma and traumatic responses are present, proceed with caution. chan does NOT cause the reader's trauma, however, and vice versa. MINORS DNI. NSFW Content.

4.5k Words

"Boss," he clears his throat, a nervous gait to him, "We failed to take her," he reports with a shaky voice, "Resistance…it was more than we anticipated,"

Your phone buzzes against the cupholder while the car speeds through the busy Seoul streets. Annoyance flares through your body like an allergy as you grab it with a wince–switching to airplane mode before a yelp escapes your lips. “Sorry,” Felix lowly mutters while concentratedly patching up the wound on your thigh.

For what it’s worth, it wasn’t your fault you were running late to the stupid function your husband was currently throwing. With the guest of honor late and wounded in her car, you hoped to god that he already started without you. Although if you didn’t have the police force under your family’s grasp Seungmin would’ve gotten 5 speeding tickets, at least.

A loud yelp escapes you again, making Felix look up in concern while he’s putting pressure on the bleeding leg, making sure your pretty black dress isn’t soiled by blood. “Sure you can take it boss?” he asks with concern in his voice.

You huff, trying to lean back and endure the pain, especially the sore spot on your stomach after being kicked right by your diaphragm, “I can,”

You’ve argued to him many times that if he simply wanted to network he could do it without you there but apparently according to him, “Your presence is crucial,” and the second part, “Don’t run late,”

Normally, you weren’t one to be tardy to any function with special considerations such as this one but you highly doubt that was the conclusion your husband of 6 months would go to. Women and their womanly whims tend to make them late after all, you knew that much you’d get that specific flack for showing up almost an hour late. “Boss we’re almost there,” Seungmin announces before you groan and try to not mind the searing pain your body is going through before Felix places a square bandage on your thigh. You hand him the ice pack before turning your back so that he can put the dress back in place.

“You sure you could walk properly in this state boss?” he asks, concern lacing his voice before handing you your gun. You hum noncommittedly, slipping the weapon on the garter holster on your more decent thigh before pulling the dress down completely, “Not that I have much of a choice, Felix,”

By the time your car rolls into the estate, Minho, one of your husband’s closest guards is already waiting outside, phone pressed to his ear wearing a very unamused and apathetic expression on his face it scares you a bit. “We should’ve brought Jisung with us,” Seungmin murmurs as he turns exits the car, immediately jogging to your side as Felix heads out first to give instructions to the valet boy. Seungmin reaches a gloved hand out while you take it, trying not to wince in pain as you smile sheepishly at Minho. “Sorry I’m late,”

“The boss isn’t happy,” he immediately counters as you fix yourself up one last time, “Well I’m here now,” you let out with a sigh before straightening your posture.

Minho pushes the door to the function open, the creaking sound of the closed door calling attention towards you while Seungmin and Felix take their posts on your right and left, a few steps back. Some of the chatter stops, all eyes on you but your eyes immediately land on Christopher’s.

And evidently, he isn’t happy.

The eye contact lasts for about 10 seconds, before your eyes start roaming in caution–starting to read the faces of the people who showed up. It grows with you, your stellar ability to read people's body languages and looks, the hardest challenge posed to you is still none other than Christopher.

However, today, he was wearing his heart out his sleeve.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he grabs a pen nearby and taps it against the glass of wine he was nursing, "My beautiful wife," he announces, voice booming throughout the hall as the rest clap to your entrance. It does set off a few sensitive alarms off your head, the booming and drowning sound of claps flying all over, but you could feel Seungmin push you towards Christopher a bit more and snapping you out of the alarming noises.

"Sorry I'm late dear husband," you smile, saccharine and sweet before gently cupping his cheeks, pressing a very chaste kiss on his lips, "I hope I didn't crash the evening too much," you whisper, close to his face before you feel him grip your arm tightly, "You're in big trouble,"

You bite back your retort, knowing better than to start being a smartass now. 'How big a trouble could I truly get when it comes to you,'.

People start approaching you, the prickle of the skin on your arm making itself known as you shake each and every person's hand while trying to read their faces. Some old, some new, all just the same. Chris still had his hand placed on your hip, knowing that the very condition you set him to show up in the first place was for the people to not get too comfortable.

They say it’s a possessive husband’s desire, you say it’s a wife who knows how to play her cards.

Once the crowd around you has died down, distasteful comments of “Women getting ready,” and every variation of it finally gone, Christopher leans forward, “Where the fuck were you,”

You turn to him and smile, “Don’t you know women take forever to get ready, Christopher?”

A punch is lodged into your stomach as you groan. Felix digs his knife into the assailant’s back before tossing him aside, Jeongin is fending off two men single-handedly.

Who in their right mind would attack someone in front of their estate? Idiots. That’s who.

You roll onto your back to dodge an incoming attack from a knife, immediately extending your legs to kick the weapon away–as it flies mid-air you immediately rush to catch it before the assailant could. Once the hilt lands on your palm, you immediately slash the closest body part you can, handing a hit to the jugular.

Blood splatters against your face, making you wince before getting up, the adrenaline from all the defense you have to do still fending off the stomach pain you know would hurt like a bitch. About 5 unconscious bodies are scattered around the perimeter of the infiltrated courtyard, blood painting the pavement. Felix and Jisung manage to hoard in another 3 men while Jeongin finishes off the last one, accidentally ripping his sleeve off as the body slumps down coldly on the pavement. “How many do you think are dead?” you wipe off the blood from your face, “Only two Boss,” Felix estimates, “We’ll clean up here, go get ready,” he immediately suggests before you notion to Jeongin, “Help me walk, I think one of them managed to get me on the thigh,”

“Yes boss,”

“Just tell me why I need to be here Chris,” you exasperatedly sigh, wrenching his hand off you before a sharp pain comes with your inhale. He furrows his brow and raises his hand again, this time a gentle grip encasing your shoulder, “You’re hurt,” he states as a matter of fact, “What happened, Y/N?”

“Just a little scuffle,” you excuse, “Christopher, I swear I have it under control. This is just collateral damage now tell me why I’m here,” you impatiently prod on, not bothering to even shrug his hand off. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”

“Do I need to shank someone?”

“No,” he shakes his head, finally lowering his hand, “You just have to observe. You’ve always been good at that,”

You sigh out to relieve some of the pressure off your stomach, nodding along with it before letting out a hum, “What exactly should I be looking for then,”

Christopher looks around and shakes his head slightly, taking your hand before pulling you into a more secluded corner of the venue, dimmed to its maximum before placing a hand on your back, both of you walking around with his head nearly pressed against yours. It looks intimate in an outsider’s view, so loving and so sweet. The contents of his information are anything but.

“The shipments are supposed to arrive today. Instead, we were met with a truck-full of cocaine gone,” he sighs while you keep your eyes on him, “Unfortunately, I suspect we have a rat amongst our ranks,” You furrow your brows, a frown on your face, “And you're suspecting the rat is here?”

“That's what I want you to find out. Anything suspect, you immediately report to me,”

“How far back would it knock sales down?”

Chris shakes his head, “Not a lot, I got that covered at least,”

"Okay,” You nod, laying a hand on his arm before turning towards the crowd. You press a chaste kiss on his cheeks, nearly hitting the corner of his lips before you walk away from him, flipping your hair to the side while walking towards a few women with a confident stride. The stinging pain in your thigh was nothing, so long as you didn’t exert too much pressure against the leg, the stitches wouldn’t open. “Ah! If it isn’t miss Y/N!” one of them notices you as you take a glass of champagne from the passing waiter, a friendly smile immediately plastered on your face. “Hello ladies, mind if I join in?”

A few hours of chatting go by, and you're quite surprised you could find suspect so quickly.

“Oh my husband would never even let me enter his office,” one of the ladies rolls her eyes, while the wife of one Jung Kwang-ho nods erratically, eyes obviously dilated while she goes on rapid-fire speech about her husband getting mad at her for wanting to stay with him in the workspaces. “And I can’t believe he named his nephew heir for his seat in office! Nephew!” she rants while flailing her hands wildly, the sweat on her forehead beading while she wipes them off with a handkerchief already in her hand, “That sister-in-law of mine isn’t even half reliable,” she mutters before you step closer to her, “Are you feeling warm Jung-ssi? You seem like you need a cooler place,” you suggest despite the air conditioning around. You had to ask Seungmin about the temperature later.

“Oh don’t mind me,” she giggles with a little tinge of unhinge-ness to it, “This is just my hot flashes darling, menopausal and all,”

‘Sure,’ couldn’t help but nod, however aside from another wife she was the only one profusely sweating. Continuing to converse with the wives, you couldn't help but keep a keen eye on her. ‘This couldn’t be good,’

The water swishes around as you scroll through the files Jeongin has sent you on your tablet, half your body submerged in the floral fragrance of the tub. You furrow your brows at the percentages presented to you, the loss of the drugs was not that great but something wasn't adding up, something amiss that you couldn't point your finger on.

It was so reminiscent of something, long lost in the back of your mind but before you realize it a few drops of blood start dripping from your nose, a strong tremor shaking through your body as you feel your chest tighten. Tears blur your vision while the crushing weight on your lungs never lets out. You grip the sides of the tub, blurry vision seeing the bell your guards have left you for an emergency.

This was definitely one. Yet you couldn’t lunge forward to grab it, your bare body freezing cold in the water as nails scratching on the board tamper with your hearing. It was deafening, and you didn’t know if you were screaming or a silent wail unable to escape your throat. “Boss!” Jisung runs in with a towel in his hand immediately draping it over you not minding as the tips get dipped in the tub water, “Boss,” his voice softens, a steady hand on your shoulder, “Boss we’re here, should we call Soyeon?” he starts talking while trying to look at you in the eyes.

The searing pain in your thigh and stomach flare up, and then a stinging sensation by your spine jolts you up, tears flowing down as Jisung gently cajoles you back to reality.

It goes by like forever, but once the pain stops, and nothing but the breathlessness is left, you look at him with wide eyes before he shouts for Felix to get another towel.

“What happened there boss?” he softly asks, making you gulp down and gasp out, “The attack,” you mutter, “It’s the same thing that killed my mother,” you painfully recall, closing your eyes before Jisung hums in acknowledgment, not pushing you further. “Boss, you wanna get out now? Some warmth would do you good,”

You nod and have him help you out of the tub, water dripping from the first towel as Felix walks in and hands you the new one, both of them leaving the bathroom with the door ajar as you dry yourself up. You’re careful to pat the wound on your thigh before looking back on the tub, realizing that there was blood coming from your nose. But the water was simply cloudy with oils and bath agents, with no trace of blood either in the water or from your nose.

You furrow your brows and take a deep inhale, trembling hands patting the towel around your body. The faster you were out of this bathroom, the better.

With paper in your hands, your footfalls echo against the mosaic tiles of the manor, desolate and lonely. You couldn’t help but have goosebumps rise over your skin as you tread the seemingly endless hallway to Chris’ office, but once you get there, you heavily pound against the heavy wood door.

Stepping back a bit, you come face to face with Changbin and his glock. “Changbin,” you greet with a slight nod of your head. He lowers his gun and guard down before bowing politely to you, opening the door wider to reveal Chris scanning through papers, desk filled to the brim with files scattered around. All the legwork he did the past week was catching up to him, and you were about to add more.

“Yes?” he mumbles, not even bothering to look up at you while signaling for Changbin to grab a chair for you. You wait for the velvet chair to be placed in front of his desk before gently smacking the papers against the file he was reading. “Jung Kwang-ho, familiar?" you question, trying to contain the residual trembles on your hands, “Yes, one of our valued assets, what about him?"

"Does his wife have a history of drug intake?"

“Not that I'm familiar with," he furrows his brows, setting the files aside, now fully facing you. "I met Jung Hyeon-ssi on exactly three occasions, and none of them seemed off,"

“Not anymore,” you nip at the corner of your lower lip, peeling off the slight excess skin with your teeth, “We talked. It's too early to say but keeping an eye on her and the Jung family isn't out of our best interest,” you mutter while averting your gaze.

He sighs, leaning back against his chair with a finger pressed to his temple, “I'll keep that in mind,” he responds, another sentence about to spill from his mouth before you get interrupted by a knock on the door. Both you and Chris turn to look before Changbin opens it and announces his presence. "Mr. Jung Yejun is here,"

In alarm, you immediately shoot out of the seat before making yourself comfortable on Chris' lap right after.

"You didn't tell me someone was coming?" you scold through grit teeth while Changbin checks any weapons on the sudden guest. "Where would be the fun in that," Christopher smiles cockily at you, resting his hand on the shy of your satin-dressed back and pulling your legs closer with the other. "Oh you dog," you whisper in disbelief before the man himself enters.

"Oh, it's a pleasure to see you here today Miss Y/N, I hope you remember me,"

"I do," you smile, the mood immediately turning 180 come face to face with the guest. "Your aunt and I are well acquainted,"

Christopher draws small patterns on your back as you speak, your position on his lap making you seem like such a clingy spouse it makes you want to throw up. "Well, what brings you here Yejun-ah," Chris moves the process forward as he clears his throat. "Reports given by my uncle, our faction is already clearing out the fields to find the missing men belonging to the Jinyoung group, sir,"

"What missing men?" Chris then sits forward, hands still encasing you but adjusting you accordingly. Deciding to just end your suffering, you slide off his legs before placing both hands on the backrest of his chair, listening intently.

"Your uncle hasn't reported any missing men yet, Yejun,"

“Haven’t you heard sir?” Jung hands over a file, your hand point blank on his arm as the sleeve rides up a bit, scales inked near his wrist. You peer over Chris’ shoulder and start scanning the files. It’s men from his faction of the city. “They’ve been gone for a while now, a few more added. I don’t know who’s responsible for this yet although my uncle is looking into it,”

Chris looks up at you, silently asking if you know these men. You subtly pat Christopher’s shoulder before he lowers the file and nods, “Thank you for your input, Mr. Jung, any more?”

“None sir,”

“Then you’re dismissed. Your information is highly appreciated,”

He nods wordlessly. Getting up, he makes a very quick exit to the office. Changbin starts checking in case he left some recording device while you take the file off Chris' hands. Flipping through the papers, you're shocked to see a few of the men from your faction of the group as well.

"I thought only the cocaine was missing?" you question him with a scowl. "So did I," he sighs, "I'll look into it tomorrow. Jung would probably call me out-site. You keep on checking tabs on his wife,"

You nod, swallowing down the lump in your throat. Something was terribly wrong.

"Here Mrs. Jung," you kindly offer her a glass of iced water, "Oh thank you so much Y/N-ssi, what a darling you are," she smiles kindly, although her pupils are dilated widely there's still a certain endearment to how she looks. "How are you finding the party so far?"

"Oh, it's nothing too different. Nothing I haven't been to," she chuckles with whimsy laced in her voice, "Although the younger men are now in charge of their groups, it is my first time seeing their wives. Such as yourself," she starts to ramble. And you gladly let her, most of the time cocaine dependants are chatty, always giving out information with such little care in the world, it was quite convenient.

"How has your husband been treating you darling?" she asks, a hand on your arm before you couldn't help but flinch at the contact a bit, making her immediately detach from you. "Oh, sorry,"

"No, it's alright," you sheepishly chuckle, "I just get jumpy at times," you explain before straightening your dress, looking for Christopher amongst the crowd, "He's been wonderful," you try to dotingly muster, "He's been nothing but accommodating and kind to me,"

"Is that so?" Hyeon smiles, "Darling…you know you could tell me anything right," she woefully lays a gentle hand on yours, sweating profusely. You try to not let your brows shoot up in surprise at the sudden opening, "Oh me? I believe I don't have anything…" you try to excuse.

"Do you…?" you question with hesitation, unsure about where the conversation was going.

"Oh I do," she openly admits, there's no reason not to. Despite the confusion coursing through your body rumors about abuse regarding you aren't so far off the roster, "I've heard things my darling. This world wasn't always made for us," she smiles down at the glass of water, "But we can make it safer. At least your generation of wives,"

You control every nerve in your body to not snap in her direction, trying to ground yourself as you feign concern, "I don't quite understand," you gulp down before she hands you a slip of paper, a phone number scribbled onto it. "If Christopher touches you, call me, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay Jung-ssi,"

"Please, call me Hyeon-unnie,"

Leaning back against your chair, you furrow down at the piece of paper wedged between your fingers. Groaning you lean back and press your lips together. You suspect something off with the Jung family–with the messy case of the inheritance and Hyeon Jung’s potential drug addiction–it wasn’t the hardest to spot. What you were ultimately on the edge about was just how involved were they with your family.

For Hyeon to question how Chris treats you, an alleged abuse going on behind closed doors–where she got that information was beyond you.

To Christopher’s credit, you and he got along well in terms of a loveless marriage– your ultimate free reign over your activities save for the occasional heiress chores you have to air out, and the respect you had for each other was a far cry from domestic abuse. Sure, the both of you were still aloof around each other, glorified housemates if anything but you knew he wouldn’t lay a hand on you.

Letting a sigh roll out your lips, a knock comes from your door before you call out to let themselves in, "Felix," you tiredly smile at him, "Great timing I was about to call you,"

“Well I have a bit of bad news boss," he steps up in front of your desk, "What do you need?"

"Give me a background check on Jung Hyeon,"

“Sure,” he nods, “Here boss, the bad news," he hands you a folder. You thank him before he retreats from your office.

Opening the folder, you immediately see photographs of a tattoo, serpentine in shape and scaly, a mamba of sorts. You turn the picture and see a name tagged to it, one of the men slain in the assault yesterday. Flipping through the pages is the same variant of the tattoo, clothed and unclothed.

You have a sense you’ve seen it before.

Keeping up with the reading, the status of their factions are still unknown but there was a certain group they fell under. It didn’t take a genius–they were all part of the Jung family. Guards and marksmen.

A sense of dread spills into your stomach, and you immediately scramble to reach out for your phone, contacting Hyunjin who answers in two rings, “Miss Boss?”

“Where is Chris?” you ask with urgency. “He took Minho-hyungnim with him, they’re on their way to Daego-do, last time he updated had to get gas. If you need anything Changbin is also there,”

“What exactly are they gonna do in Daego-do,”

“Check out the missing men case Jung-ssi presented yesterday,” was all you had to hear before hanging up abruptly.

“Fuck,” you spit out.

Running past Jisung and Changbin, you hot-foot it to the garage, grabbing your gun and keys. The pair look at each other and hurriedly follow, grabbing car keys no questions asked. You snatch your helmet out of the garage stands before putting it on hurriedly, the key already starting in the ignition while you tuck your gun in the holster on your leg. You mount your motorbike and rev up the engine while Jisung scrambles to start the car.

You immediately take off, smoke filling the garage. You speed out of the estate as fast as you can, time and a life on the line because Hyeon’s voice doesn’t stop–playing over and over again like a broken record. The verbalization of the realization catches up a bit late, through grit teeth and the wind pressure ahead of you, ‘Jung Kwang-ho is gonna ambush Chris,’ You weren’t a hundred percent sure, but your intuitions never failed you.

Your eyes are zeroed in on the road, speeding and weaving through cars as they honk at you violently. Seoul traffic wasn’t that bad for a 2 PM rush but fuck, were you tempted to hit the very end of that speed meter. You increase the speed drastically, tilting the bike back a bit before fully speeding off into the highway. Chris left 10 minutes ago, he couldn’t have made it that far yet, from what you knew Minho was a cautious driver, not even risking to speed up on the freeway beyond its limit.

You could catch up, you had to.

You squint your eyes to try and see further, trying to spot a black GMC but so far it was futile. Unless Hyunjin was wrong there was only one South Highway in the entirety of Seoul City. You lean forward, pushing the limits of the bike as it shoots off, gradually getting faster before a relieved gasp escapes you, seeing Chris’ car approaching a tunnel.

The panic in your system spikes, already seeing how many ways this could go wrong. So with a final boost of speed, you get close enough to the tail of the car, slowing down as you feel for your gun plastered to your side before pointing it at the wheel behind.

Then a gunshot goes off, narrowly missing you as you curse, motorbike wobbling a bit. You grit your teeth and speed up to the side of the car, trying to match its speed before targeting the front right wheel. The car’s brakes screech against your ears painfully, making it careen off to the side only to be stopped by the railings along the highway, smashing against the front of the car. You immediately step on the brakes of the motorbike, swerving it to the side before r immediately pointing your gun at the invisible gunman.

You squint and take two chance shots, a yelp immediately coming from the foliage atop the wall before a man crashes down the concrete, helmet emitting a crack sound as you see his leg shot.

You look back hurriedly, seeing Jisung and Changbin try to catch up from the other side of the highway. You rush to Chris’ car, seeing the airbags activated before the door slams open, a gaping wound on Christopher's forehead, and a limp to his gait while holding his side, "What the fuck was that!" he yells as if he isn't in pain. You stand your ground and frown,"I'll explain later, help me get Minho out of the car," you push past him before rushing to the driver's side. Your own car stops, the doors flying open quickly “Fuck, boss what did you do!” Jisung curses as he gets out but you immediately signal to the dead man down on the highway.

“Get rid of the body quick, they probably retreated,” you look into the dark tunnel before you, “But this means war,”

Final disclaimer! This is not entirely accurate and is fabricated for the sake of storytelling. This is a work of pure fiction and does not represent any real-life people, events, or places.

> next part

> moodboard; sampler 1 | sampler 2

#skz #skz scenarios #skz bang chan #mafia bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan #stray kids bang chan #skz chan #stray kids #skz chan imagines #chan x reader #bang chan x you #mafia au #elle☆walls could talk

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ashonheavenscloud · 18 days

Text

i fall || b. chan

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ contents: bang chan x fem!reader, angst of a hopeless love, autumnal wistfulness and nostalgia :(

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ word count: 4.8k

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ warnings: none

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ a/n: i love love love using seasons as a motif oh my goshhhhh. enjoy! (even if it’s heartbreaking)

now playing - 21 - gracie abrams

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Chan should have known from your first whirlwind of a meeting that he’d fallen into something hopeless.

Felix had been the one to introduce the two of you; you’d appeared out of the blue, on a particularly cool autumn afternoon. Chan had been minding his business, listening to Felix rant about his day while the older boy cleaned the coffee shop tables and counters. The place had been empty- courtesy of small town living- and the sound of a bell had alerted the two of them instantly of a new arrival.

His first glimpse of you had been you running, grinning as you all but jumped into Felix’s arms with exclamations and laughter. “Lix! Oh my god, you’re actually still here!”

“And you’re back!” Felix replied, holding you out at arms distance. Chan observed from the sidelines, a little confused but more curious. Your smile was bright and captivating, and he found himself instantly liking you. He didn’t know why, he just had a good feeling about you from the beginning.

“Ah!” Felix exclaimed, seeming to remember Chan’s presence. “Y/n, I’d like you to meet Chan. He’s a good friend.”

You exchanged hellos as Felix babbled, “Chan, Y/n used to live just in the next town. Although she’s been slacking on her visits.”

“Hey, I never promised anything.” You argued, lightheartedly before turning back to Chan.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he expected when meeting you, but he was surprised when conversation flowed so easily that Felix teased you must have met before and hidden it from him. You were just so engaging and exciting- and it didn’t take long for Chan to consider you close to his heart.

It was odd, considering how different the two of you really were. Chan could never understand your passion for travelling- it came in part with your job, but mostly because- as you confessed- you didn’t like to stay put for long, preferring a more scattered existence. Chan himself found comfort in the stability of the city he’d always loved, it’s steady rhythm that remained a constant in his life. He could never seem to leave it for long- it’s borders were his home, and the people inside his family.

“We, my friend, are clearly very different.” You’d chuckled, shaking your head.

“Can’t be that different.” Chan insisted, ducking behind the cafe counter with a shrug. “How do you feel about blueberry muffins?”

You smiled at him- and looking back, he’d been a lost cause even this early on. He hadn’t been able to help it when your smile was somehow brighter than fireworks and took his breath away just as easily.

Chan wondered for a long time if your meeting was fate. You popped back into his life with every change of the seasons, threw him for a loop and then disappeared again for weeks at a time. Where he figured it should have driven him crazy, he only felt more anticipation for the next whirlwind you brought him- and you never failed to come back no matter how long since your last connection. You returned like autumn; and Chan couldn’t help but fall harder for you every time.

And now your latest visit was just beginning- Felix and Chan had picked you up from the train station the day before, and you’d informed them you planned on staying for longer than your usual couple days. That small piece of news was enough to make Chan both excited and anxious. While he had more time with you, he knew it would speed past like always. He figured he should plan the days, work out his free time and whatnot. However, as always, you seemed to sneak up on him and throw all his meticulous strategizing out the window- and this time was no different.

It was a particularly cool day- only a few nights since your arrival- when he found you standing in a faint drizzle, huddled in a forest green raincoat by the bus stop. Your boots absentmindedly scuffed at the colourful leaves that littered the ground in soaked piles. Their earthy smell was one of your favourite scents, Chan knew; it was something you never failed to remind him of.

You glanced up at him just before he reached you, and a bright smile lit your face. He felt his heart stammer, the damned thing a reminder of your affect on him.

“I always liked the rain.” You raised your face to the sky, smiling at the tiny droplets that coated your face and dampened your hair. The peace in your expression was something Chan envied. Content always seemed to come so easily to you. “It makes me feel alive.”

“I suppose it does.” Chan replied softly, holding his free hand out to let the rain douse his palm. After a minute of silence, he bobbed his umbrella in your vague direction. “Does that mean you wouldn’t like to share this?”

You mumbled something that seemed suspiciously sarcastic before shuffling to join Chan under the umbrella. His nerves tingled at your sudden closeness, the warmth of your body pressed against his side. His heart was beating frantically, and he couldn’t help but grin.

“Thank you.” You peered at him, and nudged him. “What’s with the smile?”

“Nothing.” Chan replied quickly; your smile grew and he felt compelled to add an excuse. “It’s just that you’re right. The rain, it’s… refreshing in a way.”

“Of course I’m right.” You tossed your hair dramatically. “I’m always right.”

Chan laughed, and you flicked water at him.

“It’s nice to see you.”

His eyes swiveled to meet your own, caught off guard by the sudden confession. You were rarely, if ever, forthright with your affection.

“Out of nowhere?” He had to question with a flustered chuckle.

You shrugged, staring out at the grey sky. “I don’t know. It actually seemed overdue.”

And your bus pulled up then, leaving Chan to puzzle over your words as he was left alone in the rain.

He wondered late into the night what exactly you’d meant, his heart becoming a little too excited at the prospect of you staying for a while… whatever a while meant. He knew he shouldn’t hope, but in the early am’s he couldn't help it. He couldn’t help but imagine what it might be like to have you here. Here, with him, close enough to touch and hold.

But he was getting carried away, he knew, shaking his head to try and clear it of the ridiculous idea. It didn’t matter what happened in the next two weeks. At the end of it all, you would be gone again. He shouldn’t expect anything.

Yet he hoped- and he hoped more strongly than he’d intended. Perhaps, in hindsight, it hadn’t been entirely his fault. You’d been consistent in meeting him somewhere along his bus route, and the ride through town had been so much lighter with you there to talk with. He asked you so many questions, and you never seemed to grow bored of answering them. How do you take your coffee? Straight black, but on occasion you’d add sugar. Do you like thunderstorms? The only form of rain you didn’t approve of. And even though you travel so much, where do you think your heart calls home? For that one, you’d laughed half heartedly, “I shouldn’t-”

“Tell me.” Chan was far too curious.

You paused to play with the straps of your bag, staring out at the rain and the rainbow of trees. He almost wondered if you might not answer, or say something vague, or reply with ‘I don’t know.’ But then you looked at him with the echo of a smile.

“I suppose it’s always been here.”

He shouldn’t hope. He knew it would bring himself nothing but heartache.

But god, he couldn’t help it with you.

…

As he’d expected, the days flew by. He spent as much time as he could with you- at least, when he could find you. Felix joined you occasionally, but he was often busy with papers to complete and tests to study for. His first year of university was already proving to be difficult. Chan couldn’t complain in this instance- although he felt for the boy, he was also more than happy to spend his time with you, just the two of you. All the while though, he had to remind himself that you weren’t staying- like always, he would watch you leave again.

A couple days before you left, Chan convinced you to meet him at his tiny house. It had been a while since you’d been there, and Chan knew there was a particular something- or someone- you’d like to see.

“Berry!” You exclaimed, the fluffy spaniel immediately racing over at the sound of the door opening. You crouched to pet the puppy, tail wagging enthusiastically, and for a few minutes Chan just watched you with a smile.

“She missed you.”

It was meant to say more than that, and maybe you picked up on that- because you turned your face away with a small grin. “Seems like it.”

Berry decided petting wasn’t enough and ran to find a toy to bring back. In the meantime, Chan urged you further into the house, a small one story that still sometimes felt too big to Chan. It was nice to have someone- even if momentarily- fill it again.

“Nothing’s changed…” you murmured, falling onto the nearby sofa with a sigh. “I don’t even think that pile of clothes in the corner have moved-”

“Hey, of course they have.” Chan laughed, cheeks flaming as he scooped up the various items and stuffing them hastily into his room close by. “Felix dropped these off- he didn’t want them and offered them to me.”

“If you say so.”

Chan threw a pillow at you, which you caught with a laugh and hugged tightly- oddly endearing to him. “Want something to eat? Drink?”

He smiled to himself when he heard your feet hit the floor and patter after him into the kitchen. “Is that even a question?”

He laughed, swinging open the fridge. “Soda?”

“You know me so well.”

He couldn’t help but grin as he pulled out a grape soda for you and a ginger ale for himself. After collecting a small plate of mini donuts to go along, you both settled on the sofa again, with Berry curled up between you.

“You know, I bet it doesn’t taste half bad together.” You insisted, imitating dipping a donut into Chan’s drink.

“No way!”

“It’s not that different from milk and cookies! Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“It’s not about adventure, it’s about-”

“If it’s disgusting, at least you’ll have tried.”

“I’ll stick to what I know, thanks.” Chan laughed, taking a sip of his soda.

You shrugged, grinning.

It was moments like these that filled Chan’s heart the most- and simultaneously made it sink. Because it wouldn’t last. Because soon enough, this house would be painfully empty again. Of course, Felix would come occasionally- when he had time- and Berry was good company. But… it wasn’t the same as you.

“You said nothing’s different.” Chan murmured, setting down his drink.

You blinked at him. “Is there?”

Chan nodded, standing and motioning for you to follow him. He felt strangely nervous as you both entered his bedroom, and Chan stopped just inside.

“Look.”

You paused in the doorway, following where he pointed before your hand flew to cover the gasp from your mouth. “Chan! You got it!”

Chan looked down shyly, fingers lightly brushing the head of the sand coloured guitar sitting beside his bed. “Yeah, I took your advice.”

The last time you’d been here, Chan had confessed to wanting to learn to play the guitar. But he’d been unsure- the cost of the instrument alone had been deterring- but you’d encouraged him to go for it.

“Worst thing that happens is you don’t end up loving it.” You’d told him. “But… you could. You really could.”

Now, you raced over to gently touch the instrument, fingertips tracing the edges. “Oh my god, Chan. And?”

“And… I really like it.” He admitted with a small laugh- for some reason he felt nervous as he lifted the instrument and plopped onto the bed. “I’m sure I’m not that good yet, but-”

“Play for me!” You insisted- ah, right. That’s why he was nervous. Of course you’d ask for him to play.

“I’m still learning, really-”

“I don’t care, I just want to hear you.” You pleaded, sitting beside him on the bed. Your knees brushed his, sending a jolt through Chan’s body at your proximity. Your eyes were shining as he looked back at you, already knowing he was defeated.

He could never help it with you.

“Alright.” Chan blew out a breath. “Don't hope for much though.”

You just waited, chin propped on your hands- and so Chan counted to three in his head, before strumming the first chord.

It was a familiar song to you both- a favourite you both shared, a sentimental love song you knew every word to. And although Chan was slow at remembering the chords, and you weren’t the best singer, a soft melody filled the room as you hummed to his strumming. Chan filled in with harmonies, closing his eyes to listen as peace took over his heart. Your voice, the song- he could live in this moment forever. And he didn’t even notice the way you were watching him, until the song ended and he opened his eyes to find your sparkling gaze and happy smile focused on him.

The last chord faded and was replaced with an almost tangible silence as Chan’s grip on the guitar loosened, and he let it gently slide to the floor. His eyes could not leave yours as he held his breath, fingertips tingling. He wanted to reach out to you, he wanted to take your hand that sat so temptingly close to his on the blankets. Just the thought made his stomach jolt nervously. He was frozen- and then the moment was over.

You blinked and looked away, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You’re not half bad.”

“Thanks.” Chan replied, because he didn’t know what the hell else to say. His mind was a mess of questions paired with screaming disappointment that he’d let his chance pass.

His chance?

This was what he contemplated long after you’d said goodbye and parted ways. He couldn’t deny the tension that had hovered in the air when your eyes had locked and he hadn’t seemed to be able to turn away. Even more rattling, though, was the heavy feeling of his heart when he thought about that moment. Because…

Gosh, it had never been this hard to imagine you not being here.

Why was it so difficult this time? He’d thought the miles between you would be bearable as long as he knew that you’d turn up again- he’d been fairly content with it for a time- but for some reason, the idea of watching you walk away even once more had him pacing in his room at nearly 4 am two days before your departure. He’d known damn well not to dabble in optimism for this particular situation, but he hadn’t been able to help it. He loved you. He could admit it now, a silent confession to the stars that would listen. He loved you desperately, feverently, hopelessly. And now, he didn’t know if he could say goodbye this time around.

It was either insanity or the product of a panicking, blinded heart- which is, by all accounts, very nearly the same thing- when he asked you to meet him at the cafe you’d first met at those many years ago. It was a cloudy but pleasant evening, the sky barely darkening as a light sprinkling of cold rain dampened the streets. You were already waiting for him when he arrived, and Chan wasn’t sure if the feeling in his chest was warmth or dread when he noticed you’d remembered his coffee order- and it sat across from you, steam curling steadily into the air.

Chan felt anything but steady at this moment. Because he didn’t even know what he was going to say; he just knew he had to do something.

“Hi.” Chan greeted you with a small smile, ducking into the empty seat as you responded with your own hello. Silence settled over the cafe- interrupted only by a shuffling employee’s feet and the whir of machinery- before you cleared your throat.

“You were quite mysterious over the phone.” You stirred the tea in your mug, swirling the tea bag around and around before turning a teasing smile his way. “Well?”

Chan laughed, a short and nervous laugh, before shrugging. “Well,” he blew at his drink to cool it- and to buy himself a bit of time to mull over his words- before saying, “I suppose this is just a last little… something before you-”

His shrug felt heavy, like his very body loathed any reference to you leaving. You merely smiled, as Chan distracted himself with a sip of his cappuccino. Yes. Just the way he liked it…

“Everything comes to an end at some point.” You answered simply with a smile. How could you smile? Chan felt like he was being pulled in two directions, and getting ready to snap. “I mean, even life ends- we all die, don’t we? Ah, gosh-” you laughed, sipping your own drink. “I didn’t mean for it to sound so dark and final.”

He didn’t know what to say. He felt like a thread fraying, piece by piece, and he was sitting here pretending like the thought of you leaving tomorrow didn’t make him bat crazy. He remained silent, gripping his mug a little too tightly.

Either you didn’t notice or didn’t want to say anything, because you just kept talking. “It was wonderful to come. To see you, to see Felix. I’ve always loved this place… especially in autumn.”

Snap. Snap. Each tiny bit of his thread.

“It is beautiful.” He made himself say, a desperate attempt to keep himself together.

You smiled at him, and said, “Thank you for making me feel so welcomed when I’m here, Chan. I… don’t know how to tell you how much that means to me.”

He couldn’t do this.

“Ah, I almost forgot-” you dug into your bag, and pulled out something small. Chan watched as you cradled a small box in your hands. “I meant to give it to you all week but… well, honestly, I didn’t know how to do it.”

You handed it to Chan, who surveyed the creamy white container, simple and plain. And when he opened the box…

It was a picture, framed simply in black. What took Chan’s breath away was the photo- he knew exactly where it was from. Last year, you’d visited for New Years and joined him and Felix and a few other people on the roof of the cafe for a celebration. You’d counted down until the New Year, and in the spur of the moment you’d pecked his cheek- after all, tradition right? you’d said while laughing, while Chan had tried desperately not to appear as flustered as he’d been. You hadn’t made a big deal out of it, so neither had Chan; he hadn’t said anything about it since, and neither had you- but here you were, frozen together in the picture. You’d kept that? Chan barely had time to take it in before you were speaking again, words coming a mile a minute.

“… I found it, so I printed it out and all that- and I don’t know, I thought you might want it. I mean,” you laughed, and it sounded uncharacteristically nervous. “I wanted you to have it. This is kind of my… confession.”

His mind was spinning, but it was still able to latch onto that word- and suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

“Because I’m leaving again, and Chan… I just had to tell you. Isn’t that selfish? But you deserve to know that I care about you more than you might think.”

No. No, why like this?

In every scenario he’d imagined today would go, this hadn't even crossed his mind. You… and him… but you were…

He was trying to grasp words to say, anything at all but they escaped him. He was completely thrown off guard, and his heart felt like it was coming up his throat. His hands dropped to the table, too heavy now to lift. His eyes drifted from the picture frame clutched between his fingers and your hand sitting inches away.

Inches.

You were still speaking, “I kept putting off giving it to you for some reason. But it will be so busy at the train station, and I didn’t want to-”

“You could stay, you know.”

The thread had snapped, the words bursting from him before he’d even registered them- and coming out more choked than he’d intended. You met Chan’s gaze, and he could see the warring of your mind before you slowly shook your head.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, Chan. I feel crowded if I stay here too long. Like I can’t breathe right, like… like I’m trapped.”

He didn’t understand. He knew you cared for him, knew you might even share a fraction of the adoration he had for you. Why wouldn’t you even try?

“I’m not like you, Chan.” You added softly, tracing your index finger absentmindedly against your mug. Maybe to avoid looking at him. “I could never be content with a simple life. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with one, just… I would hate it. I would grow to despise this place, and I’m afraid I might begin to despise you with it.”

“I don’t believe that.” Chan whispered- mostly because he didn’t want to.

You smiled a bit at that, and looked up at him with sad, soulful eyes. “Would you be happy, then, to leave? To come along with me instead?”

He hated the way his eyes burned with the beginnings of tears. And he really hated that you both knew the answer.

“I know.” You whispered, turning away to gaze at the vibrant trees outside. Raindrops slipped from the colourful leaves and splashed into tiny puddles forming along the sidewalk. “That’s why I won’t ask it of you.” After a pause, you said. “It’s a dream, Chan, nothing more.”

“Then why do you keep coming back?”

He caught the smallest tug of your teeth on your bottom lip, before you turned back to him. “Because I liked this dream. Maybe even loved it.”

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bear this anymore. The distance had used to excite him in a way, as it kept him on his toes waiting for you- but now it just hurt. He wanted you close and then closer- and then some.

“Just… think about it.” He pleaded, unable to stop himself from reaching out to take your hand. The coolness of your skin sent a rush through his body.

Surprisingly, you didn’t pull away; instead you squeezed his hand, pausing before letting it fall. “See you tomorrow.”

You stood and left the shop; Chan gripped the framed photo long after you’d disappeared from view.

…

The train came too soon.

The packed station made it difficult for Chan and Felix to push their way through. In the meantime, Chan had plenty to think about. To fret about. He played with the sleeves of his jacket. His head was spinning, and he stumbled over the feet of a few passersby.

“Chan?” Felix was watching, confusion arching his brows. “Are you alright?”

Chan shook his head in response. “Come on, we need to hurry.”

It was ten minutes until the train left when, at last, Felix spotted you over the crowd. Chan hung back, a murky gray cloud of dread hanging over his head as Felix said his goodbyes, insisting you call him and visit. Your smile, for some reason, seemed sadder today- especially when it was directed at Chan. He took a deep breath while Felix waited a distance away, and approached you.

It only took your eyes finding his own for the lump to swell in his throat and his eyes to burn as he tried to figure out what to say. Gosh, it had never been this difficult to say farewell.

“Chan-” You gently lifted Chan’s face with your left palm, making him face you. He saw you smile through the blurriness of sudden tears, biting his lip as he desperately tried to halt them. But all he could think about was how unfair this was, and how much he’d missed you. Because he always did, and it hurt more each time he said goodbye.

“Chan?”

“Hmm?” He managed, swallowing roughly. “Y/n?”

You hesitated for a moment, before taking his hand with your free one. “I’m sorry.” You whispered. “I am. I don’t know, I just… I mean, you’re just perfect…”

“Just not for you, huh?” Chan murmured, clutching your hand like a tight grip could prevent your inevitable departure. Like your grip on his heart could somehow keep you together.

This time you bowed your head, and Chan thought he saw a tiny splinter- a crack in your gaze- before you looked back at him again. “Yeah. I guess so.”

Why not?

He hugged you tightly, afraid of letting go. You had the sense to do so first.

No tearful goodbye; it never was that way with you. Just a forlorn smile and a wave of your hand through the window before you were gone.

But you would come back, Chan assured himself, because you always did. Like the cycle of the seasons, you would return to him soon enough.

But you didn’t this time. You didn’t come back.

Weeks dissolved into months, and months turned into a year. His hope slowly faded into worry and distress at your disappearance, and then a solemn acceptance. That goodbye had been your last; even more he knew it in his heart that you didn’t intend to return.

In hindsight, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it coming. And he blamed himself for it, despite Felix’s assurance that it wasn’t his fault. After all, if he hadn’t pressured you to stay, maybe you’d continue to come and go as you always had. It had been his careless advances that had chased you away, and he’d been foolish to wish for you to remain within arms reach. It would have hurt for you to never find content in staying with him- but he swore it hurt a thousand times more to think that he might never see you again.

He wondered, though, if he could have borne it. Seeing you for brief pockets of time, all while knowing you would leave him again eventually. He tried to imagine it; find a scenario where both of you could be happy and be together. But… how?

Maybe it was for the best, then. If he couldn’t make you happy, it was selfish for him to expect anything from you.

Still… he missed you.

God, he missed you.

It was over two years before he heard anything from you. A mutual friend, Jisung, had run into you in Orlando. The meetup had been quickly relayed to Chan, who jumped at any information of your well-being. And as it turned out, you were doing well. Free and tied down to nothing, you were doing what you loved- exploring the world, finding your next adventure in the great unknown.

And Chan knew that it was the right path for you- even if it hurt to admit. And even if it was hard to be happy for you when he couldn’t seem to let you go himself.

Because everywhere he went, he saw you. Saw what you were, and what you might have been. You lived in his head now that you weren’t here, and he wondered if you would always stay there as his biggest what if? Even more, he wondered if you ever thought about him too.

Chan thought of you for the umpteenth time that week as he stood in a heavy drizzle, an umbrella keeping his body dry as he waited for his bus. Evening was approaching quickly, the sky darkening at an alarming rate. Brightly coloured leaves were tossed in the wind, skittering over the wet pavement. Chan stood perfectly still, listening to the steady rhythm of the rain. Pitter patter. Pitter patter.

Eventually he let his umbrella fall back; his eyes turned to the sky before closing as the first droplets of rain fell onto his face. He inhaled deeply, the rich smell of the damp leaves making him smile- even if a little wistfully.

The rain felt a little colder this year, didn't it?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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dazed--xx · 3 months

Text

❤️‍🩹Only Love(Can Hurt Like This)❤️‍🩹

Summary: I tell myself you don't mean a thing. And what we got, got no hold on me; But when you're not there, I just crumble. I tell myself I don't care that much; But I feel like I die 'til I feel your touch Only love……Only love can hurt like this

Member: Bang Chan x Reader

T/W:1930s Era, ANGST, historical inaccuracies, Prohibition, cursing, mafia, talks of murder, mentions of guns, Molotov cocktail, gun violence, harassment, neglect in a relationship I guess, mentions of illegal activity, life threatening injuries, mentions mafia war. Mentions of Bootlegging, mentions of Shylocking. Sad ending

Word Count: 5.1K

I tell myself you don't mean a thing and what we got, got no hold on me, But when you're not there, I just crumble

The diner boomer as the large groups of men laughed over coffee. You leaned over the bar, your chin resting on your hand as your eyes scanned over the crowd as you waited for your customers dishes. Your coworker Jiung whines as his orders came out. Your eyes land on a familiar group of faces in your section. You sigh as your eyes land on your favorite eye candy, Mr.Bang. He sat at the end of his table his midnight locks slicked back in the most perfect way. He watched the group of men in front of him, his arms crossed over his chest as he listened to the other’s conversations. Your favorite customer, Hyunjin, whined about something you couldn’t hear. “You sound stupid…” A deep rough voice bellowed toward the Adonis like male that sat across from him. “How? Be real here! What more does Park expect from us?! He gets himself pinched and we have to take care of the work on the street” Hyunjin snapped back crossing his arms over his chest frustratedly. “We collect the Vig like we’re bagmen.” He growled pointing to the table as he leans toward the freckled faced boy “We take care of his family. He’s got a wife and kids and a mistress and a mistress for the mistress!” He continues as the freckled boy rolls his eyes. A snap is heard cutting the rest of the ranting man's words off. “Mind your manners, He's still the boss. And the boss is the boss what he says goes” Mr. Bang finally spoke, his voice was firm and unforgiving. “You're so worried about Park. Have you handled the Spring Cleaning I asked you to take care of?” his large palm placed itself behind Hyunjin’s neck, pulling him closer to him. Placing their foreheads together “How's the trash business? I heard there was a certain friend causing some problems” Mr. Bang challenged. His aura alone was suffocating. Your eyes couldn't help but be drawn to him every time he'd walked through the front door. His tone was calm as always but you could tell from the fear sitting on Hyunjin’s usually smiling face; this man should be feared.

A familiar ding rings from behind you. “Table 2 order up!” your managers voice calls from behind the window. “You're a line cook now?” you question, your manager Keeho gives you a snide smile. “Sit and spin” he growls as he flips you off. You blow him a kiss as you grab your customers orders of fried eggs with home fries and bacon. You place the plates on your serving tray. You grab a pot of coffee from the counter as you make your way from around the counter. You will yourself not to stare at the alluring man, who's gaze to you feel burning into you as you walk past his table. You come to a table in the corner two very well dressed yet bulky men sat at the table. A bright smile grows on the more rough looking mans face. You place their food in front of them “If there's anything else, I could get for you please let me know” you smile at them, you could feel their eyes scan over your body. The larger man leans toward you a sly smirk on his lips “As a matter of fact..” he begins “I could use a date with you?” he suggests a flirtatious tone. You groan internally as you give him a faux smile as you fill their mugs with coffee. “I don't make it a habit to fraternize with my customers” you respond firmly. “I wasn't really asking…” He growls under his breath. His hand caresses your thigh, you glare at the man. “Well I'm not interested.” his hand begins to grip your thigh “Sir, I am at work…” you growl once again. “I advise you to unhand my waitress, Kim” The familiar firm voice you admired called from behind you a chilling calmness sitting comfortably in his tone. Your heart sunk in your chest as the man stared at your savior, fear in his eyes. You look over your shoulder as the large man lifts both of his hands in a defensive pose. He stammered at the intimidating male as you turn to stagger away from the table. You notice your two favorite customers, Jisung and Hyunjin standing behind Mr. Bang.

Death glares sitting on the groups faces, your mouth hung open in shock for a moment before you give them an appreciative smile and shove past them. You quickly make your way into office that sat between the kitchen and the bathrooms. You take a deep breath feeling embarrassed at the situation. You couldn't believe yourself, you were more shaken up from how close Mr. Bang had stood to you than the men being aggressive with their proposition. Your heart raced as you remembered the way his eyes trailed over your body, it was different for the large men they had stared at you like they wanted to eat you. For some reason, his gaze felt protective, safe, and possessive though you only said the occasional flirty comments here or there.

How could a man of his stature be so intimidatingly sexy?

The sound of the door opening makes you jump. Your eyes land on the culprit, bringing you face-to-face with the reason for your anxiety. “Y-you’re not supposed to come back here, Mr. Bang.” you stammer, he sighs as he places his hands in his pockets; he raises his eyebrow, he looks around the room for a second before staring at you once again. “It's my office…” He states matter of fact, you stare at him bewildered. “You didn't think I came here every day just for the food, right?” He questions jokingly. You shake your head in response. “Never thought about it much, I was hired to serve food not be in any ones business”

“Keeho seems to run a tight ship. Good quality you seem to have…”

“Years of experience…besides I like my job. Pays well.”

“You hear a lot too…”

“Not really..” You shrug.

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrow.

“Like I said, my job is to serve food and mind my business. And What my customers talk about isn't my business” he nods a smirk forms on his lips “You Okay?” you scoff at his question “Those two? They're more bark then bite…” he raises his eyebrow in amusement as he steps toward you allowing the door to close behind him, he caresses your cheek. “You're the first to say that, they're quite feisty when they want to be. You seem to like being in dangerous situations….” this hand glides to your chin his thumb brushes over your bottom lip. Your heart races “Don’t put yourself in danger anymore..” He sighs. There’s something softer in his tone. “With the crowd that hangs out here it would be impossible.” You challenge “besides I don’t make it much of a habit”

“Last week you chased a guy who ran out on his bill…”

“I’m not losing money for an idiot”

“I pay well. A 10 dollar meal won’t break the bank, doll”

“To you…it won’t break the bank to you. Some of us don’t have diners to generate income and have a vig to pay.”

“This isn’t my only business, I have a couple more I can put you somewhere more suitable for a lady.” He suggests raising his eyebrow not pulling away from you. “I’d feel better knowing you’re safe”

“No. Thank you, Mr. Bang. But I love my job here. I love Keeho and the guys. Besides I fought my father to work here, I don't want him to think I'm getting into trouble” you confess.

“Chan…”

“Hmm?”

“My name.” he smiles “Call me Chan, doll. I don't like how Mr. Bang sounds coming from you.” a blush creeps on your cheeks. “I'm not sure if that's appropriate, Mr. Bang” you stifle a shy giggle.

“Why not?”

You freeze for a moment before answering “Well, you own this business. I work at this business. Does keeho call you Chan?” he chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. “He could…he wouldn't be around long but he could.” he stares at you in amusement. “Besides, all this time you stared at me, don't tell me you only wish to maintain an employer-employee relationship?”

Your eyes widen at his question. You felt nervous, all this time you didn't think he'd noticed you. For him to confront you about your crush…it caught you off guard to say the least. Your heart pounded so loudly in your chest that you swear you could hear it in your ears, almost like a tune on the radio. Your cheeks burn a bright scarlet. “C-Chan…I-I—See I knew you could do it.” he cuts you off bemused. He leaned in close to you, caressing your cheek he connected your eyes “Don't worry about an answer now, as you said earlier you're at work. I'll let you get back to it.” he smirks before pulling away and heading toward the door “See you tomorrow, doll” he pulls a cigarette pack from his pocket, taking one out he lights it. He looks back at you giving you a wink and a wave he disappears behind the door.

Your legs turn to jelly as he exits, and you collapse on the ground. You hold your hand over your heart as if it could steady it. Your cheeks are a bright neon scarlet, a wave of giddiness crashes over you. Chan… you blushed to yourself. Even his name was mesmerizing.

It had been weeks since the office incident and you still hesitated on pursuing something with Chan. He still came in every morning with the same group of 7. You'd bring them coffee and he would find some way to brush his hand over yours. He'd become quite…. persistent all of a sudden. He'd give you a wink and smile the moment he saw you approaching his table. When Jisung or Hyunjin asked about your brother, Chan would hang onto your every word. One thing did change though, now he always paid the bill with you at the counter. He'd find some reason to touch you in some way whether it's by brushing a stray hair away or placing his hand on yours while you talk. You also noticed the larger tips the other boys began to leave. Yet you hesitate.

Over the past few weeks, you began to properly do your homework on one Bang Chan. You had figured that once he told you he owned the diner he was associated with the mafia in some way, Keeho was a connected guy after all. You had assumed Chan was also involved in some way but you never expected to find out he was a Capo. Let alone a high-ranking one placed directly under your father.

A bootlegger by trade, after the government declared war on alcohol. Your father the underboss of the Park crime family, had taught you many tricks of the trade. And for 10 years he ran the largest underground alcohol distribution network. From the moment the idea of prohibition was proposed your father began learning and perfecting the craft of making beer and alcohol. Many of the crime families had to go through your father for their libations, and it had built your families wealth exponentially. But all things must come to an end, and when it did it came with a shakedown.

The feds were swift and ruthless they came early in the morning to whisk your father away for his current 10-year bid. While you and your mother could live comfortably with the money your father left for you. You felt wrong using the money he'd risked everything for. So, you worked, you worked to maintain his vig. You handled his books while your uncle acted as his capo for the crew. During you're research you had learned Bang Chan was notorious, him and his crew making their bones at very young ages. Before you never really paid attention to the chatter about the man you admired from a far; but you couldn't help yourself now.

You now knew how almost every woman who lived in a 2-block radius admired him, and all the men respected him. You learned whatever you couldn't from idle chatter from your uncle and father. Chan had taken the oath after he'd helped win the war against the Choi family. Rumors said he'd been the one to take out the former boss. Your father pointed out how he had a knack for businesses, once starting out as a Shylocker Chan quickly developed multiple businesses from construction, to apartment buildings, clubs and obviously the diner you currently work at.

Of course, there was idle chatter about his vicious and unforgiving temper as well. How every man including him may seem sweet, attractive, and harmless but under that facade laid ruthless cold-blooded killers. You shutter when you remember the cold unbothered tone Chan had used toward those men that day in the diner. You don't even want to think about what could have happened, remembering your father's temper. You had continued to lock your feelings away from the mafioso, knowing nothing but pain could come from entering a relationship with him.

Until one day, he didn't show up with everyone like he always did. You had been floored, to say the least when you noticed his seat empty. You were able to put on a facade laughing with them as you poured them coffee. Growing up around mafiosos, you never felt uncomfortable they were respectful, honest when they could be, and headstrong. But they were men at the end of the day, they were human. Having a high-ranking mafia father you had no choice but to find yourself comfortable around them. Despite the rumors this group always was polite and made you laugh, you laughed along with Jisung's jokes as you took their orders. Your eyes drifted to his empty seat. You found yourself growing more and more upset as time ticked by. The group of boys finishing their meals with idle chatter you'd typically ignore but today you hung onto their every word waiting for some mention of Chan or his whereabouts.

Was he okay? Did something happen?

You found yourself ridiculous but your heart shattered as the boys called out a goodbye on their way out. You give them a faux smile as you wave them off. You make your way over to the table. He didn't show up… you slowly cleaned the table stacking dishes on your tray. You notice a paper sticking out of the bill folder. Curious, you pull the paper from the checkbook and read it's contents.

Doll,

Had a meeting. If it's not too much trouble, I'd still like to see you. I need to see you every day, you see. Meet me at Spark’s steakhouse. 8pm

-yours Bang Chan

I tell myself I don't care that much. But I feel like I die 'til I feel your touch. Only love….Only love can hurt like this….

It had been two years since that day. You and Chan had been together through the end of prohibition. You spent your first night legally able to drink with a bottle of wine on the beach. Feeling the sand between your toes as you sipped from the wine glass, your hand encased in Chan’s. Whilst you felt your relationship with Chan was almost perfect, as he was such a gentleman despite his reputation. Unfortunately, you felt he was too much of a gentleman sometimes. He refused to touch you, even after two years together you both hadn't gotten past steamy kisses and heavy petting. You hoped the alcohol would loosen him up a bit, but as someone who never had to stop drinking recreationally, he could maintain his inhibitions. You, on the other hand, didn't drink during prohibition so you felt quite inebriated.

Chan quickly found out you see an honest and affectionate drunk, as you lazily laid your head on his shoulder. Your arms wrapped around his bicep as you stared up at him with a pout. He pecks your lips softly, raising his eyebrow at your expression the corner of his mouth lifts in amusement. “May I ask what's troubling you doll?” he questions as he brings the wine glass to his plush lips, taking a sip of wine. You stare up at him a longing in your eyes “Why won't you fuck me?” you slur. He choked on the drink, not expecting your sudden boldness. His eyes wide as he pulls away from you slightly “W-What?”

“Why won't you—Don’t ask me again, I heard you the first time…” He cuts you off in a panic. He looks around at your surroundings. “Well…Why?” you question “I really want to…but you always stop.” you pout as you pull your head away from him releasing his arm. “I don't—I wouldn't just fuck you. I love you, you'd be more to me than just some fuck. If I wasn't who I am I'd have proposed to you and make love to you every chance I got. I'd want to do things the right way…”

“But…?”

“But I am who I am. My job isn't safe right now, a lot of people are in a situation and things are starting to look like a war is brewing”

“I don't care about any of that, Chan I just want you”

“I do—sigh—your safety is my priority right now. Usually, your safety would be guaranteed but once I get the call to hit the mattresses…” he trails looking away from you. You hear the way his voice cracks as he speaks. “There wouldn't be someone around to guard me..” you finish for him. He nods his eyes screwed shut for a moment. “Look, if I get the call promise me you won't go to the diner until I get back” he urges caressing your cheek. You stare at him sadness sits in his chocolate eyes. You could tell he was nervous and felt guilty. You nod reluctantly. You feel his forehead press against yours.

“I promise once all of this is taken care of I'll give you everything you desire, doll”

“I love you Chan. I can wait”

Say I wouldn't care if you walked away, But every time you're there, I'm begging you to stay When you come close, I just tremble And every time, every time you go It's like a knife that cuts right through my soul. Only love…..Only love can hurt like this

You were on edge for 2 months. Every time Chan was late, a prick would be sent through your heart. You weren't sure when the war would start but even the civilians could feel it was coming as more and more tension built between Park Jin-young’s faction and Yang Hyun-Sik's faction. The animosity formed when Yang Hyun-Sik made all his union trashmen go on strike until Park Jin-young funded his latest venture. Escalating all the way to the phone call that would send your entire world crumbling down around you.

It had been a normal day, you had been laughing along with Jisung when Keeho called you over to the counter. A serious look on his face when he handed you the phone. You took it hesitantly, your heart shattered in your chest when you heard the corrections officer on the other end of the line explain your father's passing. No matter the officer's terminology you knew. You knew it was a hit, you stood frozen in shock as Keeho stared at you worriedly. His voice was drowned out by the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. You could feel his hand on your shoulder as your eyes traveled around the diner landing on your lover who was laughing with his friends until his eyes met yours. A tear fell down your cheek as Chan stared at you, worry and confusion written all over his face.

The front door bursts open as Yang Jeongin runs straight to Chan. “Boss, they got to Baek Do-Chul last night” He murmurs as he struggles to catch his breath. His words prompted Chan to rush to your side quickly pulling you into his arms. He held you close as you sobbed into his chest. Realization falls over everyone's face, the war had begun with the murder of your father. You sob harshly knowing you have lost your father and lover in one quick swoop. You clung Chan, whispering your pleas for him to stay by your side.

You could tell he wanted to. Oh, how he wished he could stay with you and hold you close forever. You could see the longing to stay and avoid the war on his face. But he took an oath, and without him and his men the Park family could fall. Everything he and your father and all the men around you had worked so hard for could crumble down at any moment. He couldn't do that to his men, the family he had made he would never abandon them. And you knew that, so as much as it hurt you had to let him go. Your heart went through the door with him leaving you an utter sobbing mess on the floor.

But if the sweetest pain, Burning hot through my veins. Love is torture….Makes me more sure,Only love can hurt like this

It had been 6 months since the war started.

6 months since your world fell apart.

6 months since your father had died.

6 months since Chan and the boys had left…

The commission had plenty of sit-downs in regard to the war, with Keeho being sent for almost daily while he was acting as boss for your father after your uncle became another casualty in the war. He had tried to avoid asking you to come back to the diner but he became desperate as he could no longer manage the day-to-day business and run your father's old crew. You had agreed to help hoping to get some sense of normalcy. Though the busiest time you had seen was when Chan and the boys were around. Many people avoided the many businesses controlled by both factions too afraid of the possibility of being in a front-row seat of a mafia war.

The night shift was typically quiet. You had an easy time as the night crew were funny and enjoyed their time around each other. You were cleaning the dining room with the only other closing waiter, Intak. The two of you laughing at the cook, Soul, shouting profanities and arguing with himself from the kitchen when a flash of light caught your eye.

Before you could comprehend what was happening the window beside you shattered. You feel an arm wrap around you as you hear the sound of glass breaking near your feet and you're pulled roughly deeper into the dining room. The part of the dining room where you had been standing goes up in flames. You hear the sound of more breaking glass as Intak yanks you behind him, he grabs the back of your head shoving it down and making you crouch “Keep your head down!” He exclaims as you try to look around. You notice his hand reach behind him, he produces a Colt hammerless pistol from his waistband. You rush toward the back exit as you hear the sound of gunfire. The flames growing more and more vicious engulfing the building in a matter of seconds. You struggled to breathe as smoke filled the room. “Y/N!” you hear Soul's voice call from the kitchen. “Soul!” you cry as a cough builds in your lungs. “Follow my voice!” he exclaims as you hear clattering from the kitchen. “I-I'm trying…” you call, trying to feel your way through the doorway. The room begins spinning as you struggle to breathe you feel a sharp pain radiate across your back through your stomach. You feel your strength growing weaker and weaker as you stagger into the back room. You lean against the wall as you feel a warmth spreading across your torso. Your legs giving out just outside the kitchen. You stare up at the wall a trail of blood following you. You stare down at your torso noticing the sticky red liquid that painted your shirt. The world goes black as a familiar voice calls “Y/N!”

Only love can hurt like this; Your kisses burn into my skin.Only love can hurt like this, Only love can hurt like this….Save me…..Save me….Only love, only love.

A faint beeping rings in your ears, and your eyes feel heavy as you try to pull them open. You're blinded by a flash of white light. You release a groan as you hold your head trying to allow yourself to adjust to the light. Your throat feels exceptionally dry as you look around the room finding a table with a cup of water beside your bed you take the cup quickly gulping down its contents. Your torso is sore as you notice the familiar figure hunched over your bed. Your heart races as you rub your eyes expecting the figure to disappear “C-Chan…?” you mutter, your hand coming in contact with his hair. You caress his head tenderly. He stirs, his eyes fluttering open. He jumps from his position when he sees you staring back at him. He pulls you into his arms with a call of your name. You wince as pain shoots through your torso. You hear him sobbing as he holds you in his arms “You're awake!” he cries pressing light kisses all over your face. “Fuck! Thank god, I thought I lost you. I thought we were too late. When I saw you like that, you looked like you were dead. I almost died right there.” He rambled as he held onto you for dear life. “I'm okay, it's nothing..” you try to brush it off.

“You were shot!” He snaps “How could you say that? You almost died! You were in a coma for 2 weeks!” you stare at him stunned “Channie—I almost lost you! Why were you even there? You promised me! You promised you wouldn't work there while I was gone! Why didn't you just listen?!” He cut you off, his concern and anger worn on his face. For once he couldn't contain his emotions. You look away from him “I'm sorry. I just I wanted to feel close to you again” you mutter

“It was dangerous! I told you how dangerous it would be!”

“I'm sorry, but I don't regret it”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No Chan. I understand why you're upset right now but you have to understand why I did it. I needed something to feel normal again”

“So you do something stupid and put yourself in danger?”

“What did you expect me to do?!”

“Listen to me, Goddammit!” He growls roughly “I tried! I really tried but I lost my dad and you on the same day! I needed you! And the family came first! You left me! When I was begging you not to, you left!” you finally snap you stare daggers at Chan. “You act like I had a choice. I-I didn't want to leave, doll.” you look away from him crossing your arms over your chest. Chan reaches trying to uncross your arms and hold your hand “Doll please listen to me…” he pleads “I took care of it. The war is almost over. The guy that killed your dad I took care of it. I didn't have a choice, it was an order. I have to listen to the commission.” He argues finally relenting on trying to hold your hand he paces the room. “Oh trust me I know all about it. How the family and your path will come before anything. How it has to be your priority. How no matter what happens nothing comes before omerta.” you scoff “I'm surprised you're even here, how'd you manage that? Since your orders are so important…”

“Don't be like that, doll. You know you're my first priority…”

“Oh am I?”

“Yes! Come on Y/N, don't doubt my love for you because I have to follow orders”

“The only reason your here Chan is because I almost died, not because you missed me or needed to see me.”

“Of course, I wanted to see you every day I was gone. I'm here because I needed to be sure you were okay. I'm here for you…”

“For how long? 2 days? 4?” you question crossing your arms over your chest. He stares at you with a guilty expression. “Tomorrow. I have to leave tomorrow…” you scoff “of course..”

“I-I spent an entire two weeks here! Park told me no matter what I need to go back tomorrow. The war is almost over we have a plan. Just—Just give me some time…” he pleas

“I don't have any more time.” you state coldly, catching him off guard “I don't have any more time to wait for a man who would leave me after what I just went through because of him. I won't wait around for a man who would leave me the moment I return from the brink of death.”

“Y/N please…” His voice cracks as he reaches out for you “D-dont make this hard for me”

“Just go follow your orders.” your tone is full of venom. You can see the pain on his face. “Doll…I-I’m sor—i don't even care to hear it. Go follow your orders Chan. Win your war, but I won't be here waiting for you when you get back” you cut him off. You hear him whimper in pain at your declaration. His eyes well up with tears as he stares at you in shock he rushes to your side, dropping to his knees he takes your hand. “N-No, doll please! I'll do anything. I'll stay. I won't go! Don't leave me..you’re all I have” Tears stream down his face as he begs. You shake your head pulling your hand away from his. “I can't keep doing this. I won't make you choose between me and your oath. Please just go” you state begrudgingly. Chan’s sobs grow stronger as he holds your face in his hands pressing his forehead against yours. “No, please! I'm sorry. I'm sorry please don't—don’t leave me. I can't live with out you, please…I chose you I'll choose you over my oath” he whimpers. His face is coated with tears as you stare at him your own tears falling. Your heart breaks at the sight of falling apart. Your injuries no longer even painful as your heart shatters all over the floor.

Cause only love can hurt like this…

⏪|⏸️|⏩

Taglist: @yangbbokari @havenwithleeknow

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whyyougottadothatbro · 10 months

Text

and these stars, are nothing but your cousins...

Genre: fluffy little scenario I wrote cause I miss him so much and I hope he's doing as well as he can

Bf! Bangchan x female! Reader, established relationship

Song recommendation: 🎶

a/n: I've been unhealthily obsessed with this song for a good over 8 months and listened to it mostly while writing this fic, 10/10 would recommend

Wc: 1.5k ~, probably proofread?

“chann~~~” y/n lets out in her sing-songy voice as she calls out to her lover who’s legs are sprawled upon her thighs as she gently massages his feet, rigorous weeks of performances and endless hours of dance practice making his flatfeet hurt to the point that just walking seemed like it would require all the remaining strength in his body. The feeling of his lover’s tiny hands that he adores so much, especially when they are entrapped in his own, feel so relieving against the soles of his feet he sighs in relief and almost misses her calling out to him, but he refrains himself from losing focus.

His focus shifts back to where he was massaging the back of his lover’s neck and her shoulders, releasing the knots she’s gotten from her desk job. Chan relaxes against the bed’s headboard with y/n sat between his legs, massaging the feet that landed on top of her thighs when chan wrapped his legs around her waist. They both relish in the touch of the other, silent grunts leaving them as their tangle of limbs begin to limp slowly yet surely, but chan breaks out of his trance, remembering to answer back from behind her with a hum of acknowledgment urging her to continue.

“I was thinking~” y/n’s voice hasn’t lost its tone from earlier when she is suddenly interrupted by her boyfriend who’s ministrations stop temporarily as his hands drop down to her waist to pull her flush against him as he poses a question before she can continue,

“are you just thinking or are you thinking~ ?” chan lays emphasis on the last word. He’s repeating it in the exact same tone as hers from earlier and some sub-conscious part in the back of her head feels astonished over his musical talent in the most mundane of situations. She shifts her focus back to the situation at hand as she chuckles, turning her head back to look up at him in amusement, ‘what is that even supposed to mean?’

“well..” chan elongates the last syllable, ‘when you’re just thinking, its everyday stuff usually, you’re thinking about when to do the next grocery run, you could be thinking about going back to pilates, what you want to order for our next takeout night, you could be thinking of a purchase you need to make, a gift you want to buy, a call you need to make, electricity bills you know just everything normal, everyday stuff..” chan’s voice trails off as he detaches your hands from his feet and brings them into his, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand in silent appreciation for you.

“and what happens when I’m thinking?” y/n asks him, still a bit amazed about how her boyfriend had different interpretations of her saying the same thing, just with a slight change of tone.

‘when you’re thinking~” chan hasn’t let go of the exact same tone from before as he continues, “it can mean anything from a new hair color you want either of us to try or booking the both of us an impromptu trip to Hawaii without any money in your pocket. Its basically a wild card.”

The evening sun casts its pink-orange glow onto the couple wrapped up in each other’s arms, y/n finding her lover astoundingly beautiful under the hues cascading through their large windows. Her hands move up to his face, thumbs gently tracing his jaw, eyes not focused at anything in particular but still looking at what she believed to be the sum of all the love that the universe had planned to give her, packed and summed up into the man whose warm hold feels like her personal shield. y/n believes that even though the both of them have lives filled with people that carry so much love and joy in their hearts, its in the hearts of each other that they were made to find solace in. If soulmates existed and love was true, the light freckles under her lover’s eyes wrote love on his face in a language only they both could understand, a language that lived as long as they did, and would vanish into the void silently, peacefully with them.

“you’re zoning out on me again, pretty” chan’s soft reprimand brings her out of her trance. She shakes her head a little bit, as if physically shaking herself out of the floaty comforting headspace chan’s presence puts her in often. ‘want to tell me what you were thinking~ about, now?’

‘well you’re going to Japan next month, right?’ y/n asks, coming down slowly still,

‘I do, I wish I could take you along though’ chan’s words drift off into a small pout towards the end, pressing a kiss to his lover’s forehead. Parting from her made him sad and pouty to no end, but chan was quick to learn that y/n would always kiss his pouts away as a rule, almost. But it wasn’t chan if he admitted to using it against her to get more kisses, it was his own secret.

‘coming back to earlier, so, I was thinking~ what if…’ y/n trails off again, slowly noticing chan’s patience wearing off and watching him grow more agitated and it gave her the time of her life. y/n had a general struggle of keeping conversations quick and to the point, but maybe she did use it against chan because watching him grow agitated and whiny was amusing to no end, it was her own secret.

‘what if we get you a bigger carrier, your old one’s a bit wobbly no?’ y/n asks in all seriousness face now resting on his shoulder, and chan chuckles again,

‘is that what you were thinking all this while? And this one’s okay baby I don’t think I need a bigger one?’ chan has no idea again as to where y/n could be going with this but he goes along.

‘no because you see.. if we, if we get you a bigger carrier, maybe its going to make it easier to..’

‘to what, baby girl?’ chan asks again, voice softer, cooing at her almost

‘well its going to make it easier to carry all our stuff at one place because I might have got Changbin and Minho to convince your staff to bring me along and maybe let us stay for 2 more days after because its our anniversary?’ y/n says all that in a single breath and huffs out, eyes expectant and waiting for a response as nervousness pools in them.

‘no way..’ chan whispers to y/n, not wanting to say it too loud in case it was a dream and it would all go away if he was too careless talking about it. Chan’s still not believing it, even after y/n enthusiastically nodding at him, kissing his full lips again to make him believe that she was indeed coming along with him. He slaps himself mentally, both to wake himself up and also for not thinking about it earlier. Mischief pokes its head around chan’s brain again, because how did she come up with it before he could.

“and.. what if I said no? what would you do then? It is dangerous to do it, you know it too princess” her face falls almost entirely at his words and chan’s heart hurts seeing her reaction, but he’s perplexed when her face lights up again,

‘then I’ll just, I’ll just sit in your carrier, because there’s no way I pulled the amount of strings I did to just not do it.’ Chan splutters with laughter again, chest vibrating and body shaking at the memory of his dog doing the same to him every time he has to come back from home in Australia, and the visual of his girlfriend sitting with her legs folded in his carrier, doe eyes looking up at him with silent pleas, refuses to leave his head as he laughs more, squeezing her harder in his arms.

‘oh so you’re learning from berry now?’ chan asks as he wipes tears away from the corner of his eyes, stomach hurting from laughing that hard. y/n’s seriousness almost throws him in a laughing fit again but he refrains, a chuckle escaping him every now and then, awaiting an answer.

‘I can’t deny she has good tricks up her paws’ chan finally lets his second laughing fit escape him, wheezing at her words all over again.

‘you know what else berry is good at?’ chan asks as he slowly recovers, mischief now completely coming out to the forefront of his brain,

‘what is it?’

‘kisses, berry gives me sooo many kisses, you’ve barely given me any you know?’ chan pouts in fake annoyance again, crossed fingers hopeful that he gets what he wants,

‘oh you’re in for it bahng’ y/n says as she pushes him down onto the bed with her hands firm on his shoulder. She lies flat on top of him, aggressively kissing the entire expanse of his face. 'Finally' Chris thinks to himself, hands holding y/n down on top of him, pillowy lips against her, as evening faded into the night from their bedroom window, thankful to the stars twinkling outside, probably smiling down at them too.

a/n pt. 2 : i hope you guys enjoy this, i know I'm not the most consistently posting writer on here but I really appreciate the support I get on my posts. Thankyou so much!

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mykoreanlove · 1 month

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💔

„Are you leaving me?“

Chan dropped his silver spoon into the colorful bowl of cereals standing before him, spilling white milk all over the marble counter.

„What?“

The apartment was filled heavily with your silence, making it painfully obvious that you were indeed serious.

„I said are you leaving me?“

Chan frowned, thinking of all the reasons why you could think this way but failed to find a plausible reason.

„What makes you say that?“

You sighed deeply, finally revealing the massive burden you carried with you for the last weeks.

„You’re different, Channie.“

„Different how?“

„It’s just… your eyes no longer sparkle when you look at me. You don’t laugh about my jokes as much as you did back then. You stopped giving me flowers or taking me out on dates. We barely have sex these days, so I just can’t help but think you’re over me.“

Chan’s eyes widened as he heard you talking, not saying a word though.

You didn’t expect him to fall on his knees and fight for your love, but not hearing a single thing from him made things so much worse. Was your gut feeling right after all?

You swallowed hardly before asking him one final time.

„Channie, are you leaving me?“

Part 2 ➡️💔

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killedpink · 1 year

Text

[21:51]

a lil drabble cause im busy today, but it's thirsting over bang chan hours!

🏷 contains: dom chan / sub reader, filmmaking, pet names, praise, dacryphilia, size kink, kinda rough sex, slight breeding kink, slight cockwarming

"chan.. please," you spoke into his soft, fluffy hair. it earned a chuckle from him, his breath on your skin gave you goosebumps. chan's large hand rubbed your back soothingly. "just a little longer, beautiful. i'm almost done," he bargained, kissing your collarbone. your eyes closed, concentrating on the feeling of chan's cock filling you to the brim, completely stuffing you full but not moving an inch. it was bothersome and especially difficult to resist bouncing your hips onto chan's delicious cock as he viciously impaled you, yet demanded you to stay still.

the repeating clicks and clacks of his computer keyboard irked you, each keystroke feeling like a nail to your head. chan could tell you were growing impatient, deciding to call it a day and saved his file of whatever project he chose to take on this time. his hands fell to your waist, stroking your soft skin affectionately, “you can move now, baby.” he whispered, letting out a loud exhale in preparation. finding your pace wasn’t too difficult, slowly raising your hips and sinking back down onto chan’s cock, your own cunt sopping wet between the both of you. chan groaned, his forehead resting against yours as he lost himself inside of you.

your actions halted, “chan, can we do the thing..?” you trailed off, eyes pleading as they gazed into chan’s brown eyes, unable to shake the lustrous glow to them. his eyes widened once he realised what you were too embarrassed to say, "oh! now, baby?" chan cooed, unable to fight the smirk off of his face even if he smiled through it. you nodded slowly, bashfulness holding you hostage and stopping you from saying more. "sure, alright. just stay there for me," he leaned forward to reach his desk again, angling the videocamera down onto the two of you and turned it on. you could feel the weight of the red blinking light even if you weren't facing it, causing your insides to clench at the thought of watching you fuck yourself on chan's cock later on. "you ready?" chan lifted you, showing off his glistening cock for the camera to see.

he slammed you back down onto him, filling you to the brim with his cock, effectively electrifying you in the process, causing you squeal in delight. you're embarrassed, you're excited, you're turned on, but all you do is brace your palms against his broad, muscular chest, and slowly roll your hips onto his cock as you raise and lower yourself, growing cock-drunk at just a few slow thrusts. his size wasn't the easiest to take at all, always leaving you dizzy and yet greedily wanting even more of him. "you're such a good girl for me, fuck. you doing alright, there, beautiful?" chan's voice warmed you up from the inside out.

chan was likely growing impatient at your slow pace, your slick cunt only making him deliriously hungry to fuck you. shaking your head, you let chan's hands tighten around your waist, feeling his legs and hips shift positions to brace himself on the floor. "turn to face the camera for me, baby." he ordered, planting a kiss to the side of your jaw. doing as he wished, you spun yourself around, chan still inside of you, now face to face with the camera and it's rousing, blinking red light. he locks you into him, filling you to the hilt of his cock again, your back arching and your body trembling, mind fuzzy.

you feel his cock head kissing your cervix, stretching you out with his incredible girth; making you feel as if you would split right down the middle from the force of his thrusts into you, his hips pistoning into your slippery cunt vigorously. your tits bounced at the force of his pace, the flesh of your ass reddening each time it connected with his thighs. moans poured out of your mouth, practically singing chan's name unashamedly, your eyes welling up with tears as he bullied his cock into you, his precum mixing with your slick and dripping out of your sensitive hole. you rocked yourself onto chan's cock, your hips chasing and soon meeting his eagerly. tears spilled out of your eyes, looking like your face was glittering in the camera's viewfinder.

"there you go, that's my fucking girl." chan praised, an edge of aggression in his tone as he nonstop fucked into you from below. you whimpered out his name in response, eyes looking away anxiously, your skin sticking to his as your bodies grew damp with sweat. chan's arm wrapped around your shoulders, turning your body so you were forced to look at yourself getting ravaged by chan and his unbelievably talented cock. "look at yourself, beautiful. look so fucking sexy like this, hm?" chan buried himself deep inside you, a visible bulge in your lower belly where he resided. he dragged his hand up your neck, large hand cupping your cheek as he pressed a kiss to your pulse, nibbling at the skin playfully.

you leaned your whole body forward, craving the rush of more intimacy, head resting on the juncture between his neck and shoulder, the scent of his welcomely familiar, heavenly cologne that still lingers on his soft skin, sending your heat into a frantic episode of fluttering around chan's delightfully filling length in nothing short of euphoria. your tears took off most of your mascara, staining where tears had explored by coating your skin in a thin, watery coat of inky, murky black. your eyes met chan's in the camera, his plump lips morphing into a smirk, finding yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him.

your lungs gasped for air, your heartbeat so fast you could hear it, alongside chan and your moans. chan couldn't resist watching his length disappear into you, only to reappear through the cock-shaped bump showing under your skin. it was maddening for him to see, consequently spurring him on further to manically snap his hips into your cunt. it all became too much for you, feeling as if your entire body was on fire, your back arching and your orgasm pouring into you, shutting your eyes so tight you saw shapes and colours materialise, as if your mind was trying to recreate the sight in front of you. your cunt clenched around chan's length so tight he audibly gasped, both of his strong fists digging into your skin as his orgasm quickly slammed into him not unlike the way he slammed into you.

his cock twitched inside of you, quickly filling you with his cum as his hips shook and trembled from the sheer force of his orgasm, your cunt milking him of every drop he had to offer, spilling into you and threatening to leak out of you. chan wouldn't have that, however. although both of you had reached and now slowly overcame your high, chan insisted you remained seated on his cock. he wanted you nice and full for him, you always looked so pretty filled to the brim with his cum. "stay still for me, baby. you're so beautiful when you're full of my come," he kissed your neck, gravitating towards the desk once more, ending and saving the video. chan stroked your sides tenderly, his cheek resting against your shoulder blade.

"you wanna make another one?"

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seung-scrittore · 11 months

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skz — hyung line as sporty boyfriends !

📻 … hel- … can anyone … kkchh .. WC: 410 … GN! READER … GENRE: fluff, established-relationship! au … WARNINGS: none (kissing) … requested! … -over … kchhh ..

chan !

every time he has a practice game, he brings you with him. you stand off to the side cheering him on, even if you have absolutely no clue what was happening. and chan loved that about you. winning doesn’t matter to him as long as you’re there with him 🫶 don't get me wrong, chan is incredibly competitive, and he tries his hardest to win, but you’re his biggest supporter. win or lose, after every game, the two of you go out to celebrate, which is really just an excuse to be around each other. in summary, chan’s a big dope for you…

changbin !

constantly whining to you about his teammates. he loves them all, but he won't hesitate to complain about the littlest trouble to you. 😭 chan accidentally cut him off last game? felix missed their last practice? the guys mocked his height again? yep, you've heard it all. probably pouts until you agree to watch his game. absolutely loves the dynamic you have with his teammates, he says he’s lucky to have someone who fits so perfectly into every aspect of his life. changbin brags about you to anyone who will listen, and I mean anyone. trust me, his coach knows all about you.

minho !

tries to act nonchalant about whether or not you come to their games, but minho gets so excited when he sees you there. like chan, he's extremely competitive. when his team loses, he takes it personally — luckily, he has you to ground him after a rough match. though he’d probably never admit it, half the reason he competes anymore is to impress you… gets flustered when you compliment him, even if he was fishing for the compliment. minho generally just wants you to be proud of him, which, of course you are. how could you not be?

hyunjin !

you’re his personal photographer at the games. according to hyunjin, you take the best photos of him. he 100% has your name signed into the back of his jersey because he wants everyone watching to know who he’s playing for. runs across the field to give you a kiss for every point scored for his team, which gets to be a little much for his teammates, but you’re not complaining. 🙌 and don’t forget to bring kkami to his games!!! not as competitive as everyone else, hyunjin plays to have fun! and you love that about him.

consider leaving a like + reblog ? ^^

… is anyon- … kkkch .. TAGGING: @liumoonlight , @sunoo-bby , @tbzloonar , @noramoons , @hangyeomcult , @septabuspass , @kflixnet , @kwritersworld , @k-labels @straykidsland-main , @kdiarynet … pleas- … -you copy? … kchhh …. 📻

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chogiwow · 7 months

Text

in search of happiness | part one.

pairing: bang chan x gn! reader

genre: heavy angst, hurt-comfort, fluff undertones

wc: part one : 20.6k+

warnings: suicidal themes, suicide attempt, drowning, dysfunctional family, death, smoking, major character death, themes of depression, mentions of anxiety, cancer (minor character), language, heavy themes, suggestive, eventual smut (there will be allusions, but i’m hoping i won’t have to write actual smut for this).

a/n: she is back bitches

PART I | PART II | PART III | PART IV

ONE – UNWASHED DISHES IN THE SINK.

It's a Saturday afternoon, and Kim’s Diner is brimming with locals and tourists alike during a particularly busy lunch hour.

The suds of the dishwater splatters on your arm, tiny bubbles staining the sleeve of your old black sweater before getting swallowed into the fabric in an oval patch. The lingering worry of the rolled up sleeves getting drenched is drowned in the pile of dishes waiting to be washed and dried, something Minho reminds you of with an attempt to hurry you up in the process with a subtle threat of the orders on hold. It mocks you, somewhat.

You can smell it, the oily meat and the spicy soup in the midst of the lemony scent of the dish soap, clanging of pots and ladles behind your back and the swift hands working their knives into chopping vegetables.

A bead of sweat slides down the side of your face, falling into the sink, the tiny kitchen cramped and hot, making you perspire and wipe your face, but you resist the urge to rub the tingling left behind by the trickling sweat down the side of your face in the fear of getting soap bubbles all over your face. That would certainly be a gross feeling.

The bell on the wall dings, another order slip clipped to the wire mesh across the small window separating the dining and the kitchen area, a new set of instructions being yelled. Another portion of soup, another plate of grilled meat, a bowl of udon, pan fried noodles; a loud chorus of yells break out, everybody scattering towards their workstations – in essence it’s mostly the same, because the restaurant doesn’t offer much when it comes to a diverse platter. Not that you were catering to people with a refined palette, it was a small local restaurant tucked away in a small cranny of the hill where everybody knew everybody, and for those who had been living here for years, they didn’t even require the menus – now yellowed and fraying at the edges of its lamination, the plastic bent and peeling.

Stacking the last plate onto the drying rack, Felix is quick to take over, smiling at you as he picks up the dry cloth and wipes them down before putting them away carefully on the shelves. Removing your pink scrubbing gloves, your attention is called to the front where Mr. Kim – the owner, a man in his sixties now, who mainly mans the front desk and chats with the customers, giving free reign to the younger generation after keeping this place alive for almost thirty years– asks you to serve and clean up tables. A sharp pain jolts through your left wrist, the first sign of a terrible ache seeping through your bones. You ignore it.

Untying the damp apron from around your waist, you leave the chaos of the kitchen, wiping your sweat on your sweater sleeves only to shiver when you push open the door into the diner, the sudden change in temperature noticeable and a temporary respite from the heat of the oils and spices, but only for so long since it would eventually start to feel much too cold out here as it got darker outside.

It’s not long after that the chilly air makes you pull your sleeves down, your loose knitted sweater too flimsy for withstanding the cold by itself, but hustling around the diner helps you disregard the occasional gusts of winds through the open doors and cracks in the windows.

The restaurant itself was a quaint little thing with white stone walls, the telltale coziness of being perched atop a hill between tall trees, aged with vines draped around its chipping paint like a dress made of leaves, flagged along the perimeter by small ground lights, all glowing in different intensities with age. A wooden sign with roughened edges now fading engravings of ‘Kim’s Diner’ hung above the door.

Nobody minded the worn out wooden furniture and the same old chequered tablecloths in red and white, if anything, there was a sense of familiarity to it all, like a place preserved in memory for years, still running and still alive.

Tucked in the hills, the sloping terracotta roofs perched up were visible from the foot of the hill, burnt brick and missing a few tiles, but a certain landmark even still after years. The huge trees almost clamped down like an overgrown canopy, wide steps with moss carpets gradually merging into a downward slope leading down to the main hill town, but it was a decent walk downhill and the spot where the restaurant was nestled felt like a secret shared by the people of this small hill town.

You liked it up here though, leaning against the rusty railings to look down upon the town under a darkening sky, lights blinking into life and people walking by; nothing seemed rushed, it wasn’t quiet but it was calm.

From where you leaned across the table, running a slightly damp cloth over the plastic covering the tablecloth, you spot a figure through the window with bright blonde hair climbing up the stairs, struggling to breath and bending against their knees to catch his breath. Another tourist, you suppose, from the looks of their bright hair and camera bag strapped across their shoulder.

They stop for a moment, leaning against the balusters of the long railings, their profile inclined sideways such that the foggy windows don't let you have a good look at their face, but you discern it to be a man. You stare for a while at the broad back, the weather inappropriate attire of a simple brown cashmere sweater with the neck of a white t-shirt visible under the collar unsurprising, since most tourists didn’t often feel the cold of the hills as you did, usually coming from lands hotter and their winters more cruel that the winds of the hills were but a mere breeze of respite after a long day of hiking for them.

Inhaling a long breath, he’s still for a few seconds, eyes closed and turned towards the sky as if soaking in the winter sun, lips parting when he exhales through his mouth, chest heaving at the slight exertion, one strap of his bag slipping off his shoulder before he pulls it back up.

A low rumble echoes and you're momentarily distracted, your eyes turning towards the sky which was starting to turn grey, the clouds slowly rolling in and you knew the evening would get chillier if it indeed rained. The thought makes you shiver, drawing the knitted sweater closer around you, too flimsy for the incoming weather, the familiar sting in your wrist explained.

Placing the salt and pepper shakers beside the napkin stand, you attend to a call of a bottle of soju, pacing towards the refrigerator and pulling out a chilled bottle of the drink before placing it on the table with a shot glass for the customer.

Felix calls from the front, order for table seven ready to be served and you make your way to the serving counter, placing the hot steaming bowls of udon and a set of chopsticks each, swishing it away amongst the loud chatter and gradually louder rumbling of the skies with a practised proficiency, almost missing the ding of the bell that goes off when the front door opens.

You're in a hurry to serve though, not catching the person entering and by the time you've placed the dishes down in front of the hungry teenagers who ordered them, you only catch the same broad back with a mop of brilliant blonde hair walking towards one of the tables and sitting with their back facing towards you. The tourist from before.

The first few drops of rain are fat droplets of water, you’re in the kitchen again, the steam of dimsums and steamed vegetables greeting you as you stir a pot of clear soup, heating it exactly for three minutes and then ladling the slightly frothy and thickened with cornstarch liquid into white bowls, plating them on a large tray, ready to be handed out. With Seungmin, your usual helping hand, on a three day leave, you suddenly found yourself helping with the serving and cooking simultaneously, Felix helping you out as much as he could but he could only do so much, especially when Minho required him in the back, chopping and cooking. Regardless, you appreciated the help and didn’t mind the extra work.

There wasn’t really a concept of the intricacies of cooking like in high end restaurants such as the ones in the city, in fact, all the recipes were a Kim family heirloom, handed down through generations before Minho came and changed up the dynamic in his own way without ever entirely changing the essence of it. The noodles were handmade, the vegetables cut using only a knife, without worrying about the exact thickness of the onion rings – at the end of the day, really, no one cared about all that fancy stuff, satisfied to just be able to enjoy the same old dishes.

Maybe that’s why you stayed, even though you had craved change so longingly. In the end, you only found comfort in what was familiar.

A new order is strung up on the mesh wire. You’re already out the doors with the previous order, the rain now having picked up pace and turned into a steady drizzle. It already smelled like wet earth and freshly mown grass. You have no time to stop and appreciate the scenery though, quite literally hustling now since it was only you on serving duty now.

The sound of chatter increases, the rain falls harder, harsher, the already dim diner turns darker and gloomier, only alive with the constant chattering of people and the sound of cutlery. Felix rings from the front, handing you the order for table number five, a two seater near the window where the blonde haired tourist sat, head turned towards the window and watching the rain as it poured now.

You smile and lift the tray, wincing when your wrist bends a bit too painfully, almost dropping the tray but you’re quick to disregard it as you move with caution now, slightly breathless at the exertion. You might not be complaining but it seemed like you did mind the lack of another helping hand what with the diner being busier on weekends.

“Order for dim sums and udon,” you say, carefully picking up the bowl and pot of steamed dim sums and placing them on the table with a pair of chopsticks, “enjoy your meal.”

You look up at the man, your perfunctory smile for the customers already making its way up to your lips before you abruptly stop short, lips awkwardly turning back down in belated realisation.

You stare at the man with a breath you don’t even realise you’re holding, the cogs in your brain positively churning, and yet you don’t exude the bewilderment on your face, containing it in your chest with pursed lips and a choked up throat.

“Hey (y/n), it’s been a while…” the man smiles, the dimples on his cheeks deepening then vanishing when he realises you don’t return his greeting.

Your claw-like hold around the tray goes limp, almost slipping through your fingers as you stare dumbstruck and quite idiotically. The rain pounds on the roof like a torrent of bullets outside as if to maim, trees swaying under nature's assault, the diner lights up in a yellow glow under the darkening sky.

A jolt of pain surges through your wrist again, your fingers twitching against the serving dish. The noise in the diner heightens, a dull throb in your head like blood rushing up too suddenly, the heat from the kitchen suddenly turned reminiscent even though you had just been in there not even five minutes ago.

A loud gust of wind blows through the cracks of the doors and windows, carrying with it tiny splatters of rain that tickle the back of your neck as it seeps through your loose knitted sweater and settles like a chill in your bones.

It doesn’t bother you.

TWO – ON A SATURDAY AFTERNOON.

It was late by the time Chan woke up.

Rubbing his eyes groggily, he groaned at the light filtering through his windows, covering his face with his hands, his limbs still weighing him down in a relaxed state on his worn out mattress. The time on his phone read way past noon, and with an absentmindedness induced by his just woken up mind, he noted that this was by far the most he had slept in an entire week.

Sitting up on his bed, he scratches his naked chest, recalling getting rid of his shirt sometime in the middle of the night when he kept tossing and turning against his sheets. Lazily stretching out his limbs, he lets out a loud yawn that makes his jaw hurt and eyes tear up.

He has no plans today, except staying at home and studying for semester finals. He wasn’t looking forward to it, his body promptly confirming that doubt when he plopped back down, head hitting the pillow with a dull throb.

His phone buzzed somewhere around him, his hands prodding and searching amongst the scrambled up sheets for the device. A message from Jisung reminding him to cover his afternoon shift at the cafe and thanking him yet again. He groans when he realises he promised Jisung to cover for him today and only had a little more than two hours to get ready and as he had been putting it these days, get his shit together. Two hours was more than enough, it wasn’t like he had much to do except shower, eat and smoke a cigarette.

His thumb scrolled through his planner app, his day cleared off his usual ‘history - finish module 1’ to ‘cafe shift!’, the former shifted to a later part of the day since weekends were mostly flexible for him.

Chan had fallen into a habit of planning his days, which meant every day on his calendar had been planned to the T weeks prior, from exactly every single activity and chore he would carry out the following month so that by the end of it, he had something going on for him. If Friday was grocery shopping, then no matter how tired he was after an extended tutoring session, he’d be there at the 24/7 mart at three AM, slapping watermelons to check their ripeness or grabbing whatever was left of the fresh kale in the isles.

For the majority of his day, he was impelled to study for his finals in a week from now, hunched over his desk cramming his History of Photography III textbook wondering why this was necessary in the first place, while he tried not to be distracted by the imposing anxieties of the world waiting for him after these last few months of the protection of his university.

In his final year of his photography major, he couldn’t deny the increasing apprehension of having to step out from under the protective umbrella over his head, his professor’s chimes of his prodigal achievements deemed smaller and superficial the nearer he approached his graduation. Already politely turned away from three interning companies, his alleged talent was under full threat of being judged and tossed aside as an average to decent performance. He still had a few months, but time either seemed to slow down on some days and yet on others speed past him in a whimsical blur where he would be left reeling under his unproductiveness and the growing pain in his chest of not being enough.

His planning had not all been in vain; he had started off with a fresh mind, keeping up with applying for internships, completing his assignments all the while working at a cafe that had been a godsend in the form of Jisung and his unusual knack for convincing the manager to get another barista even though they weren’t short of staff, and on some days doing photoshoots for weddings and the fashion department for a decent wage. He was adulting, and though his sixteen year old self had looked forward to the prospect of this notion, now he wanted nothing but to go back to those days.

It was this same prospect that had excited him when he received a full scholarship to his university in Seoul. Much of his life, all he could remember was spending it in the hills, where even though the weather was pleasant and the people were kind, his starry eyed dreams as a teenager to leave that small town and move to a metropolitan city had been a fixation – a drive for him to work hard and shoot his shot and get out of that place.

It was nice for a while, he was in his honeymoon phase, quite literally marvelling at the fast paced life in the streets, adrenaline filled lungs breathing in the new life excitedly till his nights bled into days which bled into more nights and not long after, he felt like he was dangling from the hands of a clock that dictated every move he made.

He forgot about his home in the meantime, so caught up in the chaos of everyday life, of the same smell of coffee and baked buns, the same fabric of his brown apron, the same bus to the university campus, the same classes with a professor droning on about visual literacy, the same stick of cigarette dangling between his lips, the same stress of finals every year. Same, same, same. Boring. Mundane. Exhausting.

The stars in his eyes dulled with every passing day, his room often reeked of takeout food, prints upon prints of films lay in a scatter across his desk, none of them seemingly what people were looking for.

Turning the shower cap on, Chan lets himself dwell on his mundanity, at the end of the day he was another faceless person in the crowd because the city was too big and too grand and too dazzling that it hid all other beings in its shadows. It was a big wide hole, a void sucking everybody in. Chan was also lost somewhere in there, lured in by the diamond like gleam at first sight, only to be trapped in a tedious life where he competed against himself every day without knowing what he was competing for. It was like sitting in a test without knowing what he was to be tested on.

The water spurts out ice like in the cold January, making him flinch when it hits him out of nowhere. But he stays rooted under the showerhead, standing his ground till he got used to the temperature and the water gradually turns lukewarm. It reminds him of a memory in the back of his head, of children squealing and a water fight. He urges the images to go away, inexplicably chastised at the mere thought of it. He was no child anymore, whining for a nostalgic summer in the cold months.

The water has always been Chan’s greatest friend.

In fact, he’d go as far as to say that it’s been a sort of companion to him when he was younger. He claims so only because of a vivid recollection of throwing himself in the huge wave with his dad yelling at him before two strong arms picked him up and away from the clutches of the water.

He had whined, missing the way the foamy waves had engulfed him in a topaz hug, the sand under his feet dissolving like air through his toes, the silky curtain leaving him drenched and longing for a taste of more. He whined and whined and whined till at last he was sent to swimming lessons just to shut him up. That, and also, his parents didn’t want their son to drown doing something reckless like that again.

He was comfortable in the water. It held him snuggly in its embrace and when he dunked his head underneath and opened his eyes, he was met with a blue silence that deafened any other noise with its dulcet palms over his ears.

Under the comfort of the transparent blanket, the voices and shapes above his head were garbled and distorted and a part of him liked that. A part of him liked to envision those shapes as blurry blobs speaking a gibberish language. He didn’t have to put a name to them nor try to distinguish them from one another; a childhood fantasy that became a habit and stuck like a leech to him.

It’s a calming fixation on most days now when he doesn’t have to worry about his career. But of course, we will talk about it, because there’s a trouble plaguing everybody in the small nooks and crannies of their life, some people just let it stay there, oblivious to its existence and others have a hard time fighting it off when it seeps into their bones like moist vapour, settling down heavily in the calcium crevices.

Chan likes to believe this process of staying underwater for as long as his lungs permits him to, now heavy with the smoke he’s injected in them, as cathartic. A shit load of help that is when he’s vividly aware of his rotting insides with what he had done to them himself, but regardless, he likes to think that the longer he stays in water, he’s ridding himself of the plague that is always a hair’s breadth away from attaching themselves to his core, except he takes the extra measure of ensuring that he’s inhaling chlorine water if he loses control and spluttering in surprise as if that weren’t his intention from the start.

He wouldn’t like to admit it, but it was his coping mechanism as Jisung had put it so blatantly, because doing so would mean he needed help. He didn’t need help. He just liked to hold his breath underwater when things got slightly inconvenient, but that did not equate to needing help.

He’s out of the shower soon enough, draping on a black hoodie in his cramped one-and-a-half room apartment, the most he could afford under his crippling student loan, strolling towards the tiny refrigerator for breakfast. There’s only some leftover kimchi, a day-old kimbap roll and ripe bananas.

Chan didn’t have a dining table, he didn’t deem it necessary, rather a hassle to fit it into his tiny apartment, especially when he ate all his meals alone, which he could do perfectly well sitting on the ground with his back against his beaten down couch, the plastic takeout containers placed on the low coffee table and his laptop beside it, playing some movie he put on for the sake of a break from his hectic days.

Yet, he wasn’t entirely unhappy with the way things had turned out. His gaze trails up from where he sat on the couch, the wall in front of him bereft of any photo frames but filled with strings of polaroids and sticky notes. The grainy films with smiling people – his friends, sticky notes, crumpled and some torn and taped back with silly doodles and one with a lipstick stain – Chan still smiles, even though the paper jaggedly torn and the number of the girl who hit on him at the bar two years ago tossed out a long time ago, Hyunjin had thought it funny to add the memento to a growing collection of silly, smiling people on the wall. He was happy, he was fine. He had friends, they loved him and he loved them.

But why couldn’t he smile? Why were his muscles so tense and tired? The food in his mouth suddenly feels too hard to chew, his jaws aching and throat burning when he swallows. His eyes suddenly blurry, a thin curtain of moisture veils them. One moment he swallowed the smoke of his cigarette and the very next he gasped for air like a novice beginner.

He was fine, but he sat there with a mouthful of rice and kimchi as the tears rolled down his face in a gentle stream.

THREE – UNFINISHED CHAPTERS

The present would not exist for you had there not been a past.

In hindsight, everything that you did now, whatever you were now, had all been because of who you had been in the past, or rather whatever scraps the past had left you to be sewn.

You wake up rested, but even more exhausted than when you went to bed. Your days sewing a paradoxical blanket whose weight you had gotten used to.

You’ve never paid much attention to how people around you felt, because mostly they were happier than you were with dysfunctional families and it only rooted a sense of deep reproach in you; how were you not allowed to be this happy? How could people smile and pretend the stench of their broken homes didn’t stick on their clothes and seep through their skin, following them around wherever they went? How did people go around you without feeling the continuous need to scratch that itch of jealousy and resentfulness of not having what someone else did?

You realised it was so jarringly easy to disassociate yourself from all that under a pair of chocolate eyes that stared down at you kindly, just a sliver of boyish mischievousness behind them, but the inexplicable yet unavoidable comfort of slowly easing yourself into a sense of warmth that they brought.

It's the smallest of things that lead to a bigger plan premeditated all along and in your case it was the forgotten pencil pouch on your study table at home that fateful Wednesday morning. Of course you scrambled around, rummaging through your bag in the hopes of finding a stray pen in the depths of it, but it was no luck and you had resigned yourself to borrowing one from the person sitting behind you except, he seemed to have beaten you to it.

Three little taps on your shoulder had you turning around to a kind smile and an upraised hand with a pencil between its fingers, motioning at you to take it.

You decided then that you didn’t like this boy.

It was an impulsive decision, yet it was one of those intuitive feelings of having an immaculate dislike to someone who didn’t mind being scoffed for helping the scapegoat of the class, perfectly capable of ignoring the disbelieving stares of his classmates.

Had the sixteen year old you sensed an ulterior motive to his actions? Or had you just reproached the genuinity in his eyes? You had ultimately accepted his offering, the wooden stick with its yellow plastic wrapping around its shaft feeling alien against your fingers, but before long you had learnt to ignore the confused glares directed towards you and pressed the lead against your workbook as you proceeded to work in silence.

You weren’t at the extreme brunt of your class’s ramifications of simply wanting to be on the top of something, but you weren’t exactly the most ingrained in its social gratifications either; it was perhaps your aloofness to it all that made you a part of the outcasts. So far, eating alone had worked out for you, jogging along the track at your own pace had suited you, spending your time in one corner of the library in your free time had been gratifying.

In spite of making it clear that it was what you preferred, you found yourself being plagued by him at all times. Those brown eyes seemed to be looking out for you everywhere you went and the kind smile always curled on his lips when you finally took notice. You didn’t like it, not one bit, starting from the way the chair beside you at lunch was always occupied, there was always a pair of panting lungs when you jogged along the track field and the ever so present sound of pages being flicked in your ears in a spot in the library that was supposed to be only yours.

You didn’t like finding yourself gazing up at a pair of chocolate orbs, drowning you in their depths every time you stared too hard, a beat longer than you were supposed to. An unusual friendship bloomed out of it, one where you reprised your aloofness and Chan, his endearing demeanour of sticking to you like a leech. The much too energetic one and the much too tired one – a dynamic your classmates had never expected, but you weren’t complaining when it acted like a shield before eventually, they started to take less notice of you. Or transitioning to high school made them mature.

Your dislike for him did not arise of its own accord; at first it had been a conscious decision to resent someone who looked happier than you. But even the most stubborn person can be moved by genuinity, and you had never quite turned entirely stone cold stubborn. Perhaps he had saved you in a way, for a brief moment, but he had prevented you from walking down the steps of the dark void.

Where does one even start with Chan? In all fairness, you didn’t think you would ever have to start with him again; he was an unfinished chapter in your book you had long decided to omit. You were sure if you were to ever pen down your autobiography, you would not mention him in the least, treating him like the air around you, unnecessary to bring to notice.

But even air is ever so present, though not required to be brought up in everyday conversations because of its unconsciously silent presence.

He would be there, under countless drafts of your uneventful life, the pages filled with a curly haired, brown-eyed boy whose cheeks blossomed into dimples when he smiled. It was romantic, it was tragic. It was a story you wished would never end, but even so, the gurgling pit in your stomach ever so present served as a reminder that every story has an ending.

The only thing worse than having an ending would be an unfinished book. You hid under the cover of the pristine pages under this reassurance, that Chan would not be an unfulfilled fragment of memory you would jot down in ink like a summer dream, before exactly that happened. Aloofness causes no pain until brought to reality.

The basis of your friendship lay on a strong foundation of your peculiarly clashing personalities, interests and fears.

While Chan was a social butterfly in your school, you were the quiet one simply there for education. Making friends had never been your forte nor was that on the forefront of your mind for as long as you could remember. Till Chan, quite literally, thrust himself into your life.

Yet, quite amusingly, he was the one who made you resent the water less.

There has only been one instance you’ve had a brush with (almost) drowning, but it made you regard the prospect of even stepping near a water body a daunting and scary once.

The first time it was in second grade, the time when people this age are usually immature little brats and would do anything for the sake of entertainment. You had only learnt how to doggy paddle and float in water, but even so the thought of trying to stay afloat in the 6 feet deep end, the idea of not being able to feel the ground with your feet, had daunted you and you pretty much made it through every time by just swimming along the length in quick strokes till you were certain the water didn’t reach above your waist with your feet touched the slippery ground beneath.

It was an unpleasant surprise therefore, to find yourself being pushed into the deeper end out of nowhere, your body falling straight down vertically and your inability to come up to the surface making you take huge gulps of air which in turn only choked you more. It was quite a scene, your limbs flailing and silent screams of help escaping in bubbles through your lips.

You never went near a pool again.

Almost four years later, you feel yourself drowning in a set of familiar eyes you had already once found yourself a victim to ages ago. The familiarity was nostalgic, akin somewhat to finding a lost piece of jewellery years later after you thought you had lost it. And it was so different. It was breathing and suffocating at the same time, it was fear and euphoria in a concoction, it was too much all at once. You liked it. You hated it. You hated liking it. You liked hating it. You… you missed it. You didn’t resent it.

You find yourself getting drawn into those eyes again, perhaps similar to the way you had back then, ever since, but you've never quite been able to place this feeling.

You've both changed drastically, it’s not just physically you’re sure; he looks wiser, more tired and much more mature. You catch a whiff of mint breath fresheners, a scent you had never associated with him but nonetheless so characteristic of him, you couldn’t call it alien or unlikely of him to adopt it.

Yet it's more than that, he is just so... so very beautiful.

You blink.

Once, twice and thrice. He grows shy (or perhaps uncomfortable) under your gaze, flickering his eyes down to the condensing drops of water glazing around his cup of iced tea, beaded diamonds easily destructible with a flick of his fingers. He twists his digits in his lap, resisting the urge to do so.

You wonder what would have happened had you not forgotten your pencil case at home that Wednesday morning.

“Hi Chan, long time…”

The din inside the restaurant feels like white noise, it’s everywhere, sticking to your thin sweater, buzzing through your hair, nipping at your skin.

“Long time indeed…”

You smell like dishwater and oil. Chan smells like breath mints.

“Good to…see you?”

White noise. Humming, buzzing, electrifying. Everywhere; on your skin, on your clothes, in your hair.

“Yeah. Yeah, you too.”

“Enjoy your food then.”

Perunctionary smile, polite bow, retreating steps.

“Um (y/n),” a halt in your steps, you turn around, “we should…hang out some time. Catch up, maybe?”

Expectant eyes, hopeful voice, cautious words.

Do you want to finish this chapter after all?

FOUR – ICED TEA IN A SPOT OF SUN.

Most people don’t understand the amount of theoretical knowledge that goes into a major like photography, it’s not always pointing a lens wherever you want and taking a picture. Anybody can do that, anybody can be good at taking pictures without having to pay for a degree for the same.

Nonetheless, Chan rose beyond the intimidating notion of having to do well. He enjoyed what he did, had a passion for it and therefore he thought he could make it past four years banking only on his passion and talent.

What nobody told him was the world outside was too cold, too frigid – downright ignorant of him and his flame that sputtered out the second he stepped outside. He was a nobody in the huge bowl of success stories chosen at random by the universe.

In fact, who was Chan at this point? What was he?

Another product of the society that force feeds their generation to do well…. No, he had risen above that semantic error, he had worked hard, he had understood every single text and every single parabolic function in his textbooks rather than remembered them by heart before throwing up the texts jammed in his head on his exam papers.

He read every single book like they held the world’s greatest information, studied extra hard, solved equations for the mere fun of it all because he wanted to understand; he wanted to know the working behind them, dismantle them and play with them.

And yet here he was, twenty four and supposedly much wiser than when he was in middle school, and still! He understood nothing, what was he supposed to be doing?

All his life, he had been fed the grains of being a talented individual, sure to do great things, of having such a pleasant personality, someone who would never hurt a fly. Someone loved, adored and precious to not just family and acquaintances but even to fleeting strangers who strayed into his life momentarily.

It’s admittedly easier to hold back on such thoughts as of the moment though, when Chan is busy battling the cobwebs all over his clothes and sneezing into his hands so he doesn’t further unsettle all the dust around him.

Since the day he arrived, he’s been at the gargantuan task of cleaning up his old house in the hills. Granted, his parents had put it out for rent even as a holiday home, they had never hired someone to regularly keep this place in check. Now that their son was back in the hills for a few months at the most, they were more than happy to let him stay sans the rent.

While it wasn’t all that bad, he would have to call in for some minor plumbing work and look at the light out front in the porch since it wouldn’t work and he had almost tripped on his own feet trying to navigate his way to the front door through the dark.

Though only a week had passed, he had not made his presence known explicitly. He knew for a fact that you and Minho had stayed back, he wasn’t sure he was up for a rendezvous with the town people. It wasn’t like him to avoid social gatherings, he had indeed noticed most of the older folks who were still here, but he would much rather have some time to himself before stepping out and announcing his visit.

So he busied himself with cleaning up the house, turning down his mother’s proposal to find a helping hand, insisting that he would rather do it himself. He needed that time for himself, and though a helping hand sounded like a godsend, the ache in his back every night he went to bed almost felt gratifying. The dust in his nose and the grit under his nails did not.

Though a part of him was slightly impatient in wanting to reach out to his old friends, it was also equally anxiety inducing to anticipate your reactions. Where does one even start with such things? Back in the city, it was easy to lose connection for weeks during finals, but there was an unspoken bond of reconnecting right after with a simple text and a coffee date down a few blocks.

Chan hasn’t been here in almost four years. That was four years of lost contact and unknowingly, it was suddenly starting to weigh down on him of how quickly the time had passed by without him even noticing. How do you reconnect with friends you haven’t talked to in so long?

The answer came in the form of his front door ringing on his fourth day while he was in the midst of scrubbing a particularly stubborn spot of grime on the floor.

He opened the door wearing his rubber gloves, sweating and with a frown at the interruption. The moment the stranger makes themself known, Chan is gasping in recognition and grinning almost like his ten year old self had – all too bubbly and pleasantly surprised.

“Minho! Holy shit!”

The boy in question smiles back gleefully, pulling Chan in for a hug disregarding the protest and a faint cry of dirty gloves and clothes.

Chan pulls back and stands at his doorstep, watching almost in awe as Minho takes his shoes off and lifts up a box wrapped in blue cloth, grinning down at the boy who had been a dominant part of his childhood. He still had his catty eyes and pouty smile and was as tall as Chan himself, maybe even taller, definitely a toned physique since when he last saw him in high school. Still reeling under slight shock, he realises he hasn’t stopped ogling at the boy till pointed out rather sassily by him.

“I know I grew up handsome and all, butt geez, are you gonna invite me in or stand here the whole day?”

Letting out a fond scoff, Chan leads him in, still grinning.

Minho sits on the floor where Chan had laid out a jute mattress for the time being, all his furniture subjected to a rough dusting and cleaning out in the backyard where they now sat basking in the sun before he would bring them in later in the evening.

“Sorry for the mess, and uh, lack of furniture,” Chan remarks sheepishly, bringing out a large glass flask of filled honey lemon tea and two glasses, “I’ve been making this place habitable again.”

“No worries, I don’t mind.”

Chan adjusts the table fan to face them, taking a seat beside him in a spot of sunlight streaming in through the huge windows in the front. Though colder in the evenings and at night, Chan lived at the foot of the hill where it was comparatively warmer for most part of the day and his house always received a good spot of the sun during afternoons.

Minho takes a swig from his cup, letting out a sigh of satisfaction when the cold drink hits the right spots and pushes the box towards Chan.

“I brought you some food, guessed you could use some when I heard you’ve been ordering takeout for three days straight.”

Chan eagerly unwraps the bundled knot to find a huge wooden lunch box sitting within.

“Thanks a lot Minho, your mom sent this?”

“Nope, I made it.”

“You did?!”

Minho scoffed at the look of surprise on Chan’s face and he worried he might have offended him in some way, but before he could apologise, Minho cut in.

“Yeah, I went to culinary school and know how to cook now, surprise!”

If anything, all the new information was only slightly overwhelming to Chan who was still getting used to his old friend’s presence again in his childhood home. It was reminiscent and nostalgic.

“That’s great! We should…we should catch up some day, there’s so much I want to talk about.”

“I’m sure there is,” Minho smiles and Chan can place him again in his memories of a sixteen year old nerdy boy with a shy smile and glasses, “I would love to as well. You should come over to Kim’s Diner, it’s on the top of the hill. I work there now.”

“Hey, I remember Kim’s Diner. Wow, you work there now…that’s just…wow.”

Minho laughs again at his friend’s disbelief. It was fascinating how much had changed in the past few years and yet, now that they sat here chatting and catching up, it was easy as always to laugh and smile in each other’s presence.

“So…culinary school huh? I always thought you would either end up majoring in CS or performing arts maybe. Not that it’s not good, I just mean, you know…you were always inclined towards those.”

Minho contemplates the question for a while, leaning back on his palms and stretching his toes in the sunlight. Chan takes the time to gaze at him more; he really has changed so much. His naturally black hair was dyed a dark midnight blue now, falling gracefully across his eyes that were bereft of the glasses he had been so used to. His hands are more callused and the veins visible, posture so much more mature and confident. Lee Minho had grown up so well, and a surge of pride flowed through Chan at the sight. He was happy for the man Minho had become and proud of him even though he didn’t know all that was to know yet. But that was okay, they will catch up gradually. Yet, there was no doubt Chan would only feel more proud of his friend.

“I guess I didn’t see it coming either. It just sort of happened. I think I met Seungmin around that time and he may have hinted that I could make some real use of this talent. The rest is sort of history.”

“Seungmin?” Chan asks, not missing the fond smile on Minho’s face.

“My boyfriend.”

“Huh?!”

“Why, is there a problem?” There was a split second of defensiveness to his tone that is not lost on Chan but he'll be damned if Chan made the impression of being against it.

“I mean! I don’t care if you date boys…I mean I care of course, but like– not as in…it’s not a problem, not that I consider it one! I just meant that you– that…”

Minho cocks a brow at his friend, stifling the laughter bubbling up his chest at the way Chan’s ears grew hot and red and the man basically stuttered his way through the piece of information.

“It’s just…you keep dropping all this stuff out of nowhere, I’m just surprised. In a good way, I mean!”

With that Minho finally laughs, and it’s only then that Chan can really recognise his friend behind all the changes. The soft tinkle of his voice and the uncontained glee as he almost rolls on the floor. Ah yes, this was Lee Minho indeed – his childhood friend.

Chan cracks a smile, joining in the laughter and sipping iced tea late into the afternoon. They talk a lot, from university to life in the city and the hills and old memories and friends and all the new people in their lives but there’s still so much to uncover and so little time.

It was around half past five when Minho finally stretched on his spot on the floor and sat up.

“I should head back now, I need to start preparing for the dinner shift. Besides, Seungmin’s leaving for Seoul tonight, I promised to spend some time with him.”

“Oh?” Chan remarks, sitting up too from where he had been slouching against the wall, “he’s leaving tonight? I was hoping I could meet him.”

“Oh don’t worry, he’ll be back in a few days. He got invited to a teaching camp for extra credits and he intends to go. You know Shinha University in the next town? He works there as a TA.” Minho says with some pride.

Chan nods in acknowledgement, walking Minho to the door where the latter struggles to wear his shoes standing up, eliciting an amused chuckle from him.

“Hyung, you should come to the diner tomorrow. I’ll treat you to a meal and…you can also meet (y/n).”

For the first time since the afternoon, Minho had almost cautiously let your name slip into the conversation. He would like to think it sneaky of him, but the stunned look on Chan’s face almost made him feel guilty for not mentioning your earlier.

Chan on the other hand simply stood and stared at Minho who met his gaze sheepishly.

“(y/n) is…still here?”

Minho nods, shoving his hands inside his pocket.

“Oh. I guess I could drop by sometime this week.”

Biting his lips, Minho contemplates his next words carefully, trying to decipher what the smile on Chan’s face meant and whether he had crossed the line or not. When it seemed like Chan wasn’t upset at him, he ventures to say:

“We all missed you, you know? And…(y/n) had a bit of a hard time after you left,” taking a deep breath, he confesses, “but you’re back now so…so maybe we could all catch up.”

Breathlessly, Chan nods with a clenched jaw. He forces himself to keep smiling though his chest has suddenly started weighing down on him. He knows that Minho probably didn’t mean to keep your being here a secret, but just the minuscule realisation that he had waited until he was leaving made him wonder whether this had been the intent of his visit after all. Regardless, the soft undertone to his words was not lost on him and he was thankful to Minho for letting him know.

“We will Minho, I promise. I just gotta…figure some stuff out and then I can face my past I guess.” A light chuckle follows his statement and Minho smiles, tight lipped.

Chan bids him a good night and stands on his porch, staring at Minho’s back till it grows smaller the further he walks away. The sun was already touching the tip of the mountains by the time he retreated into his house, picking up the empty glasses and placing them in the sink.

Though for a moment Chan wanted to believe he could carry on with a few more chores before night fell, he doesn’t let himself feel too bad when he retires into his room and flops down on the mattress with a thump.

Closing his eyes, he drifts into a slumber, gulping down the thoughts of facing his past and a certain someone who kept plaguing his mind all night.

FIVE – MINT AND NICOTINE.

When Chan had left right after graduating high school, a part of him had also been sad regardless of the exciting prospect of a new life awaiting him.

He had to ultimately leave his friends behind and too many memories that had been a part of him since childhood. He felt like he was trying to bury their existence by leaving and it filled him up with immense guilt at the thought.

Yet, perhaps the most heartbreaking part would have been your muffled sobs against his chest, your hot tears falling into his red scarf and soaked up into a wet patch. He might have shed some tears too, but in his grief stricken mind, he had been too concerned with your sobs that had threatened to wrench his heart and tear it in two.

You had known, even then, that Chan would leave one day; that this sedentary lifestyle would never suit him and there lay your varying personalities. All you knew, and accounted it to therefore, was that he had always been a restless person. Always looking to do something all the time.

Sitting and merely observing like you, was not a glove he fit into. Always volunteering for events, the first one to suggest dragging you around town during your breaks against your protests which were laughed off with a promise of a fun time. You didn’t want a fun time; you wanted to stay home and sleep in till well past noon and spend the remaining of your day reading. Chan wanted nothing more than to be the one to teach you how to swim.

It was a fateful summer. Eventful, mostly for him. While you spluttered in four feet water, he swam past you in obnoxious strokes, splashing your face with more water. It enraged you, and yet you didn’t just up and leave, fumed at him maybe but he took it all in stride.

You wonder why he stuck by you, you used to have such an awful temper, even you wouldn’t want to spend time with yourself.

But Chan was driven by his restlessness, his enigmatic soul if you may. You may have learnt to float and master the front stroke at the cost of many a gleeful and not-so-peaceful days, but watching Chan glide in the pool like a fish, as if it were his natural habitat, was a reward in itself. It was peaceful too, simply sitting with your feet dipped in water while he bobbed up and down in the water gracefully.

Unaffiliating yourself from the constant presence of the boy you had grown used to had been more difficult for you than you had ever thought it to be. You tried not to mind too much when your phone never rang and no new messages popped up either. You were already easing yourself into the realisation that Chan had indeed forgotten about you.

For a fact, it seemed to have been of some consolation when you found out that Minho has lost all contact with Chan too. It definitely hurt significantly less, but you both grieved the distance together.

You supposed, and accepted eventually, that this was part of life. Of friends who would come and go – some would stay and some would leave, the pain will be there, s bit of regret of not being able to protect those relations, but in the end you would have to swallow it like a bitter pill and make do with what you had.

Except, it had been so hard for someone like you. University had not treated you well, if anything it had been like a huge blow across your face. Where once you had certainly been a part of the above average crowd, you had faced the wrath of being placed even below decent performance and gradually let yourself believe that it was all you would sum up to be.

Minho had kept you company, been there when you were feeling at your lowest and held your shoulders shaking with your sobs in his arms when you finally broke down. He had assured you that you were no less, nor would you ever be so, if you decided to give up. People made the wrong choices all the time, there was no need to beat yourself up over it no matter how much you justified yourself for it.

You dropped out and Minho loved you the same. Things were okay; you were okay.

Chan had become a distant part of your memory by then. Relationships were not a part of your life and the more you floundered in an unknown place, the thinner the strings connecting you to people became until they finally snapped and you were left quite alone. You embraced this life as best as you could and did what you could. You worked whatever small jobs you could, learnt a little bit of cooking from Minho and stacked away all your hard work to get into uni in a closet you never opened; what was it worth anyway when it got you nowhere in the end.

You had not planned out your entire life and it had played to your advantage. You didn’t feel as disappointed in things as you would have earlier because you didn’t expect things to follow a predetermined path.

There was so much to say about this matter, but who really wants to wallow in disappointment? There were still moments in your life when you would wake up with a heavy heart and an empty mind. Days like those would be harder to see through, every move you made pulling on your muscles and tugging you down under their heavy weight. You would want to cry and yet find yourself unable to. There would be no meaning to why you did what you did, an urge to find out what would happen if you stopped doing those things and a desire to sleep for a long, long time.

Yet you would sit at night in an empty house, curled into yourself and find that you were incapable of doing anything. You would wait for the next day to arrive and the clock would tick ever so painstakingly slow.

So when you found yourself facing the blonde boy, tall and broad with kind brown eyes you had once drowned in looking at you, the ghost of the past you didn’t even realise had lurked within you was suddenly coming back to life without a warning, that it left you breathless.

You felt your head being dunk underwater, cold and dark liquid enveloping you as you struggled to resurface and gulp the air greedily.

Minho had dragged you, against your protests after a long and tiring day, to the community hall where a meeting was supposedly about to start promptly at eight in the evening.

So far, most of the townsfolk that had arrived had managed to snag the front seats, leaving you, Minho and Felix to grab ones in the middle. They were good spots, hidden behind people so Minho could make fun of whatever new agenda was going to be discussed and not get caught snickering. You don’t understand why Minho forces himself to sit in these meetings when he doesn’t even pay attention, but you’ve found it’s his way of relaxing after a long day and part of the reason is because he gets to hang around town before finally heading home.

Initially it had been because of Seungmin, their cat and mouse bickering, quite the talk of the town, and under a very teasing confrontation from you and Felix, Minho had given away his little growing crush on the boy he had referred to as his ‘arch enemy’.

The three of you wait while chatting, Minho texting on his phone and you can only assume it’s Seungmin, waiting for the town head to arrive along with everybody else. He seemed to be running late, because soon the large hall filled up with people until there’s practically no more seats left.

It has been two days since you last saw Chan.

Well, you’ve seen him since then, but never gone up to him or started a conversation. You had almost bumped into him at the grocery store, but quickly retreated in your steps to avoid him. There had suddenly been too much Chan in your life, even though you had only seen him a couple of times since he last showed up at your workplace, and it had left you feeling confused and weird at having his familiar face pop up in a place as mundane and everyday as your local grocery store.

Quite frankly, you wouldn’t like to ponder upon the reason for doing so because you already know it arises from a place of pettiness and of an urge to make him taste his own medicine. Minho though, as you had gathered from the boy himself, had met up with Chan on more than one occasion since he last came to the diner. Though he had not raised any questions on your part since you largely avoided talking to him about Chan, he had been unable to keep you out of his conversations with the said boy since he had been so keen on asking about you every time they met.

Chan’s arrival back to your hometown had been weighing on your mind since forever. To you, his existence had become a strongly pronounced obstruction in your day to day life. You worried he would pop into the diner again and you almost anticipated it, you had nearly given in to Minho’s invitation to go down to his house.

Oh god, his house. You had more than enough memories of his house stored away in your mind, it almost made you sick with its overwhelming presence made known to you.

The seat next to you suddenly creaks when someone sits on it, your attention turning towards the source and you find yourself staring directly at the source of your worrying mind.

Chan smiles at you softly and you almost choke on your spit when you notice his newly dyed black hair and the small silver hoops in his ears.

“Hey (y/n), long time,” he offers you a small wave before greeting Minho.

“It’s been two days,” you resist the urge to roll your eyes, shifting ever so slightly towards Minho who was seated beside you. Chan notices, masking the sudden heaviness in his heart with a pursed smile, but doesn’t point it out.

“Chan, this is Felix, another helping hand at the diner and my junior at culinary school.” Minho speaks up, introducing Chan to the younger boy who smiles at him brightly while you sit stone faced in the middle of it all.

“Hey, nice to meet you, I’m–”

“Bang Chan, I know,” Felix smiles warmly and you can attest to the fact that Chan likes him immediately by the way he grins and his dimples appear, “I’ve heard a lot about you from Minho. He couldn’t stop talking about you, you’re like an idol to him or something.”

Minho turns red while Chan laughs shyly, the former smacking Felix on the head who retorts with an “you do!” and sticks out his tongue.

While Minho and Felix bicker, Chan smiles and turns his attention to you, about to say something when the huge doors to the hall suddenly opens and the town head walks in to loud protests from the people complaining about being kept waiting for too long. You glance at your wristwatch and sure enough, it was twenty minutes past eight.

You try your best to ignore the presence by your side and listen to the man talk – something about the annual spring festival still three months away – but it’s admittedly hard to do so when Minho and Felix keep snickering beside you like five year olds at a church and Chan’s cologne and the nicotine disguised under breath mints ever too present in your nose. You want to ingrain this scent in your memory but at the same time hold your breath till you choke and die.

Chan suddenly leans towards you, his lips close to your ears and whispers.

“Are town meetings usually this long?”

You nod at him and pretend to listen attentively to people now raising questions and concerns like they did in every meeting to discuss whether the town needed any new facilities or not.

Chan was a lot of things; he had been a lot of things. To you it was the strong smell of chlorine and the cheap aftershave he used to disguise the smell of the bleach. It was a mild odour of sweat mingling with those two scents and the freshly washed laundry detergent on his clothes. And if he leaned a bit closer, just to annoy you or tease you, then the slightest whiff of his papaya shampoo.

Realising now that he didn’t smell anything like that anymore, it makes you shudder at the revelation of the mint concealing the nicotine. Change must have been so drastic for him, that you could no longer find a place in your memories where he fit. He was gone, the youth from him was gone, long ditched in a puddle of illusion where things were still bright and days were pleasantly sunny and the world smelt like fresh rain on earth. The boyish glimmer was lost from his eyes, sucked deep by the void behind them.

Your own body itches under your clothes, the smell of soap and oil so deeply ingrained in your skin after your entire day at the diner, you’re almost certain he can smell it too.

However awkward you felt in your own skin right now, it was nothing compared to the obvious attempt Chan was making at conversing with you and your blatant refusal to offer him that, yet, it didn’t seem like Chan had any intentions of dropping the opportunity of a conversation.

“Are you free tonight? Minho said we might get dinner together after this.”

His voice is still hushed, but you cannot ignore the shiver that passes down your spine every time he leans in, clenching your fingers against the cold metal of your chair.

“Maybe.”

Twiddling his thumbs again, he chews on his bottom lip with a frown on his face. You miss his disappointment since you’ve made it your life’s mission to give your unfiltered attention to the town meeting, something you never thought you would do, but well, people change.

You are graced the chance to drop your hushed conversation when people start chattering around you and with a start you realise that the town meeting is over, everybody scraping their chairs against the floors and leaving in groups while some hang back to talk.

Felix is, thankfully, more than interested in your old friend and swoops down on the opportunity to strike up a conversation with Chan the minute he’s up from his chair; something that Chan obliges him with a lingering gaze that flits towards you. You step to the side with Minho, finding Felix more than capable to keep up a distinct string of chatter all by himself, sharing smiles with Minho at the sight.

“Did you tell Chan about the meeting?” you ask, pulling the scarf around your neck against the cold wind that blows in through the open doors. More and more people start leaving till it’s only a bunch of you who are left behind.

“Yeah, figured he could get out more and re-familiarise with the town.”

You nod at his explanation.

While Chan and Felix are still talking, your phone buzzes in your jeans pocket. Digging around to grab it, you let out a tired sigh at the caller ID. Minho peers at your screen and offers you a tight lipped smile, patting your back sympathetically. You excuse yourself and step out into the cold night to receive it.

“Mom, hi.”

“Hello (y/n), have you had your dinner yet?”

“Not yet, I was at a town meeting.”

“Again? Why do you even waste your time going to those?”

You feel it coming, this is where the conversation changes. And you’re not even four pleasantries in. You resist the urge to sigh yet again.

“Why did you call mom?” you know why she’s called.

“The semester applications are in three months, have you been studying?”

“Mom, I told you, I’m still thinking about it.”

“What in the world is there to think about? You’ve had enough time and I’ve wasted enough money on your hobbies already. Sit for the entrance exams and get into business school. At least get a degree!”

“I’ll think about it.”

“(y/n) please don’t start again, how many times do I have to repeat myself? Do you not care about your education? If you keep thinking now, when are you going to actually do something?”

“How many times do I have to repeat myself…I have no intentions of getting into business school mom, that’s just not for me.”

“Oh, so this is what you’ve been intending since the beginning then? Business school is not for you, you can’t even stick to…was it worth it? Was choosing your hobby as a career path worth it at all (y/n)? What exactly is it that you can do then? Waste your time and money? How are you going to get a job, how will you pay for yourself?”

“I’m doing it just fine right now, if you haven’t already noticed.”

The same shit, over and over again. You really can’t tell at what point of the day you would have to attend to these calls and have your entire day or night ruined.

“I’m tired of fighting with you over this (y/n),” your mom sighs on the other end, “do whatever you want.”

One would think that’s how you find yourself relieved of this matter, but that is exactly how it ends every time before you get another call like a weekly reminder that you are, in fact, not to forget.

“Good night,” you say and promptly cut the call. You’ll have to hear about this the next time she calls.

Taking in a long breath, you shut your eyes when you feel the prick of tears behind them. You could simply pay no heed to this and let it go, but you know you will overthink and you will definitely let it ruin your mood. The heaviness embedded in your muscles starts creeping up again and you find yourself, for a moment, panicking that your limbs will give away on the streets and you’ll fall down.

You hear the faint voices of your friends approaching and sniffle, blinking your eyes rapidly so the tears don’t fall. Instead, you feel the familiar weight like a pot of water quickly filling up, slithering its way into your head, a headache that will have settled by the time you reach home tonight.

Minho is the first to come stand beside you, gently pressing his arm against yours in a silent comfort. You wish he wouldn’t; it only makes it harder not to cry.

“We’re getting dinner down at Condiments, what do you say (y/n)?” Felix’s cheerfulness is lost on you. All you can focus on is the heaviness in your heart and your pounding head.

“Umm…I think I will skip.” you reply, causing Chan to look at you in concern. To be fair, you might be good at hiding your feelings, yet sometimes you cannot help but let it affect your mood. Right now, you know by the worried glance from Felix, that you were most certainly not doing a good job at concealing your distress.

“Everything okay?” Felix immediately moves to you, looping his arms through yours with a concerned pout.

You smile assuringly, not having it in you to let on that you were most certainly not fine right now.

“I’m okay Lix, just…got a headache and I’m tired. I’ll walk back home, y’all go get some dinner. I’ll join next time, I promise.”

“Okay,” Felix is convinced, you know that. In fact, you don’t feel half as bad for lying since you practically were telling the truth. You let him hug you before waving to Minho and nodding towards Chan before you start walking uphill.

“Wait,” Chan calls out from behind, making you turn in your tracks. Felix and Minho watch curiously as he approaches you.

“Let me walk you home? It’s late and–”

“Thanks Chan, but it’s alright, I walk home alone all the time, there’s nothing to be worried about. Besides, I live uphill and you live down here. It will only waste your time going up and down.”

“But–”

“I will be alright,” at this point you’re merely trying to convince yourself of the same, “I’ll see you…when I see you.”

Chan for sure is not convinced as easily as Felix. He may have missed four years being absent from your life, but he knows the signs of dismay on your face when he sees it even now. You may very well be tired and have a headache, but it still concerned him to see your gloomy expression. If you’re actively trying to avoid him right now though…

“Are you really fine? You don’t need any medicines for your headache? If it’s too bad then I can–”

“Chan,” you are firmer this time, smiling at him with a pained expression and a frustration poorly disguised under your breaking resolve of fighting your tears, “I am fine.”

Chan stands his ground for a moment in silence, inadvertently upset and slightly hurt that you were doing your best to push him away. He knows though, he cannot fight you on this; he has no rights. It’s only when Minho clutches his arm from behind does he relent.

“It’s alright Chan, (y/n)’s used to walking home alone and it’s not particularly dangerous either.”

You shoot Minho a thankful look.

“Okay,” Chan lets go, “you will let us know when you’ve reached home, right?”

“I will text Minho,” you promise, hurriedly agreeing to do whatever so long as you can finally leave.

“Okay then…get home safe.”

“I will. Good night guys, enjoy your dinner!”

A chorus of good-nights ring back and without sparing Chan another look, you walk away, alone with your thoughts and your drumming head.

SIX – PINE TEA, BURNT TONGUE.

Coming back to the hills has so far proven to be a good decision, as far as a healthy lifestyle goes.

Chan often finds himself waking up with the sun, even without an alarm, he would be up and about by at least eight in the morning and compared to sleeping in till after noon or not getting enough sleep at all, he preferred this. But on days that he would sleep way past noon, he wouldn’t wake up feeling anxious about the lost time at all.

He has also finally managed to clean the house, the strain in his muscles lasting for a few days for which he covered himself in pain relief patches, but otherwise it has been a fruitful journey. All that remains now is to set up his equipment in his old room. Though he’s out here on a break from life itself, he can never truly give up on the joys of his hobby-turned-career path. He almost never steps out without his camera when he’s wandering in the town, capturing the most mundane things and preserving the beauty in either his digital camera or in 8 mm films.

In the little time he had been back, Chan had taken over a hundred photos already. He didn’t believe in capturing everything visible to the eyes like some sort of maniac, but he also did not have anything against preserving memories.

It’s how he lived – through moments frozen in time, perhaps the only way he saw his little reign over life – by capturing them in films. It was his own solace, his peace of mind; something he could always come back to no matter how much the world around him changed. He would always have that piece of memory only he saw, something that would most likely change ten years down the line and he would look back on an old piece of glossy paper and be reminded of the world he had seen all those years ago.

This particular morning is not the most refreshing though. Last night had been a fun time indeed with Minho and Felix, catching up and recounting stories and exchanging more with Felix as a new friend. As promised, you had texted Minho when you reached home and that was all he had heard from and of you last night.

You had not ceased to plague his mind though, even long after he had bid goodnight to the others and walked back home. He had stayed up quite a while, slouched against his pillows, swiping through his collection of photos in the dark, the screen illuminating his face.

He had worried too for most part that the reason you left last night could have been him, because though you might have told him you weren’t avoiding him, the incident from his grocery store run kept replaying in his mind on loop.

He had definitely caught you rushing away from him but had decidedly not confronted you about it. What if you really were uncomfortable around him? If so, then he had promised not to bother you again, except, he just wasn’t sure whether he would be able to stay away from you much longer.

He’s reminded of the first time you met after so much time had passed, that day in the diner. You were wearing a thin sweater and your hair was in a mess like you were harried, serving and helping out in the kitchen. You had not cracked a smile then at first, staring at him wide eyed, and his first thought had been of how much you had grown up. How beautiful you had suddenly become.

Your cheeks were flushed with all the rushing about, strings of hair framing your naked face and he could tell that age and maturity had favoured you in all the right places even through your winter attire.

The thought makes him burn, his mind momentarily distracted at the very sight of you imprinted in his memory like all the pictures he captures. It’s not until late that sleep finally takes over him, but it’s a restless slumber that he tosses and turns through.

In the morning he’s met with a tourmaline sky, splotches of tissue like clouds splattered across as the sunlight filters through his windows. It was sunny and bright today and Chan squinted up at the sky through his window, rubbing his tired eyes as he lay basking in the January warmth that spread through his bones, toes curling up underneath the sheets.

Outside he hears the birds chirp in contrast to the constant honking and cars like in the city, and the air is filled with the sweet scent of pine and cyprus. Inhaling deeply, Chan feels like he must be in heaven.

His morning routine is unrushed and he takes his sweet time preparing breakfast and eating out on the verandah under the January sun above the hills, the rays of light bespeckling his skin in warm patches that danced with the trees in the gentle wind. It was a quiet meal and Chan was, for once, not planning his entire day out in his mind, though he did have a rough idea of how he might want to spend his day.

His phone pings with a message; it’s from his mom.

mom: morning son, don’t know if you’re up already, but this is your reminder to have a good day

The smile on Chan’s face is instant, he can’t help the little leap of joy in his chest at the sight.

mom: this is also a reminder to check your smoking habit

A small chuckle passes through his lips before he replies.

me: morning, your favourite son is already up. and he says he’s trying really hard to keep his smoking in check

mom: tell my favourite son (his words) to try harder

me: this is all dad’s fault you know?

mom: your mom is giving me the stink eye now, why did you have to say that to her - dad

Chan laughs in amusement, knowing that the last message was sent in good spirits and as a joke.

me: morning dad, hope you’re treating mom well!

mom: he is darling, don’t you worry about us. are you having a good time there?

me: yeah, it’s all pretty nostalgic and stuff, but i enjoy every day here. even went to a town meeting last night and grabbed dinner with minho. you remember him don’t you?

mom: town meetings! it’s been a while since i’ve heard of those. of course i remember minho…he was a darling boy back then. how is he?

me: he’s good, it was fun catching up. i also met (y/n)

mom: oh. how are they? last we heard before moving out was their father passing away…must have been hard all this time.

Chan blinks down at the message in surprise. He did not know that.

me: their dad passed away??

mom: yes, didn’t you know? it was cancer, i believe i might have mentioned this before.

Sucking in a breath, Chan finds it incredibly hard to process this piece of information. It was like a sudden dump of emotions and his stomach curled at the revelation. His mom definitely did not mention this, there was no way he would have filtered this kind of news away like it was nothing.

me: i don’t think you did, i would have remembered…

mom: oh channie…i’m sorry, we were probably too busy with all the packing and moving back then, we only heard in passing.

me: it’s okay, not your fault

mom: do drop by at (y/n)'s and give my best regards. let me know how they’re doing okay?

me: will do mom

After a few more messages about his day, he bids his mom goodbye and tosses the phone aside. Shutting his eyes, the very first person to come to his mind is you, a resounding pang in his chest when he’s reminded of your father too. He had never spent much time around your family, in fact, you had always been the one to come over at his place majority of the time and he had only met your parents once in a while during annual school meets or sometimes during the town festivals as a child. As it so happened, your parents were never around much, both busy with work as you often told him. Still, he remembered your father, and he had always seemed a good, kind man.

Why had Minho not mentioned anything to him about this? Sure, you did creep into the conversation snow and then, but even so, every time Chan brought you up, it’s like Minho tried to safeguard you and let on as little as possible.

Nibbling his lips, he sits and ponders whether he should ask Minho about this, even retrieving his phone to text him about it but in the end concedes. Maybe Minho had not deemed it his place to tell him.

Deciding that he would listen to his mom and drop by at your place, from what he knows you still live in your old home, he spends the next hour or so doing small chores like washing the dishes and getting ready for the morning.

He’s out of the house not long after, showered and refreshed and surprisingly ready to face the day. With his camera bag slung across his shoulder, he makes his way on foot around town, exploring some of the older shops lining the hillsides under tarpaulin covers, fresh steamed bread and hot noodle shops already open and catering to people.

Chan doesn’t stop much, only lingering enough to familiarise himself with the market place which was always seemingly buzzing with people and cheerful chatter. He makes his way up the hill, pulling up his hoodie to cover his head as he walks under the gradually thickening canopies of trees above him. The road leading up becomes narrower and fewer people lurk about, only some tourists who stop by the road to take photos.

Chan doesn’t use his camera till he’s way up higher, simply walking through the pine scent till he reaches a small hilltop that overlooks the town below. Colourful buildings nestled between sloping lush greenery, the roads snaked around the town in smooth curves. He can spot the community centre and the restaurant he had dinner last night at. The market place is the most lively place at this time of the day, strings of flags strung across the semi marketplace flapping in the wind. It was like a small community tucked away from the rest of the world. At one further end of the town, a tall blue tower rises up and immediately Chan is hit by nostalgic memories.

Almost instinctively, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a packet of cigarettes, lighting one up and exhaling deeply. He reminds himself that 9 in the morning is too early for this, but the optimist that he is, he’s also inclined to wave it off with ‘it’s midnight somewhere’.

He turns sentimental the more he looks at the lone tower visible behind a cluster of hills. It’s his high school and upon seeing it after so many years, he almost missed going to that place.

His hometown was not such a huge place afterall. Most people knew each other here after spending so many years in the same place, but there was also the never changing map of this tiny town that losing yourself here was practically an impossible task even if you want to do it on purpose. Everything was etched out like permanent ink, Chan still remembered all the prime locations of his childhood here like the back of his hand.

In a way it might have been the reason he left too, an aspect of waking up to the same thing every day had been his drive to leave this place but the city had been no different either. Chan was slowly starting to realise that now.

He takes in another puff of the stick, now dangling between his lips before dropping it on the ground and squashing it with his feet, guiltily reminded of his mother’s text this morning and his promise to her.

Shoving his hands inside the pocket of his hoodie he strolls aimlessly along without a destination in mind. He’s aware that only a few shops and restaurants dot the top of the mountain, he’s vaguely aware that there’s a few more clearings along the way and your house was somewhere there. He does remember you having to walk a long way down to school and complain about it often to him.

Soon enough, he reaches a smaller path branching out from the main road to the side. He takes the rocky path, edges lined with wild grass and strewn with stray pine cones, a flatter piece of land leading off to a bunch of bakeries and small cafes.

It's almost like a small chunk of hill had been cut off to create an alcove, small vintage shops huddled together and the scent of fresh bread and ground coffee wafting in the air like a sweet aroma.

Chan has had his fair share of cafes working in one himself and though he had been sick of the smell of coffee for a while, here, out in the open and so far away from the city, he almost didn't mind it.

He stops for a moment and takes a few pictures, the colourful vibrant roofs of red, blue and yellows catching his eyes as he squats to capture this seemingly fairytale come to life picture. Everything in the mountains was just automatically magical.

He's drawn to a tiny little cafe with a sloping blue roof tucked away further back against a huge rocky wall.

The wind chime tinkles against the gentle breeze above Chan who peers inside from the big window in the front with blue frames. The cafe is almost empty except for a few people scattered about on huge wicker seats.

There's no bell to notify you when a customer enters, just the loud creak of the door, which can be a bit alarming as you've often mentioned to the cafe owner.

You're at the counter scrolling through your phone when you hear the door opening, immediately shutting your phone and smiling at the customer.

"Welcome, how can we help–"

Oh. It's Chan.

"–you?"

Chan seems to be equally as surprised to see you here; he thought you worked at the diner. Nevertheless, he returns your smile.

"Hi," he greets, approaching you at the counter, "I didn't know you worked here."

"I don't, just here to cover for a friend."

You do sometimes pick up shifts here when you’re free of your duties at the diner. It’s more of a casual workplace for some extra cash and since it’s never too crowded, the employment criteria is not too rigid. You help out once in a while when the tourist season is at its peak and extra hands are required. As it so happened, January usually serves as a gradual ease into the rush, with a couple dozen or so customers always coming in for a warm drink and a cozy place to relax and read a book. By March, the tourist count increases and that is when you find yourself financially more stable. You are therefore quite dependent on the tourism sector. Right now, you're covering for Seungmin who won't be back till next week, and you could definitely make do with the cash.

"What can I get you?" you ask, waiting for Chan to look over at the menu and decide. While he examines the laminated display on the counter, you watch him quietly nibbling on his lips, the rings in his ears dangling gently when he moves, the smell of smoke nestling under your nose again. You dislike it but you can't bring yourself to look away until he turns to you with a sheepish smile and wide eyes.

"Umm…it's a bit hard to decide," he chuckles and the noise settles in your bones like a warm shiver, "there's too many to choose from. What would you recommend?"

Startled by the sudden question, you stare at him sceptically as if he had just asked you to do something unreasonable.

"You want me to recommend something to you?" You point at yourself as if to make sure for certain.

Chan nods with a smile, leaning against the counter for your opinion.

Licking your lips, you scan through the menu even though you remember everything by heart. It's just that, you can't bring yourself to meet his stare.

"Do you want a hot drink or something cold?" You question, glancing at him briefly to find him still staring. God, you hope you're not flushed.

"I would prefer something warm, but wouldn't mind if you recommend a cold drink either."

His smile again, the stupid upturn of his full lips and the tiny dimple on his cheek. You dislike it so very much. You don't even dare to meet his eyes, the brown in your memory too haunting even to this day.

"Then I'd recommend the pine tea. It's aromatic and light. I could get you some mushroom bread rolls with those or do you still not like mushrooms–"

You halt in your speech, eyes flickering up to his like a deer caught in headlights. Upon seeing him blinking back, you immediately start spluttering out an apology.

"S-sorry, I don't know why I said that…I shouldn't have assumed–"

"It's okay," Chan cuts you off hastily with a wave of his hand, "you didn't assume anything, it's fine!"

"Oh…oh, okay. I…so do you want to get something with your tea or just…?"

You trail off in embarrassment, every second a new word that falls off your lips feels like a shovel digging at your own grave. You should probably shut up right about now.

"Oh…oh yeah. Umm, anything without mushrooms," he claims, rubbing his neck with a nervous chuckle, "what about the orange loaf cake? Sounds delicious."

"Orange loaf cake, right. Good choice, it'll go well with the pine tea. I'll get you your order then, why don't you take a seat," you gesture at one of the empty tables by the window.

Chan obliges, nodding his head and taking a seat while you scurry into the pantry to get the tea leaves.

Inside the dark cool room, you take a moment to let out a breath you hadn't even realised you were holding in, leaning your head against one of the shelves, the cool wood like a comforting balm across your skin.

You just keep making a fool out of yourself in front of him. He's just an old friend, why does he affect you this way?!

The tea Chan receives is instantly aromatic, the gentle scent of pine and a savoury pinch of cinnamon in it making him look forward to the drink.

You place the steaming cup in front of him along with a plate of sliced bread, slightly warm and golden in texture. Chan feels his mouth watering though it hasn't been that long since he had had his breakfast.

"Umm," you hesitate, glancing at the box of cigarettes on the table, "there is a no smoking policy in here so…"

For all you know you could have said that just because you hated the sight of it, he could have very well just placed them on the table without any intention to smoke them inside. Your brain really wasn't in sync with your mouth today and you were regretting every second of it.

Chan follows your eyes, immediately flushing and pocketing the box, crumpling it almost as he hastily shoved it into his pocket.

"Of course, I don't smoke a lot. I mean, I do, but I won't right now. I work at a cafe too, I mean I used to, of course I know there's a no smoking policy–"

Chan doesn't finish his statement, feeling a rush of heat along his neck as if he had just been called out. He vividly remembers the red text of caution stating cigarettes causing cancer and nearly facepalms.

"Okay well, glad you know," nice save, you're doing a great job, "enjoy your meal then. Let me know if you want anything else."

With that you're gone by his side back to your place behind the counter where you immediately bury your nose into your phone, willing the heat in your cheeks to go away without fanning yourself.

Chan takes a large sip of his tea in a hurry to hide his face when you glance up at him and your eyes meet, scalding his tongue in the process and it takes him his all to not curse out loud. He stuffs a large piece of bread in his mouth to soothe the burn.

What an absolute mess.

SEVEN – IT MUST BE NICE.

Seungmin had texted you at night, a flurry of apologies and making up to you with dinner when he came back, and he was so flustered, he had completely forgotten to mention the reason for this impromptu travesty.

When you had pointed it out, it had only prompted another tirade of apologies and eventually you had ended up calling him. You were in your bed, showered and with an ache in your limbs that came with a long satisfied day.

“(y/n)? Oh my god, I’m so sorry–”

“Seungmin, stop apologising,” you had smiled, shuffling in your bed under the blankets, “how’ve you been?”

“I-what? Oh, yeah, I’ve been good.” he had sounded genuinely surprised at your inquiry, as if he hadn’t even thought you would ever ask him something like that.

“That’s good, how’s your workshop?”

“It’s fine, doable certainly. There’s a lot of interesting things, and I’m hoping to sign up for a few more non-credit courses because they honestly sound really amazing and I think I might be able to squeeze in a few after my credit classes.”

That was Seungmin for you, always the one who loved to learn and cram his breaks with a truckload of workshops and seminars, citing that he didn’t have enough time to attend them during the academic year, what with his classes at university. Your group was proud of him and all his achievements, but you were also concerned with his health.

He had just completed his teaching degree and was working as a TA in Shinha University, which was an hour away by train. You both had initially bonded over your shared interest in books and when you had told him that you had got into university for your bachelors in journalism, he had instantly clicked with you, having pursued journalism as well and then getting his B.Ed.

Seungmin had never been invasive of your reason to drop out, always keeping a polite flow in your conversations without sounding demeaning.

“Wow,” you remark, smiling into your pillow at his ramble, “does Minho know about this?”

“Does Minho know that I’m sleeping three hours a day?

“Jesus, Seungmin!”

“I know,” he groans on the other end of the line, “I couldn’t help it. Please don’t tell Minho, he will go batshit crazy.”

You can already imagine Minho getting upset, except, when it came to Seungmin and his ridiculously well planned but jam packed academic calendar, Minho tended to channel all that anger into making extra efforts at taking care of the younger boy. They would call this their freeze-zone, which lasted about eleven days at maximum – Minho would be all quiet and calm, not necessarily ignoring Seungmin, but neither did he acknowledge his lifestyle in high regards. Seungmin would also be quiet, but follow Minho around like an apologetic puppy, trying to make amends.

It would always end with a hug. And if you were unfortunate enough, then you would catch them in the kitchen after closing hours in the diner, making out heatedly. Then you would want to bleach your eyes.

Regardless, and you really had no other way to describe what they had as cute. They had a healthy relationship, as far as you knew, with their ups and downs, but they were tight. And it made you happy to watch them be happy with each other.

“Okay, I won’t tell him, but he’s gonna find out anyway,” you sigh.

“I know, I’ll be the one to tell him anyway. It’s like he’s got this sixth sense when it comes to these things you know, until last year I was convinced either you or Felix were tattling to him.”

“Hey, have some faith in us!”

“I do now.”

You can hear the smile in his voice and chuckle.

“So, what is it you were apologising to me about?”

“Oh. Right, so I've been working under Professor Lee for my research paper for a while."

You nod even though he can't see you, listening carefully.

"He’s been looking for an assistant for the new semester, and…please don’t get mad okay, but I may have told him about you. I told him you were pursuing your journalism bachelors…”

Sucking in a breath, you groan at the insinuation.

“Seungmin–”

“I swear I didn’t put you down or anything, I didn’t even tell him the reason you dropped out. It’s just…I thought you might want to check out the work at least.”

“That’s…that’s kind of Seungmin, it really is. I’m just not sure if I’m qualified enough.”

“You really think so? You almost completed your degree (y/n), you were going to graduate.”

“You know, you’re starting to sound awfully like my mom,” you mumble.

“(y/n)...you know I didn’t mean any harm.”

“I know Seungmin, I know…”

Which is why this was even more difficult for you. Seungmin’s been of immense help to you ever since you met. He’s got you to write for an anonymous column in their University paper a couple of times and though you had agreed, you had rejected the offer to become a regular in their columns. As much as Minho had been adamantly loyal to your decision of dropping out, Seungmin had his own gentle way of nudging you to pick up your pen again.

“What’s wrong (y/n), I know you want more than what you have right now.”

You detest the bitterness of his truth, the way it swirls around you in green coils and makes you sick. You do want more, but in the crevices of your bones laden heavy with the lead of your self proclaimed worth, you know you shouldn’t. You can’t want more, not when there’s better people out there.

“Seungmin I…I don't know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, just sleep on it yeah? But if you agree, and no pressure there, then let me know and I’ll set you up a meeting with the professor. Okay?”

“Okay…” you reluctantly agree. You’ll sleep on it for sure, but you lack the assurance of a positive response. Maybe Seungmin senses it too, apologising again.

“Don’t apologise really, I should be thankful that you’re looking out for me.”

“Of course I am, that’s what friends do.”

Your head weighs down on the soft pillows, tears stinging your eyes in the darkness of your room.

“Yeah. Thanks a lot Seungmin, I appreciate it. I really do.”

You hope the way you force out your words is enough to let him know exactly how much this means to you even though you can never put it in enough words.

“Anytime (y/n). Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight.”

Guilt fills you up almost instantaneously when the call drops with a click from the other side. Looking back on the conversation, you detested how quickly you had compared Seungmin to your mother when all he had done was look out for you. Confusion and frustration diffuses through your guilt right after; were you a hypocrite because you felt guilty when it was a friend who looked after you and not when your mother did? Wasn’t she also just looking out for you?

You don’t find it in yourself to remove the phone from your ear, fingers loosening their hold against the device till the screen blacks out.

Left alone with your thoughts, you find the sleep behind your eyes slowly disappearing, replaced with a thin layer of tears that fail to escape, instead settling behind like heavy moss, fogging your mind and senses.

The bed feels uncomfortable, but the weight of your limbs tie you down in your place, unmoving against your will and you find the hands of the clock on your bed stand ticking too loudly. Moving your head, your gaze flits across the window on the wall, the tall peaks of hills visible, glowing with the faintest hint of warm orange from the town lights below.

Slowly, as if it ached your very soul to move, you rustle out of your blanket, dragging it along as you trod towards the balcony, curling your toes when your bare feet touch the cold marble flooring. Your flat was small but the balcony was spacious, often your haven on summer days but in the cold January, it leaves you numb. It's admittedly a good feeling, the urge to keep yourself warm by rubbing your arms and pulling the b;anket closer around your frame overtaking the need to think.

The family living below you is still awake, their apartment rings out in cheerful laughter. You can see the shadows moving on the grassy garden illuminated by the light from their windows. They dance like flames in the wind, flitting about aimlessly and chaotically, in tune to the kids yelling and playing around.

It must be nice, you think. You credit the sentiment to their laughter, but you’re unsure of whether there’s a longing behind that thought that popped up without a warning in your mind. What must be nice?

If you lean against the railings, you can catch a small portion of the town which was not hidden being a large clump of trees, twinkling under a starry sky. You hear the distant hubbub of the liveliness if you hold your breath and strain your ears. It must be nice, the voice in your head goes again.

You want to cry. What must be nice?

Why were you here on a Tuesday night, sitting on your cold marble floors wanting to simultaneously scream and cry and throw yourself off a cliff? Why did it feel so insanely morbid to feel so numb and feel so many things at once? Why would your limbs not move and tears not fall no matter how much you willed them to?

Why does this house not feel like a home? What were you so homesick for, a place that did not exist or a place that you had buried so deep in the depths of your tangled memory that retrieving it would cost you your life? Where would you run when you wanted to, how would you know what you’re running from, how long would you have to run?

What was this feeling you were drenched in? Why can’t you comprehend it? How do you get rid of it?

Your phone dings yet again with a notification and you retrieve it from somewhere in the depths of the blanket you had swaddled yourself in. another message from Seungmin.

seungmin: Professor Lee, faculty of Linguistics and Literature Studies, Shinha University. Contact details: xxxxxxxxxx

seungmin: just in case. g’night.

Your wrist tingles uncomfortably and you rub your fingers across it soothingly. It was probably going to rain later. Or soon. Time was merely flitting past but your eyes remained wide open, not a drop of sleep to be expected any time soon.

The shadows on the grass settle down in a dark lump, quiet and peaceful. The lights below lose their glow, dimming into the night one by one as the town falls asleep.

It must be nice, to be able to sleep.

EIGHT – BUTTERFLIES, LOLLIPOPS, SHARED LAUGHS.

The next time Minho texts you about dinner plans, it's with the carefully added notification of expecting Chan's presence too.

You've been entirely too busy with the diner the past few days, that you've managed to avoid another encounter with Chan naturally. You woke up early to prepare for the day and went home late after cleaning up. It was the same for Minho and Felix, and only now do the three of you realise what a great help another helping hand is. You all miss Seungmin.

But the work pays off, and the cafe work is an added bonus to your savings. If anything, at least you're saved from overthinking once you get home all tired and grisly from kitchen duties. You don't have time to worry about little things as much nor the guilt of missing calls from your mom.

It was the gentle plea at the end of Minho’s text, asking you to please join in for at least old friends’ sake that gets you thinking about the whole thing.

It’s not a particularly mind gnawing decision, you simply decide that you don't need to avoid Chan as much. Fine, you definitely did not know where exactly you stood with his reappearance after all these years, but that didn’t mean you were going to be so cold as to continuously turn down these little reunions. Minho had definitely embraced his old friend with welcome arms and tonight he was finally going to meet Seungmin. You did not mind when Minho was open to introducing his life here to your old friend. There’s only so long you could possibly avoid all social interactions as you could keep up with a steady denial to let Chan affect your day to day life.

You text Minho back with a promise to join in on this dinner.

That is how you find yourself sitting in the tented bar, the sizzle of the barbeque and the delectable aroma of fried vegetables wafting in the air and a few too many bottles of beer in front of you, huddled together in a circle around a table.

Felix chats away excitedly, seemingly never at a loss of conversational topics, while Seungmin joins in with Chan. Minho looks after the barbeque, serving the food to everybody once he’s finally done. The first bite is like a doorway to heaven opening up, a bit too hot that you need to blow air before promptly stuffing yourself with more.

You stay quiet for the most part, only replying when someone asks you something, sitting directly opposite Chan and hence obliged to keep looking away when your eyes meet. It’s happened so many times already since you first came that you don’t even bother with the awkward smile anymore, glancing away quickly before downing your glass of beer.

Chan looks extremely good today, even though it doesn’t look like he put in too much effort behind his black hoodie and his usual silver earrings. His hair lays flat, fingers occasionally brushing through his fringes which he keeps straightening out. You really try not to stare, but when you do and catch yourself in the act, you convince yourself that it’s only because you’re trying to memorise this new and older Chan from the younger one with curly hair and unpierced ears.

“Hey, do you remember that time (y/n) got in detention because Chan kept poking them and they yelled at him in the middle of calculus?” Minho points out in the middle of dinner.

Chan laughs at the memory eliciting a fond smile from you too as you look back on that day, it had indeed been the first time you got into any kind of trouble at school and you had cried during your after school detention.

“I was somewhat troublesome back then, wasn’t I? Chan says, grinning at you apologetically but with a happy smile as if he held his mischievous days close to his heart.

“Somewhat?” you question incredulously, “you were quite the troublemaker, honestly how did you get appointed as student council head?!”

The table erupts into giggles and laughter, a surprised Seungmin looking at Chan in awe, finding it equally hard to believe Chan could have ever caused any trouble. You find it easy to laugh along, just old friends reminiscing on good days gone by, leaving behind fragments of floating memories you had to glue back together. It felt like you were teens again at one of your annual dinners after exams were over. It felt good to be here right now, maybe with a broken friendship, but with a sudden jolt you realise that you may have been looking forward to this unknowingly after all, and now that it was here, you were willing to put behind petty regrets and patch things up.

After all, how often will you find a friendship so precious, right? Shouldn’t you appreciate it and let go of the past for the sake of reviving whatever weak flame was flickering now?

A warmth blooms in you when you look around, eyes lingering a little longer on the man in front of you. He notices and tilts his head in question. You smile widely and shake your head and in a long while, Chan finds himself feeling elated as if the sun itself had bloomed inside his chest and was extending its rays all through his body. He has not felt this happy in a while and the sight of your smile directed at him lightens the burden without a source on his shoulders he’s been carrying ever since.

Though in the morning you might try to convince yourself that warming up to Chan had been a consequence of the alcohol in your system, you ease yourself into the light atmosphere and enjoy the moment for as long as it lasts.

Chan and Seungmin get along well, some sort of sibling dynamic forming quickly between the two with comfortable bantering which slowly backfires on Minho who gets teased by the two and turns pouty. You chuckle when he turns to you for help but only gets a pat on the back from you.

Regardless, Seungmin only needs to lean his head on his sulking boyfriend’s shoulder for him to smile sweetly and kiss his cheek. Felix and you pretend to gag at the sight, which is quickly shot down by protests.

“You’re only jealous because you’re both single!” Minho yells over the table, eliciting a gasp from you and faux display of hurt from Felix who clutches his heart and pretends to cry.

“You’re single?” you look up to find Chan looking at you, an unreadable expression on his face and you wonder why he directed his question at you even though Felix was sitting right beside him.

Before you can respond, Minho speaks up on your behalf.

“(y/n)’s been single ever since high school, I think they’re gonna die single and lonely.”

“Am not!” you stick out your tongue at him, “also I did date in uni.”

“Two weeks doesn’t count,” Minho smirks, “you didn’t even kiss him.”

“And how would you know that?” you challenge, glaring at him now.

Chan listened to the conversation curiously, hearing you talk for the longest time since the evening.

“Did you?” Minho’s eyes widen and you feel like they might pop out of their sockets if he kept staring any longer.

“No…but that’s not the point,” you grumble, hiding your face behind your glass and looking away.

“Why don’t you and Felix try dating once, huh? I’ve been waiting for y’all to get together since forever.”

You choke on your drink, suddenly embarrassed at all the attention. How did the conversation turn to your very prospective dating life all of a sudden? Granted Minho may be drunk, but he was better at holding his alcohol. You feel an apprehension when you look over and notice the smug grin he has on, regarding you through narrow eyes.

“What?” you splutter, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and ignoring the way Chan stares at you, “why would you even say that?”

Felix chooses that exact moment to lean in and cling onto your hand, rubbing his face against your shoulder. You know he’s had one too many drinks, and if you didn’t then he made it very obvious when he mumbled against your neck.

“Yeah (y/n),” he pouted, “if both of us are single by the time we’re forty, let’s get married!”

You laugh endearingly, letting him nuzzle his face closer for warmth, the tip of his nose cold against your skin and you shiver.

“Okay Felix, only if you promise to do the laundry,” you tease.

“Shit don’t do it Lix, it’s a trap!” Minho scoffs, leaning into Seungmin who nods vehemently, also under the influence of more alcohol than he can usually tolerate.

“For my beloved (y/n), anything! I will even cook and clean and take the dog out for walks!” he proclaims. You giggle, stroking his blonde hair gently and it seems to draw him closer.

“Okay Lix, whatever you say. Oh, you’re going to make such an amazing husband one day!”

Felix simply giggles like a child, hiding his face behind his hand as he leans away and slouches across the table, the tips of his ears now red, poking out.

Minho shakes his head disagreeably, sending you a nasty glare which you respond to by sticking out your tongue. While Felix stills remains slouched on the table, probably asleep you figure, but none of you have the heart to wake him up, Minho falls into a quiet conversation with a slightly drunk and sleepy Seungmin, the two huddling close and speaking in soft tones completely ignoring you and Chan who are left alone in an awkward silence.

Chan clears his throat, gaining your attention before mumbling an ‘excuse me’ and leaving the table to step outside. You follow his movements, moving the plastic curtain and shuffling out into the cold night, standing under the makeshift awning. He lights a cigarette and puffs in air, smoking out clouds which disappear into the night, distorted behind the plastic curtain, the orange glow splitting into a line whenever he brings up the stick to his lips.

Downing the last few drops in your glass, you excuse yourself too, though you don’t think anybody listens – Minho is far too invested in playing with Seungmin’s hair while the latter hums happily against his shoulder and Felix is, well…passed out, probably – and make your way out too, pushing the curtain aside and shivering when the cold wind hits you. Nights in the mountains get chillier by the hour and you’re glad you’re wearing a thicker cardigan tonight.

Chan looks up from where he’s standing, smiling in greeting when you come to stand beside him. The silence shared outside is shared comfortably, with all the late night buzz of people and veiled chattering around you. A few street lights line the street, glowing warm yellow under a darkened blanket studded with little silver dots that twinkle brightly without any clouds in sight. It’s a moonless night, but there’s enough light around you to make out Chan’s face; not entirely hidden in the dark but illuminated in a muted yellow glow that lines his side, sloping down his nose and falling onto his lips before disappearing under his chin.

The smoke from his lips coils into the air in a grey haze before disappearing into the air. You sniffle, warily eyeing the stick between his puckered lips, folding your arms across your chest when another wind blows.

“Those things aren’t really good for you, you know” you comment, feeling awfully like a nagging mother, always confronting him about his smoking habits whenever you see him. You almost snort at the revelation.

“Ah…sorry, I’ve been trying to quit too, but it just…force of habit.”

You smile sadly, tucking your chin in your neck and leaning against a wooden pole.

“I heard about your father,” Chan’s voice is cautiously quiet in the night, the syllables coming out hushed and apologetic, “I’m sorry about him.”

“Don’t be, we saw it coming but he was worse off than we had hoped,” you reply just as quietly, but without the tremor that had been present in your voice some years ago. In fact, you don’t think you’ve talked about your father in a long while, not even with your mother. It makes you slightly sad that the first time you’re doing this is because of an old friend who, until recently, hadn’t even been in contact with you.

“It was…it was all the smoking he did…the cancer, I mean.”

You sniffle, looking up at the sky, eyes mindlessly following the clusters of stars twinkling silently.

“Ah shit…I’m so sorry. Does this make you feel uncomfortable?”

You shake your head in denial, but even so you both know it does. You know you don’t want to see someone smoking in front of you; it had been difficult enough to get over that particular phase in your life where you blatantly disliked people for smoking, but you slowly got over the fact that you had no say in how they should live their life or not. Not everybody who smoked ended up with cancer after all. But you also knew that you would always try to help your friend quit, because quite frankly, you were the type to be haunted by the fear of something that had the tendency to scar you.

When you were seven, you had fallen off the monkey bars and bruised your knees pretty badly – the scars are still there, a dark patch against your skin – and you had a huge fear of the accursed bars, steering clear of it ever since. Then you grew up and grew taller and your fingers coiled around the cold metal bars without even having to lift your feet off the ground and you realised that it was no fun that way anymore; it was much more fun and exciting when your feet swung in air and your muscles strained trying to hold on to the slippery bars. There was a beauty in having to risk your seven year old soul to hang on to some monkey bars for dear life, something you had missed out on for the longest time in your life.

Then of course, there was your fear of water. You may have never mastered the element, but once you learn to float and keep your head above the water in the deeper end, you wonder why you had been scared in the first place.

Chan throws the cigarette on the ground and stubs it with his feet, picking it off and throwing it in the dustbin nearby. The silence prevails as he leans beside you. The smell of smoke remains in the air, stagnant and pungent under your nose.

Shuffling on your feet, you dig into the pocket of your jeans, fumbling around as you struggle to pull something out of it.

“Here,” you say, handing it out to Chan who regards the lollipop between your fingers with visible confusion but accepts it gingerly nonetheless, “I would rather you died of diabetes than cancer.”

The chuckle that he lets out is easygoing, tumbling from his lips like tiny bells, chiming into the night charmingly. You know you've heard it countless times before, but it makes you feel warm out here in the cold, like a sweet blanket of comfort and nostalgia.

“Why do I die either way?” he questions, snorting at your proclamation. You shrug, sharing a smile.

“It’s a better way to go?'' It sounds more like a question but doesn’t stop Chan’s amused laughter.

“You became funnier after all this time,” he teases, surrendering by putting his hands up when you threaten to hit him.

“So, do you always carry candies with you wherever you go?” he asks, fiddling with the patterned wrapper.

“No, Lix gave it to me. He’s always got some sort of sweet with him, god maybe he’ll get diabetes one of these days.”

“Is there something between you and Felix?” you miss the slight frown on his face and the nervous lip biting, his fingers fiddling with the crinkling wrapper of the candy between them.

“No, why would you think that?” as if realising the answer to your question you add, “Minho was just joking back then.”

“Oh, I thought you might. He’s just very…”

“Clingy? Sweet boyfriend material, makes everybody fall in love with him wherever he goes and whatever he does?” you raise a brow when Chan trails off, smiling teasingly when he sputters out another laugh, flustered.

“Yeah!”

“That’s just the way he is,” you snort, “isn’t he adorable though?”

You both take this moment to glance inside where you left the three boys. Sure enough, Felix is now cupping his cheeks between his hands, red faced and hiccuping with his eyes half closed and lips out in a pout like a duck, looking around like a lost kitten. He's had one too many drinks and you can tell; his elbow keeps slipping off the table and he glares in confusion as if to gauge the problem. Sharing a glance you both burst out laughing, doubling over yourselves as the giggles erupt out of you from nowhere.

The night is chilly, but as you both huddle close, laughing over something small and mundane as a silly friend who’s had too much to drink, you feel your cheeks warm and tummies tremble in merriment.

Chan laughs with his whole body, the chimes of his joy gurgling up from his chest like butterflies that fly around you with pretty wings. Unknowingly, you start filing away little things about Chan in a place that were fond to you in your memories, like a small cabinet of his quirks. The cute dimple on his cheek, the way his eyes turn into crescents and can’t stay open when he laughs too hard, his hands which circle his waist or often find respite behind his neck when he’s too sheepish and the way the silver rings in his ears tremble all the while he’s shaking with joy.

You let yourself bask in this moment, ignoring the voice in your head telling you not to enjoy so much. It gets drowned under the horde of butterflies that circle over it, out of its reach and high above as you watch with a longing to reach out and let one sit on your finger. You stay rooted though, keeping your hands to yourself, afraid you might damage its wings if you so much as brush against its petal like fragility.

The flap of their wings send a wave of small breeze towards you, gentle and almost akin to a fever kiss, fanning your hot face and urging you to look at them past the shambles of your ruined castle walls with moss and wreck. They fly too high and you have to crane your neck just to look. They’re free, without a threat of being captured inside glass cases or having their wings clipped and you know in that moment you wouldn’t want anything happening to them.

Maybe one day, one of these winged wonders will approach you and let you lend your finger to sit.

Chan walks home that night with a spring in his step and a smile that never leaves his lips, the lollipop inside the pocket of his hoodie with its tiny but obvious weight and crinkling wrapper.

It’s too sweet for him, but he finds that sucking on it does indeed act as a substitute in the long run. He sleeps at night with the lingering taste of cherry at the back of his tongue and a warm memory of shared laughter in the cold night. It spreads through his body and lulls him to a comfortable sleep.

The straightened wrapper of candy finds a home in his bedside drawer, placed carefully beside his camera.

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