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chansducky10 · 5 hours

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𝐌𝐫 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠

☆ Genre: Domestic, fluff, suggestive

☆ Warnings: None

☆ Request: No

☆ Characters: Chan, Y/N

☆ Word Count: 1.3k

“Finally,” Chan grumbled as soon as Y/N slid in-between the sheets of their bed. “Took your time.”

Y/N's laughter was muffled by the pillow as her head dropped against it. “I was washing up.”

“Well, don't,” Chan said.

“Do you want me to be all dirty?” Y/N grinned.

“Yeah.”

She started to laugh again when the bedsheets rustled loudly; Chan wriggled forward and after curling his bare arms around his wife's waist, he pulled her towards his body.

The heat from his skin was immense. It seeped in immediately through Y/N's thin top, and she shivered as comfort gradually sunk into her flesh and down to the core of her bones.

“Don't waste your time washing up,” Chan's lips brushed against the base of Y/N's neck as he murmured his silly words to her. “You could be here cuddling me instead.”

At that, Y/N started to giggle again. She leaned back into her husband, and her lips softened into an affectionate smile of her own when she felt Chan's mouth curving up against her skin.

“Hmm … I'll think about it,” Y/N grinned widely, patting his hands gently.

“What do you mean, you'll think about it? There's nothing to think about,” Chan chuckled, his breath hot on her neck. It made goosebumps prickle against the lengths of her arms, and she sank further into his all-too welcoming embrace.

“Fine, I won't think about it,” Y/N hummed under her breath. “Whatever you want, Mr Clingy Bang.”

Chan laughed quietly. His hands were locked over Y/N's stomach, and his lips rested at the top of her head as he started to move his fingers slowly over his wife's body … they lightly trailed up her stomach, and then down again, and before Y/N knew it, his hands had made their way beneath the hem of her t-shirt.

She sighed at his predictable actions, though she was unable to keep the blush from creeping up on her cheeks.

“Christopher … “ Y/N shook her head as Chan's warm fingers caressed their way up her torso. “Honestly. What's the point of me wearing clothes if you're gonna do this?”

Chan snorted with laughter against her neck. “Well, I wasn't the one who told you to wear clothes.”

“No, if you had your way I'd never wear clothes again,” Y/N grumbled despite the contagious smile that kissed her lips. She jumped against him when the heat from his fingers travelled to the curves of her chest. “Oh my God. Chris … you're … “

Chan smirked at that. “I'm what, hmm?”

“Nothing,” Y/N gritted out through her teeth as she bit her lip.

“For the record,” Chan whispered as his hands smoothed over her stomach in loving strokes. “That's not completely true. I'd still let you wear clothes infront of people. In fact, you'd have to wear clothes in front of people … only I get to see you without them. Because … you're mine.”

Y/N grinned at that. Briefly closing her hands over his, Y/N suddenly shifted position; she turned around in the circle of her husband's arms until she was facing him, the man's doting face just as flushed as hers was as he looked down at her.

It made her giggle. His smooth talk was considerably less intimidating when she could actually see his face and witness the shyness that bloomed across his cheeks.

“Fine by me,” Y/N whispered. She had looped her arms around Chan's shoulders, and her fingers toyed with the soft curls at the nape of his neck as she tilted her head up to connect her lips with his.

Chan instantly smiled as he kissed his wife back. His hands on the small of her back, Chan pulled her closer and cushioned his lips within her own, the quietest sounds of delight escaping him the more she kissed him. His cheeks and nose were overly heated when she pulled away a little, his eyes sparkling like the stars in the shadows of their bed.

“You're driving me crazy … “ Y/N mumbled against the pillowy softness of Chan's lips. She rested her hands on his chest, relishing in the fire that weaved its way through the fibres of her skin upon contact.

Chan swallowed thickly, the sharp curve of his throat bobbing up and down with the movement. He leaned closer to her, his nose nuzzling against her cheek as his lips came to rest at the corner of Y/N's mouth, the man trying to be as close to her as possible.

“Not as crazy as you're making me,” Chan breathed. His words wavered as Y/N's hand slowly smoothed down his muscles. The beat of his heart drummed steadily against her fingers, the feeling as dizzying as it was soothing. “Baby … “

“Hmm?” Y/N smiled as she trailed her hands over his bare body; she traced her fingertips down the grooves of his stomach, and Chan hummed against her shoulder, his arms squeezing her torso before pressing himself further against her.

“If you don't take your top off in the next two seconds I'm going to do it for you,” Chan huffed a moment later. “Take. It. Off.”

“What if I don't want to?” Y/N snorted with hushed laughter. “Can't I wear my cute pj's in peace around you?”

“No,” Chan grinned, and he tugged at the hem of her top. “Pj's are for lounging around and watching movies in. Not for sleeping next to your husband in.”

“Oh yeah? Who says?” Y/N teased him.

She giggled when Chan suddenly threw one of his legs over her hips; she was rolled onto her back, Chan's fingers gentle yet firm as he rolled her top up and over his wife's head.

“Me. I say so,” Chan said as he tossed the garment over the bed. He then flopped down onto his wife, his arms wrapping around her stomach again as his head dropped against the hollow just beneath her chin. “It's been more than two seconds. I warned you.”

Y/N's body shook beneath him as she silently laughed at the man's antics. She slipped her hands through his hair, smiling at how his curls were finally breathing after his earlier shower. She tugged at them playfully, gently caressing her fingers over his temples and forehead.

“You're insane, Christopher Bang,” Y/N whispered.

Chan's smiled against her chest as his eyes fell shut. The combination of his head against Y/N's heartbeat was already acting like a sleeping pill to his body, and the man's words started to merge together as drowsiness took a hold of him. “I can't help it. The feeling of your skin against mine … it's the most comforting feeling in the world. Just … makes me feel … safe … ”

Y/N peered down at him; Chan's face had softened, his lashes dark against the fairness of his skin. He looked as though he was already half asleep, and the woman felt her heart melt at the sight of him.

He really was the cutest, most infuriatingly handsome man she had ever seen.

“Fine, you win this time,” Y/N murmured as she swept his hair away from his face. She grinned. “Only you can manage to be this adorable after ripping my clothes off of me.”

Her comment made the man burst into laughter all over again. He lifted his head and wriggled closer to her so his face was hovering above hers.

“Give me a kiss,” Chan murmured.

Y/N's lips twitched. “You give me one.”

“I asked first.”

Cheeks hurting from smiling, Y/N curled her hand around her husband's bulging bicep and pulled him down onto her; she kissed him softly, all the while wrapping her limbs around him as best as she could. Their bodies were so tangled together that they resembled that of a tight knot; they fit perfectly together, their shared warmth mingling as they rested their foreheads against one another, the level of tenderness between them sending them both off to a peaceful sleep.

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chansducky10 · 1 day

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𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞

☆ Genre: Angst, fluff, friends to lovers

☆ Warnings: Anxiety/panic attacks

☆ Request: Commissioned by @leeknow143iluvchuu

☆ Characters: Han, Y/N

☆ Word Count: 5.6k

All Jisung would remember from his last hour with his ex-girlfriend would be the bleak sunshine that spilled through the café windows and onto the floor like shards of golden glass. Beautiful … but with the risk of injury upon touch; eerily similar to the woman who had been sitting in front of him, with her narrowed gaze drilling holes into the fibres of his clothes.

Jisung curled his fingers into discrete fists inside the cuffs of his green sweatshirt. He stared down at his half-finished drink with vaguely cloudy vision. The ice in the coffee he had bought himself had melted substantially, leaving behind a thin layer of muddy liquid atop the dark surface. Eager for a distraction, the man took a hold of his straw and slowly stirred his coffee around; the few remaining slithers of ice rattled against the cup at the movement, and Jisung watched with vague interest as his coffee blended into one colour all over again.

She was still hissing at him. Her disdain was attracting a mixture of curious and displeased looks from the people around them, and Jisung swallowed thickly.

He wished she'd just stop.

He wished he hadn't come.

“Are you even listening to me?” She scoffed and back in her seat while folding her arms over her chest. “Honestly, this is your problem, Sung. You're always busy, you're too tired to meet up, but then we finally see each other and you never talk. What are you, mute?”

Jisung's eyes fell shut. He was too busy trying to get his inner turmoil of emotions in check; his hands had started to tremble, and the man tightened his fists.

Not now, Jisung thought to himself. Please.

Not now.

The woman groaned in disgust. She pushed her chair back from the table in an abrupt manner, her long hair swishing in silky, sophisticated trellises over the back of her tailored coat. Jisung looked up just in time to see her kicking her chair back underneath the table.

“Fine. We're done. I'm dumping you. Dating a brick wall would have been easier than dating you … “

Jisung watched quietly as the woman walked across the café and yanked the door open. She was soon halfway down the street, leaving Jisung alone with his thoughts.

He sighed.

Thanks for the song inspo, Jisung thought.

It was too hot all of a sudden. He slurped down a large amount of his iced Americano in an attempt to cool himself down. He instantly regretted it; the caffeine sizzled through his bloodstream, turning into fire and filling his body with even more warmth. Only, it wasn't the comforting type of warmth. It was the type that made his skin prickle and made his limbs increasingly jittery.

Jisung opened the lid and scooped a chunk of ice into his mouth before flapping the front of his sweatshirt against his chest. He crunched on his ice and removed his cap from his head, setting it down onto the table with a sigh. Running his fingers through the long lengths of his wavy hair as he inhaled slowly, Jisung let his interlocked hands rest at the nape of his neck as he bowed his head down to the table.

Another ruined relationship to add to my list, he thought. Courtesy to none other than yours truly.

Good one, Ji.

Tossing his coffee into a bin on his way out of the café, Jisung replaced his cap onto his head and made his way down the opposite side of the path he had seen his ex-girlfriend walk on. He had slung his headphones over his head; the weight was reassuring and familiar against his skin, keeping his anxiety at bay as he set off for the middle of the town centre, shoving his hands into his pockets.

He didn't really know where he was going, exactly. On any other day he'd have chosen to go straight home, anticipating the enticing moment he could curl up on the seat by his window with his notebook and pencil and half a dozen cushions. But there was something about today that propelled him in the other direction. He had a feeling deep down that he just didn't want to go in the direction his ex-girlfriend had gone in. He didn't fancy accidentally bumping into her.

The creases between Jisung's furrowed brows slowly thawed as he embarked on his walk. It was a beautiful day, for all its earlier flaws; the early spring air kissed his warm cheeks with a fresh, earthy lilt, and bursts of bubblegum pink and plum from the blooming cherry blossoms around him lifted his mood automatically. It was almost impossible to stay down in the dumps when the world around him was trying so hard to appeal to him.

“I thought maybe we would kiss tonight … “

The faint words of Mitski trailed away as Jisung pushed his headphones down his neck. He looked up towards the sky. It was the colour of periwinkle flowers, and somewhere in the distance, the lightest of birdsong was relayed to him, mingling with the hustle and bustle of couples milling around him. The man lowered his head again, lost in thought as his gaze flowed with the pedestrians. Every single one of them seemed to be interlocked with another person; arms looped through arms, hands entwined with hands, even lips brushing against lips. Everywhere Jisung looked spoke of a romance as sweet and pure as the blossoms covering the city, and despite the contagious aura of new beginnings floating around him, Jisung felt his heart start to sink lower and lower until it nestled into the soles of his platform shoes all over again.

He sighed under his breath and kicked softly at the petals beneath him with the front of his shoe.

He really should have gone home.

There was an uncomfortable lump lodging its way into the base of the man's throat. Jisung's eyes prickled, and he curled his hands into fists for what felt like the hundredth time that day before shoving them into his pockets.

“Ji?”

Jisung blinked. He grew still. He didn't need to look up to know who it was. Her voice was as familiar to him as the moles on his cheek; it was soft, perhaps even softer than the breeze that kissed his temples when he turned around.

She was smiling at him, her hand moving rapidly as she waved it back and forth in his direction. There was excitement twinkling In her eyes - the same sparks that had only grown bigger and bigger since they had met as children.

Jisung smiled. The look on his friend's face had always been contagious.

“What are you doing here?” Jisung asked as he moved towards Y/N.

“Stalking you!” Y/N grinned devilishly. She burst into soft giggles as Jisung rolled his eyes up to the sky. “I'm joking. I needed to pick up a few things.”

She stepped forwards, the bag over her shoulder floating lightly in the wind as she reached up to tuck the curls of Jisung's escaping hair back up into his cap. Her fingers playfully squished his cheeks on the way down again, and as she surveyed the man's face, she frowned.

“Are you okay?” Y/N asked simply.

Jisung's mouth turned up at the corners. Only Y/N could manage to decipher something was wrong within a mere twenty seconds of them seeing one another.

As touching as it was to be understood by her, in that moment, it was almost too much for the man. Whereas his ex hadn't even tried to get to know him over the short course of their rocky relationship, Y/N knew him more than he perhaps even knew himself. And maybe that was the problem; he could never seem to completely open himself up to anyone who wasn't her.

It was strange, really. Jisung had never really considered them to be the closest of friends; they didn't spend a lot of time together … not like they had when they were children. They had grown apart as time went on and their lives became busier with each passing day. But the one thing that had never changed was that they were always, always there for each other, no matter how distant they were.

Jisung bit his lip as he remembered the blatant aggravation in his ex-girlfriend's voice whenever he had said he couldn't meet up with her on a particular day. The stark difference between the two women was suddenly so visible to Jisung that his already overwhelmed brain started whirring even faster.

He felt vulnerable in front of Y/N.

Too vulnerable.

With his heels planted firmly into the ground, Jisung's body began to shake. He tried to suppress the rise of anxiety inside of him; but the look on Y/N's face almost forced his carefully constructed guard down on its own accord. His face adopted a cold sort of blankness as he looked at his friend, and despite the outward appearance of calm that washed over him, the tempo of his heartbeat increased until he could hear the wish-wash of his own blood rushing in his ears.

It was suddenly too loud. Too crowded. Too claustrophobic. Too full of people and the screeches from passing vehicles. It accelerated Jisung's breaths and body temperature, and his shoulders trembled as he looked down at the ground.

“Ji … ?”

Her voice was distant. Soft. Worried. Jisung tried to smile; but it was as though his facial muscles were jammed. He watched with glazed eyes as Y/N moved towards him slowly, carefully as though he was a frightened kitten.

Wordlessly, Y/N reached out towards him. She tucked her fingers around the man's headphones and gently pushed them up his head before clamping them over his ears.

The world instantly fell quiet. Jisung exhaled with minute relief at the lack of sound, and he let Y/N curl her grip around his hand before leading him away from the overflowing street.

By the time they had reached a small bench at the edge of a secluded stretch of grass, Jisung's breathing had stopped fluctuating. He sat down on the seat and dropped his head into his hands as Y/N slowly sat beside him.

Y/N didn't speak for a while. She had seen Jisung like this many times before; usually his anxiety attacks were slow burners, creeping up on him in the form of pain or unease after a series of uncomfortable events. Y/N could generally help ease the side effects when she was beside him. But sometimes they were spontaneous, panic flooding through him and leaving the man shaking for hours after the initial shock.

Sometimes they were so violent that it was all Y/N could do to stop herself from crying as she hugged him back to solace.

She waited for him in quietude. After a while, Jisung pushed his headphones down to the nape of his neck again, and Y/N allowed herself to speak in a quiet voice.

“What happened?”

“We broke up,” Jisung sighed after a long while. He leaned back against the bench, his eyes falling shut as he tipped his head up towards the sky. “I knew it wasn't going to last. I knew it was coming … I wasn't really myself around her and she hated it. But she was so … “

“Awful?”

“Yeah,” Jisung smiled slowly. He chuckled quietly. “Her comments were inventive. She called me mute … and then she said dating a brick wall would be better than dating me.”

“She what?” Y/N's mouth dropped open in shock. She was appalled at the audacity of the other woman; she stumbled to her feet, planning to storm off in the opposite direction. “Where is she? Just wait until I give her a piece of my mi - “

“No,” Jisung's touch was soft as he curled his hand around Y/N's wrist. He pulled her down onto the bench again and the woman immediately simmered down as Jisung dropped his forehead against her shoulder.

Y/N sighed slowly. She could feel the tension spilling through the pores of his forehead, the heat of his skin stifling against her clothes. Shuffling forward a little, Y/N wrapped her arms around the man, her fingers coming up to gently pat the top of his back as he sagged further against her.

“Don't do anything stupid,” Jisung mumbled against her shoulder. “She's not worth it.”

Y/N frowned. “She's rude.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I deserved it. She's not wrong … I barely spoke around her.”

“That's not your fault,” Y/N was aghast. “Not everyone is crazy with other people. Being introverted isn't your fault … it's not your fault that she didn't make you feel comfortable enough to speak around her.”

At that, Jisung sat up again. The position they were in meant that his face appeared barely an inch away from Y/N's, and his eyes widened as he stared into her taken aback gaze.

They're so sparkly, he thought as he searched her eyes.

They made his head spin.

He suddenly wrinkled his nose in mild confusion, sniffing hard. He leaned back against the bench as he cleared his throat. “Are you wearing a different perfume? You smell … different.”

“Yeah,” Y/N laughed. She clutched at her jacket, raising it to her nose so she could smell the lapel. “Is it bad?”

“No,” Jisung shook his head. “I like it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

With a wide smile at his response, Y/N reached out and slipped her fingers into Jisung's. They were warm, and she squeezed his hand softly. “Come on. I'm taking you shopping.”

“I was gonna go home - “

“You can go home later. We need to cheer you up first.”

And so Jisung perked up considerably as he wandered aimlessly around the city centre with Y/N. Together the two of them made visits to almost every shop they came across; they tried on silly outfits, purchased bottles of new nail polish … they even stopped by a quirky photobooth where the pair of them spent a considerable amount of time taking a plethora of photos.

With the dozen or so strips of photographs tucked away in their pockets, Y/N decided she could no longer ignore the hunger pooling inside of her. She dragged Jisung to a place a little further away from all the busy shops, and they finally sat down to eat.

“I'm so hungry,” Jisung groaned as he pulled his chair in towards their table. His knee hit against the table in the process, making the both of them burst into laughter. “I could eat … like … seven horses.”

“Why didn't you say so before?” Y/N whined

She frowned up at him through her lashes. “We could have eaten first and then you wouldn't be considering murdering some horses.”

“But I was having fun wandering around with you,” Jisung started to laugh at her statement. “I didn't want to eat then … But now I do. Because. I'm … really hungry. And hey, I never said I wanted to murder horses.”

At that, Y/N's face softened; her smile was so large that her eyes seemed to disappear, something that Jisung had always loved about her. Her face was so incredibly expressive that her emotions were constantly an open display to anyone she encountered … something that had both its perks, and its problems.

Watching the changing expressions on Y/N's face made Jisung's face break into a beaming smile of his own, and the two of them burst into a fit of giggles just as their food was brought to them.

“Oh my gosh, “ Jisung immediately reached for his utensils. Steam from his piping hot food trailed up to his face and enveloped him in a hazy cloud. “It smells so good. It looks so good. Better than the horses.”

Y/N giggled. The sight of him was reminding her of a cartoon; one with a substantially growing nose as he sniffed aggressively at the steam arising from his dish.

“Stop inhaling it like that,” Y/N snorted with laughter. “You're gonna suck out all the taste from it before you even eat it.”

Jisung let out a sudden bark of laughter. He clasped his hands over his mouth, eyes widening in surprise at the loud sound that had escaped him.

“That's not possible,” Jisung wheezed. “You can't smell the flavour out of something.”

“But you can smell the smell out of something,” Y/N smiled sweetly as her words left her in a confusing jumble.

Jisung blinked. “What?”

“Oh, you know,” Y/N tore off a chunk of garlic bread from one of the loaves that were sitting in the middle of their table. “When you smell something too much you get used to it and you can't smell it anymore. It's because there's nothing left to smell. You've smelled it all.”

Jisung burst into another babble of laughter. “Y/N, that is not how it works.”

“How do you know?” Y/N quipped. “Are you a … scent specialist?”

“No. I'm a lyricist,” Jisung said smugly.

Y/N shook her head at his rhyme. “Eat your food, Weirdo.”

Jisung flashed his toothy smile at her again. It made her smile back as the two of them started to make their way through their food.

It was quiet for a while; their chatter had died down as their stomachs had taken a hold of their attention. They had made their way through half of their meals when Jisung leaned back in his seat, a slightly wistful expression printed on his face.

“You know … “ He said in a low voice, turning to look out of the window beside him. The reduced tempo in which he spoke made Y/N immediately look up at him, and she carefully studied his face as she waited for him to continue.

“The first thing I thought when she broke up with me was that I knew I'd come up with a really good song because of it,” Jisung grinned, shutting his eyes briefly. “It was like the further she walked away, the more lyrics formed in my head.”

He sighed then, turning his warm gaze onto his quiet friend. “Stupid, right?”

“No,” Y/N shook her head. “Of course not. Writing songs is just … how you process your thoughts and your emotions. It's not stupid … at all.”

Her words made Jisung forget about his food for a long moment. His gaze softened as he watched her eat her bread, and he couldn't help but smile secretly to himself.

“Are you okay?” Y/N asked a moment later. “Like … actually okay? I mean … you went through so much because of her.”

Jisung shrugged. He had rested his arms on the table, and he was stirring his metal spoon around the circumference of his steamy bowl. “I knew it was going to end before it ended. I just … kept waiting for it to happen, and it finally did.”

Y/N blinked at him slowly.

She wasn't sure if she should tell him how she was privately almost jumping for joy at the fact that they had broken up, or if it was a bad idea.

She never had liked his ex. She didn't like Jisung being with anyone, for that matter, though she didn't like admitting it to herself or to him. She didn't particularly understand why she felt that way, either. She should have been happy for his relationships, and accepted whoever he spent his time with … but in her eyes, no one was ever good enough for him. To her, he was better than everyone else out there … and for some reason, he couldn't see that.

Besides.

No one knew him the way she did.

“What about you?” Jisung asked suddenly. He smiled, though all of a sudden it ceased to reach his eyes. “Still with … him?”

Y/N bit her lip. She traced a fingertip over the rim of her glass of water. “ … No, actually.”

Jisung's eyebrows shot up into the dark shadow of his cap. “Really?”

“Yeah … we broke up about a week ago,” Y/N said. “He was annoying. Too stuck up. And he hated my dog stickers.”

At that, Jisung grinned. His eyes travelled to her phone that was sitting face down on the table. Her clear case was covered in faded stickers depicting goofy looking puppies, and the man felt his heart grow warm at the familiarity.

“How dare he,” Jisung tutted. He ignored the relief that was beginning to flood through him at the piece of information Y/N had given him.

Y/N grinned. “That's what I said.”

“We're both single at the same time, huh?” Jisung laughed quietly a moment later. He stabbed at his food. “I don't think we've been single together since … like … “

“School,” Y/N whispered.

Jisung smiled slowly. “Yeah.”

The atmosphere between them grew silent again. Not awkward - it had never been awkward between the two. But it was a silence that spoke of pondering thoughts and tender reveries, their entwined past hanging over the both of their heads like strands of silver thread.

“Aw … the sun's gone,” Y/N hummed after a while. She was looking through the floor to ceiling window beside their little booth, observing the heavy blanket of clouds that had begun to drift in across the spanse of the horizon. “Looks like it's going to rain.”

Jisung reluctantly dragged his gaze from Y/N's expressive face to the grey skies. His eyes followed a thin trail of water as a fat raindrop burst over the window, slowly followed by another, and another, and another, until the entirety of it was covered in streams of water. The raindrops ran into each other, colliding and creating valleys that blurred and distorted their view.

“You should start forecasting the weather,” Jisung stated as he turned back to his food with a grin. The rain had transitioned from a light, rhythmic patter to a steady drum against the footpaths and roads, thick sheets of water spilling over the world outside and blurring its colours like paint.

Y/N smirked at his joke. “I can’t. I'd be putting everyone else out of business.”

With the shake of his head, Jisung started to laugh all over again. His eyes shrunk into thin curves resembling new moons, and the tense set of his shoulders lost their rigidity as comfort further bloomed inside of him.

Just the way it always did when he was with her.

“I didn't bring an umbrella either … “ Y/N was rambling with animated eyes as she turned her head to the rain again. “Do I look like a fish? Or a whale? Wait … aren't whales fish?”

Jisung shook his head. “They're mammals.”

“How do you know?” Y/N asked.

Jisung shrugged. “National Geographic.”

“Should have known … “ Y/N mused. She sighed. “What are we gonna do, Ji?”

“We can go to mine?” Jisung suggested. “When the rain dies down a bit, I mean. It's not that far.”

“You just want me to go to yours so you can force me into having another anime binge watching session with you,” Y/N narrowed her eyes. She waved her spoon at him. “I can see right through you, Ji.”

Jisung chuckled around his spoon, slightly defeated at how she had read him completely as though he was an open book. A warm smile spread across his face. “Maybe.”

And then, “We haven't hung out together in ages.”

Y/N frowned. “Hey, that's not true … ”

Jisung bit his lip. “Yeah … it is … “

“No? We hang out like … all the time,” Y/N folded her arms across her chest in defiance as she tried to cast her mind back to the last time she was with him. Realising she couldn't remember the last time they had spent more than five minutes in each other's company, her eyes widened. “I … oh.”

“Yeah,” Jisung shrugged. “You were always with your boyfriend.”

“Well, you were always with your girlfriend … “ Y/N sighed. “It goes both ways.”

As her words trailed off, Jisung's eyes slowly locked with Y/N's. They were both staring at each other, and only when a car rushed past the window with the loud destruction of a large puddle did they realise and tear their gazes away from each other again, cheeks slightly pink.

They both cleared their throats, suddenly very interested in finishing the mere dregs at the bottom of their bowls.

“Here,” Jisung said once they stepped out into the damp air. The rain had slowed to a faint spray against their noses, though judging by the influx of incoming dark clouds, they were both certain that the tumultuous weather would start up again at any minute. “Wear this.”

Y/N patted the top of her head once Jisung had placed his hat onto her hair. “But now your head is gonna get wet.”

Jisung shrugged. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Rather me than you.”

“Looks like chivalry isn't dead after all,” Y/N pursed her lips as they started to make their way down the street. “So manly of you, Ji.”

“I don't think that counts as chivalry,” Jisung chuckled. “Just don't want you to get sick. Or wet.”

Y/N grinned widely. She cheekily leaned closer to him and whispered loudly as she squished his cheeks playfully in her fingers. “Chivalry.”

Jisung's face crinkled with mirth. “Come on. Before it starts raining again.”

Being a few minutes walk from their previous location, they had quickly reached the outskirts of Jisung's block when the heavens suddenly opened again. Within seconds, Jisung and Y/N were drenched, their clothes feeling heavy as they hung limply off of their bodies and trickled cold water onto their skin.

The sudden downpour caused the both of them to freeze on the edge of the footpath. They slowly turned to face each other as their mouths dropped open in shock, and Jisung barely had the time to think of something to say when Y/N burst into manic laughter.

It was the sort of laughter that made Jisung's soul sing. The mild disdain on his face turned into pure joy at hearing the lighthearted sound from his friend; her laugh hadn't changed at all since their childhood, the carelessness and the sweet ring to it only amplified with age. Before Jisung knew it, he was laughing along with her, his smile making his face glow. The rain continued to hammer down onto them both; the curls of Jisung's hair were plastered to his tanned skin and poked his eyes, the weighed down material of his sweatshirt now hugging his slender waist.

“Looks like the chivalry didn't come in handy,” Jisung gasped through the lashings of rain. Droplets danced on the tips of his long eyelashes, resembling tiny crystals as they dripped onto his lips.

Y/N giggled all over again. She reached out and pushed his soaked hair back away from his forehead. “You look like a rat.”

From anyone else, that particular comment would have made Jisung retreat into a figurative hole like a hermit.

But coming from Y/N, the words made his face break into a large smile.

Outreaching his fingers, Jisung tangled his wet hand with Y/N's. Despite the rain, their hands were both still warm, and he tightened his grip on her a little. “Let's go home.”

It was a while before Y/N and Jisung had managed to wash away the aftermath of the rain from their bodies. Their stomachs were soon warm from the hot drinks Jisung had made for them both, and with their skin flushed from their showers, the pair had taken up refuge in the cosy interior of Jisung's bedroom.

Jisung tapped a pencil against his lower lip in thought. Curled up in a large basket chair by the window with his knees almost touching his chest, Jisung rested a notebook on his thighs. He braced his fingers against the rings of its spine; he had been trying to jot down the lyrics that had crossed his mind earlier on in the day. But for some reason, as soon as the man had set his pencil to his paper, the words began to dissipate and float away from him like steam from the mug beside him. He had managed to make his way through half of the song before turning the page in his notebook to a fresh spread. Instead, he gave in to the new, unrelated words that bloomed in his mind like little spring saplings, and he slowly raised his gaze from the paper to just above the notebook.

He stole a discreet glance at Y/N. She was perched on the windowsill, the long sleeves of one of his grey hoodies that she had borrowed kissing her fingertips. The side of her head leaned against the windowpane as she watched the rain drops race against each other on the glass. One of her earphones snug in her ear, Y/N's mouth moved softly as she sang along to the lyrics she knew by heart under her breath.

“My baby, here on earth … showed me what my heart was worth … “

Jisung froze at the soft words emerging from Y/N's mouth.

He immediately knew which song she was listening to; it was a song he knew well. The sudden realisation of their shared music taste made his cheeks heat up as something inside of him finally clicked into place.

Jisung wouldn't say he was a relationship expert. Far from it, infact. But he had been through a handful of relationships over the course of his life; some longer than others, some fleeting like the wind. They had all been different, all teaching him different lessons. But there was one thing that they had all had in common.

No matter who he had been with, he had always felt as though something was missing.

But now he realised that perhaps the something he had always been looking for, wasn't a something, but a someone.

Biting his lower lip, Jisung stared at Y/N with what he felt was a fresh set of eyes. She was so similar to him … they both shared the same joys, the same opinions, the same mentalities when it came to the things that mattered. He had always known that she was different from the others; she was just like him, while everyone else was completely the opposite. She completed him in a way that no one else could, though Jisung hadn't realised how much that completion had meant to him.

Until now.

“But my love … mine … all mine … “

Outside the rain appeared to be even heavier than it was before. The sound of it against the window was so loud and so soothing that Jisung couldn't help but come to another realisation.

“It always rains when I'm with you,” Jisung said in a tender tone. “Have you noticed?”

Y/N traced her fingertips over the steamed up window as she turned her gaze to the man. She smiled. “It fits us perfectly, don't you think? We both like staying inside, and the rain makes everything feel so much cosier … “

She had turned back to the window and Jisung slowly set his notebook down on the desk beside him. Y/N was so engrossed in looking outside that she didn't notice him getting up; she was completely unaware that he had come to stand beside her, the man's heart hammering nervously inside his chest.

“Do you - “

Y/N’s question was cut off by a sudden warmth against her mouth; it took her a while to understand what was happening, and when she realised Jisung was kissing her, her eyes widened and she inhaled sharply.

Mingled with initial shock and surprise at the feeling of his lips against hers, Y/N couldn't ignore the sudden sense of belonging that was rolling through her body in electric waves. Light-headedness, peace, heat, an overflowing flame of affection; they all coursed through her veins as she kissed the man back, her eyes slowly falling shut and her eyelashes kissing the tops of Jisung's cheekbones.

He pulled back after what felt like both an eternity and the shortest second of Y/N's life. The usual honey of his skin was now the colour of the flesh of a blood orange, and the roundness of his eyes sparkled like glitter under the low light as he exhaled heavily.

“That's what it's supposed to feel like … “ Jisung whispered.

Y/N swallowed thickly. She felt as though her cheeks were on fire.

“I've never had a kiss that tastes like vanilla cheesecake before,” Y/N replied shortly after in a quiet voice of her own.

Her comment shattered the thin air of suspense between them both. It caused Jisung to burst into relieved laughter, and before he could stop himself, the man wrapped his arms around Y/N and hugged her as tightly as he could.

Y/N squeezed his waist, her fingers curling in on the soft fabric of his t-shirt. She inhaled the spicy familiarity of him with a smile, and giddy giggles started to escape her when she realised that after all the years of waiting without realising it, this moment between them had finally made it worth it.

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chansducky10 · 8 days

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐔𝐬 (ᴘᴀʀᴛ 15)

☆ Genre: Slice of Life, Coming of Age, School, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/comfort, Idol au

☆ Warnings: Mentions of depression, anxiety, self-harm (blood, slight gore), domestic abuse/abusive parents, self hatred, panic attacks, anxiety attacks, eating disorders, mentions of weight

☆ Characters: Chan, Y/N (Stray Kids, Y/N's friends)

☆ Word Count: 4.2k

Part 14

𝕁𝕒𝕪: ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜?

Y/N picked up her phone; she blinked at the screen with a blankness on a face before tapping on a series of buttons.

Remove friend.

Tossing her phone back onto the table with a disgusted roll of her eyes, Y/N pulled her bag towards her. She rifled through its contents before fishing out her sketchbook and an overflowing pencil case. After plugging her ears with her earphones, Y/N flipped open the front book and set her pencil to the textured grain of paper.

It was supposed to be a mindless doodle. Something to distract her … a way for her to ignore her increasingly lonely surroundings. She traced the graphite in aimless lines over the surface, not really paying attention to what shapes she was creating until a long moment later.

Y/N's breath hitched.

She wasn't expecting to see Chan's face staring up at her from the paper, his doe shaped eyes crinkled and his lips upturned in a soft smile. Even his signature black cap was atop his messy curls, casting a soft shadow over his dimpled face.

Y/N hastily dropped her pencil onto the table. She slammed her sketchbook closed and pushed it away as her vision gradually clouded over. The girl folded her arms on top of each other and her head fell against them, her quiet exhale shaky as she shut her eyes in the dark space.

Her stomach rumbled, and she groaned inwardly. She should have already eaten considering it was currently lunch time. And she would have if it was any other day. But if Y/N was being completely honest with herself, she didn't have the guts to walk into the canteen. Not when the girls who were once her friends would be there.

Staring.

Watching.

Whispering.

Y/N sighed.

She really wanted a cheese toastie.

And a caramel latte … or maybe even a hot chocolate. Medium sized, with no cream.

Groaning to herself again as she kicked her legs under the table in frustration, Y/N sat back up again. It had been a few days since she had exploded on Lia. It had been an even longer period of time since she had last been to the café. She dropped her face into her hands, perplexed. She didn't know what she was doing anymore. She wasn't sure avoiding people was actually even making her happy.

But then again … she wasn't sure much made her happy. Not really … save for creating art, the café, and …

And …

Y/N shoved her belongings back into her bag. She tucked her chair under the table before she could talk herself out of what her mind was urging her to do, and before she knew it, the teenager soon found herself standing at the school gates.

She tilted her head, peering up at the very top of the metal poles. Now that she was here, the barrier seemed much taller than she had anticipated. Much taller, and much more lethal looking.

She sighed. Her urgency was fizzing around in her veins like a carbonated drink. It filled her with a strange sense of adrenaline; making sure there was nothing breakable in her bag, Y/N slid it off of her shoulders and tossed it over the gate; it flew through the air and landed on the concrete on the other side with a loud thud.

She bit her lip. There really was no turning back now … not when the mere belongings she owned were slumped on the other side of the barrier.

“Here goes nothing … “ Y/N muttered under her breath. With a deep inhale, she curled her fingers around the cold iron before mustering up her depleted energy to heave herself up. Her booted feet found small footholds in the gate, and after the initial panic, the girl reached the top of the gate and stared down at the school grounds with wide eyes.

Halfway there, she thought.

She swallowed thickly, shutting her eyes. She was funny about heights … she didn't hate them completely. In some instances, she quite enjoyed being high up in the air. But this was definitely one of the instances she didn't like; her fingers trembled and beads of perspiration clung to the perimeter of her face as she tried her hardest to not look down again.

In an awkward manoeuvre, Y/N swung her leg over the top rung so she was positioned in the very middle of the gate. She twisted uncomfortably before slowly bringing over her other leg, and now completely on the other side, she stepped down a little and jumped off of the gate.

She landed on the ground with her knees bent so extravagantly that the concrete scraped against the thin fabric of her trousers. She winced, feeling the skin of her knee rip; but she stood up anyway, replacing her bag over her shoulders before walking away from the gate.

Every step she took further and further away from her school felt a strange combination of fresh air and sadness. Too strange, perhaps, for as soon as she had reached the end of the long street, Y/N’s eyes had started to water as she realised she had never once wanted to ditch school before. She had always been content with staying there as long as possible, far, far away from her family, and in the somewhat amicable company of her friends.

But Y/N knew she would never get that feeling back again. Not when everyone hated her … not when she hated everyone.

It was peculiar how everything had turned on its head in the blink of an eye. One could say it had happened overnight; and in a way, it had. Y/N had woken up one day expecting everything to be as it was.

It wasn't.

Y/N sniffed. She still didn't understand what she had done. Was talking about boys really that bad? That was what started this mess. Boys. It was always boys.

But surely she hadn't said anything that truly warranted a cut off in friendship. Maybe she had been more annoying than she had realised. But if anything, Lia was just as crazy as she was. Crazier, even. After all, that was why Y/N had even decided to play along. To understand why Lia was the way she was. To make her understand what she was like sometimes.

Only, it didn't work. Things had backfired for some reason and all it had resulted in was a permanent sense of confusion, combined with an empty pit of loneliness.

Though, come to think of it, Y/N had always felt that way. The recent events had heightened the feelings, however, and Y/N wasn't quite sure how she would ever get through it.

It felt as though her world was crumbling around her. She didn't know how she would ever build it up again, as fickle and upsetting as it was before.

It was cold outside. Y/N didn't know where she was going; she had no set destination in mind. She just knew that she had to get away … away from anything and everything. The faintest trickle of rain spat at her as wind whistled through trees, and more than twice the low hanging branches had either smacked Y/N across the face or clawed at her hair. With tears constantly flooding her eyes one moment after another, the girl fought her way through the shrubbery, escaping with the lightest of grazes against her cheeks and knuckles.

It seemed that perhaps even nature hated her too.

She soon reached a familiar looking divet in a narrow little street; prodding at the gravel with the toe of her boot, Y/N frowned. She couldn't remember how she knew this area, or where it had led to. But she followed the path anyway, and once her gaze sought out a stretch of virescent green under the heavy grey clouds, she realised with a sharp inhale just what area it was that she was approaching.

She climbed up the hill slowly. She shut her eyes briefly once she neared the top; her heart fluttered with a single echo of a thought, and her mind scolded her for thinking of it after everything.

Opening her eyes slowly, Y/N exhaled.

She stepped backwards a little.

He was there.

Cross legged on the grass, Chan was the embodiment of a storm cloud, dressed in all black; his fingers were the colour of porcelain under the cuff of his hoodie, and they were nimble as they gently pressed at various keys on his silver laptop. His brows were furrowed under the shadow of his cap, and clamped over his ears were the headphones he had lent to Y/N the last time she was here; they peeked out from under the hem of his hood, twinkling faintly with the light of his screen.

He didn't see her. He was too engrossed in whatever he was doing, and Y/N bit her lip as she watched him.

She walked towards him. Not bothering to put her blazer down first, Y/N wordlessly plopped down onto the patch of damp grass beside him.

Chan pushed his headphones down his neck, disturbing the mop of curls at his temples. He turned towards her, and after taking one look at her face, he shut his laptop.

“Are you okay?” Chan's voice was soft. “Ah … sorry. You don't like being asked that.”

Something clicked inside of Y/N at his last statement.

She burst into tears.

Hot, painful, and overloaded with puzzling emotion, Y/N's sobs poured out of her with an intensity that startled her at the back of her mind. She cried almost everyday; but something was different about this time. The entirety of her body trembled, and she struggled to breathe as she dropped her face into her hands. She didn't even have the time to feel embarrassed - every cell comprising her body was occupied with her sudden outburst, the stark silence of her crying all the more concerning as she curled in on herself.

Chan froze. He had been expecting perhaps the roll of her fatigued eyes, or a scathing retort in response to his words … whatever the man had expected, seeing Y/N suddenly crying the way she was definitely hadn't been a thought in his mind. He set his laptop down on top of his bag as his heart began to race

He didn't know what to do. And that was new for him; being the type of person to feel other people's emotions deeply, Chan had always known just how to comfort the people around him. But looking at Y/N, he felt nervous. She was like a fireball … one wrong word, one wrong move from him could result in her burning down the hill they sat upon.

Chan shut his eyes. He painstakingly slowly reached his hands out as if to pull her into a hug. But his fingers curled into soft fists and he hastily pulled them back again as he chewed on his bottom lip.

The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. He knew she despised being touched … and especially now, when she was in such a painful state of vulnerability …

Chan inhaled slowly. His eyes fell shut again.

Well, Chan thought to himself grimly. If she shatters my jaw, then so be it.

Y/N's face was red and splotchy as tears continued to drip down her cheeks like twin waterfalls. Even her fingers were shaking as she tried to brush her tears away, and Chan’s heart constricted as he watched her silently. Before he could talk himself out of it any longer, the man shuffled a little closer to her. He outstretched his arms slowly, and his fingers were soft as they brushed her shoulders; he waited a brief moment, giving her time to pull away if she wanted to. But she didn't, and Chan gently curled his arms around her.

“Hey … it's okay … “ Chan whispered as the gentle touch of his hand cupped the back of Y/N's head. He wasn't sure if she had intended on doing so or not, but Y/N abruptly collapsed into him and the man's hold on her became a little more firm, steadying her. Her head settled at the hollow of his throat, and Chan rested his chin against the top of her hair. One hand started to rub the smallest of consoling circles into Y/N's back and his other caressed tenderly at her hair.

Y/N continued to cry, and Chan continued to pat her head and her back gently. Tender words left his mouth in hopes of restoring peace to the struggling girl in his arms, and after what seemed like half an eternity, Y/N's heavy sobs had started to subside.

“Shh … “ Chan was crooning as his fingers fluttered like delicate butterfly wings against Y/N's shoulders. “There, there. It's all okay … you're gonna be okay.”

“I'm not,” Y/N hiccuped under her breath. “I'm not … okay. I'm … I'm never going to be okay.”

“Hey, that's not true,” Chan hummed softly. “Maybe you feel sad right now, but it won't always be like that, yeah?”

Y/N pulled away from him. Her cheeks were the colour of evening roses, her eyes much the same, though slightly swollen and puffy. She sniffed hard. “That's what everyone says. But it's not true. I'm always going to be trapped here, in this same shitty place, with the same shitty people, and the same shitty family - “

“ - Hey now,” Chan interrupted gently and reached out. He closed his fingers around hers; they were warm, the skin of his palms a little rough, though strangely soft at the same time. His grip around Y/N's hands caught her by surprise and she looked up at him with wide eyes.

He offered her an encouraging smile. His thumbs sweeped over the backs of her hands in slow sweeps, instilling her with gradually increasing warmth.

“Tell me what's hurting you, hmm?” Chan said. “You can trust me, Y/N. I'm here for you.”

Looking up into his eyes, Y/N felt her own eyes fill with tears again. She wasn't sure she had ever seen such compassion and openness in a person's face before - no, she knew it for a fact. She had never seen someone looking at her the way Chan was.

It made her want to tell him everything.

Maybe she really could trust him.

“I don't know what to say,” Y/N whispered. “I don't know where to begin.”

Chan's eyes softened further. He squeezed her hands ever so slightly. “Start with whatever pops into your mind first. It doesn't matter if it doesn't make sense … I'm still going to listen. You can tell me anything.”

And so she did. Sitting beside him on the hill with his hands caressing hers, Y/N let it all pour out. The first few moments were rigid, awkward, as she tried to find the right words to begin her story. But starting with Chan's prompt and telling him the very first thing on the forefront of her mind, she realised everything else spilled out naturally. She told him everything … the betrayal of her friends, her naivety and her stupid, stupid crush, the constant mental and physical abuse she had to endure from her parents each night. How she felt she had never fit in, and how she was sure she never would, either. Her words came out like broken jigsaw puzzles, each piece of new information from her mouth deepening the crease of Chan's brow as they fitted together within themselves.

“I know other people have bigger problems than me,” Y/N said once she had finished venting to the quiet man at her side. “Sometimes I feel so … stupid for letting all of this get to me. I should be stronger. I shouldn't care about wanting to be accepted by other people.”

“Y/N, you're fifteen,” Chan said, hurt for her stinging his eyes. His head was spinning, his chest hurting. “You shouldn't have had to deal with any of this. It doesn't matter if people have worse things that they're going through … it doesn't mean what you're going through is any less important, or any less … difficult.”

Chan gently patted the back of her hand with his own, his head bowed as he continued to talk. “It's normal to want to be accepted and loved by other people. I mean … as humans, we're naturally sociable creatures, you know - we need the support of other human beings in order to thrive. We all need love, and we all deserve to be loved … it just seems that you've been pretty unfortunate in that department.”

At that, the ghost of a smile crossed Y/N's lips.

“You deserve better friends than the ones you had,” Chan continued with a sigh. “You're not in the wrong here … You deserve a family who loves you, and protects you. And you deserve to crush on someone who isn't a fuckboy.”

Y/N flushed. She looked away, embarrassed.

Chan laughed quietly. “Hey … you finally got around to telling me about them, huh?”

“I suppose so,” Y/N said. She removed her hand from Chan's and curled her knees up to her chest, hugging her legs to herself. “Bet it wasn't what you were expecting.”

“No,” Chan agreed with a smile. “But I'm still glad you told me.”

At that, Y/N turned her head up to him. “You are?”

“Of course. You don't have to be alone through all of this. Not when I'm here.”

“Well, what do you think I should do, Mr Genius?” Y/N asked quietly. “There's not much I can do.”

Chan smiled softly. “That's not entirely true. You might feel trapped but there's always, always a way out. You just have to look for it.”

Y/N frowned at him. “Easy for you to say. You're a … a … K-pop Idol.”

“And you think that's easy?” Chan laughed. He sighed and leaned back on his hands. His eyes became wistful as he looked out to the distance, the wind ruffling his hair. “I left home at thirteen. I was completely on my own … I went to train in a country I barely knew anything about. And I really loved being at home. I mean of course my family has issues sometimes, everyone does … but they mean everything to me. My school friends, my family, the city I grew up in … I had to leave it all behind.

I trained for seven years. I made friends, I got close to people, and after a while I didn't feel so alone anymore. But as time went by, all the friends I made either debuted way before me or just … didn't make it. They had to leave. It was so … hard … just watching them all disappear, or move on, while I was still stuck there doing the same thing over and over again. Every time I thought something would change and I might finally make it out, something seemed to get in the way. It felt like I was trapped in the same cycle and it got so lonely, and so depressing, really quickly.”

Y/N was quiet as she listened to the man's soft voice. He had plucked blades of grass out from beneath him and he was twisting them around his fingers into tiny little ropes.

“Sometimes it got so hard that I really did consider just … “ Chan made an animated gesture by dragging the tip of his index finger over the width of his neck while his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth.

Y/N's eyes widened. Her mouth grew dry as she continued to stare at him in surprise.

She hadn't known the man before her for very long. But all of a sudden she realised she couldn't imagine a world without him being in it.

Her eyes watered.

“What changed your mind?” Y/N whispered.

Chan shrugged. He shredded the grass in his fingers before blowing the smithereens away. “I'd already come so far, I guess. It'd have been a massive waste of everyone's time and effort if I'd just given up, you know? I realised that … sometimes, even though it can be really, really difficult, the only way to get out of a tough situation like that is to keep going until you get to the other side. I mean … think about it. If you were in a forest or something and you were suddenly stuck in the middle not knowing where you were, you wouldn't just give up and let the wildlife eat you, would you? You'd keep walking until you find a way out.”

Y/N wrinkled her nose. “I don't know. The thought of being eaten by wildlife sounds pretty intriguing.”

Chan chuckled. “Alright, Miss Macabre. You know what I mean.”

“Macabre,” Y/N repeated under her breath with a laugh. And then, “Do I?” she asked with a smile.

Chan turned to look at her. He grinned. “I think you do.”

He stretched his legs out in front of him before flopping down against the grass with a placid expression. His fingers tapped gently on the ground behind Y/N, and the girl found herself following his lead until she was laying beside him, carefully examining his face.

“Besides,” Chan continued. “After a while, the kids came into my life and made me forget how hard things were. Without them … I don't know where I'd be right now.”

“The kids?” Y/N echoed.

Chan turned his head against the grass. “The members. They're my kids.”

“Okay, old man,” Y/N grumbled. Chan's eyes crinkled into crescent moons in response, and Y/N couldn't help but smile as she looked away again, her gaze fixing on the swirling clouds above them.

“Don't give up,” Chan hummed after a while. “No matter how hard things get, just … don't give up. One day you'll look back on all of this and you'll be so proud that you kept going. No amount of darkness lasts forever, Y/N. There'll always be light that follows … it's just a matter of time.”

Y/N shut her eyes at his last words to stop herself from crying all over again. She could already feel the back of her throat starting to scratch from her earlier explosion.

“Sometimes being alone isn't always a bad thing,” Chan was saying as he slipped an arm behind his head like a pillow. “Use the time to work on your relationship with yourself. Figure out what you want in life, and what kind of person you want to be. It might seem like everything is shit but in these sorts of situations there's always a silver lining. You just have to look for it.”

Y/N turned her head to him as she mulled his words over in her head. She had never been given advice from anyone before; she was so used to guiding herself through the majority of her life that she had no idea how to respond to him.

Especially when she was fighting back the tears that threatened to spill down her temples and into her hairline.

“Hey, look!” Chan suddenly exclaimed in an excited, childlike whisper. Y/N peered down; a small red dot fluttered around on the cuff of her sleeve, and she blinked in surprise. “Aw, it's a ladybird! You know what ladybirds represent, right?”

Lifting her arm to her face to examine the tiny bug dancing on her sleeve, Y/N couldn't help but smile. She shook her head. “Nope.”

“Protection and good fortune,” Chan hummed with the upturn of his lips. “And healing, I think. But hey … maybe the universe is sending you a sign. That everything is going to be okay.”

Y/N's heart grew warm as they both watched the red ladybird flap its wings. It flew away a few moments later, and Y/N watched it disappear into the distance before turning to look at the man beside her.

She watched him quietly, and after a while, Chan turned to look at her too. His eyes sparkled as he smiled at her and he started to chuckle.

“What?” Chan asked. “What are you thinking?”

Y/N blinked. “Do they really call you Triple Threat?”

Chan stared. He burst into laughter, the sound light in the chilly breeze. “What?”

“In Runner's High,” Y/N said. “You said they call you Triple Threat.”

“Oh,” Chan's laughter increased as he pulled his cap down his face in embarrassment, and it made Y/N smile. “No, actually. It just sounded cool.”

His answer caused Y/N to giggle. She looked up at Chan again, and the pair of them erupted into another fit of quiet laughter.

They grew quiet again, and Y/N smiled at him.

“I'm glad you didn't give up,” she whispered to him.

Chan's face softened. He reached out in the space between them and gently nudged her fingers with his. “So am I.”

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Masterlist

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157 notes · View notes

chansducky10 · 11 days

Text

[10:00pm]

☆ Genre: Domestic, angst, fluff

☆ Warnings: None

☆ Request: No

☆ Characters: Chan, Y/N

☆ Word Count: 0.6k

Wisps of the evening breeze danced through the waves of Chan's hair, lifting the fine strands from his head. Y/N smiled fondly at the sight of his familiar frame as she stepped out into their garden with a twin pair of mugs encased in her hand.

“You're gonna catch a cold,” Y/N hummed as she reached over her husband's shoulder, sliding a mug into his fingers. She then perched herself onto the edge of the alfresco where Chan was sitting, stretching her legs out in front of her.

Chan responded by offering her a grateful smile. It further softened the entirety of his already tender features; His cheeks were the subtle colour of summer roses, and he would have looked carefree were it not for the sad downwards tilt to his eyes.

He tightened his fingers on the warmth of his mug, tilting his head back again to view the twinkling stars above them both. Their light seemed to comfort him a little - the corners of his lips turned up ever so slightly, and he shuffled a little closer to his wife until the curves of their arms were pressed against one another.

“I always liked that idea of people turning into stars once they die,” Chan's voice was soft when he spoke a while later; soft like the rustle of wind through the distant trees.

It made Y/N turn to look at him. The look on his face told her that there was a large plethora of things on his mind tonight. Things that he didn't have to say out loud; but they were there, hanging unsaid yet understood in the spring air between them both.

“I know it's not scientifically possible,” Chan continued. “But … I like thinking it, sometimes. That … all the people who aren't here anymore are now shining brilliantly above us all.”

He tilted his head, eyes landing on his wife. “Can you imagine? Floating through life and then becoming a beautiful light for the rest of the world?”

At that, Y/N couldn't help but smile. She set her mug down beside her and reached for her husband's free hand, tangling her fingers with his. Chan's touch was cold, and the woman raised their entwined hands before planting feather-light kisses to his skin.

She knew what he was really trying to say through his words. It made her squeeze his hand as she cuddled up to him further.

“Well, if that's true, then I think you'd be Sirius A,” Y/N murmured, tracing her fingertips over the length of her husband's fingers.

It made Chan chuckle out of embarrassment. He turned his face and dropped a loving kiss to the top of his wife's head.

“Why A?” Chan asked.

“Because it's the brightest, and the most beautiful star in the whole universe.” Y/N smiled.

Chan flushed. He wrinkled his nose as the backs of his eyes prickled. “Well, then you'd be Sirius B.”

Y/N looked up at him in question.

“Always by my side,” Chan whispered.

The blush on her cheeks matching her husband's, Y/N dropped her head against Chan's shoulder again as he once more turned his gaze to the sky. She curled her hands around his arm, locking him in a halfway embrace.

“I hope they're happy, stars or not,” Chan said a while later in his hushed tone. “I hope they're all at peace.”

He didn't need to say anything else. Y/N already understood him completely. She trailed her fingers up her shoulders and slipped her hand into his hair, her fingers gently caressing the nape of his neck as he let his head fall gently on top of hers.

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chansducky10 · 13 days

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐔𝐬 (ᴘᴀʀᴛ 14)

☆ Genre: Slice of Life, Coming of Age, School, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/comfort, Idol au

☆ Warnings: Mentions of depression, anxiety, self-harm (blood, slight gore), domestic abuse/abusive parents, self hatred, panic attacks, anxiety attacks, eating disorders, mentions of weight

☆ Characters: Chan, Y/N (Stray Kids, Y/N's friends)

☆ Word Count: 2k

Part 13

Y/N had almost managed to clear the fogginess from her mind completely when her attention was diverted. She spotted Reagan sitting on a small bench outside; she was alone, her legs crossed at the knee as she scrolled through her phone.

Biting her lip, Y/N continued to watch the girl as she pondered over whether she should go up to her or not. It wasn't as though she was with anyone else … Reagan wasn't like the others. Surely the other day had been a misunderstanding? Y/N was sure Reagan wouldn't treat her the way Lia had …

Y/N inhaled deeply. She walked up to Reagan and plastered a smile onto her face.

“Hey,” Y/N greeted her.

Reagan looked up. Her face softened ever so slightly at the sight of her, though the friendly expression she usually wore when speaking to Y/N was nowhere to be seen.

Y/N swallowed thickly.

“Hi,” Reagan said.

Y/N waited for Reagan to follow up her response with something else, the way she always did. Reagan was notorious for launching into a playful anecdote as soon as she saw another person, especially when she was talking to Y/N.

But Reagan stayed silent. She looked down again and continued to scroll through her phone; she seemed to be purposely avoiding eye contact with Y/N, who wanted nothing but for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

“Do you hate me too?” Y/N asked with a lighthearted laugh. It was an attempt to break the ice, but she instantly cringed at her own self, regretting the past few minutes with every fibre of her being.

Reagan looked up at her again. She smiled, but the smile didn't reach her eyes - it was strange, a foreign expression that made Y/N suddenly feel as though they were complete strangers.

“Why would I hate you?”

“Everyone else apparently does,” Y/N said quietly.

“I don't hate you,” Reagan said. “But … maybe you shouldn't hang out with us anymore. It might be awkward for you.”

YN's lower lip trembled. Pressing her mouth into a thin line she wondered if she should respond; but feeling the burning at the back of her eyes, she thought better of it, and instead she turned on her heel and began to walk away.

“Y/N, wait … “

Reagan's voice trailed off as Y/N quickened her pace. She entered the school building again and headed straight for the library; breathing fast, she didn't stop walking until she reached one of the round wooden tables near the back of the quiet room, and depositing her bag down onto a free chair, Y/N sunk into the one beside it.

Well, Y/N thought to herself as she closed her arms around her head. That's that.

“Are you alright dear?”

Y/N looked up in bewilderment. The librarian - a kindly lady in her mid fifties - was looking at her with mild worry. She had a stack of books in the curve of her arms and was slotting them back into empty spaces on the shelves.

“Yes, sorry,” Y/N said. “Just ... tired.”

The librarian smiled at her. “You look as though you could do with a full eight hours of sleep, my dear … “

Y/N watched wistfully as the librarian shuffled away again. If only she could sleep that much … but Y/N couldn't remember the last time she had slept for more than a couple of hours at a time.

She sighed, leaning back in her chair. The library was almost completely empty at this hour; all mahogany wood and tall bookcases that smelled of old parchment, the moderately sized room was one of Y/N's favourite places in the school. It was quiet, peaceful, and usually home to students whose only focus was their rushed homework and catching up on missed lessons; they couldn't care less about who Y/N was, or why she was there. And it was a liberating feeling. Y/N could sink into the shadows and focus on her own business without worrying about being stared at from across the room, something that enabled her to experience a minute sense of calm amongst such a buse mind.

Y/N pursed her lips. She drummed her fingertips against the scratched surface of the table and looked up at the large clock on the far wall. Half an hour until her first lesson, Y/N would have usually spent the free time chatting with her friends.

But she supposed she didn't really have any friends now.

Not when Lia had convinced their friend group she was a slut.

Not when Jay had talked about her as if she was a slut.

Not when …

Not when she had pushed Chan away.

Y/N's eyes stung as she turned her phone on. Now that she had time to kill on her own, she didn't particularly know what to do. She hadn't brought her sketchbook with her; a mistake, since it was exactly the sort of moment where she could have drawn until her heart was content. Instead, the girl mindlessly scrolled through her phone with her hand steepled under her chin. She stopped when she came across an image of nine figures who were slowly becoming increasingly familiar to her. Staring at Chan's face near the middle of the image, Y/N clicked out of the app and swiped into another one.

Y/N didn't understand any of the songs. But she had a feeling her heart had picked up on the correct atmosphere for most of them.

She had a vague idea of what each of the songs were about due to the survival show she had binge watched previously; as the last song finished, she couldn't help but groan. The only lyrics she could fully understand were the last three words, and they made her sink a little further down her seat.

“Thanks my friend.”

She didn't have much time to wallow in her misery, nor ponder the strange correlation between her life at the moment and the lyrics. The bell rang a few seconds later and Y/N grabbed her bag, shoving her phone into her pocket. Her mind echoed with Chan and his friends’ voices as she made her way to her first classroom.

*☆*☆*

“Oi,” Jay nudged Y/N.

Y/N immediately moved away from the footballer’s touch. She didn't even look at him. Her eyes were glued to the whiteboard at the front of the classroom, and her jaw was hard as she clenched it slowly.

“Y/N?” Jay asked.

“What?” Y/N snapped.

Jay blinked. Taken aback, the boy blinked a few times before offering her a large grin.

Y/N didn't return it. She stared at him with a blank expression, waiting for him to speak again.

“You okay?” Jay asked.

“What's it to you?” Y/N uncapped her pen and began to scrawl across her paper. She could feel s wave of surprise radiating off of Jay's body, and a pang of satisfaction bloomed inside of her.

Huh, she thought. Maybe being cold does have its perks.

“Did I do something?” Jay looked uncomfortable.

Y/N looked up at him. It was surprising to her how subdued the footballer appeared. Perhaps if Y/N had been exposed to his hurt face a few weeks ago, she'd have melted and given in to him.

But today she was annoyed, disgusted, and quite frankly, her brief crush for him had disintegrated into the thin air, leaving her to see him for what he really was.

He was just like everyone else. She had always been right - boys were assholes.

She didn't respond to him. Instead she looked away, and as she did so, her eye caught Lia's; the girl was still watching her with her beady gaze despite their lack of communication, and Y/N was suddenly irked.

“What the fuck do you want?” Y/N shot her question like a bullet across the room.

Everyone stared. Lia's head jutted forward in shock at Y/N's abrupt forthright demeanour. Whispers broke out around the classroom; known for being relatively quiet, Y/N's outburst caused a tumultuous chorus of confusion to echo against the walls.

“Y/N!” Her English teacher looked bewildered. “I don't know what's gotten into you today, but mind your language please.”

Y/N shrugged. She stared at Lia with contempt as she vaguely muttered under her breath. “Sorry. It's probably a side effect of being a slut.”

Low whistles sounded around Y/N from the people sitting closest to her. Jay's mouth fell open with confusion and something reminiscent of guilt, while Lia sank back into her seat, momentarily perplexed.

“You tell her, Y/N,” Sam whispered from the corner of the room.

Y/N turned her gaze on him in annoyance. She flipped her middle finger at him and the boy's eyebrows shot up his forehead, stunned.

As lunchtime approached, Y/N gathered her things together and made to head towards the library. She was making her way down the opposite corridor to the one she usually took; as she did so, she could hear Lia whispering rather loudly behind her. Agitated and suddenly filled with an influx of rage, Y/N stopped walking. Before she could talk herself out of it, she turned around and stormed down the other end of the corridor. She approached a startled Lia, her eyes flashing with anger.

“What the fuck did I ever do to you?” Y/N asked Lia loudly. “Seriously … other than being a good friend to you, what have I actually done to make you treat me like fucking shit?”

Lia fell silent. She leaned against the wall as people started to huddle around them, curiosity getting the better of them.

“I've always been there for you. I was always the one you'd run to whenever your stupid daddy slapped the shit out of you,” gasps erupted around Y/N as she continued speaking, her chest rising and falling quickly. “You never once asked how I was doing. You never once cared about anyone else but you, and yet I never said anything. I'm sorry, but you have no right to spread rumours about me when you're the one who's fucked up in the head. You're the one with a superiority complex and the personality of a … a hoe.”

“Damn right!” Someone shouted. Laughter exploded around the small group.

Seething with embarrassment and animosity, Lia looked Y/N up and down with the nastiest expression Y/N had ever seen.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Lia asked her. “Why are you acting all high and mighty when you're the one who was running around those boys like a fucking crackhead? ‘Jay this’ And ‘Jay that’ … do you know how stupid you sounded? As if he'd ever actually like someone like you. You can't talk to me like that when you're the one sleeping around like a whore.”

“I never slept with any of them!” Y/N snapped, outraged. “I'm not you. I don't get with any guy just because they give me a bit of attention. Besides, I don't know why you're so mad … you're the one who initiated half the conversations about them in the first place.”

Lia started to laugh maniacally. “Wow. I don't know what to say to such stupidity other than wow. A slut, and delusional. I literally never talked about them, ever.”

Y/N's mouth dropped open in disbelief at her blatant lie. The crowd around them had grown substantially, various students desperate for their argument to escalate.

“You know what?” Y/N exhaled slowly. “Fine. You keep being like that. You're not worth it. Keep acting like a fake bitch and you'll get really fucking far in life.”

Without waiting for a reply, Y/N turned around and pushed through the crowd. She barged her way through the people; a large handful of them clapped at her as she went, and she was vaguely aware of thumbs up being directed towards her. But she ignored them all, holding her head up high as she made her way to the library.

Once she was there, she slapped a hand across her red face in annoyance at herself.

Why did I bring her dad into this?

I should have stayed silent.

Fuck.

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chansducky10 · 14 days

Text

𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮

☆ Genre: Domestic, fluff

☆ Warnings: None

☆ Request: No

☆ Characters: Chan, Y/N

☆ Word Count: 1.9k

“Are you coming?” Chan laughed up the stairs. “I've made the sofa all nice and cosy … “

There was a clatter from the couple's bedroom, and then, “Coming!”

With a grin and the subtle fond shake of his head, Chan shuffled towards the sofa again. He collapsed onto the pile of blankets with a contented groan, his lips curving up into a smile as he automatically stroked his hands over the heavy material beside him. He hummed to himself at the softness against his fingers, and suddenly very excited to be cuddled up to his wife for the next few hours, Chan made to get up again to see where she had gone.

But Y/N pottered into the room a split second later, and Chan smiled widely at her as she made her way to where he was sitting.

“What were you doing?” Chan chuckled.

Y/N stifled a yawn with her hand. “I was changing. I feel like those other clothes were hurting my body.”

At that, Chan wrinkled his nose. He knew that feeling all too well; at the end of a long day, the last thing he wanted was his day clothes trapping him and restricting his level of comfort.

He cocked his head to the side. “Is that my hoodie?”

Y/N flapped her arms around; the dark sleeves were long, and they hung a few inches below her hands. The hem of the hoodie landed at the middle of her bare thighs, and she giggled when her husband's face turned into one of amusement.

“Maybe … ?” Y/N said. “It's cosy.”

Chans’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “No clothes is even cosier … ”

Cheeks flushed, Y/N reached for the nearest cushion and playfully thumped it across her husband's arm. “Not everyone wants to be naked twenty-four-seven like you.”

Chan started to chuckle. He made a sudden lunge for the cushion and grabbed it before his wife could pummel him with it; he set it to the side and opened his arms up to her, his face softening.

“Come here,” Chan said.

Y/N's face melted as she looked into the mans eyes. She stepped towards him and let Chan's arms circle around her; he pulled her onto his lap with ease, a smirk on his face as she started to laugh.

“Alright, Christopher, stop showing off,” Y/N rolled her eyes. “I already know you can deadlift a shit tonne.”

“I don't know what you mean,” Chan said nonchalantly, though his eyes glinted as she squeezed her tightly. “I'm just trying to cuddle with my wife.”

“Really? Is that why you just grabbed me out of thin air like I'm some sort of … ball?” Y/N grinned.

Chan chuckled. “A ball?”

“I don't know, it was the first thing that came into my mind,” Y/N shrugged. She peered down at her husband as she settled down properly on his thighs. A smile spread across her lips; she couldn't stop herself from reaching out and lightly squishing her husband's face in her hand. Chan grinned up at her innocently. A second later his tongue darted out and he licked the inside of his wife's palm, the woman yelping in surprise.

“You always do that … ” Y/N whined as Chan broke into a fit of satisfied giggled.

“Can't help it,” Chan grinned. “You're tasty.”

“You're gross,” Y/N stuck her tongue out at him, though she slipped her arms around his bare torso and sank into the curve of his body. “I really hate you.”

Chan's grin widened. He tucked his favourite blanket around them both in response, ducking his head a little to drop a tender kiss to the top of his wife's head.

Y/N nuzzled further into his body at the affection; the warmth of his skin against her cheek became increasingly comforting, and she smiled against his skin.

“What do you wanna watch?” Chan asked her. One of his hands was pointing the remote at their TV, his other arm wrapped around his wife's shoulders, his fingers playing with the fabric of her hoodie.

Y/N looked up at him. “What do you wanna watch?”

Chuckling, Chan squeezed her shoulder gently. “Whatever you wanna watch.”

“Well, too bad. I wanna watch what you wanna watch.”

Chan grinned. “How do we always end up here? It happens every single time.”

“Your fault,” Y/N said.

“How is that my fault?”

Y/N shrugged again. “Just is.”

Laughing under his breath, Chan set the remote to the side. He wrapped his free arm around his wife and hugged her tight; smiling at the sudden burst of affection, Y/N buried her face into his chest and closed her fingers over the hot skin of his lower back.

“Choose something,” Chan whispered, kissing her temple. “Whatever you want.”

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked as she looked up at him.

Chan nodded. He brushed his nose against hers in a gentle kiss. “Wanna watch what makes you happy.”

Y/N's heart fluttered. She truly didn't mind watching anything as long as she was with her husband; she'd have sat through the world's most boring movie (which had happened previously) if that was what Chan had wanted to watch. But she was also secretly dying to watch her favourite show - it was the sort of show that filled her with warmth and comfort, and that was exactly the sort of thing she needed after the strenuous day she had had.

She reached for the remote; Chan knew what she was going to click onto before she did so, and when he realised he was right, he started to laugh. He squeezed his wife in his embrace, rubbing his wife's shoulders as the opening chords of the TV show’s theme song began.

As they watched the show together, Chan's attention started to waver. It wasn't that he was bored - for from it, infact. He had a special fondness for this particular show; it made his wife happy, and besides that, it did have an increasingly contagious storyline. But despite that, Chan couldn't help but notice how Y/N was clinging to him. Her hands were gentle at the base of his back, though her cheek was almost completely flat with how hard she was leaning against his chest. Eyes wide as she focused on the TV, her knees were curled up to her chest, giving her the resemblance of a tiny little ball, and Chan smiled to himself as he remembered her earlier words.

Chan trailed one of his hands from Y/N's waist to the curve of her face. He smoothed her hair away from her forehead with the sides of his fingers, his eyes softening more and more as he continued to watch her. With every one of his touches she seemed to cuddle further into him, and it made Chan grin, his nose flushing pink.

Y/N turned her head. “What?”

“Nothing … ” Chan hummed. He cupped her head with his hand and gently led it back down to his chest again, readjusting the blanket around her shoulders. “Just … thinking about how lucky I am to see this side of you.”

She squeezed his torso. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you know … you're always this hyper independent woman who looks like she'd kill anyone who even dared to help her, you know?” Chan half joked, a smile spreading across his lips as Y/N looked up at him. “Kinda scary.”

“I'm not scary,” Y/N huffed.

“Oh, I don't know … “ Chan mused. “I remember thinking you were pretty scary when you were still a kid.”

Y/N's cheeks grew hot. She remembered him saying that to her back then, too.

“I'm just saying … you seem all tough and invincible with the way you help everyone around you … but then you come home and you turn into this … tiny little … baby. And it's like the complete opposite of what you're usually like, you know?”

Y/N's blush deepened. She suddenly felt quite embarrassed. “You're the same though.”

“Yeah, but nowhere near as adorable as you,” Chan said, caressing her face. “I guess I just feel really lucky knowing that I'm the only one that gets to see you like this. Makes me feel special.”

“Well, you are special,” Y/N mumbled.

Chan leaned down to her, amusement blooming in his eyes. “Huh? What was that?”

“Shut up … “ Y/N grumbled, pushing him away with a smile of her own.

Chuckling at the predicted reaction, Chan nuzzled his nose against his wife's cheek. He kissed her pink skin before shifting in his seat, cuddling the woman closer to him under their pile of blankets.

It was quiet for a while before Y/N spoke again. When she did, her voice was soft, and it made Chan's heart melt.

“I guess it's because you're the only one that makes me feel safe … “ Y/N said, her eyes on the TV as Chan caressed his delicate fingers through her hair. “With everyone else I feel like I have to be strong and act like I have everything together otherwise they won't trust me when they need my help, you know? But with you … I don't have to pretend. I can be myself no matter how I'm feeling and you understand me completely.”

Chan looked down at his wife. She looked so vulnerable and small in that moment that he felt his heart skip a beat, and he instinctively tried to pull her even closer to him despite them already being pressed up to each other as much as was possible.

“You really feel like that?” Chan whispered, his knuckles tender against her temple.

Y/N nodded. “You're the only one who I can be like this around.”

It took Chan a large amount of effort to hide the beaming smile on his face.

She had no idea how much her words meant to him.

“You make me feel like that too,” Chan said, kissing her forehead.

Y/N started to giggle. “I know. That's why you act like a child around me.”

“Hey,” Chan chuckled. “I don't act like a child.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at him.

“I'm five,” Chan gave in, his melodramatic facial expression contorting all of his features. It made his wife erupt into quiet laughter, and she sat up in his hold suddenly, sliding her arms around his neck.

“You're stupid,” Y/N corrected him as she leaned in to kiss his lips softly. She couldn't stop smiling as she leaned her forehead against hers, Chan's hands sliding up the hoodie on her back. “I love you.”

Chan's smile widened. “I love you more.”

“Impossible,” Y/N whispered. “I love you way more.”

Chuckling, Chan brushed his lips against hers. “Whatever makes you happy, baby girl.”

“You make me happy,” Y/N murmured. She snuggled further into him, clutching her fingers into his back. “You're the only person who makes me feel like this.”

“Like what?” Chan whispered.

Y/N smiled. “Like I'm at home whenever I'm with you.”

Biting his lip, Chan squeezed her body with his soft touch. He leaned back against the sofa, pulling his wife with him until they were both half laying against the seat. He nuzzled his nose against Y/N's face, his eyes falling shut as he breathed in the scent of her, relishing in her presence.

“Home sweet you, huh?” Chan breathed.

Y/N started to giggle. She kissed his nose. “Home sweet you.”

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chansducky10 · 21 days

Text

[1:00am]

☆ Genre: Domestic, fluff

☆ Warnings: None

☆ Request: No

☆ Characters: Chan, Y/N

☆ Word Count: 0.3k

Chan and Y/N erupted into a fit of hushed giggles. The couple were tucked up in their bed, Y/N's head against a propped up pillow and Chan's head nestled into the crook of her neck. With his nose pressed up against her skin and his muscular arm draped over her torso, Chan couldn't keep the content smile off of his face. His wife had an arm around his shoulders, Y/N's hand stroking through Chan's messy curls with her soft touch, while her other hand propped up her book which she rested on top of her chest. She had reached the end of the page and in trying to flip it over, the book unbalanced and flopped onto Y/N's face.

“Wow,” Chan commented through his chuckles. “So elegant. So much flair. So - “

“Shut up,” Y/N's shoulders shook with mirth as she pulled the book off of her face. Deciding there was no point in continuing her reading, the woman closed it and reached over slightly before placing her book onto the bedside table.

“Finally,” Chan hummed as she replaced her other arm around him. “You're all mine again.”

“You say that as if I haven't been cuddling you for the past hour,” Y/N laughed. She shifted slightly, as did Chan, and she rubbed the man's bare back. He snuggled further into her, his legs draping over hers and his smile warm against her chest.

“One arm doesn't count,” Chan hummed as her fingers began to run slowly up and down his shoulder blades. “Stupid book. Taking my cuddles away from me.”

“Oh my God,” Y/N sighed dramatically, making her husband laugh all over again. “Fine. I won't read again.”

Chan lifted his head and flashed his soft smile at her. “Hey, you can read. Just … without holding the book ...”

He trailed off into another fit of giggles and Y/N couldn't help but cup his face and place a loving kiss over his lips.

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chansducky10 · 23 days

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐔𝐬 (ᴘᴀʀᴛ 13)

☆ Genre: Slice of Life, Coming of Age, School, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/comfort, Idol au

☆ Warnings: Mentions of depression, anxiety, self-harm (blood, slight gore), domestic abuse/abusive parents, self hatred, panic attacks, anxiety attacks, eating disorders, mentions of weight

☆ Characters: Chan, Y/N (Stray Kids, Y/N's friends)

☆ Word Count: 2.5k

Part 12

It was unusually silent at the footballers’ lunch table. They were usually one of the loudest tables in the canteen, but today the boys were almost silent. It wasn't exactly a hostile silence, but it was one that wasn't entirely natural either.

Y/N prodded at her pasta uneasily. She hadn't really wanted to sit at their table with the curious footballers breathing down her neck and their cloying body spray infiltrating her brain cells in a reprehensible manner. But Jay had conveniently spotted her heading towards the library after her lesson, and after a bout of energetic persuasion, he had succeeded in dragging Y/N alongside him to the canteen.

“She's staring at you,” Sam suddenly broke the silence. Y/N looked up at him; he was nodding towards an all too familiar table to her on the other end of the canteen. “She has been ever since you came and sat here.”

Y/N didn't turn around. She stabbed her fork into a piece of penne. Why had he been staring at her for that long?

“She looks like she wants to munder you,” Jay chimed in casually. He was in the seat beside Y/N, and he turned so his body was facing her direction as he rested an elbow on the table.

“You do realise that they all hate me because of you, right?” Y/N said. “They're all mad that I'm friends with you.”

Jay's eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Y/N grumbled. “Now none of them want to talk to me.”

“Oh,” Jay said. He rubbed the nape of his neck with his hand in an uncharacteristically subdued manner. “That's … shit.”

Y/N resisted the urge to snort with unamused laughter at his lack of words.

Typical.

Boys really don't know how to speak unless they're fooling around with their friends, she thought. It was as though they were incapable of tuning in to serious energy, their brains only wired for immaturity and practical jokes.

Jay had started to rummage around in his bag; the loud rustling of it caused Y/N to look towards him again, and she observed him retrieving a smaller bag which he then ripped the top off of.

He shook the bag open before holding it towards Y/N with a crooked smile. “Want some?”

“No thanks,” Y/N said.

Jay frowned. “No thanks? Who the fuck says no to chocolate?”

Y/N's lips twitched. “Me.”

“I didn't poison them,” Jay rolled his eyes as he moved the bag closer to her. “Don't you like chocolate?”

“Well, yeah … but … “

“Just have some,” Jay said, finally pushing the packet into Y/N's hand. “Otherwise I'll feel really awkward. And I'm not good at comforting people, so … ”

Lips curving up ever so slightly, Y/N sighed. She dipped her hand into the bag and pulled out a cube of chocolate. She simultaneously ignored the heavy eyes on her from both the group of footballers she was surrounded by, and her ex-friends who were now all blatantly talking loudly about her.

Y/N swallowed thickly. She felt increasingly uncomfortable with every passing second.

“I don't think you're in the wrong, by the way,” Jay drawled a moment later as he leaned against the side of the table. “There's nothing wrong with making new friends and stuff. They're just jealous.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows. “Jealous?”

“Yeah,” Jay shrugged. There was a smirk on Sam's face, and Jay kicked his friend's shin violently under the table. “I mean, you're hanging out with us and they're not. They probably wanted a taste of the lads too, I bet.”

Sam snorted with laughter. He slammed a notebook over his face, muffling the sound.

“Fuck off you cunt,” Jay chuckled at Sam. He nudged Y/N with his elbow - she flinched away, though he didn't notice. “Ignore him. Too much weed.”

“Really?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah, really,” Jay started to laugh at her surprise. “He's always high.”

“Why?”

“‘S fun, init?” Sam said slowly as he slumped onto one of his friends.

Y/N stared at him. She ceased to reply and swallowed her chocolate instead.

“Good thing you already sit next to me in English … “ Jay yawned, nudging Y/N again; this time it was with his knee, and Y/N almost shot out of her seat like a Jack-in-the-box

He really was incredibly touchy.

“Would have been crazy awkward if you were sitting next to them,” Jay continued, chuckling under his breath.

“I still do sit next to them. In other lessons,” Y/N said quietly.

Jay sighed. “Sad.”

*☆*☆*

Y/N slowly stirred her coffee with a spoon. The movement disturbed the fine layer of froth on the top, the once detailed heart in the centre now a mass of beige coloured foam, the defined edges shattered and blurred into the background.

Chan wrapped his slender fingers around his warm mug and lifted it to his face as he silently watched the girl in front of him. She seldom did speak more than she absolutely had to; but today she appeared more isolated than usual, and it made Chan sigh inwardly.

He itched to know what was going on in her mind. He wished she would just tell her everything so he could help her.

“Y/N?” Chan asked.

Y/N looked up.

Chan nodded towards her coffee. “Do you usually stir your lattes like that?”

Dropping her spoon against the tray, Y/N rested her fingers against her temples. She shook her head, exhaling slowly. “No.”

“Just thought I'd ask,” Chan shrugged nonchalantly. “You've ruined that poor barista's art.”

“She'll live,” Y/N said dryly.

It made Chan chuckle. He coughed comedically to cover the light sound, and the tips of his nose and ears turned pink when Y/N rolled her eyes at him.

He smiled, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

“You haven't been here in ages,” Chan commented after a while. “Thought you didn't want to see me.”

Y/N looked up at him again. He was smiling, his face as calm as it always was; it almost made Y/N want to burst into tears. She looked into her coffee again, focusing on the tiny bubbles skirting around the rim of her mug.

“If I didn't want to see you, I wouldn't have answered your messages either,” Y/N commented in a quiet tone of voice.

Chan started to laugh. “Is that supposed to be reassuring?”

“Do you need reassurance?” Y/N asked.

“No … “ Chan mused. He bit his lip. “Okay. I can't take it anymore. What's wrong?”

“Why do you think anything is wrong?” Y/N picked up her spoon again. She pointed it at the man, her eyes drooping with fatigue. “You always ask me that. It's weird.”

“How is that weird?”

Y/N shrugged. She dropped her spoon into her coffee once more and pushed it away, suddenly frustrated.

At Chan, or at herself, she didn't know.

Probably the latter.

“Where are you going?” Chan frowned as he watched Y/N suddenly stand up. She retrieved her bag and slung it over her shoulders, and the man blinked up at her with furrowed brows. “You haven't even finished your coffee!”

“I don't want it,” Y/N said. She bit her lip. “Laters.”

Chan stared dumbfoundedly after her. Hastily picking up his mug, he downed the rest of his hot drink before grabbing his jacket off of the back of his chair. He slipped it onto his shoulders and dashed out of the café, haphazardly leaving a couple of complimentary coins onto the counter as he went. Queasy from drinking his drink too fast, he was glad of the abundance of fresh air outside as he ran after Y/N.

Y/N was already halfway down the street by the time Chan had caught up with her. She was unaware of him following her; she was too busy succumbing to the darkest corners of her brain, her depleted energy making it hard for her to haul herself out like she usually would.

“Y/N!” Chan's voice caused her to jump; Y/N turned around, her eyes landing wildly on the man jogging up behind her. “Wait.”

She did as she was told. She looked up at him as he looked down at her, his face unreadable.

“Where are you going?” Chan asked.

“I don't know,” Y/N said. “My house, probably.”

Chan wasn't sure if she had intended on using the word ‘house’ instead of ‘home’. But it stuck out like a sore thumb to him, and he felt his heart sink for the umpteenth time.

“Why won't you talk to me?” Chan asked quietly. “I thought we were getting somewhere. I thought you were beginning to trust me.”

At that, Y/N scoffed. “Trust? I don't trust anyone. Not … even you.”

Her words hit Chan like a sharp slap to the face. He had expected her to say something along those lines; he hadn't, however, realised that hearing her saying those words out loud would hurt him the way it did.

Chan fell silent. He couldn't do anything but watch when Y/N looked at him one more time before turning around again, a slight drag to her step as she walked away.

*☆*☆*

“Who were you with?”

Y/N bit her tongue. “A friend.”

“Which friend?”

“A friend.”

“Yes I know, a friend. I'm asking you who.”

Y/N stared at her mother in annoyance. She was too tired for this. “Why do you need to know? Would it really make a difference? You never remember any of my friends anyway. You don't remember anything about me other than the bad things.”

She realised a second too late with fierce regret that blurting out what was on her mind was a mistake. It always was, and that was why she had trained herself to stay silent instead as her mother droned on.

But she must have been more exhausted than she had thought, for her usual staunch behaviour had completely vanished from her mind.

It was as though her cheek was on fire from her mother's slap, and the rest of the house went up in flames as her parents' aggressive voices collided with one another, bouncing off of the walls.

*☆*☆*

Her limbs ached. Her arms stung. Her thighs throbbed. Her head pounded.

Y/N lay like an upside down starfish on top of her bed covers. Her right cheek was squished against her pillow, her limp arms hanging off of the sides of her bed as she stared at the screen of her phone beside her head.

She hadn't touched it in the past half hour. But the screen kept blinking on, and the girl watched numbly as messages from Chan piled up on her lockscreen.

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟: ℍ𝕖𝕪 …

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟: 𝕀 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕜 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕖

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟: 𝕀 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕪𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕪 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕖 𝕞𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕘𝕖𝕤 …

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟: 𝕐/ℕ … 𝕀 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕟𝕠 𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕒 𝕨𝕙𝕪 𝕪𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕦𝕡𝕤𝕖𝕥. 𝕆𝕓𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕝𝕪 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕕. 𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖 … 𝕟𝕠 𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕞𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕪𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕘𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕙𝕦𝕣𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟: 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕒 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕖𝕕, 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥? 𝔸 𝕙𝕒𝕝𝕗 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕖 …

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟: 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣, 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕖 𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕥. 𝕁𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕕𝕠 𝕚𝕥 𝕐/ℕ. ℙ𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖.

Y/N blinked tears away at that message.

Too late, she thought.

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟: 𝕐𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕠 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕜𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕙𝕦𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗.

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟: 𝕋𝕒𝕝𝕜 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕖.

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟: ℙ𝕦𝕥 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕓𝕦𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕤 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕖, 𝕀 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕝𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 𝕒𝕝𝕝.

She clasped a hand over her mouth, silencing the sobs that escaped her.

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟: ℙ𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕖, 𝕐/ℕ. 𝕊𝕠 𝕀 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕠𝕜𝕒𝕪.

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟: 𝕐/ℕ???

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟: 𝔸𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕘𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕜𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕚𝕘𝕟𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕖?

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟: 𝕆𝕜𝕒𝕪, 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕖. 𝕀'𝕝𝕝 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕖. 𝕀'𝕞 𝕤𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕪 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕓𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕪𝕠𝕦.

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟: 𝕃𝕠𝕠𝕜𝕤 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕣𝕖𝕡𝕝𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕪 𝕞𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕘𝕖𝕤 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕕𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕞𝕖 …

Y/N waited for him to send another message. But her phone screen switched off at last, and Y/N's eyes filled with tears all over again. She turned over with difficulty and folded her knees up to her chest, covering her mouth with her pillow as hot tears flooded down her cheeks and spilled over her fingers.

*☆*☆*

Making her way to the library for her break the next day, Y/N walked past Jay and his friends. They were huddled together in a corner of the corridor like a group of roaches, and they laughed loudly as one of them turned his phone around, showing an image to the rest of the group.

Vaguely curious, Y/N stepped behind one of the protruding slabs of brick to shield herself from the boys’ view.

They appeared to be discussing the attributes of girls from their school. Who they found attractive, who they didn't … flitting her gaze towards them out of the corner of her eye, Y/N caught a glimpse of a familiar pout on the phone screen that made her frown.

Were they talking about her friends?

Ex friends, she mentally corrected.

Suddenly feeling anxious, Y/N moved away from the wall. She made to leave - she didn't want to hear what they had to say; but their voices were obnoxiously loud in the small corridor, and Y/N heard their next words whether she liked it or not.

“Look at the tits on this one,” Sam snorted as he scrolled through his phone. “No way they're real.”

At that, Y/N immediately bristled.

Despite how easy it was for the girl to develop crushes, Y/N couldn't stand boys at the best of times. But boys who objectified girls and their bodies? They were the absolute worst kind, and they made her sick to her stomach.

She wrinkled her nose, irritated. She didn't like what they were saying about the girls - even if they weren't friends anymore, it still struck Y/N as incredibly rude.

“But she's got no ass,” Jay commented. “No fun.”

“What about Y/N?” A boy called Aaron asked. “Would you smash her?”

Y/N felt as though her eyes popped out of their sockets and tumbled onto the floor. Her heart thudded heavily inside her ribcage, and she shut her eyes, listening hard.

“She's so easy bro,” Sam laughed as he clapped Jay on the shoulder.

“Depressed girls are well easy,” Jay responded with a smug grin of his own. “They'd die for a bit of attention … I mean come on, did you see how fast she jumped at the chance to sit with us?”

“She's kinda pathetic bro,” Aaron snorted, making Sam chuckle further.

Jay wriggled his eyebrows. “Bet she's good in bed, though. Ass and tits, that one.”

A chorus of laughter erupted in the corridor. Y/N didn't hear what they said next; her ears began to buzz and her cheeks flooded with heat as both humiliation and confusion sloshed around her like thick paint. She stood still, leaning against the wall as her fists trembled at her sides. It gradually became harder for her to breathe, the air cloying, her surroundings enclosing in on her. Her limbs started to tingle and a wave of tightness stretched across the front of her body .

Y/N laid a hand over her chest, her fingers curling around the fabric of her tie. Feeling jittery and suddenly extremely restless, Y/N wiped the back of her hand over her wet cheeks before shuffling away to the library.

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chansducky10 · 25 days

Text

I owe you a kiss - Pt.7

Pairing: Minchan x femReader

Word Count: 3592

Summary: The more time you spend with them, the more you realize you're not the only one struggling. Chan and you try to sort things out, making sure Minho feels safe at home as well.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, angst, domestic bullshit, sick!whiny!chan, anxious!min, cuddles

A/N: Sooo...I guess there's still some potential for more. If you have any wishes or thoughts, feel free to share them below the post. in an ask, or send me a message🤭🖤

PART SIX | PART EIGHT (any wishes?)

You left early this morning to surprise your husbands with breakfast. Chan told you he'd have the next two days off and stay home with you two. Minho was due for a photoshoot tomorrow so it would be only you and Chan. He's still been keeping his distance beside the kisses anywhere but your lips, the long hugs, and the fondling of your hair. Minho has been more openly showing his love and you were thankful for him. You know you'd have to talk to Channie about it but you could tell he was hesitant about pushing you into something. You quietly lock the front door and put the bags down on the table. The shower upstairs is running, which means at least one of them is up, so you start preparing everything.

Minho joins you downstairs a little later and gives you a loving kiss. “Good morning, honey,” he smiles sweetly.

“Morning, darling,” you smile into the kiss. “Channie's still sleeping?” you ask.

“Am I not enough?” he teases lovingly.

“Minnie,” you giggle, and his hands wander down your sides.

“He said something about a bad headache,” he tells you and fondles your back soothingly. “I don't know, maybe he's stressed, maybe it's the weather.”

“Oh,” you nod gently. “Did you give him some painkillers?”

“No,” Minho shakes his head, tilting his head at you. “I thought you could. He usually loves cuddling you when he's in pain.”

“I..uh,” you blink at him, watching his face grow soft.

“Channie and you really need to talk once he's better,” he says and gently caresses your head. “You know he loves you, right?”

“I try to,” you nod, chewing on your lower lip. “I miss him,” you admit quietly, feeling tears burn in your eyes.

“I know,” Minho pulls you into a warm hug and kisses your head. “It's a bit more difficult for the two of you because he left off when he wasn't feeling much, struggling to tell you he loves you and more. He doesn't want to force himself onto you, scared that he'll hurt you,” he says. “He…he also feels like you need me more at the moment and feel more safe around me.”

“Oh,” you say quietly.

“I don’t blame any of you, I think you two should just talk, hm?” he suggests. “Now come on, baby, Channie needs you.”

“What about you?” you ask, confused.

“I have to leave for the shoot in a bit,” he says, seeing your face fall, knowing you must’ve forgotten.

“I thought that’s tomorrow,” you admit, a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Min.”

“No, don’t be sorry, honey,” he smiles at you reassuringly. “That only means we can all spend some time together tomorrow. That’s even better now that Channie isn’t feeling so well today,” he tells you.

You chuckle softly, cupping his face and kissing his forehead. It all feels so easy with Minho, easing out every little thing you forget so smoothly. “Make sure to eat something first, okay? Or at least take something with you.”

“I will,” he promises, unable to hide the soft blush coloring his ears at your gentle gesture. He peeks into the bag on the table, and a wide smile covers his face. “You got some pudding as well?”

“Mhm,” you hum, smiling softly as he takes it out and stares at the package before spinning back around to you.

“Wait, that’s my new favorite…how would you-?” his eyes widen with excitement as you nod gently.

“Seeing it I had the feeling you love that one,” you nod. “Like not…a specific memory, but I felt weirdly sure about it,” you tell him, heart warming at the way he beams at you happily.

“I hope you know how great you’re doing,” he says so softly it tugs at your heartstrings. “That first breakthrough was only a week ago, and here you are,” he giggles.

You exhale softly, nodding. “I’m glad because that means there’s an actual chance I’ll start remembering more,” you smile, laughing, surprised as he kisses you fiercely. Minho doesn’t pull away, hands pulling you in as close as he can. Your hand automatically wanders up into his hair, your other resting on his arm as you kiss back. Two steps and your back hits the counter. Minho reaches down, hands wrapping around the back of your thighs, and lifts you up onto the counter effortlessly without breaking the kiss apart. His fingers dig into your thighs as he deepens the kiss with a low hum, and you can tell he has trouble holding himself back. “Minho,” you whisper against his lips. “Min, stop,” you say gently, and he does immediately.

He searches your eyes, a hint of anxiety in the pure need coating his orbs. “Sorry,” he pants softly, reddened lips parted and glistening from the heavy kisses. “I-I should’ve asked first.”

You cup his face, soothingly rubbing his thumbs across his cheeks. “My dear Min,” you say softly. “I’m your wife, and I appreciate you asking, but right now, there’s really no need to,” you assure him, and he visibly relaxes. “You’re gonna be late.”

“Is that all?” he asks mischievously.

“Min,” you snort.

“Is that the only reason I can’t have you for breakfast instead?” he asks again.

“Yes, that’s the only reason,” you giggle, gently shoving his chest. “Now fuck off, Min.”

He smirks, gently squeezing your thighs, and takes a step back. “You owe me tons of kisses later,” he announces giddily.

You laugh, hop back down, and kiss him once more. “Stay safe, okay?”

“I have to,” he says gently. “I really want that kiss,” easing both of your worries hidden beneath this small exchange.

“I’ll go check on Chan now,” you tell him, and he hums agreeingly.

Only a little later, you carefully open the door to your bedroom, trying to close it as quietly as possible. “Channie?” you whisper, and he hums groggily in response. “I brought you some painkillers and water. Do you think you can sit up for a moment?”

Chan groans in response before pushing himself up. He squints at you sleepily, trying to ignore the pulsing pain shooting through his head at sitting up. You sit down at the edge of the bed next to him, handing him the pill. Chan drowsily takes it and lets you bring the glass to his lips, taking a few sips.

“You’re hungry?” you ask, still keeping your voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” he mumbles, eyes already falling closed again. “Feel sick.”

“Oh, poor baby,” you say softly, and Chan blindly reaches out for you.

“Stay?” he asks pleadingly.

“If you want me to,” you say gently.

Chan nods before contorting his face. “Ow,” he whines softly, scrunching up his nose adorably. “I think I’m dying.”

You bite back a soft chuckle and climb back into bed, getting comfortable next to him. “Come here, you big baby,” you tell him, and he doesn’t need a second invitation to curl up in your arms.

“M’not a baby,” he mumbles softly into your chest, burying his face in your comforting warmth.

“You really wanna argue now?” you tease him lovingly. “I thought you were dying.”

“Fuck you,” he giggles weakly, pulling you closer. “It really hurts, Y/nnie,” he whines after a moment of silence.

You forget sometimes how needy he gets when he’s in pain. “What hurts, baby?”

“My stomach,” he groans softly.

“Let me get you a heat-” you start and sit up, but he pulls you back down.

“Don’t go,” he pleads, looking at you with those big brown puppy eyes you couldn’t say no to.

“Channie, angel, I’m trying to help,” you giggle softly.

“You are,” he says timidly. “Hold me, please? I…I really missed that. I missed you.”

Oh. “I’m here,” you tell him softly, welcoming him back into your arms. You gently run your hand through his hair, and he melts into you with a soft sound. “Is that okay?” you ask as you carefully start massaging his scalp.

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Feels good.”

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?” you ask gently, and he hums. The tension in his body lessens a little the longer you massage his scalp, running your fingers through his messy curls. You don't know how long you stay like this with him, but you have the feeling he's asleep after a while, his breathing growing calm. His head is tucked in safely beneath yours, his hand slipped beneath your sweater resting against your lower back. It almost feels normal again if there weren't that stupid little voice in the back of your head telling you differently.

Chan turns in his sleep, scooting back as he misses your warmth. “Baby,” he whines sweetly, reaching back for your hand. He pulls your arm forward so you're hugging him and cuddles back into you.

You chuckle softly and scoot closer, planting a tiny kiss on the back of his neck. “I'm here, Channie, I'm here,” you promise quietly.

“Still hurts,” he mumbles, only half awake.

You gently slip your hand beneath his shirt, resting it on his tummy. “Here, baby?” you ask gently, and he hums in response. You start rubbing soothing circles over his tummy, trying to ease him a little.

Chan exhales, relieved, sinking back into his slumber. You bury your nose in his shoulder, closing your eyes as your senses are flooded with him. His skin feels warm beneath your fingertips, his soft breathing lulls you in, and his scent surrounds you. “I love you so much,” you whisper, and he doesn't stir one bit, finally fully asleep.

Minho gets home later to the sight of you two cuddled up in bed. Chan's head is resting on your chest now as he sleeps on top of you. You have your arms wrapped around him lazily, looking peaceful in your sleep. He smiles softly and leans down, lovingly fondling your head and brushing back Chan's curls. He doesn't want to wake you two up yet, but glancing at his watch, he knows he should. Neither of you would be able to sleep tonight otherwise. “Hey, my loves,” he tries gently, rubbing Chan's back and your arm to get you to wake up.

“No,” Chan protests sleepily.

“Come on, Channie. You won't be able to sleep tonight,” he tells him, and Chan groans softly. “Y/nnie, wake up, honey,” he says gently, and a shiver runs down his spine as you’re too deep asleep to react. “Y/n?” he asks again, and Chan looks up at his tone.

“Kitten,” he says soothingly and sits up, rubbing his face. “She's okay,” he promises. Minho glances at you worriedly until Chan gently grabs his chin and turns his head to face him. “Breathe.” He reaches out for you, tickling your side.

“Ey, fucker!” you curse sleepily, swatting his hand away.

Minho blinks at you for a moment before a weak laugh falls from his lips. “Fucks sake,” he whispers to himself. “I'm such an idiot,” he mutters and gets up, grabbing his keys from the nightstand. “Come down once you're ready, yeah? I brought lunch.”

Chan watches him thoughtfully as he leaves and glances back down at you. “Come on, pretty,” he giggles softly.

“Ugh, fine,” you groan and sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “How's your head?”

“A lot better,” he tells you, grabbing a sweater from his closet.

“Your stomach?”

“All good,” he smiles gently. “Thank you, baby girl.”

“Of course,” you mirror his smile, but you see the worry lacing his features. “What's wrong?”

“I don't know, something's off with Min,” he says. “You didn't react when he tried to wake you, and I think he got scared for a second.”

“Oh,” you nod gently and tilt your head at Chan. “Maybe that's it. I'm sure he'll be fine. If not, we're there.” Chan nods agreeingly and offers you his hand, helping you out of bed.

Chan exchanges a look with you as a loud thunder ripples through the air. “You know what that means?”

“More cuddles and a movie?” you smirk back.

“Exactly,” he grins, pulling you downstairs with him.

Minho already sets the table and smiles tiredly as you join him downstairs. Another thunder makes him flinch, barely noticeable, and he takes a deep breath. “Just rain,” he tells himself quietly.

“You need help with anything?” you ask him.

“No, it's okay, you guys can sit down,” he tells you and grabs you all some glasses from the cabinet. Chan and you continue talking as Minho pours you all something to drink. The rain outside picks up, hammering against the roof.

“I think we should turn on the light, it's getting darker every minute,” Chan says, getting up to do so.

“Yeah, that's a lot better and-,” you break off as the next thunder makes Minho flinch so hard he's pouring the lemonade all over your lap.

“Oh shit, I'm so sorry,” he apologizes immediately, putting it down and grabbing some tissues. You watch him cautiously as he tries to clean the mess up as well as he can and notice his hands shaking heavily.

“Min?” you ask gently and exchange a look with Chan. Something is very wrong. “Min, look at me.” He does, and there's fear in his eyes, looking like he's about to zone out. “Minnie, what's -.”

Outside, a car suddenly hits the brakes, an ugly screeching sound rippling through your ears. Minho covers his ears with his hands in horror and presses his eyes closed, exhaling shakily. “It's okay, everything is okay,” he whispers, and the sight breaks your heart as you connect the dots.

Chan seems to pick up on it as well, as you both move at the same time. Chan pulls Minho against his chest, wrapping his arms around him from behind. He soothingly rubs his chest and meets your eyes as you step in front of them. You gently take Minho's hands and pull them from his ears. “Minho, darling, look at me,” you say gently, and Minho does, gasping softly. “We're okay. It's just bad weather, but we're safe, okay?”

“Okay,” he nods quickly and tries to focus back on you. You cup his face, and he covers your hands with his own, taking a deep breath. “Okay,” he whispers.

“Remember what you told me this morning?” you ask, and Minho chuckles weakly.

“You owe me at least one kiss,” he says, slowly relaxing in Chan's hold combined with the sound of your voice.

“Yeah,” you giggle softly. “We're okay, hm?”

Minho nods before dropping his head onto your shoulder with a soft sound. “I'm sorry,” he says and wraps one arm around you, his other hand finding Chan's on his chest.

“Don't be,” Chan tells him gently.

“It's okay,” you assure him.

“I love you two so much,” he sighs softly, and you both squeeze him gently.

“We love you too, kitten,” Chan answers for the both of you.

You stay there for a while until Minho giggles softly. “You can let go now.”

“You're sure?” Chan smirks.

“Very sure,” Minho snorts.

“You already have enough of our love?” you chime in teasingly.

“Never,” he giggles.

“Then what's the rush, huh?” Chan chuckles, covering the back of his neck with tiny kisses as you do the same to his face.

“Oh, for fucks sake,” he laughs happily. Chan and you exchange a fond gaze at the so beloved sound, knowing he's okay. “I can't reheat lunch again.”

“Fine,” you giggle, letting go of him again.

The movie’s long finished as you're still all on the sofa. Minho's stretched out on the sofa, his head resting in your lap, legs thrown over Chan's. He's asleep by now, exhausted from his day. You mindlessly play with his hair, drawing patterns on his face in awe. Chan absentmindedly fondles his thighs, head back against the headrest as he stares at the ceiling. You glance at him, gently running your hand through his hair. “How's your head?” you ask as his eyes flutter close at your touch.

“Much better,” he assures you gently, turning a little to face you. Looking into his eyes, you can see the many questions in them, mirroring your own. “Y/nnie?” he asks, barely audible.

“Mhm?” you hum, still playing with his curls.

“Do you…Do you still love me? Actually love me?” he asks so timidly your breath hitches in shock.

“I-,” you stare at him, almost confused. Wasn't that supposed to be your question?

Chan takes your silence the wrong way and nods, turning away from you. “Okay…fuck,” he whispers, his throat tightening. He's up before you know it, leaving the two of you as tears fill his eyes, and he feels like he can't breathe.

You need a moment to process what's happening before quickly getting up, resting Minho's head on a pillow, and covering him with a blanket.

Chan's upstairs in the bathroom, bracing himself on the sink so firmly that his knuckles turn white. His head hangs low, but you know the way his body’s trembling; he's holding back sobs. You slip underneath his arm so you're trapped between his body and the sink. “Channie,” you whisper, helplessly cupping his face. Your hands meet his wet skin, and you try to wipe his tears away. “Channie, my dear boy.”

“I'm sorry I messed it all up,” he whimpers. “I shouldn't have pushed you away back then, and I shouldn't have now. I swear I'll make it up to you. Please just give me a chance,” his voice cracks at the last bit.

“Okay, okay, come here,” you say, pulling him into your arms. He buries his face in your shoulder, shaking in your arms. “Listen closely now, yeah?” you ask, waiting for his nod. “I will never stop loving you. Min told me how rough those months before the accident were for you, and I won't judge you for that. I know how hard you try to make Min and me comfortable, don't think I don't see that,” you tell him gently, soothingly rubbing his back as he grows calmer in your hold. “I'm scared I'm not the woman you love anymore because, well, I forgot a lot, and I carry a lot of baggage around now. And seeing you keeping your distance, I only felt like I was right about that…but maybe we're scared of the same thing about ourselves?”

Chan pulls back and smiles at you with teary eyes. “Y/nnie, you don't mean anything less to me than when we met. Fuck, you mean so much more to me by now. I just…Now that I got it back it feels like I don't know where to put all that love I have for you two and..I try bottling it up before scaring you off.”

“Please don't,” you tell him gently. “You've always been so loving, don't try to hide that. I really miss that, angel.”

Chan leans his forehead against yours in defeat and takes a shuddery breath. “So we're okay?” he asks timidly.

“We're okay,” you whisper. “Can I kiss you?” you ask and Chan's body automatically searches yours, fingers digging deep into the fabric of your sweater.

“Please,” he breathes out. Your lips meet, pulling a soft sound from him. “Missed you so much,” he whispers into the kiss, hands cupping your face so delicately as if you were made of glass.

You only pull back once you feel he's ready and wrap your arms around his neck, cuddling into him. “I love you, Channie. So, so much. Never forget that.”

“I love you too,” he smiles softly. “I'll do better.”

You shake your head and soothingly run your hand through his hair. “Channie…I think sometimes we forget we interrupted your healing process with that stunt we pulled.”

“Don't call that a stunt,” he laughs in protest.

“Okay,” you giggle, amused. “But like…you were working things out and coming back…Min told me how fucked up he was. I know that fight we had and what happened today is only a small glimpse of what you dealt with. So, you didn't really have time to get back home.”

“I suppose not,” he nods gently, frowning a little.

“I can't change the fact that I need to be patient for my memories to come back…even if it's just partially,” you say and gently kiss his head. “But I will try my best to help you two feel comfortable around me and make sure you have a loving home.” Chan doesn't say anything, but the way he clings to you tells you everything you need to know. “Let's go get Minnie, I think we could all use the extra hours of sleep today.”

“Mhm, okay,” he hums softly, not quite ready to let go of you.

“We can cuddle, angel,” you promise, and he pulls back with the sweetest smile on his lips.

Chan gently picks up Minho from the sofa who protests with a soft whine. “Shh, it's okay, just taking you to bed,” he says fondly.

Minho wraps his arms around him sleepily. “You two are okay?” he asks softly, having noticed your sudden absence.

“Yeah, we're okay,” Chan nods.

“That's good,” Minho smiles sweetly, kissing his neck sleepily.

He doesn't protest much as Chan lowers him into bed and cuddles into you contently. Chan climbs into bed on your other side, doing the same. You fall asleep much more at peace than usual. You'd take care of your boys now.

PART SIX | PART EIGHT (any wishes?)

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

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chansducky10 · 29 days

Text

I owe you a kiss - Pt.6

Pairing: Minchan x femReader

Word Count: 5362

Summary: Once you're back home, your husbands try their best to support you, but the circumstances are taking their toll on you. It all goes well until you find out who was the one driving that night...

Warnings/Tags: mention of amnesia, angst, tiny mention of blood, fluff, cuddles, anxious!soft!min, caring!soft!channie, domestic stuff, husband!min, husband!chan

A/N: I know, I know it looks like shit in the beginning but trust the word count, it'll get all good, soft and domestic🖤

PART FIVE | PART SEVEN (if you guys want more, then I will👀)

Minho slips out of his shoes and stands still for a moment. Chan closes the door and hesitantly slips his hand into Minho's. “Kitten?” he asks quietly but gets no response. “Min, look at me, please.”

Minho does, looking at him with wet eyes, still not saying a word. Chan gently rubs his shoulders before cupping his face and flashing him a small smile. “I know I should be happy,” he finally says. “I know I should be relieved that she's awake and talking. I know I should be happy that we finally got her back. I know I shouldn't still be feeling like shit,” he rambles, and Chan soothingly fondles his cheeks. “But you know how much she hates losing control. You know how scared she gets of change,” he hiccups helplessly, and a few hot tears slip down his cheeks. “Once it'll all settle in, she'll hate me, and I-I can't even blame her because I did-didn't do anything else those p-past two months a-and-.”

“Hey,” Chan says so softly it makes him shut his mouth. “I won't let that happen, baby. It was an accident and there was nothing you could've done,” he says firmly and pulls him in close. “I'm so thankful you're both alive, you know? I don't know-” his voice breaks, and Minho's heart sinks at the sound. “I don't know what I would've done if…,” he stops himself, not daring to put his deepest fear into words. “I get it, Minnie because it would've been a lot easier without the memory loss. I'm terrified of hurting her because I'm not fully feeling well yet. But as long as you won't let go of my hand in all this, I know I'll be okay.”

Minho carefully pulls Chan's hands off his face and intertwines their fingers. “I won't let go,” he says.

“I'll always have your back, okay?” Chan asks timidly, and Minho nods quickly.

“And I'll have yours,” he promises and squeezes his hands.

“I could really use a hug,” Chan admits, and Minho doesn't hesitate, pulling him close and kissing his cheek. He gently sways them from side to side and exhales softly. “I love you, Min.”

“I love you too, Channie,” Minho whispers back and squeezes him tightly.

Minho gently helps you out of your jacket and hangs it up for you. Neither Chan nor Minho had remembered that you only moved in here one and a half years ago, so the house was another factor. He watches you glance around the hallway timidly and swallows softly. “Anything familiar?” he asks gently.

You swallow hard and shake your head. “Not besides…some of the interior,” you tell him.

He notices how anxious it makes you and carefully slips his hand into yours. “Let me give you a tour, come on.”

You follow him through the house and recognize some bits of your old home. He tells you where to find the most important things, and seems like he's afraid to say anything wrong. It makes you sick seeing your husband try so hard to make you comfortable in a suddenly so unfamiliar place. “I-I'll go use the bathroom real quick,” you tell him, and he nods, telling you again where to find it.

You close the door and take a deep breath, hugging yourself tightly. “Fuck,” you whisper and sit down heavily at the edge of the bathtub. If you wouldn't know Minho and Chan had been your boyfriends for four years and then husbands for another five you would've freaked out at the hospital. You couldn't remember the past two years of your marriage, but the seven years before are enough to trust them. Still, it all feels so weird. You don't notice how much time has passed until Minho gently knocks at the door and lets himself in. He sits down next to you, and for a moment, you're both quiet. “Minho?” you ask timidly.

“Yeah?” he asks gently, turning to look at you.

“Have I been a good wife to you and Chan? Did we have fights? Did I hurt you? Did you hurt me?” you ask, and he inhales deeply. “I know this sounds weird, but…I have no idea where we left off.”

Minho fidgets with his wedding bands and hums thoughtfully. “I can't remember anything big concerning the two of us, we usually get along very well,” he tells you, a small smile on his lips. “We were on a date before the accident. I was very tired, was fighting with Chan over the phone, and…you said you'd take me out for dinner. You were trying to cheer me up, and you did, you always do,” he says and gently clears his throat, pushing away the images of what happened after.

“What about Chan?” you ask timidly, sensing something off.

Minho straightens up and pinches his nose, trying to figure out where to start. “About…six months ago, Channie wasn't feeling very well. He was overwhelmed with work and had no resources left for either of us, including himself. He pushed us both away, and one night, when I was abroad, he called me, saying he got into a fight with you and something was seriously wrong,” he tells you and chews on his lower lip. “I called you, asking you to go back and check on him as I flew back home. Chan was feeling numb for quite some time, and we did our best to support him figure out ways to make him feel again. After a while, he decided to visit his family in Australia, take a break, and everything. I stepped in for him at work, and it was killing me,” he admits. “I missed him like hell. I had to lead our team, and I felt lost without him, but you never gave up on me,” he says and his hand subconsciously slips into yours. “He caught me on a bad day, we got into an argument, and well…then we had that accident. Channie got onto the next plane and came back home as fast as he could.”

“Is he still struggling?” you ask hesitantly, and Minho smiles weakly.

“I don't know, Y/nnie. This whole thing has taken a huge toll on me. I broke down repeatedly and Chan took care of me as best as he could. He even got me a therapist, imagine that,” he laughs, and you can tell he's not really doing well with any of this. “I don't think he had much time to figure out how he truly feels. I should've been there for him more, but I…I could barely get myself out of bed sometimes.”

“I'm sorry,” you apologize timidly, squeezing his hand. “I'm so sorry, Min.”

Minho shakes his head firmly. “None of this is your fault,” he says and searches your eyes. “None of it, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod hesitantly.

Minho inhales shakily, a suspicious shimmer covering his eyes. “I know this whole memory thing is shit, honey. I feel selfish for saying this, but I'm just so glad you're alive and back home.”

You smile weakly and squeeze his hand firmly. “As long as I have you two, I'll be okay sooner or later.”

Minho gently squeezes back and looks up as Chan steps into the doorframe. “Oh my, am I interrupting something?” he chuckles.

“Hey, Channie love,” Minho says softly and Chan leans down to give him a kiss.

“Hey, kitten,” he smiles, gently caressing his cheek. Chan turns to you and gently brushes back your hair, kissing your head, unsure if you feel like kissing. “You're okay?”

“More or less,” you nod, and he sits down on your other side.

“We're always here if you need someone,” he tells you and gently pats your knee.

“Thanks,” you nod tiredly. “I really appreciate it, this can't be easy for you either.”

Minho remains quiet this time and glances at Chan. “We're just glad to have you back. The rest we can figure out together,” he assures you. “Just let us know, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod gently.

You turn onto your side heavily and are met with a sight that used to bring a smile to your face. Minho's asleep next to you, his hair hanging into his face, lips parted, and his bunny teeth showing a little. His lashes throw their shadows on his cheekbones and you once more notice how beautiful he is. You've been home for a week now and Minho took another two months off to keep an eye on you. You like being home with Min because he's there when you need him but lets you be when you don't. He doesn't push, he doesn't talk your ears off, and he tries his best not to handle you like you're made out of glass. Still, you can tell he doesn't see you when he looks at you. He doesn't see his wife. He sees the accident and the woman he lost due to the memory loss, and the guilt in his eyes suffocates you sometimes.

You haven't dared look up the accident yet, but slowly, you can't fight the urge to see what really happened that night. Minho doesn't like talking about it, and Chan wasn't there.

You slip out of bed and grab your phone, leaving your husband on his own. Locking yourself in the bathroom, you start researching and soon find article over article. Pictures of the crashed car send shivers down your spine. Investigating some further you can tell how worried your friends were about Minho during their interviews, who looks nothing but truly exhausted. You can tell he hasn't been sleeping much; his eyes look glassy in most of them, and Chan never leaves his side.

Minho looks up as you come downstairs to join him for breakfast and gets up, putting some waffles on your plate. “Thought you'd like something sweet,” he says and flashes you a smile.

“Who was driving?” you ask, making him freeze for a second.

“What do you mean?” he asks, but the slight tremble in his voice tells you he knows exactly what you mean.

“The accident. Who was driving?” you ask again, stopping in front of the table.

Minho carefully puts the plate down in front of you. “Does it matter?” he asks timidly.

“It does,” you nod, tilting your head at him. “Will you be honest with me, or do I have to ask someone else?”

He stares at you, wondering what you're aiming at with that question, but gives himself a push. “I was.”

“Were you drunk?” you ask, and Minho's frown deepens.

“No.”

“You said you were tired, was that it? Was that what made you miss something?” you ask, and he subconsciously takes a step back. “Were you so upset about Chan that you weren't paying attention?”

“Y/nnie,” he pleads quietly. “Don’t do this.”

“Min,” you say firmly. “I can't remember the past two years of my life. I don't know what happened and no one can tell me because that'll only be your version of every day,” you say and take a shuddery breath. “Chan hasn't kissed me once since I'm back home, and you look at me like I'm something broken you're too attached to to get rid of. That hurts, Min. I just want my fucking life back!”

Minho raises his hands in defense and steps closer to you. “Honey, I'm sorry, you're right. I can't make up for all that time. But she said they'd come back to you in a few months, at least that the chance is very, very high,” he tries, but the way your eyes darken, he knows you don't want to hear any of it. He tries to brace himself for the emotional outburst that's about to happen, but he can't prepare himself for what you say next.

“No, you really can't make up for it. Not if you're the one causing this whole mess,” you say, noticing the fear flickering in his eyes, but you don't care. “You were the one driving, you're the one feeling guilty, and now I know why. My whole life went to shit because of you!” you snap at him. Minho doesn't say anything, simply stares at you as your words sink in. His body trembles, his stomach tightening painfully, and his eyes filling with tears. “You fucked everything up, and you're trying so hard to make up for it by staying home with me. Now I know why you so desperately try to make me feel better, and I thought it was because you loved me!”

Minho looks at you as if you just hit him right in the face. A soft whimper leaves his lips, snapping you out of your rage, before tears start running down his face, and his body shakes with a sob. “I know, okay?!” he snaps right back at you. “I know it's all my fault! I-I know I fucked up, and I-I'm the one to b-blame,” he hiccups helplessly, taking a few steps back as you reach for him timidly. “I'm sorry, Y/nnie, I swear, I did-didn't want this.”

“Min,” you whisper guiltily, but your husband shakes his head firmly, biting back a sob. “I'm so sorry, darling, I didn't mean it.”

“Don't lie,” he says, voice cracking.

“I'm sorry, please,” you try, but Minho pushes past you and goes back upstairs. You let him, knowing he can't handle you, seeing how badly you just hurt him. Helplessly, you grab your phone and call Chan.

“Hey, baby girl, I'm on my way home. Is everything-.”

“Channie,” you whimper.

“What's wrong, baby?” he asks worriedly, putting you on speaker.

“I hurt Min,” you tell him, hugging yourself tightly and sitting down on the sofa.

“Hurt him how?” he asks nervously, taking a turn left.

“I said some dumb stuff about him being responsible for my life turning to shit and that the accident was his fault,” you say, and it's quiet for a moment. “Chan?”

“Ynnie…please tell me you didn't,” Chan says lowly, heart sinking to his stomach. “Please tell me you didn't.”

“I'm sorry, Channie, I didn't mean it,” you whisper timidly. “I was just…I don't know what got into me.”

“I…fuck, okay, I'll be home in a bit,” he tells you, swallowing down the lump forming in his throat.

“Thank you,” you sniffle.

Chan stares at his phone as you end the call and slams his hand on the wheel. “Fucks sake Ynnie, not when I finally convinced him otherwise,” he curses and finally reaches your street. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Chan quietly pulls the front door closed behind himself and swallows hard as he meets your anxious eyes. “Where is he?” he asks.

“Upstairs,” you tell him. “Channie, I'm sorry,” you tell him, tears filling your eyes. “I'm so sorry.”

Chan sighs softly and opens his arms for you, pulling you into a tight hug as you get up. “I know you are. I know you're struggling, and I know we can't take that pain away,” he says, soothingly rubbing your back. “But baby girl, you can't forget Minho is a victim here too. He might have been the one driving, but he's also the one who saw you unconscious, covered in blood, and not knowing if you'd ever wake up again,” he tells you gently, without sounding like he's blaming you even a little. “He still feels guilty because he'd rather be the one getting hurt. He's been having nightmares and panic attacks and had a really hard time believing that it isn't his fault, you know?”

“I just fucked that up, didn't I?” you ask timidly.

“I don't know,” he answers honestly.

“I asked him if he was drunk,” you admit shamefully.

Chan bites back a sigh, trying to be patient with you. “Okay, come on,” he says and pulls you to the sofa. “The police provided us the security camera footage, where you very clearly see who's at fault,” he says and grabs his phone, showing you the clip.

You can see your car pulling up at the crossroads. Suddenly, a car races down the street from the right and crashes right into your side. It's raining heavily, making the road slippery and causing both cars to slide to the side a few meters. Once the video is over, you look at Chan horrified.

“That other driver was drunk,” he tells you gently. “He was speeding, ignored a red light, and honestly, looking at this, it's a miracle you two are still alive. So please, don't blame anyone else but that guy, hm?”

You nod quickly and chew on your lower lip anxiously. “Channie angel?”

“Yeah?” he asks gently.

“Can you tell him I'm sorry? I don't think he wants to see me right now,” you say timidly.

Chan nods and kisses your temple. “I will. We'll fix this, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, relieved.

“I'll go check on him, alright?” he asks, and you nod bravely. Chan grabs a blanket and wraps you up in it, flashing you an encouraging smile. “We'll be okay.”

You timidly grab his hand and search his eyes. “I love you.”

Chan's face softens. “I love you too, baby girl.”

Chan opens the door to the room he uses to work from home, suspecting that's where he'll find Minho. His heart breaks a little as he sees him sitting on the small sofa there, his legs hugged up to his chest. Minho's wearing a sweater of his, burying his face in its sleeves as he takes shaky breaths, clearly trying to calm down. He silently closes the door and walks over, kneeling down in front of him and soothingly rubbing his thighs. “Bunny?” he asks so softly Minho looks up with wide, teary eyes. It's a term reserved for their most private, intimate moments and it never fails to make Minho feel so safe and loved.

He doesn't say anything, body moving on its own as he slips from the sofa and crawls right into his lap. Chan welcomes him with one of his most loving and healing hugs, nuzzling his nose into his hair.

“I love you,” Chan whispers, cradling his head. Minho slumps against him, burying himself into his arms as deeply as he can, growing so small it breaks Chan's heart.

“I'm so tired, Chan,” Minho says, voice raspy from crying. “I'm so fucking tired.”

“I know,” Chan says and turns with him in his hold, leaning against the sofa. “How can I help?”

“There's nothing you can do,” he answers quietly. “She hates me. I fucked up her life.”

“You really think that?” he asks patiently.

“Doesn't matter. She does,” he says.

“Do you?” he asks. “You think you fucked up her life?”

“Apparently, I'm not exactly making it easier,” he answers. “Since I'm the drunken, heartbroken, distracted fuck who got us into that accident.”

Chan mindlessly rubs his lower back. “Apparently…so you don't believe it.”

“I-” Minho grows quiet before pulling back and searching his eyes timidly. “Does that matter if she does?”

“To me, it does,” he nods. “You've been blaming yourself for months, saying the most hurtful shit about yourself…I think you made some progress,” he says calmly.

“Not really,” he shakes his head. “The minute someone throws it at my face, I agree with them.”

“Bunny, can I tell you something?” he asks, and Minho nods tiredly. “She called me the minute you left, saying she fucked up. She asked me to tell you she's sorry because you probably wouldn't want to see her now.”

Minho's eyes fill with tears. “Really?” he asks timidly, and Chan nods. “I really thought she hated me now.”

Chan gently cups his face and plants a tiny kiss on the tip of his nose. “She doesn't, I promise.”

Minho messily wipes his cheeks with the sleeves before stopping in his movement and groaning at himself. “Fuck, I completely messed up your sweater.”

“That's okay,” Chan giggles softly. “We can wash it.”

Minho hums and smiles shyly. “Just really needed you close after that,” he tells him.

“You're so cute,” he smiles happily. “Also-” he gets interrupted by the door opening. The two of them look up and see you standing in the doorframe, shaking with sobs.

Minho moves before Chan can fully comprehend the sight and wraps you into a tight hug. “Shh, honey, it's okay.”

You hug back tightly and shake your head. “Nothing is okay,” you sob. “I hurt you. Just be-because I can't cope with what's happening.”

“It's okay,” Minho whispers gently, caressing your head. “I promise we're okay.”

You timidly grab his sweater a little tighter and bury yourself into him. “I'm sorry, Min. You didn't fuck up anything,” you hiccup. “I love you so much.”

Minho buries his face in your shoulder and shakes his head. “I know,” he whispers and squeezes you gently. “I love you too, my pretty girl.”

“I just wanna feel normal again,” you whimper, and Minho's hold on you tightens.

“Try and give yourself some credit, honey. You went through some shit, and you're still dealing with the aftermath,” he says softly and kisses your hair. “Try being a little more patient with yourself.”

Chan smiles sadly, remembering himself saying something so similar to Minho only weeks ago when they went for a walk. So he did listen.

Two weeks later

You anxiously meet your reflection in the mirror before staring down at your products on the sink. Chan said he'd take you both out to dinner, and you just wanted to look nice but you had trouble remembering your routines. You talked to your doctor about it, and she told you it's completely normal to get confused easily by those things at the moment.

Minho walks into the bathroom, buttoning up his shirt, and flashes you a gentle smile. “You're alright, beautiful?”

“Yeah,” you nod quickly and stare back down at your things. “I…I think I need help,” you tell him, glancing up at him as he fixes his hair.

“Sure, what do you need?” he asks, not quite picking up on your struggle yet. Minho grabs your concealer and carefully hides the dark patches beneath his eyes. He's still not sleeping well, and it shows.

“I uh, I forgot what I usually do,” you tell him, waving at the various items displayed at the sink. “Like…did I have some sort of routine? Because if I did it's nonexistent in my brain right now.”

“Oh,” he nods and puts your concealer back down. “Uh, I'm not sure, but I can still help,” he tells you, and you smile relieved. “One second,” he winks at you and leaves the room, coming back with a chair. “Alright, take a seat, honey.”

You giggle softly and do as you're told. Chan joins you, chuckling in confusion as he sees you. “Min's helping me, my brain is letting me down right now.”

“Oh,” he laughs and watches Minho grab some of your things. “Yeah, it's good you asked him and not me.”

“I had a feeling,” you tease him lovingly.

Chan chuckles and turns back to the mirror, adjusting the collar of his shirt. He fixes his hair that frames his face in those beautiful curls you love so much and you can see the frown forming on his face before it’s fully there. It’s beyond you how both of your husbands were this stunningly pretty and still had their trouble believing so, Chan much more than Min. “Channie?” you ask gently, and he hums in response. “You look very handsome.”

Chan meets your eyes through the mirror, face softening. “Thank you, baby girl,” he says with a sweet, shy smile. Minho turns around, taking in the sight of his husband, and hums agreeingly before slapping his bum. Chan snorts and fondly rolls his eyes. “Typical.”

“That’s your own fault wearing those trousers,” he smirks before getting started with helping you. “Who even allowed you to leave the house in those, huh? Surely not me. No one else should be allowed to see how well-.”

“Minho,” Chan whines in protest, blushing heavily. “Shut up, will you?”

Minho smiles softly and then you realize he must’ve noticed Chan’s insecurities getting the better of him as well. “Only because it’s you,” he tells him fondly. “So, I think you started like this,” he tells you. He talks you through it, checking in with you if what he’s doing makes sense, and tries his best to make you satisfied with the result. Only a little later you’re ready to go and thank him happily. “Always, princess,” he assures you kindly. “You need help with your hair as well?”

“No, thank you, darling,” you smile at him. “I’ll be done in a bit.”

“No rush, honey,” he tells you and kisses your cheek before leaving you some space. He joins Chan downstairs, who’s standing at the kitchen island, bent forward on his elbows as he checks his phone. Minho smiles at the sight and steps behind him, wrapping his arms around him. Chan gently intertwines their hands on his stomach and finishes his message to Lix with one hand. “You’re alright, kitten?”

“Yeah,” he nods and nuzzles his face into his neck. “Ah, you put on my favorite cologne,” he smirks, burying his nose deeper into his skin.

Chan hums, agreeing, and turns off his phone, turning in his hold. He smiles as their eyes meet and gently nudges his nose with his own. “Pretty boy,” he whispers, and Minho blushes softly. “I miss you.”

“Miss me?” Minho frowns gently. “I’m right here, love.”

“No..like,” he leaves the sentence unfinished, gently squeezing Minho’s hips.

“Oh,” Minho laughs brightly and kisses him sweetly. “I can stop by the company tomorrow, just make sure Sungie and Binnie aren’t around.”

“I think I can arrange that,” Chan chuckles, gently cupping his face.

“Don’t start anything you can’t finish now,” Minho warns him, and Chan rolls his eyes, kissing him lovingly. Minho kisses back sweetly and pulls back soon, knowing Chan could get lost in kissing way too quickly. They really didn’t have time for this now. Not with you coming downstairs any minute, still finding your way back into your marriage. “Channie…is that place you picked in walking distance?” he asks.

“I figured there’s a chance she doesn’t feel safe to drive yet, so yes,” he nods, and Minho hums, relieved. “Also, you aren’t exactly keen to sit in a car yet, either.”

“Not really,” he chuckles agreeingly. “Thank you, Channie.”

“For what?” he frowns softly.

“For being so considerate and caring,” he smiles, shaking his head as Chan is about to respond. “Don’t you dare say it’s nothing now, I will kick you.”

“Oh,” Chan nods, holding back a laugh.

“Idiot,” he giggles fondly, poking his side.

“I’m ready,” you interrupt them gently, standing a little away from them.

Chan smiles at you sweetly. “You look beautiful, baby girl,” he tells you, and you mirror his smile.

“Our beautiful girl,” Minho agrees proudly, taking your hand and pulling you closer. “We should probably leave, right?”

Chan checks his watch. “Yeah, we should.”

You swallow softly and glance at them timidly. “Can I sit in the back?” you ask.

“I thought we could take a walk, it’s close by. If we’re lucky, we can see the stars on our way back home,” he says, watching your eyes brim with tears. “Or we can take the car?” he asks nervously.

“No,” you shake your head and laugh weakly. “I would prefer walking,” you assure him. “Thank you, Channie angel.”

“God, you two sometimes,” he breathes out, squeezing Min’s and your hand. “It’s nothing, really an-ey!” he breaks off in protest as Minho punches his shoulder.

“I told you, it’s not nothing. It means a lot, my love, and we’re very happy to have you,” he says. “Also, be glad I didn’t kick your pretty a-.”

“Okay,” Chan laughs and pulls you both with him. “Enough of this now, you’ll make me get all sappy, let’s go.”

You enjoy your first evening out immensely. It makes you feel less like something’s wrong with you. Both Chan and Minho focus mostly on you, making sure you’re alright and comfortable. The many smells and loud noises are overwhelming at first, and they try their best to distract you. Once you allow yourself to relax, things get easier. Dinner is delicious, but what truly makes your evening is the laughter, gentle touches, and the way they make sure you’re part of the conversation.

On your walk home, you indeed see the stars painting the dark canvas of the night sky. You’re walking between them, holding onto their hands, and feel a lot closer to Chan as well. Minho occasionally points out constellations, sometimes playfully bickering with Chan about the correct name. You find yourself smiling, genuinely smiling, for the first time in a while. You let the day pass review and suddenly stop in your tracks, leading to your husbands turning in confusion.

“Y/nnie?” Chan frowns as your eyes fill with tears. “Are you okay?”

“I remember that place,” you breathe out, and they both stare at you with wide eyes. “We had dinner there the week we moved in, didn’t we? Channie, you spilled your drink all over Min’s pants. Min, you wouldn’t stop cursing because it got all sticky and-” you break off in wonder as your mind forms such vivid pictures of that day.

Minho laughs wetly, a hot tear falling down his face. “Yeah, yeah, that’s exactly what happened.”

Chan still stares at you in wonder before laughing weakly. “You remember?”

You nod happily, messily wiping your cheeks. “Yeah, I know that’s not much, but-.”

“No, baby, this is huge,” Chan smiles through tears, wrapping you into a tight hug. “That’s your first breakthrough after only three weeks, baby.”

You giggle happily and beam at Minho, who’s still frozen in place. Reaching out for him, he takes your hand and lets you pull him into your hug. Minho cups your cheek and kisses your forehead softly. “I’m so happy for you,” he tells you genuinely.

Back home, as you prepare for bed, the weight of the day slowly settles on your shoulders. For the first time since you got back home it doesn’t feel like the burden of another wasted day but a blanket of comfort. It reminds you of the love and care that surrounds you in the presence of your husbands. Minho brushes your hair as Chan takes off your makeup for you, both as gentle as they can get.

As you lay in bed between them, the events of the past few weeks replay in your mind. The argument with Minho feels like a very distant memory now, simply a hurdle you’ve all overcome together. His forgiveness, his understanding, and his undying love for you feel like a balm for your wounded, anxious heart. Chan’s patience, kindness, and unwavering support for the two of you remind you of the strength of your bond.

In the quiet of the night, with Chan’s steady breathing on one side and Minho’s warm presence on the other, you feel a sense of peace lull you in. The road to your recovery would still be a long one, and you weren’t naive enough to believe that there wouldn’t be any more challenges.

You whisper a quiet “I love you” into the darkness, and in the soft murmur of their responses, you find a promise—a promise of healing and a love that will never leave you. You don’t know why, but right here, you understand that no matter what comes your way, you’ll face it together as a family. With that thought, you drift into a peaceful sleep, knowing that with Chan and Minho by your side, you’ll be okay. You would talk to Chan about the distance you feel another day, and you’d work through your shared trauma with Minho another time, supporting him through his share of the deal as well. For today, you’re glad to be able to fall asleep between the loves of your life.

PART FIVE | PART SEVEN (if you guys want more, then I will👀)

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

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@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @kailee08 @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @ontito0icongirls @furiousheartpoetry @bluesiebirdie @scarlet789 @ziipzeepzop-eez @harshaaaaa @lost-in-avoidance @dprkbyn @bear8585 @lee-knows-cats @mintchip17 @zdgx1 @lost-in-avoidance @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj

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chansducky10 · 1 month

Text

𝐀 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐌𝐚𝐧

☆ Genre: Idol!Chan, angst, fluff

☆ Warnings: None

☆ Request: No

☆ Characters: Chan, Y/N (Changbin, Hyunjin, Han)

☆ Word Count: 3k

He wasn't depressed.

Chan clicked onto the left button of his mouse. His hand moved slightly with the small device as he located the new folder he had just created, and he right clicked the mouse before pasting a file into it. His laptop screen was dark as it started to transfer his file, and Chan could see his reflection painted clearly in front of him. Dark rings hugged the skin below his eyes, and his brows were so tense they almost appeared to form a single, harsh line across his forehead. His lips were swollen and chapped from chewing them, and seeing his own face looking back at him, Chan couldn't help but bite his lower lip again with perplexity.

Chan looked down at his hand on the mouse as he waited. He wiggled his dry fingers; pain shot through the middle of his wrist and up into his forearm like a fiery shooting star. He winced and removed his hand before pinching the bridge of his nose as he exhaled slowly.

Now that he wasn't focusing on his work, Chan could feel everything that was wrong with himself and his environment. At some point unbeknownst to him, the triangular lights above his bed had switched off, as had the two round ones on either side of his TV. He was in complete darkness bar the glow from his laptop, and it was suddenly very uncomfortable. Alongside that the man felt as though the entirety of his back and shoulders were slowly being pulverised beneath a sledgehammer; Chan thumped the curve of his shoulders with his fist - a feeble attempt at trying to remove the throbbing pain. It didn't work, and he slumped back against his chair, his head falling backwards in mild annoyance.

Chan loved his work. Or so he constantly told himself … he enjoyed the process of creating something out of nothing; but most of all, he enjoyed how it distracted him from everything around him.

And with a mind that worked overtime like his, Chan needed a distraction whenever he could get one. Perhaps it was a not so positive quality of his - he didn't really want to acknowledge that part of himself - but on most occasions, Chan would much rather shove all his ailments to the back of his mind and lock the door after them before they seeped out again. He was prone to getting too caught up in the intricate web of his mind; he wasn't sure if it was due to a lack of self control, or if maybe some part of him enjoyed torturing himself with the possibilities of things that he knew deep down would never come to pass. Either way, Chan didn't particularly want to deal with his brain at all.

Perhaps he was a little depressed.

Chan blinked slowly as his file continued to load. It was a large file - larger than he had initially participated. He had been working on it for hours on end, and even though he was somewhat satisfied with the outcome, Chan wasn't exactly happy. These days, it seemed as though everything to do with his work that had once filled the emptiness inside of him had started to not be enough. There was a hole inside of him, and as the days went by, Chan was beginning to feel hollow and unsatisfied.

Of course, that only made him work harder. Chan wasn't the biggest advocate of admitting things to himself, and he wasn't about to accept how making music didn't feel the same to him anymore. Even listening to it had begun to feel like work, rather than pleasure. It irritated him - and so he was trapped in a continuous cycle of working, hating it, and working harder.

Chan was snapped out of his mental darkness when a loud, high pitched cackle sounded from outside his bedroom; a fit of giggles followed, and the corners of Chan's lips turned up at the sound of Y/N laughing over Changbin’s laughter. A muffled chaos broke out as Hyunjin and Jisung joined in, and Chan's smile grew at the sound as he slumped back against his seat.

A bubble of annoyance aimed at himself popped inside his body. He really should have listened to Y/N and joined in with them instead of being cooped up inside his bedroom the entire evening. But he had shut her out as per usual, and told her he wanted - needed - to work. He had expected her to leave; but Y/N had stayed outside of his bedroom, telling him she would stay until he had finished. If she couldn't convince him to stop working, perhaps she could stay and show him how silly he was being.

It was nearly one in the morning, and Chan's eyes stung as he stole another glance at the list of files on his laptop.

He really despised himself sometimes. He didn't understand why he found it so difficult to push his work aside. Perhaps it was pride; he told himself it was because he was the leader, he had to set a good example. He had to keep working otherwise things would crumble. But no … perhaps it was because he knew joining in with his friends would bring the vulnerability out of him.

And he couldn't let that happen. He had to be strong. He had to be a pillar of support for the people around him.

He couldn't show his weaknesses. He didn't want to.

But Y/N … there was something about her. She didn't exactly push his boundaries. But she always managed to draw the softness out of him without her even realising it. Whenever Chan was around her, he could feel the tough exterior he was trying to build around himself starting to melt. With her, he didn't have to pretend to be strong all the time. She never expected him to, either.

And that terrified him. His feelings for her confused him at the best of times; he never understood how it was possible to feel so strongly for another human being. A part of him thought it was something that he wouldn't ever experience, that love wasn't written in the stars for him. And he hadn't expected to find it in Y/N out of all people; it hit him out of the blue like an episodic wave, and it swept him completely off of his feet.

He wasn't used to it. He wasn't used to his feelings being reciprocated.

In return, Chan kept pushing Y/N away. It constantly surprised him that she was still by his side despite how aloof he had been towards her. Other people would have given up on him by now, but not Y/N. She was always there with her pearls of wisdom and her sweet, warm smile.

Chan closed his eyes as her familiar face rose in his mind. Why did he do this to himself? Why couldn't he surrender himself fully and accept her help when he needed it? He was too stubborn, too proud to admit that he wasn't invincible - perhaps he thought accepting help was a sign of weakness, something he was too good for.

Chan rubbed the back of his hand over his cheek. It came away wet, and he sniffed, drawing the cuffs of his hoodie over his fingers.

In truth, the man was sure he was losing his sanity day by day. All his years of holding everything in, all his worries, his problems, everything he had bottled up inside of him was starting to have negative effects on both his mind and his body. The figurative bottle was too small; it seemed as though the lid was starting to pop off, and everything that Chan had pushed away was beginning to trickle out of him, and he couldn't stop it.

Another bubble of laughter erupted from beyond his room, and unable to keep himself away any longer, Chan shut his laptop. He pushed his seat back and groaned inwardly as he stood up; he clasped his hands over his lower back and stretched backwards as much as he could. The man's pace was slow as he crossed the small distance from his desk to his bed, and he fumbled around before switching on his violet lights again. He shuffled to the door of his bedroom.

Chan smiled softly as he leaned against his dooframe. Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung and Y/N were sitting on the floor, huddled around the table in the middle of the room as they played a card game together. Pizza boxes were stacked on the side; Chan's stomach rumbled as he stared at them. He suddenly wished he hadn't refused his friends’ insistent offering of the food earlier on.

Y/N spotted him first. She slapped a card onto the table and looked up in triumph; Changbin roared and Y/N's mischievous eyes softened as she caught sight of Chan watching them all with his usual loving expression.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Y/N grinned at him. “Finally left your man cave?”

Chan rolled his eyes at her teasing just as Changbin’s cackles filled the room again, accompanied by Jisung's guffaws and Hyunjin's chortles. It was like a zoo, and Chan couldn't help but chuckle at the familiar sound around him.

“Ha-ha,” Chan said, folding his arms across his broad chest. “What are you guys doing?”

“She was waiting for you,” Changbin replied loudly as he pointed to Y/N. “And we were … “

“... Not waiting for you,” Jisung offered helpfully.

It made the little group start to giggle again, and Chan shook his head good naturedly at their antics. He swivelled his gaze onto Y/N; she was already watching him, her brows furrowed as she surveyed the hollows beneath his eyes.

“Are you still waiting for me?” Chan directed his question towards her quietly.

Y/N set her cards down onto the table. “Depends on if you've finished working or not.”

The side of Chan's mouth turned up in a half smile. He tilted his head to the space behind him, signing for Y/N to follow before he retreated back into his room.

Y/N carefully shut the door behind her as she ventured into his bedroom. Chan was rubbing his face with his hands, and he dropped them when he caught her looking.

“Do you want some pizza?” Y/N broke the silence first.

Chan's eyes lit up. “Is there some left?”

Y/N nodded. “I saved you some.”

“You did … ?” Chan wondered out loud.

Y/N smiled. “Of course I did. You forget I know you, Christopher.”

At that, Chan looked towards the ground as his lips spread into a touched smile. “Yeah. I guess you do … “

“So … do you want some?” Y/N asked him again.

Chan chuckled. His eyes sparkled when he looked up again. “Later.”

Y/N watched the man carefully as he began to walk towards her. She tilted her head up when he stopped a few inches from her, and she couldn't help but notice the awkward tension to his limbs. It was as though he was holding himself back, his stance rigid as he looked down again, and Y/N's eyes grew softer as he blinked up at him.

She reached out and gently curled her fingers around his. They were cold; it surprised her. She had never known his touch to be anything other than warm. But his hand was as cold as it was rough, and Y/N's heart fluttered with sympathy for him as she pulled him into her. The small movement seemed to be exactly what Chan needed - he immediately melted into her, his body sinking while Y/N wrapped her arms around him tightly. Her hand was soft as it cupped the back of his head, and he buried his face into the crook of her neck, his arms secure around her waist.

“You're so stupid,” Y/N whispered to him. She smiled when she felt Chan chuckling against her collarbone; he then sniffed, and she wasn't surprised when her skin grew wet with his hot tears a moment later. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Throw me in the bin,” Chan mumbled through his silent tears.

It was Y/N's turn to be amused. She giggled at his comment and tightened her grip around his shoulders. “No. Never.”

A moment later, Y/N slipped her hand back into Chan's and she led him to his bed. The two of them sat at the end, and Chan dropped his head against her shoulder again as she curled their hands together in his lap.

“Don't say I told you so,” Chan's voice was heavy as he stared into their distant reflection on his TV. “But … I should have listened to you.”

Y/N's lips twitched. “Oh yeah? About which part?”

Chan groaned and Y/N laughed under her breath as she squeezed his fingers. They had begun to warm up, and she turned her face to drop a kiss onto the man's temple.

“What's wrong with me?” Chan mumbled. “Why am I like this?”

“There's nothing wrong with you,” Y/N tutted. She slid one of his arms around his back, pulling him closer to her. “This is completely normal, baby. Everyone goes through times like this … you know that.”

“I know … “ Chan sighed. “I hate it. I hate everything.”

Y/N sighed. “I know.”

“It just feels like everything is going wrong,” Chan continued a moment later, sitting up again. “It feels like … like time is passing by so quickly, and I have so many things I want to do, and I don't have the time for anything, and when I do have the time, I can't do anything because all I can think about is work … I don't even know if this is what I want anymore.”

Y/N smoothed his curls away from his forehead. “What do you want?”

“I don't know,” Chan breathed. “Just … not this. I feel so heavy all the time. And I can't show the kids I'm feeling like this … “

“Why not?” Y/N asked softly.

“Because … I'm supposed to be the strong one. I'm the leader.”

At that, Y/N couldn't help but smile. “I think it's important for fathers to show their kids their vulnerability. Because then the kids know it's okay for them to be vulnerable too.”

Chan looked up at her. “You said that as if I'm actually their dad.”

“Well you are, aren't you?” Y/N said happily. “They're your kids. You're their dad.”

“You know that means you're their mum, right?” Chan chuckled. He shuffled a little closer to Y/N and kissed her cheek. “Our kids.”

Y/N snorted with quiet laughter. “Sure. Whatever makes you happy.”

“You make me happy,” Chan whispered.

“I do?”

“You do,” Chan nodded. “Can't you tell?”

Looking into his eyes, Y/N smiled softly. “Sometimes I really can't tell what you feel towards me. You always push me away.”

At that, Chan sighed. He leaned forward and slid his arms around her. He was quiet for a while, his breathing stirring Y/N's hair as she rested her cheek against him, her hand running up and down his back.

“I don't mean to,” Chan murmured a while later. “I … get scared sometimes. You're the only one I feel like I don't have to pretend around … and that confuses me.”

Y/N pulled away a little, frowning up at him. “Is that why you keep working instead of talking to me?”

Chan looked guilty. His nose and cheeks were pink, and his hair a dark cloud of frizz over his forehead. “Maybe.”

“Christopher … “ Y/N groaned. She squished his cheeks in her hands. “I knew there was something else going on. Every time I think I'm getting somewhere with you, it's like you run away and I'm at square one again. It's confusing for me too.”

“I didn't realise it was affecting you too,” Chan's voice was muffled with Y/N's grip on his face. It made her giggle and she leaned forward to kiss his nose. “I'm sorry, baby. I don't mean to do it … I'm just … “

“A scaredy cat?” Y/N grinned.

Chan sagged against her. “Yes.”

“I already knew that,” Y/N teased him. It made him frown goofily and she started to laugh again as she hugged him close. “Christopher?”

“Hmm?”

“You do know that I really care about you, right?” Y/N said quietly. He looked into her face as she spoke, his pupils moving slightly as he registered her words. “I care about you so much. And so do the kids. You don't have to sit in here on your own all the time because you're scared of showing your true feelings, you know? You're safe with us, baby. You're safe with me.”

Chan shut his eyes. His lashes shone with unshed tears, and Y/N caressed his cheekbones before sweeping his fingers over his closed eyes.

A second later Chan's stomach rumbled again. Much louder this time, and it caused his eyes to snap open in embarrassment.

Y/N burst into a fit of giggles. The sound was comforting to Chan, and he closed the small space between them by suddenly closing his lips over hers in the sweetest of kisses.

He smiled gratefully at her when he pulled away again, his forehead against hers. His nose bumped against hers and Y/N stole another kiss from before closing her hand around Chan's fingers.

“Come on. Looks like you really need that pizza,” Y/N grinned. “We got lava cakes too.”

Chan gasped. “You got lava cakes? And you didn't tell me?”

“Would it have changed your mind if I had?” Y/N grinned as she got up from the bed.

Chan chuckled. He rubbed the nape of his neck, flushing profusely. “Maybe not.”

Y/N was about to reach for his door handle when Chan's arms slid around her waist. She smiled and dropped her hand, letting the man hug her from behind, his chin warm on top of her head.

He squeezed her tightly. “Thank you, baby.”

Y/N peered up at him. “What for?”

Chan shrugged, his cheek dimpling as a shy smile crossed his face. “For loving me.”

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chansducky10 · 1 month

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐔𝐬 (ᴘᴀʀᴛ 11)

☆ Genre: Slice of Life, Coming of Age, School, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/comfort, Idol au

☆ Warnings: Mentions of depression, anxiety, self-harm (blood, slight gore), domestic abuse/abusive parents, self hatred, panic attacks, anxiety attacks, eating disorders, mentions of weight

☆ Characters: Chan, Y/N (Stray Kids, Y/N's friends)

☆ Word Count: 2k

Part 10

Y/N's cheek burned. Heart caught up in her mouth, Y/N stepped back with a swarming stomach as her mother clawed her fingers into her arm.

“What were you doing?” Y/N's mother snapped as she aimed another slap to the girl's red cheek. “Who were you with?”

Y/N's lower lip quivered. She bit it hard to stop the movement; she winced inwardly when her tongue was met with a metallic explosion.

“I told you I was with a friend,” Y/N said quietly as she looked down at the ground, blinking back tears. “We got coffee.”

“For a whole hour?” The woman mocked. “Do you hate us so much that you'd rather waste your time at a coffee shop than spend it with us?”

Y/N bristled.

Her mother had no idea.

“You didn't think to message?” Y/N's mother continued. “Why do you have a phone if you're not going to communicate? I'm going to have to confiscate it, seeing as though you aren't using it for the right reasons.”

No, Y/N thought.

“I did send a message,” Y/N sighed. “Multiple, in fact.”

“Don't get lippy with me, young lady,” the woman snarled. “I don't have any messages from you.”

Y/N turned her phone on. She twisted the screen around, displaying a series of messages she had sent to her mother almost an hour ago.

The woman grew quiet. “Well … they probably didn't send properly. You should have double checked.”

“I think there's a problem with your phone,” Y/N said, looking down at the delivered symbol beside her messages.

“Don't talk back to me,” Y/N's mother continued to dig her fingers into the girl's arm. The control over her was stifling, and Y/N felt her chest tighten considerably, her breathing becoming shallow. “You're so rude, Y/N. I don't know where you get it from. We didn't raise you to have no manners, and to stay out after dark, doing God knows what. I don't care if all your friends are doing it, it doesn't make it right. You're not like them and you never will be.”

Y/N groaned inwardly. She mentally zoned out as her mother continued to implement her daily preaching onto her, her words spinning around and around her mind like clothes in a washing machine.

“You can't trust anyone in this world, Y/N,” her mother was saying when Y/N tuned back in. “Your family are the only ones who care about you. No one else is going to care about you. Not those friends of yours, not whoever you go to school with, no one..”

Resisting the urge to burst into incredulous laughter at the woman's words, Y/N finally shook her throbbing arm out of her mother's grip. It seemed to anger her mother further, and before she could be slapped again, Y/N hastily stumbled out of the room and made a beeline for her bedroom.

Y/N collapsed onto her bed in a fit of rage and annoyed tears, flinging her arm over her face. She had been prepared for her mother's abuse as soon as she realised what time it was up on the hill; but it didn't make it any easier, and she pinched the bridge of her nose as hot tears trickled into her hairline.

Sniffing, Y/N's eyes snapped open again. She sat up in confusion, sniffing again; heavy cologne floated around her and after a moment of bafflement she realised that sitting on her blazer earlier had caused the scent of Chris to cling to the fabric like a second skin.

Y/N sighed. She took her blazer off and tossed it onto her bed. In doing so, she caught sight of her dried bloody sleeve underneath, and groaning to herself, Y/N heaved herself to her bathroom before beginning to wash the stain under cold water.

It took a long time for her to remove all the blood. By the time she had finished, Y/N's fingers looked like prunes, and her back ached from slumping over the sink for so long. She changed into her pyjamas before getting into her bed. Laying back against her pillow, Y/N stretched her injured arm in front of her with a small sigh, absentmindedly tracing her finger over the gengar plaster on her bandages. It grinned up at her devilishly in the darkness. The sight of it only brought tears to her eyes all over again, and she turned her head so her face was sandwiched into her pillow before letting out a soundless scream.

*☆*☆*

When Lia walked into school crying her eyes out the next day, Y/N immediately dropped her sketchbook onto her seat and rushed to her friend with wide eyes. She slid her arms around the distressed girl and patted her back, letting Lia cry into her shoulder as they sat down on the small stools in the corner of the room.

“What's wrong?” Y/N asked her quietly.

Y/N listened attentively as Lia sobbed her way through her tale. It took a while for her to get to the end of it, and when she was done, Y/N did her best to both comfort her friend as well as to give her copious amounts of grounding advice. Y/N smiled when Lia stopped crying and started giggling like she usually did.

“Are you feeling better?” Y/N grinned.

“Yeah,” Lia giggled. “You're always so good at helping, Y/N.”

At that, Y/N's cheeks darkened with embarrassment. “I'm not.”

“You are,” Reagan suddenly appeared behind them both. “You've always been good at it.”

Her friends' words zoomed around Y/N's head as she made her way to her first class of the day. She was excited; any day that began with an art lesson automatically turned into a fulfilling day. The hour passed as quick as ever, the girl's fingers stained with ink and her brain a satisfying level of calm as she conversed with Anna who always sat beside her. Not for the first time did Y/N wish she was able to sit in the art studio for the entirety of the school day, instead of having to attend other lessons that she didn't enjoy as much. There was something cathartic about drawing and painting endlessly; it felt like an outlet for both her emotions and her struggles, as well as her wishes and her hopes. She could easily work on her artwork for hours on end with no breaks, paying no heed to the world around her; she never felt that way while studying other subjects. Perhaps her brain wasn't wired to understand the basic academic subjects every school wanted its students to learn; she knew that from an early age. She had a creative mind, one that thrived on the limitation of boundaries. Which was funny, really, since she felt as though her entire life was built on the suffocation of boundaries.

It wasn't like other lessons would be beneficial for her in the future, anyway - she always knew she wanted to be an artist before anything else. Y/N also knew that that was something that only made her parents seem to despise her even more.

She had a feeling deep down inside of her that she'd always manage to disappoint them until the day she died.

“Y/N! Oi!”

The girl turned around at the sound of her name. She had just left her art lesson and she was bewildered to see Jay and his friends at the other end of the corridor; they were gathered around in a large group, their combined tall heights and muscular builds radiating intimidation to everyone who passed them. But Jay was smiling his cheeky smile as he waved at her, and his friends all seemed to tilt their heads up at her in mutual acknowledgement.

Y/N flushed. She waved back at him before walking the opposite way, her cheeks on fire as she heard the group chuckle and whistle amongst each other.

“Someone's popular,” Lia fell into step beside Y/N a moment later. “I saw them looking at you.”

“Yeah well, I'm not popular,” Y/N shook her head. “I don't even know half of those guys.”

“Looks like they know you though,” Lia giggled. She grabbed Y/N's arm suddenly, shaking her with excitement. “What if Jay talks about you? Maybe that's why they were all watching you.”

Y/N frowned at Lia just as a thud of footsteps echoed behind them both.

“Oi! Y/N, wait.”

Turning around again, Y/N was surprised to see one of the footballers had run after her. It was Sam, his frame towering over her and his dark eyes sparkling as he grinned at her.

“Jay wanted to know if you'd go out with him,” Sam grinned, folding his arms over his chest.

Y/N stared at him. From beside her, Lia choked, her eyes widening as she looked up at the taller boy.

Before Y/N could reply, Jay appeared behind Sam and haphazardly pummelled his friend. They both crashed into a nearby wall and Sam burst into laughter just as a red cheeked Jay pulled back and pushed his fingers through his hair.

“Ignore him,” Jay said to Y/N. He smiled at her; it was a shy smile, and Y/N felt her heart flutter. “He doesn't know what he's saying.”

“He doesn't shut up about yo - “

Sam was cut off when Jay slapped his hand over his friend's mouth. He glared at him and Sam burst into laughter as Jay dragged him away, leaving a stunned Y/N and a speechless Lia behind.

Y/N blinked slowly as she watched the pair disappear down the hallway. She was beginning to feel a little lightheaded; her breathing escaped in erratic puffs and she was sure she would have had to lean against the wall if it wasn't for a screaming Lia who suddenly attacked her with excitable behaviour.

“Lia - “

“He likes you!” Lia squealed, slapping Y/N's arms and shoulders. “I told you he talks about you!”

“No, he doesn't,” Y/N groaned as she tried to push Lia off.

Lia stepped back and scowled. “Are you stupid? Were you not listening to Sam?”

“He was probably messing around,” Y/N shrugged, trying to make her way down the corridor again. “Why would Jay wanna date someone like me?”

Lia rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, irritated. She followed her friend to their lesson, all the while grumbling obscenities under her breath.

*☆*☆*

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟: 𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕜𝕒𝕪?

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟: 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕚𝕕𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔹𝕖𝕒𝕟 𝕥𝕠𝕕𝕒𝕪

Y/N bit her lip as she read the man's messages. She had finished washing up and had been sketching before sleeping; but her phone wouldn't stop vibrating, and it was incredibly distracting.

In truth, she was ignoring everyone. She really hadn't the energy to talk to anyone. The past few weeks had completely drained her social battery and she just wanted to be left alone to her own devices with a pencil, and a pad of paper.

But try as she might, Y/N couldn't bring herself to ignore Chan. She just couldn't … not after how kind he was to her.

𝕐/ℕ: 𝕀 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕕. 𝕊𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕪 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕓𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟: 𝔸𝕙, 𝕟𝕠 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤. 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕠𝕜𝕒𝕪?

𝕐/ℕ: 𝕐𝕖𝕒𝕙. 𝕁𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕤𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕝 𝕡𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕖 𝕠𝕗𝕗.

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟: 𝕎𝕠𝕒𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 … 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕦𝕒𝕘𝕖, 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝

Y/N dropped her phone onto her bed. She stared at the screen in horror for a moment, completely frozen; but then a barbaric laugh exploded out of her all of a sudden and she slapped her hand over her mouth to cancel out the noise.

She watched as another text blinked up at her.

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟: 𝕊𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕪. 𝕀𝕥 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕤𝕝𝕚𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕕 𝕠𝕦𝕥 … 𝕀 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕜𝕚𝕕𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘

𝕐/ℕ: 𝕐𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕗𝕦𝕔𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕖𝕚𝕣𝕕

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟: 𝕀 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨. 𝕀'𝕞 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕓𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕖𝕚𝕣𝕕

At that, Y/N couldn't help but smile.

“Of course you are … “ she hummed under her breath.

𝕐/ℕ: 𝕀'𝕞 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕓𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕖𝕚𝕣𝕕 𝕥𝕠𝕠

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟: 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜𝕤 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟, 𝕆𝕙 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕆𝕟𝕖

Y/N snorted with another fit of laughter

𝕐/ℕ: ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪? 𝔽𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝 𝕥𝕠 𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕠𝕟𝕖?

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟: 𝕎𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕀 𝕤𝕒𝕪? 𝕀'𝕞 𝕒 𝕞𝕒𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕪 … 𝕞𝕠𝕕𝕖𝕤.

𝕐/ℕ: ℂ𝕒𝕟'𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕧𝕖 𝕀'𝕞 𝕗𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕤 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕒 𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕠𝕥𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕝.

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chansducky10 · 1 month

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𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭

☆ Genre: Angst, fluff

☆ Warnings: None

☆ Request: For @cherrybeartoast

☆ Characters: Y/N, Seungmin

☆ Word Count: 1.2k

Knee bouncing up and down, Y/N's gaze fixated onto the wall opposite her in the waiting room. Nerves coiled around her stomach, and she started to gnaw on the skin around her fingernails just as her phone in her lap vibrated.

Min Mong 💕: Hi hi!!!

Min Mong 💕: Good Morning 🌞

Min Mong 💕: What are you doing today? Are you busy?

Y/N smiled at the messages, though the lines of perplexity stayed between her brows.

Y/N: I have a doctor's appointment

Min Mong 💕: Doctor's appointment? What for? Are you okay??? ☹️

Y/N: I'm fine. Just some tests.

Min Mong 💕: Wanna meet up after? I'll make you coffee 🥰

Y/N: I don't know. Think I'm gonna go home and get some rest.

Min Mong 💕: Okay … tell me if you change your mind 🩵

Smiling faintly, Y/N was about to respond when her name was suddenly called; hastily shoving her phone into her pocket, the girl inhaled deeply before standing up, her stomach coiling tightly as she made her way across the room.

*☆*☆*

Y/N stirred her iced coffee mindlessly with her straw as she stared off into the distance. Ever since yesterday it was as though she couldn't focus on anything other than the constant somersaults her thoughts were creating in her mind. There was every chance that she'd be completely fine; the blood tests were just more of a precaution, a way to rule out everything.

She knew that. But she still couldn't stop overthinking.

“Y/N!”

Y/N jumped. Seungmin's head was an inch away from Y/N's, bowed as he tried to look into her eyes.

“Huh?” Dazed, Y/N blinked at him.

Seungmin frowned. “Are you okay? You keep stirring your coffee and the sound of the ice is giving me a headache.”

He was grinning at her with his last comment, and it made Y/N giggle; her face broke into a smile at last, and Seungmin's eyes crinkled into thin slivers of light as he laughed back.

“Sorry,” Y/N shook her head as she prodded the ice cream at the bottom of her glass with her straw. “I'm fine. Just … lost in thought.”

Seungmin slurped loudly on his iced Americano. “What are you thinking about?”

Y/N grinned mischievously. “You.”

Faking a dramatic gag, Seungmin shook his head and leaned back against the sofa just as Y/N erupted into a fit of satisfied giggles.

“Are you thinking about the tests?” Seungmin asked quietly.

Y/N looked up at him. She sipped her drink. “Is it that obvious?”

“No,” Seungmin said. “Yes. You're not as … “

“Annoying?” Y/N offered cheerfully.

“Bubbly,” Seungmin corrected her. “You're always talking about nothing but today you're just … very quiet.”

Y/N smiled. “Probably peaceful for you.”

“No,” Seungmin said again. “I don't like it. It's weird.”

Cheeks pink, Y/N hid her smile by taking another sip of her coffee. She was surprised a moment later when Seungmin picked up her drink along with his own and set them both down onto the coffee table infront of them. His eyes soft, Seungmin reached out and gently wrapped his arms around Y/N; he squeezed her tightly, tucking himself around her body as one of his hands came up to pat the very top of her head.

“What are you doing … ?” Y/N's voice was muffled against the worn material of Seungmin's grey hoodie. It was so soft that it almost felt like silk, and she couldn't help but snuggle up closer to him.

She loved Seungmin's hugs. They were warm, grounding, and full of comfort.

“It's called a hug,” Seungmin grumbled from above her head. It made Y/N giggle into his chest, and she looped her arms around his torso, squeezing him happily.

“Kim Seungmin, voluntarily hugging me?” Y/N teased him. “What's this new phenomenon?”

“Hey, I hug you all the time,” Seungmin rolled his eyes, pulling her closer to him.

Y/N grinned. “Not enough.”

“What, do you want me to be glued to your hip?” Seungmin asked.

“Yes!”

Seungmin sighed. It made Y/N giggle all over again; she realised a second later that she was feeling considerably better compared to before, and her mind didn't seem as chaotic either.

“Don't worry about the results,” Seungmin said after a while. He had reached for Y/N's coffee again, and the girl snorted with laughter when he casually held the straw to her lips. “You're going to be okay.”

“I know,” Y/N whispered after swallowing her drink. “But I can't help thinking the worst thing in every situation.”

“That's just your brain being silly,” Seungmin said dryly. “How many times has the worst thing you've thought of actually happened?”

Y/N thought hard. “Maybe like … once?”

“Okay, and when it happened, you got through it didn't you?” Seungmin said.

Y/N started to smile. “Yeah.”

“See?” Seungmin patted her head again. “Whatever happens, you're going to be fine. Don't worry about it.”

Peeking out from the arm that was wrapped around her, Y/N smiled. “Thanks, Min Mong.”

Seungmin's lips twitched at the name as his forehead flushed the colour of strawberries. “I got you something.”

“You did?” Y/N's face lit up, and she immediately sat up again. “What did you get, Min Mong?”

“It's nothing big,” Seungmin chuckled. He reached over the side of the sofa and retrieved a tiny bag. “I went out yesterday with Hyunjin. I thought these were pretty cute and that they'd cheer you up a bit … “

Excited, Y/N took the bag from Seungmin. He watched her carefully as she pulled out the items inside; she immediately squealed under her breath and Seungmin's face broke into a large smile.

“The packaging!” Y/N gushed over the slender cardboard boxes, pink and white and covered in delicate motifs. “They're so pretty!”

Seungmin pointed to one of the boxes. “Open that one.”

Y/N did as she was told. She opened up the white box and out slid an intricately decorated cylinder; peering closer, Y/N noticed the tiny rabbit that was engraved into the body of the lipstick. It smiled up at her and Y/N's eyes widened.

“Kim Seungmin!” Y/N squealed and threw herself on top of Seungmin. He seemed to have already preceded her outburst for he opened up his arms automatically, catching her in a big hug.

“Do you like it?” Seungmin asked calmly as Y/N started to attack him with kisses.

Y/N squeezed him tightly. “I love it! I'm going to put it on right now.”

Seungmin started to laugh as Y/N pulled away again; she uncapped the lipstick and after squealing for the third time at the shade, she carefully blotted it onto her lips.

“What do you think?” Y/N asked Seungmin, pouting in his direction. “Is it pretty?”

Reaching out, Seungmin cupped Y/N's chin and gently pressed a kiss to her lips. The girl's eyes widened in surprise, and her face matched the colour of her lipstick when he pulled away.

“I don't know, is it?” Seungmin asked, pouting his own lips.

His mouth sported the faintest smudge of her lipstick, and suddenly realising what had happened, Y/N looked around before dropping her face and screaming into the nearest cushion.

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chansducky10 · 2 months

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐔𝐬 (ᴘᴀʀᴛ 10)

☆ Genre: Slice of Life, Coming of Age, School, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/comfort, Idol au

☆ Warnings: Mentions of depression, anxiety, self-harm (blood, slight gore), domestic abuse/abusive parents, self hatred, panic attacks, anxiety attacks, eating disorders, mentions of weight

☆ Characters: Chan, Y/N (Stray Kids, Y/N's friends)

☆ Word Count: 5.6k

Part 9

“How was school?” Chris asked over the side of his sandwich.

Y/N dropped her cheese toastie down onto the plate with a clatter at the man's question. She dropped her forehead against the palm of her hand, her skin flushing pink; the most prominent memory from her day flapped around her brain like a drunk bird, and Chris’ face broke into a grin as he watched the deepening colour of her face.

“Nice thoughts?” Chris teased.

“I fell,” Y/N sniffed. “On top of Jay.”

“Who's Jay?” Chris cocked his head to the side. A moment later he started to laugh. “Is Jay your boyfriend?”

“He's not my boyfriend,” Y/N gritted through her teeth as Chris continued to chuckle around his sandwich. “He's … that guy I was talking to last time.”

“The one who made you blush?”

“I wasn't blushing.”

“You're blushing now.”

Y/N scowled. “Anyway. I fell on top of him and now I can never see him again.”

“Nah,” Chris shrugged. “I bet it was cute.”

Y/N's cheeks darkened further. “It was not cute. I never want to be on top of him ever again.”

Chris stared.

“I don't know what you're thinking about right now, but stop it,” Y/N grumbled and Chan burst into quiet chuckles again. “I'm already embarrassed enough as it is.”

“Do you want me to buy you a muffin?” Chris offered with a smirk.

Y/N screwed up a napkin and threw it at him. She glared when Chris grinned back at her in response.

“How much time have you got before you have to go home?” Chris asked suddenly.

“Nearly an hour,” Y/N replied. She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

Chris shrugged. “Wanna take you somewhere.”

Y/N's eyes lit up. “Is it finally my time to be murdered?”

“No,” Chris tutted. He took a bite out of his sandwich. “I already told you, I'm not a serial killer. I just … wanna take you somewhere. You might like it.”

“Where?” Y/N asked curiously.

“Surprise,” Chan grinned.

“I hate surprises,” Y/N scowled.

Chris’ eyes widened. “You don't like surprises? Why?”

Shrugging, Y/N picked the crust off of her toastie. She nibbled it thoughtfully and stared at the man opposite her. He was dressed slightly different today; he was wearing the same jacket, the leather of it worn and soft looking. His usual cap was absent, and instead his silver hair curled around his temples, brushing across the neckline of an oversized hoodie. Chris continued to look at Y/N with curiosity painted on his face, completely unaware that the girl in front of him was mentally observing his facial features like he was some sort of intricately carved marble statue.

“Have you ever … like … “ Y/N's voice trailed off as she leaned back in her seat, trying to find the right words. “You know when you're in a situation where you're excited about something, and you're looking forward to it, but every time you let yourself look forward to it, you're just … always let down or disappointed?”

Chris grew quiet. He took another bite out of his sandwich.

“It's like every time I think something is going to turn out well, something bad happens,” Y/N said simply. “Every ‘surprise’ I've ever had has been ... awful. And it's funny, really, because I don't even think the people who plan these surprises actually do it for me … they do it for themselves.”

Clocking the intensity of the man's gaze on her, Y/N cleared her throat. She reached for her food again as her nose grew pink. “Sorry. Ignore that.”

“Why are you apologising?” Chris asked quietly.

“For oversharing?” Y/N mumbled. “I don't know … I said too much.”

At that, Chris smiled. “You barely speak, Y/N. And even if you did, I don't think you could ever speak too much.”

Chris’ words made Y/N look up. The man was looking away again, and she felt her breathing waver as she mulled over his last sentence in her mind.

“Come on,” Chris said after a while. “You finished?”

Y/N nodded. Chris stood up; he stacked their plates on top of each other, and then their mugs on top of the plates. Y/N realised with a pang that he did so to make it easier for the barista who would clear their table later on. Her lips curved up into a small smile.

“Let's go then. Before it starts to rain or something. You never know these days … it's always raining.”

Y/N started to laugh. “You don't like the rain?”

Chris shivered as he held the door open for her. “Who does?”

“I do,” Y/N said quietly. “The rain is my favourite.”

Chris’ eyes softened. He peered down at the girl as they began to make their way down the path, “Why do you like it so much?”

Placing her hands into her pockets as she walked beside Chris, Y/N grew quiet. She couldn't think of what to say to him. People didn't tend to ask her questions about herself; now that Chris was asking, she didn't know how to reply. She hadn't even ever thought about why she liked certain things.

She didn't even know what she liked most of the time, bar a few very specific things.

“It's comforting,” Y/N said after a while.

She didn't notice the smile playing on Chris’ face at her answer.

“Cosy, yeah?” Chris offered.

Y/N looked up at him. The corners of her lips turned up ever so slightly. “Yeah. I guess.”

“I don't mind the rain when I'm inside,” Chris said. “I like to put on a movie and get all warm and fuzzy with a big blanket.”

“And a massive hot chocolate?” Y/N asked.

Chris raised his eyebrows in surprise. “How'd you know?”

“It's the only thing you drink.”

“That's not true,” Chris grinned. “I like … other things.”

“Like what?”

“Juice,” the man chuckled. “Pineapple juice. And I like tea.”

Y/N felt her small smile grow. “You drink tea?”

“What's wrong with that?” Chris frowned.

“Nothing,” Y/N shook her head. “Nothing … it’s cute.”

“Cute?” Chris’ mouth dropped open. “There's nothing cute about a man drinking tea, Y/N.”

“You called me cute for falling on top of a boy I like, but I can't call you cute for liking tea?”

Chris’ cheek dimpled. “If I recall correctly, you didn't exactly accept me calling you cute.”

Lips twitching, Y/N dug her hands further into her pockets. She shook her head as Chris smiled down at her, the fine lines beside his eyes deepening with his endearing expression.

They soon approached what looked like a large stretch of grass tucked away behind a few narrow streets. It curved up into a short but substantially wide hill, and Y/N was curious when Chris took her around the side of it before leading her up towards the top.

“Where are we going?” Y/N asked Chris as she followed him. “You're not just taking me to sit here, are you?”

Chris started to laugh. His hair danced like dandelion buds in the wind as he turned around to look at her; the lowering sun behind him illuminated his outline with a golden glow and the shadows darkened the softness of his eyes as he smiled at Y/N. “Would you be disappointed if I was?”

The man in that moment looked so carefree and childlike to Y/N, and his face seemed to shine with a kindness so soft and open, that it made the constant turmoil of the girl's inner battle between her anxious and depressed thoughts subside for a moment. It was a strange feeling, one that she wasn't sure she had ever experienced before; it washed over her like a blanket of solace and she found herself smiling back at him, letting him lead her to the place he had in mind.

“No,” Y/N said. “I don't think I would be.”

Chris beamed. “Good. Because you were half right … I did bring you to sit here.”

The man lightly jogged to the dryest looking patch of grass and proudly gestured at it as he looked at Y/N. “Sit!”

Y/N peered down at the grass. “Is my butt gonna get wet?”

Rubbing the nape of his neck, Chris crouched down and gently patted the blades with his fingers. “It's … kinda damp.”

He stood up again and immediately clutched at the lapels of his leather jacket.

“No!” Y/N was quick to interject. “No, don't do what I think you're about to do.”

“Why not?” Chris frowned, pausing. “I promise my jacket is clean.”

Y/N shook her head. “It's not that. I just ... don't want you to ruin your jacket. I'll use mine.”

“Y/N - “

The girl ignored the man's protests and slid her blazer off; she draped it over the grass before plopping down onto half of it, her white school shirt swimming around her arms like waves in the breeze.

“You can sit on this half,” Y/N said to Chris. “it's big enough.”

Chris folded his arms across his chest in indignation. “You won't let me put my jacket down but I have to sit on yours?”

Y/N looked up at him with a smile. “Mine is ugly. Yours is not. Just sit down.”

At that, Chris couldn't help but start to chuckle. “What if I ruin it?”

“You won't,” Y/N rolled her eyes. “Do you want me to go?”

Chris hastily sat down. He stretched his legs out in front of him with a sigh of contentment as Y/N crossed hers, and he gently tilted his head to the side with a smile as he watched the girl.

“You're really scary sometimes, you know that?” Chris said.

Y/N scowled. “No I'm not.”

“You are,” Chris grinned. “You're so scary my knees are knocking together.”

Y/N looked down; Chris was aggressively banging his legs together, and he burst into a fit of laughter when he saw the aghast look on Y/N's face.

“I should have stayed at school,” Y/N said dryly.

It only made Chris laugh harder.

“So … “ Chris spoke again once he had stopped choking on his own laughter. “You like my jacket, huh?”

Turning her head towards him, Y/N ran her gaze over the soft leather and silver hardware that had begun to twinkle gold with the setting of the sun. “Yeah.”

“You like leather jackets?”

Y/N smiled. She hugged her knees to her chest. “I love leather jackets.”

“Me too,” Chris said softly. “They look pretty cool, no?”

Y/N nodded. She was looking out infront of her: the sky was painted in glorious hues of salmon and magenta, and for some reason the simplistic beauty of it was bringing tears to her eyes. It was peaceful here, with the gusts of wind and the fading birdsong that almost twinkled in the distance. Y/N couldn't remember the last time she had seen such a view … perhaps if she had been here more often, things wouldn't have felt so dark and depressing inside of her all the time.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered if perhaps the world wasn't completely as bad as it seemed. How could it be, with a sky as beautiful as this one?

When she looked over at Chris, the man seemed to be engrossed in his phone. She couldn't make out what was on his screen other than tiny dots and flashing numbers; she looked away again, resting her chin on her knees.

“Fifteen minutes … “ Chris hummed to himself.

Y/N tilted her head towards him. “Huh?”

Chris shook his head with a smile. “Nothing. The sky is so beautiful, huh? I love coming here … “

Y/N was about to reply when she caught sight of a small movement near her knee. Just as she looked towards it, a slip of folded up paper escaped from her jacket pocket with the wind, and it started flying to the side.

“Oh for goodness sake … “ scrambling to her feet, Y/N ran towards the paper, trying to chase it down. The breeze only seemed to get stronger, and the paper flew in animated loops across the top of the hill. It dipped towards the grass, and Y/N managed to clamp her booted foot over it at last. She reached down to pick it up; it was her timetable, and it now sported a mild print of the underside of her shoe.

She sighed. She made her way back towards an amused looking Chris. She was so engrossed in folding up the paper again that she didn't notice the medium sized rock nestled in the overgrown grass; the rubber at the front of Y/N's boot caught against a groove in the rock, and she flew forwards with the widening of her eyes. Landing on her side, Y/N's left arm was braced underneath her and she gasped as fire shot down the length of her limb just as Chris rushed over to her.

“Y/N! Oh my gosh … are you okay?” Chris’ eyes were large with worry as he looked down at Y/N. He was keeping his hands to himself, Y/N noticed, and she tried her hardest to not tear up at the small gesture. “Is your arm okay?”

Y/N sat up wincing. She aggressively shook her arm up and down much to Chris’ astonishment, and she nodded. “It's fine. I'm fine.”

Chris stared at her. “Y/N … Y/N there's blood on your sleeve.”

There were indeed splotches of red blooming on Y/N's sleeves. The patches grew steadily, and Chris’ eyes widened considerably as Y/N stared at the blood, her head beginning to spin.

“Let me get you patched up,” Chris said immediately and he stood up. He moved towards the spot they had previously been sitting at, hands on his hips as he looked back towards Y/N.

“No, I'm fine,” Y/N said as she followed him. She felt dizzy; she sat down on top of her blazer again and cradled her arm to her chest, her eyes swimming in front of her.

Chris pulled his backpack towards himself. “You're not fine, Y/N. You're bleeding.”

“I'm fine,” Y/N insisted. “The … the blood was already there.”

Chris looked at her carefully. “Y/N … your sleeve was completely clean a minute ago.”

Staring down at her lap, Y/N tried to regulate her increasingly sporadic breathing. Her shoulders had begun to tremble and her breath shuddered as she inhaled slowly. She avoided Chris’ burning gaze; instead she shut her eyes and mentally cursed at herself for her forever present clumsiness.

In truth, Y/N had felt her day old wounds rip open all over again the moment she had landed on the floor. But she hadn't expected them to blow her cover, and she now stared at the neckline of her blazer in contempt.

She should have kept it on.

“Y/N,” Chris’ voice was gentle as he continued to watch Y/N. “I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to make sure you're okay. And right now … you don't look okay.”

At that, Y/N couldn't stop the tear that rolled down her face. She clenched her eyes shut in anger at herself.

“I can't … “ Y/N whispered. “I … I can't let you see.”

“See what?” Chris asked quietly.

Y/N shook her head and looked away. Bewildered, the man stared at her as he tried to figure out what was going on inside her head. It took a while for Chris to realise what she might have been insinuating; when he did, the man leaned back a little, his own breath knocked out of him at the realisation.

Chris tightened his grip on the small first aid pouch he had retrieved from his bag. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple jumping mildly in his throat.

“Y/N … “ Chris breathed slowly. “Look. I don't care how you got your … injuries. All I care about is the fact that you're bleeding, and you're bleeding a lot. I just want to stop the bleeding.”

At that, Y/N turned to look at him. She saw him unzip his pouch and watched with blurred vision as he showed her its contents.

“Look … I have wipes, and I have antiseptic stuff and creams and bandages … let me help you, Y/N.”

Chris looked into her eyes. “Please. Trust me.”

His words made Y/N's heart stop. She stared at him for a while, and when she had started to breath again, the girl wordlessly moved her arm towards him.

“Can I roll your sleeve up?” Chris asked softly.

Y/N nodded. She looked the other way, utterly ashamed of herself as Chris carefully slid the button out from the cuff of her sleeve before slowly rolling her sleeve up with his delicate fingers.

Chris wasn't prepared for what he saw under the fabric. He stopped rolling up the sleeve for a moment; the man's eyes swam with unshed tears when his gaze landed on the raw skin of Y/N's arm. The gashes across the space from her wrist to her elbow were deep and prominent amongst raised scar tissue. Blood ran in slow rivulets across her skin, and flakes of barely healed scabs seemed to be stuck against her skin amongst drying patches of blood.

Chris swallowed thickly. He resumed rolling up Y/N's sleeve to just above her elbow, and then he reached for a packet of wipes.

“Do you clean these?” Chris asked carefully. “It's just … I think some of them are a little Infected.”

Y/N's eyes widened at that. Chris immediately shook his head, his fingers soft when he patted her palm gently.

“Don't worry,” Chris said. “I can fix it. I just need to clean these and then put some cream on them. Can I do that?”

Biting her lip, Y/N nodded. She watched as Chris gathered his items. She couldn’t stop fixating on the fact that this man carried around a first aid kit with him. Y/N hadn’t lived very long … but she did know that she had never ever met anyone who had a kit in their bag for emergencies.

Not even her parents.

“I do,” Y/N said quietly once Chris had ripped the packet open. “Clean them. I try … but sometimes I just … don't have the energy.”

Chris didn't reply to that. Instead he unfolded the wipe carefully and looked at Y/N with tender eyes. “This is going to hurt.”

Y/N shrugged. She wasn't going to tell him that she was virtually numb to pain anyway.

“Okay … “ Chris said to himself as he wrapped the wipe around his fingers for more control. With his other hand holding Y/N's fingers with the gentlest of touches, Chris started to intricately mop up the blood around Y/N's wounds. He took his time; the sky was darkening quicker than he would have liked, and the man used his phone's torch to illuminate the space in-between them after a while. The light cast distorted shadows over Chris’ face, and Y/N resisted the urge to suddenly burst into delirious laughter.

The whole situation was more than a little bizarre. Never did Y/N imagine she'd one day be sitting on a field in the middle of nowhere with a strange man she barely knew tending to her self-inflicted injuries.

She realised with a pang that he was the first person to know of her injuries. Whether she had wanted him to know or she hadn't, it didn't matter now. He knew, and it was a terrifying yet minutely liberating feeling.

Y/N wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

She was beginning to feel drowsy. Her chin on her knees again, Y/N's eyes drooped and the violet skies before her smudged like paint. Chris was still being articulate with his task; the light dabbing from his fingers and the warmth from his hand on hers was instilling Y/N with a trickle of foreign serenity.

“Did you finish watching the survival show?” Chris broke the silence a moment later with a smile. He had opened up a new wipe and was clearly trying to distract the girl as he began to dab the antiseptic around the openings of Y/N's cuts, being careful so as not to get the solution into them.

Y/N blinked back tears at the sting; though she smiled at his question, suddenly remembering how she had been so eager to throw a flurry of questions at him.

But now … it seemed like everything had flown out of her mind and away with the wind. Nothing seemed to matter other than the setting sun and Chris beside her.

“I did,” Y/N nodded against her knee. “I liked the dance battle.”

Chris’ smile deepened. “You did? What did you like about it?”

“It was … visually appealing?” Y/N said.

“Wanna know a fun fact?” Chris suddenly chuckled.

Y/N inclined her head towards him in curiosity.

“When we were practising for the battle …” Chris began as he reached for another wipe. “I was supposed to do a flip near the end, yeah? But in practice I landed really badly on my neck … so I was kinda paralysed. Half paralysed.”

Y/N stared at the man. He had started to chuckle and her eyes widened.

“Fun fact? How is that a fun fact?” Y/N asked him, appalled. “You paralysed your neck?”

“Half paralysed,” Chris corrected her with a grin.

“That's not any better?” Y/N said, making him laugh again. “Were you … was your neck still paralysed during the battle?”

Chris wrinkled his nose. “Yeah. But I'm fine now. I think.”

“You think?”

“I am, I am,” Chris chuckled. “I'm fine. I got a bunch of treatments and therapy done.”

“Don't do it again,” Y/N shook her head, going back to rest her cheek on her knee.

“Don't do what?”

“Stupid things that get you injured,” Y/N grumbled.

At that, Chris’ smile faltered. He grew quiet and leaned closer to Y/N's arm, trying to see if there were any spots he had missed with the antiseptic.

“Wanna make a deal?” Chris asked softly. He reached for a tube of cream and unscrewed the cap before squeezing an ample amount onto Y/N's skin.

Y/N shook her head. “No.”

Chris started to laugh. “You don't even know what the deal is yet.”

“I hate deals,” Y/N sighed. “They're stupid. Someone always backs out of their side.”

“Maybe you just haven't met many good people then,” Chris said.

Y/N looked up at him, lips curving up at the corners. “And you're a good person, are you?”

Chris smiled. He looked down and spread the cream over Y/N's wounds with his fingertips as lightly and he possibly could.

“I try to be,” Chris said softly. “I think … if you're a good person and do good things, then good will always come back to you.”

Y/N scoffed under her breath. “I must be a really bad person then.”

“I don't think so,” Chris hummed. “I think you're just … a good person around bad people.”

Once he had finished applying the cream to Y/N's skin, Chris reached into his pouch again. He pulled out a small packet, and ripping it open, he retrieved several thin squares of gauze which he began to line up along the length of Y/N's arm.

“What's this for?” Y/N asked.

“Well, I can't use plasters … the area is too big and plasters would stick against the cuts,” Chan pursed his lips as he used his thumbs to smooth the cotton into place. “Which is a shame. I could have given you my Pokémon ones.”

Y/N started to giggle. “You have Pokémon plasters?”

Wordlessly, Chris reached into a flap of his kit. He pulled out an assortment of brightly coloured plasters and Y/N smiled.

“I want one,” Y/N said.

Chris started to grin. Once he had finished placing the gauze over her skin, he started to wrap a roll of bandage around Y/N's arm, making sure the binding wasn't too tight or too loose.

“Which one do you want?” Chris asked once he had reached the end of the bandage. “I have … Mew, Charizard, and … Gengar. I think there's a Pikachu too.”

“Gengar,” Y/N said, pointing to the purple plaster.

“Nice choice,” Chris chuckled. He unwrapped it and secured it over the edge of the bandage, Sticking it in place. “There. Gengar is gonna keep you company through the healing process.”

“Thanks Gengar,” Y/N stroked her fingertip over the purple plaster. She stretched her arm out; the pain had considerably reduced with the application of ointment and soft dressings, and Y/N looked up at Chris who was putting his things away.

She reached out slowly and ever so lightly brushed her fingers against Chris’ elbow. “Thanks … Chan.”

Chris turned to face her at the use of his Korean name. He couldn't help but smile at her. “Chan?”

“Can I call you that?” Y/N asked. “I … it feels familiar, somehow.”

Chris nodded. His eyes sparkled. “Sure. I'm going to have to think of a nickname for you though.”

Just then, Chris’ phone blinked with a notification; he picked it up and gasped quietly before haphazardly reaching into his bag again.

The man pulled out a pair of black headphones and handed them to Y/N.

“Put these on,” Chris instructed.

Y/N was baffled. “What? Why?”

“Just do it,” Chris grinned. “You'll see in a minute.”

Brows furrowed, Y/N did as he said. She slipped the headphones over her head and the world around her fell completely silent.

“Keep looking over there,” Chris leaned closer to her so she could hear him, and he pointed out towards the distance.

Y/N was increasingly confused. But she kept her eye a little to the left like he said to do; Chris was grinning widely as he watched the horizon, and before Y/N knew what was happening, she caught a glimpse of something very large emerging from the distance.

Feeling her mouth drop open with every passing second, Y/N watched as the nose of a moderately sized aeroplane winked under the half set sun. It flew towards them both and as it travelled over her with decreasing height, Y/N felt her hair lift and fly around her with the sudden increase of wind around them.

She turned to see it fly over the other side of the hill. Squinting, Y/N got up to her feet and stood in the middle of the grass, watching in awe as the plane started to lower itself onto the runway in the distance; lights blinked at her and she felt her breath leave her once she saw it disappear.

Y/N looked down to see Chris grinning up at her. She suddenly realised why he had given her his headphones; the sound with them clamped over her ears was loud enough. She didn't want to imagine how startled she would have been without them.

Y/N didn't know how Chris was aware of how much she hated loud noises. She had never mentioned such a thing to him. But he knew, somehow, and even if his caring was a small gesture to him, it was something that robbed Y/N of her words as she felt tears prickle in the backs of her eyes again.

“What do you think?” Chris was saying as Y/N pushed the headphones down around her neck. “Pretty great, no?”

Y/N smiled at him. It was a different sort of smile; one that came from a happiness that she hadn't felt in a long time. Her smile was large and it was real and Chris’ eyes widened at the change of her expression.

He was getting used to the constant downturn of her lips and brows. She looked like a completely different person all of a sudden, the dusk around them making her glow in a way that made Chris’ eyes soften as he watched her.

“This is why you gave me headphones,” Y/N said to him.

“Yeah,” Chris grinned. “I didn't wanna scare you.”

Sitting back down next to him, Y/N nodded towards his phone. “I … You … were you tracking the plane or something? Earlier?”

“I was,” Chris laughed. He turned his phone on and showed her the screen with the satellite images blinking up at him. “When we got here I looked and it said the next plane would land in fifteen minutes. Look … there's another one going to take off in a few minutes.”

Y/N leaned in towards him to see the blinking light he was pointing to on his phone. In doing so she caught a whiff of his cologne; it was fresh yet warm, spicy with fragrant cedarwood and sweet with vanilla, the faintest edge of mint cutting through it all. She looked up at him and he grinned back, the downturned shape of his eyes crinkling into crescent moons that mirrored the thin sliver of light in the sky.

“You should put those back on,” Chris pointed to the headphones around Y/N's neck. “It's pretty loud without them.”

Y/N smiled. She nodded and slipped them back over her head before turning around to face the other way as they both waited for the next aeroplane.

It was after the fourth plane Y/N had seen did she realise the time. They had been sitting on the hill for over an hour and the sky was now the colour of ink; Y/N truly hadn't noticed how much time had passed, sitting beside Chris. It was as though they had only been together for a mere fifteen minutes. Panic surged through her as her mind clouded with multiple ways her parents might react when she got home. The girl breathed heavily as she stood up, Chris picking her blazer up before standing beside her.

“I'm sorry,” Chris said as he dusted off her blazer. “It's my fault you're late. I should have checked the time.”

“It's not your fault,” Y/N shook her head. She took her jacket from him and draped it around her shoulders. “It's my fault. I … didn't really want to leave.”

Chris smiled sadly. He reached out and gently plucked a blade of grass from the lapel of Y/N's blazer and blew it away. “There's always tomorrow.”

As they began walking back down the hill, Chris turned his gaze onto the girl. “Y/N?”

Y/N looked up at him.

“Ah … “ Chris rubbed the nape of his neck, suddenly unsure what to say. He bit his lip before exhaling slowly. “Just … don’t … “

“You're going to tell me not to hurt myself, aren't you?” Y/N interjected.

Chris smiled uneasily. “I don't want to sound cliché.”

At that, Y/N couldn't help but smile. “I like chichés. Sometimes.”

“Well then … please don't hurt yourself,” Chris whispered. “Y/N … no matter how hard things get. You don't deserve to be in so much pain.”

Eyes prickling, Y/N shoved her hands into her pockets. “You don't get it. It gets rid of the pain.”

“How?” Chris asked softly.

Y/N shrugged. “I … I don't know. It just does.”

Chris smiled crookedly. “You don't sound very convincing, you know.”

With a sigh at the quiet girl, Chris slung his backpack off of his shoulder and pulled out his small black pouch again.

“Here,” Chris said, pressing it into Y/N's hand. “Change your dressings every few days. Keep the area clean. And please … Y/N, please. Don't do it again.”

Y/N closed her hands around the pouch. She was quiet for a while before she spoke again.

“You're giving me your Pokémon plasters?” Y/N asked.

Chris chuckled. “Yes. I am. That's how much my Pokémon team and I want you to look after yourself.”

Y/N smiled faintly. “What if I can't?”

“I know you can,” Chris said gently. “I believe in you. And Y/N … just … I don't know what you're going through exactly, but in those times where you feel like … really lost, and like you don't know what to do, you know where I am. You have my number. Just shoot me a text any time and I'll be there for you.”

Y/N wiped the back of her hand across her wet cheek. “You're not always going to be here though. You're going to go back home.”

At that, Chris shut his eyes. He then plastered a soft smile onto his face and pointed to Y/N's phone. “Even if I'm on the other side of the world, technically I'll still be with you. In your phone. So … you're wrong.”

Y/N couldn't help but giggle. She placed the pouch into her bag and smiled up at Chris who wrinkled his nose back at her.

Masterlist

Tag list ~ @dalamjisung @ateez-babygirl @waverzzzzzzzz @smutdumpskz @hotmesshapa @chanssmiles @leand125 @foivetimesacharm @dprkbyn @raethethey @super-btstrash-posts @sleepyleeji @ka-ni-ma @straystaychan @mylifesupsidedowm @armystay89 @shut-up256 @leelixpie @hanstan34 @blackfangedreaper @suhomylife @kannaexe @kookie9704 @notastraykid @strayfoxxchan @elizalabs3 @jdopes-recorder @forever-in-the-sky2 @peachygiku @chansducky10 @shakalakaboomboo @jisuperboard @zandra-42 @you-make-skz-stay @whyyougottadothatbro @skzcoffeemachine @where-is-innie @rizzshimura @miin17 @nappynapnaps @prettymiye0n @lost-leopard-beanie @retiredfactoryworker @chnbngs @dearly-somber @vxllxnsworld @sooberriesx @abby-wanna-bangchan @xhazmania @p0eticjust1c3 (let me know if you wanna be added or removed)

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chansducky10 · 2 months

Text

Is it bad if I want to pinch fictional characters?

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐔𝐬 (ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2)

☆ Genre: Slice of Life, Coming of Age, School, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/comfort, Idol au

☆ Warnings: Mentions of depression, anxiety, self-harm (blood, slight gore), domestic abuse/abusive parents, self hatred, panic attacks, anxiety attacks, eating disorders, mentions of weight

☆ Characters: Chan, Y/N (Stray Kids, Y/N's friends)

☆ Word Count: 2.3k

Part 1

“Make sure you write your name clearly, and neatly on the front … “

Y/N tapped her pen against the side of her lip. She watched her new English teacher hand out a set of fresh workbooks; they were purple, and they filled Y/N with a bizarre sense of joy.

She loved when their books were different colours.

Sitting in between Lia and Elina, another one of her friends, Y/N had a suspicious feeling her ears may fall off by the end of the day; they were both chattering excitedly, their faces animated.

“He's so cute!” Elina squealed, nudging Y/N's side. Her blonde hair smacked Y/N in her face and the girl coughed, pulling a distasteful expression as she jerked backwards. “Don't you think he's cute?”

Y/N rubbed her side. “Who?”

“Him!” Elina discreetly pointed to a boy a few tables away from them. “He's on the footie team.”

Y/N frowned. Not the football team again.

The boy Elina had pointed at was laughing with a small group of friends. Stark blue eyes crinkling with amusement and a mop of curly brown hair, he looked ever so slightly more visually interesting than most of the other boys in the class. In amongst his laughter, his gaze landed on Y/N; he stopped laughing for a moment. Then he dropped a wink in her direction, accompanied by an easy grin that spread across his face.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. She looked down at her book and her fingers tightened around her pen.

Oh, she thought. Fuck.

“He's alright,” Y/N shrugged. “Nice … eyes.”

“Right?” Lia giggled. “The guy next to him is pretty hot too.”

Y/N swivelled her gaze to him. She cocked her head to the side. He had tanned skin and black hair, and he was throwing pieces of scrunched up paper at the girl in front of him.

“Isn't that Sam?” Y/N asked.

Lia frowned. “Who's Sam? You know him?”

“No,” Y/N shook her head. “He's friends with Reagan.”

“They're looking at you,” Elina nudged Y/N again before Lia could reply.

Y/N looked up briefly. The group was indeed watching her, the blue eyed boy in the middle sporting a mischievous smirk on his lips.

She cleared her throat. “Aren't they looking at Lia?”

“Right? They're probably looking at me,” Lia joked with a loud giggle. She flipped her hair in a dramatic manner, her dark strands slapping Y/N across the face. “Oops. Sorry.”

“It's fine,” Y/N rubbed her eyes for the second time. She blinked hard; realising she was probably pulling a strange and unbecoming expression, she quickly stopped.

She could feel those boys’ stares like lasers.

“Sam, stop throwing paper, please,” the English teacher sighed a moment later. “Jay, whatever you're doing, just stop it.”

The boy with black hair pursed his lips in response. Beside him, the boy with blue eyes started to laugh.

“Oh, you were right,” Lia said loudly. “That's Sam. The other guy is Jay.”

Hearing his name, Sam looked over in mild curiosity. Jay followed his gaze, and spotting Y/N looking at him again, he plastered an even wider grin on his face than before.

Then he tore a piece of paper out of his notebook. Sam huddled up beside him as they whispered together, and Y/N looked away, cheeks burning.

She scrawled her name across her book. Y/N loved new books. Something about turning the first page and seeing the smooth stretch of paper made her incredibly happy; even though she knew her handwriting would turn into mush the following week, and be completely intangible the month after, it was always fun to write as neatly as she could on the first page.

Something hit her on her forehead. Flinching, Y/N's gaze landed on a screwed up piece of paper nestled in the fold of Lia's book. She looked up to see Jay staring at her with his piercing eyes, and then he swivelled his gaze to Lia who stared at the piece of paper.

“Open it,” Y/N whispered to Lia.

Lia shook her head. “No. Not now.”

“Why?” Y/N frowned, confused. “What if he wants a response?”

Giggling, Lia pushed the paper aside. She pretended to not care about its presence, and the boys across the room went back to chattering amongst themselves.

“Gosh, Y/N, haven't you ever heard of playing hard to get?”

“She wouldn't know, you get all the guys,” Elina chipped into the conversation.

Y/N wrinkled her nose. Elina did have a point.

Once their lesson had finished, Y/N, Lia and Elina gathered their belongings and made a beeline for the exit. Y/N was half way through the door when a heavy wave of masculine cologne crept up on her; she was pushed to the side as a figure brushed past her, an overly warm hand pressing against her arm.

“Excuse me, ladies,” Jay drawled as he let go of Y/N. He had a football tucked under his other arm, and he dropped another wink in her direction just as Sam brushed up against her too. He was taller than Jay was, and more muscular, and Y/N felt like a pancake as his entire body pressed against hers in his eagerness to leave the room. A mischievous grin flashed his face as he followed his friend down the corridor.

Confused and overwhelmed at the sudden unprovoked contact and proximity to the taller boys, Y/N moved away from the wall. She exhaled laboriously, watching Jay and Sam disappear down the corridor as her heart thumped in her chest like drums.

It was an unnerving feeling.

She didn't know if she liked it or not.

“What did the note say?” Y/N asked Lia after clearing her throat. All of a sudden she had a desperate urge to know, and she bristled when Lia smirked at her. There was a knowing look in her eye that made Y/N scowl.

“Why are you so desperate? Fallen for them already?” Lia laughed loudly. “Thought you don't like footballers. You're too good for them or something.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “I don't. They're gross.”

Lia rolled her eyes. “You should probably lower your standards. Every guy is the same.”

She then reached into her pocket and pulled out the piece of paper before opening up the folds.

She snorted with laughter. “It's Jay's Snap. He even added a heart.”

“Really?” Elina asked in surprise, grabbing the paper and examining it for herself. “Damn. They really like you. No surprise there.”

“Are you gonna add him?” Y/N asked Lia.

Lia shook her head. “Hell no.”

“Why not?”

“Do I look like a slut to you?” Lia asked, handing the paper to Y/N. “You do it, if you're so confident.”

Y/N pursed her lips. Lia didn't just look like a slut …

She was one.

But she wasn't about to say so. Who was she to say anything?

Annoyed, nonetheless, Y/N folded up the paper and tucked it into her pocket. “Fine. Maybe I will.”

Lia was alarmed. “Wait, you're joking right?”

“No,” Y/N shrugged casually. “I'll add him later. Who knows … could be fun.”

“Give it back,” Lia reached out, anxious all of a sudden. “You're not really going to add him.”

“Yeah, I am,” Y/N said as she moved out of the way. She was beginning to enjoy this … sick of hearing Lia go on and on and on about every boy she had ever come into contact with, her gloating and boasting did nothing but grate on Y/N's nerves.

It wasn't that she was jealous. Far from it, infact. But she despised how her friend believed one's worth was always determined by the amount of boys they interacted with. And as someone who was typically quiet and kept to herself, boys were the least of Y/N's worries.

Whereas Lia hoarded them like collectible cards.

Perhaps if she added Jay on her own social media, she'd finally have something that Lia couldn't be a part of. Maybe she'd understand how annoying it was, and how frustrating.

The thought was strangely liberating.

Back in the canteen, Y/N's heart was caught up in her mouth. Her stomach seemed to buzz with excitable butterflies as she stared at Jay's Bitmoji.

She couldn't help but giggle to herself. Even his stupid avatar was winking at her.

“He added me back,” Y/N said in triumph as Lia slumped into the seat beside her.

“Good for you.”

“What, jealous?” Y/N teased. She went one step further and nudged Lia the way she always nudged her.

It always drove her insane.

A slightly taken aback expression on her face, Lia laughed. “No. Why would I be jealous? He looks like a gremlin anyway … definitely not my type. But good for you if you like him. You can be gremlins together.”

Y/N bit her lip. She never understood how Lia always managed to one-up her.

In a moment of annoyance, Y/N typed a simple ‘hi’ onto her screen before sending it to Jay.

She panicked a moment later. Fumbling for her phone, she managed to delete the chat before shoving her phone into her pocket with red cheeks and a heavily beating chest.

*☆*☆*

Her appetite vanished into thin air the way it always did.

Y/N clenched her fists together under the dining table. Her head felt as though it was splitting open; her mother and father were arguing again, their dinner long forgotten. Her sister seemed oblivious as she ate her own food, completely unaffected by the yelling that occurred on a daily basis.

Y/N didn't expect her sister to care. She didn't see the ugliness that festered in the pit of their house the way Y/N did. For some reason, she still adored her parents in a way that Y/N was sure she could never even begin to understand. It was as though a mask was glued to her eyes, preventing her from seeing anything but lies.

But then again, their parents had always treated the siblings completely differently since the beginning.

In a sudden fit of rage, Y/N's father pushed away his plate. It screeched against the table and he stood up, kicking his chair away before walking away.

The silence that followed was short, thick, and heavily uncomfortable. Y/N could feel her mother staring at her head as she pushed her uneaten food around her plate.

“This is your fault, you know,” Y/N's mother snapped at her.

Y/N looked up, completely baffled. “How is it my fault?”

“If you weren't so late from school, we wouldn't have had to eat so late,” Y/N's mother presses on. “You know your father gets angry when he's hungry.”

Resisting the urge to laugh in disbelief, Y/N shook her head. She stabbed a pea with her fork. “Then don't wait for me. I've said before, just eat when you're hungry instead of waiting for me to come home.”

“Why? So you can continue isolating yourself?” The older woman's voice was loud, and it felt like blunt pins gnawing their way through Y/N's skull. “We're a family. We eat together. I don't know what those friends of yours are filling your head with … they're probably the reason you keep shutting yourself away from us. We're evil, you're badly done to, ‘oh, poor Y/N, she must have such a difficult life’ - ”

“Why are you yelling at me? I didn't even do anything,” Y/N murmured.

“You never do,” the woman mocked. “Little Miss Perfect. Honestly, Y/N, you're so selfish. You only care about yourself ...”

Fingernails digging into her palms, Y/N sighed. She had no idea how any of what her mother was saying was related to the current situation … she had barely spoken a word since coming back from school. The girl stared at her plate, her head spinning as her mother continued to bark insults at her. A million retorts bubbled on the tip of her tongue; but knowing her words would fall on deaf ears, she pushed her plate away instead.

“I'm not hungry,” Y/N stated in a monotonous tone as she stood up.

“Sit down,” Y/N's mother's voice was stern. “You haven't finished your food. And I haven't finished speaking to you.”

“I said I'm not hungry,” Y/N repeated.

Ignoring her mother's increased volume, Y/N made a beeline for the stairs. As soon as she left the room, she clamped a hand over her mouth as her eyes blurred over, and she ran up the stairs towards her bedroom before her tears threatened to spill down her face.

It was difficult to suppress the tears. With the lack of privacy in the household, Y/N's sister could have walked in at any moment. And Y/N would rather die than let her sister see her vulnerability. She swallowed thickly, biting down on her lip, hard. She winced when a sudden metallic tang sprung onto her tongue; the sudden explosion caused her mind to spiral downwards, and her breathing turned heavy while she rubbed her hand across her eyes.

Footsteps echoed near the bottom of the stairs. Y/N quickly wiped away any remnants of her tears. She dissolved the exhaustive expression off of her face as she rifled around in her drawer; her fingers curled around a piece of metal just as her sister barged into the room.

“You should go apologise,” Y/N's sister said immediately. “It's not fair. They're always yelling because of you. Can't you just listen for once?”

Y/N blinked slowly. It was becoming increasingly difficult to restrain herself from throwing a nearby item at her sister's face. “I didn't do anything.”

“Yeah, right,” the younger girl began. “You're such a selfish - “

Y/N wasn't in the mood to listen to more accusations. She pushed past the younger girl and made her way to the bathroom, locking the door behind her as she sank to the ground.

Masterlist

Tag list ~ @koos-euphoria @raethethey @hotmesshapa @manonblackbeak-trash @hendsernoodle @stanskzseungmin @ateez-babygirl @dalamjisung @dinosdawn @cookiemonstermusic258 @strwbrryfroyo @gazelle-des-pres @qtieskz @stigmvta @necromancersupreme @super-btstrash-posts @changlix-mp4 @exonations @changboobies @jeyelleohe @planetdemon @dani41 @jumbocircus @octalalica @velvetand-roses @foivetimesacharm @waverzzzzzzzz @peachy-flxwr @elizabeth11moreno @lenfilms @xhazmania @starshine-moon @snow-pegasus @bbychannie97 @laylasbunbunny @americanokisses @bluechans @bellamuerte1987 @meowmeowisdaname @chanssmiles @minunivers @septicrebel @bangchans-angel @spacegirlstuff @stayconnecteed @linogatinho @smutdumpskz @yeonjunarchives-posts @dprkbyn (let me know if you wanna be added or removed)

#stray kids #bang chan #skz

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chansducky10 · 2 months

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐔𝐬 (ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1)

☆ Genre: Slice of Life, Coming of Age, School, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/comfort, Idol au

☆ Warnings: Mentions of depression, anxiety, self-harm (blood, slight gore), suicidal thoughts, domestic abuse/abusive parents, self hatred, panic attacks, anxiety attacks, eating disorders, mentions of weight

☆ Characters: Chan, Y/N (Stray Kids, Y/N's friends)

☆ Word Count: 2.4k

Prologue

It was incredible how such a small sheet of paper had already managed to exhaust Y/N to the core of her bones. The fifteen year old ran her gaze over her new timetable, wondering what type of sorcery was integrated into the sheet she was holding as every new class that comprised her chaotic schedule began to lodge itself onto her shoulders like weights.

Y/N sighed. She really didn't understand why their timetable had to change a few months into the school year. She was only just getting used to the previous one.

The sheet of paper was folded into a small square before tucked it into her jacket pocket. Y/N shook her head slightly and dropped it back against her seat. She would deal with the timetable's overwhelming contents later when her brain wasn't in overdrive.

“Who do you have for maths?”

Y/N jumped. She winced in acute pain as her body was pressed up against the side of her seat. Her arm stung while her best friend half sat on top of her; Lia had her own timetable clutched in her fingers, and she held it out to Y/N for her scrutiny.

So much for dealing with it later, Y/N thought to herself in dismay.

“Same as you,” Y/N said. She fished for her own timetable and handed it to Lia. “I think most of our classes are the same.”

“Fuck yeah,” Lia grinned happily. She slid Y/N's timetable back to her. “Had lunch yet?”

Y/N nodded. “Chips.”

“Without me?” Lia's mouth dropped open as she nudged her friend in a joking manner. “Fake.”

“You took ages,” Y/N replied dryly. “And I was hungry.”

“Yeah, well, class ran over,” Lia sighed. “Mr Kim wouldn't shut the fuck up.”

Y/N frowned. She had more than a slight fondness for their old science teacher. “He means well.”

“Not when I have places to be,” Lia grumbled. She draped her arm around Y/N's shoulder, her auburn hair tangling with Y/N's as she playfully pulled her closer. “His anecdotes are so boring.”

Failing to see a good enough reason to respond, Y/N simply shook her head indifferently. She didn't particularly want to argue with her strong headed friend; she wasn't as confrontational as Lia was. Even if Y/N did enjoy their teacher's ramblings, she couldn't tell Lia so. Disagreeing with her and the rest of her friends never did bode well. It was always easier to play along with them, rather than oppose.

“I'm gonna go get lunch,” Lia hopped off of the armrest of Y/N's seat. “Be right back.”

With a groan, Y/N sat upright again as her friend walked away. Curling her legs up onto the seat, Y/N pulled her phone out of her pocket and started scrolling: she wasn't aware of the grin in her face until a shadow fell over her, an amused, friendly face looking down at the girl.

“What are you smiling at?” Anna asked softly as she sat down beside Y/N. The brunette tucked her bag in between her legs and kept her distance from Y/N's seat - the complete opposite of Lia's clingy behaviour.

Y/N smiled. She loved Anna. They had been friends for years before she became friends with Lia, and Anna's eccentricity combined with her dark humour that no one seemed to understand never failed to make Y/N laugh. Y/N really was fond of Anna, more than she'd care to admit.

She wondered not for the first time why she never considered Anna to be her best friend. They got on well, shared similar interests, and over the years they had never fallen out with each other due to small misunderstandings.

But perhaps it was due to Lia being so much bolder, so much in Y/N's face, that she couldn't really see past her.

“Cat,” Y/N said, turning her phone to Anna. “Looks like yours.”

“Gertrude dribbled all over my books last night,” Anna replied in mild irritation. “It's like she takes pride in ruining my things.”

“Yeah, but she's cute,” Y/N pointed out. “And she has a funny name.”

“True,” Anna sported a soft smile. “I guess that's what makes her even more annoying. I can't hate her.”

She reached into her bag and pulled out a bag of chocolates. “Want some? You're going to have to help me eat them otherwise I'll finish them all. And I'm trying very hard not to.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Y/N giggled as she reached into the bag. “Thanks for the meal.”

“Meal? More like a tiny snack,” Anna snorted. “Have some more. Here … they're all yours now.”

Snacking on the bag of chocolates, the two girls fell into a fast paced conversation. Their laughter grew more and more deranged with every joke that was cracked between them, and Y/N was struggling to breathe when she was attacked by a flurry of soft arms and sweet smelling perfume.

“Hey, Reagan,” Y/N's voice was muffled against Reagan's shoulder as she vaguely hugged her friend back. She flinched ever so slightly when her forhead was kissed; Reagan didn't notice. She never did. She pulled away with a smile and Y/N returned the expression with an air of awkwardnes.

Y/N was certain that no matter how many hugs and kisses Reagan showered her with, she wouldn't ever get used to it.

“How's your day been, babe?” Reagan asked cheerfully. She squeezed into the seat on Y/N's other side and crossed her legs before casually twirling her fingers around Y/N's hair. Her freckled face was open and full of interest as she waited for Y/N's response.

Y/N shrugged. She resisted the urge to tell Reagan that her hug was well needed.

And that she really, really needed another one.

“It was okay. Tiring. How was yours?”

“Ugh,” Reagan rolled her eyes up to the ceiling as she recollected the morning's events. “Sam won't leave me alone.”

Y/N listened quietly as Reagan launched into a dramatic tale of the boy she shared most of her lessons with. A part of the school's football team, Y/N felt Sam sounded rather misogynistic. But then again, anyone who was on the football team probably was.

They had a loud reputation for being the absolute worst kind. It was as though their good looks and tall, built physiques acted as shields for their flirtatious nature and how they constantly mistreated the girls around them, one after another.

Y/N could only imagine what they'd be like in a few years time.

She shuddered.

Lia leaned against a wall as she looked back at her group of friends from the lunch queue. She pursed her lips. Her narrowed gaze was fixed on how her friends chatted excitedly with her best friend. She scowled. They never spoke to her like that, with wide smiles and sparkling eyes. They never shared the events of their day with her like that.

She didn't understand why. In her head, Lia thought herself and Y/N to be pretty much the same. Maybe Y/N was more quiet than she was, and she didn't flirt nearly as much as she did with the boys around them … but deep down she was convinced they were the same on the inside.

She didn't really understand why they all loved Y/N more than they did her.

“Thanks,” Lia took the panini that the dinner lady handed to her. Walking back, she plastered a large smile on her face and waved to the group of friends.

“Oh my gosh, you've taken my seat,” Lia shrieked with forced laughter. “Y/N, budge up. You always take up the most room. Oh you know what, nevermind … let me sit on your lap.”

Y/N had no time to react. Lia flopped onto Y/N's lap, her face sporting a large grin as she caught the attention of everyone in the canteen. Y/N jerked her head back; her face was completely hidden by Lia's back, and she sighed indignantly when Lia started to giggle at all the boys that tilted their eyebrows up at her. She was in her element, a smirk on her face as she basked in the looks on her.

Y/N’s face crumpled. Pain lanced through her thighs as Lia wriggled around. She had a suspicious feeling that her just barely healed skin might have split open all over again, and she resisted the urge to groan at the burning.

“What were you guys talking about?” Lia asked loudly as she took a bite out of her panini. “Anything interesting?”

“Not really,” Reagan replied. She looked perplexed suddenly, and she peered around Lia's body. “Are you comfy?”

“I'm fine,” Y/N lied through her teeth. She smiled. “Used to it.”

Lia looked down at her. “You're comfy. Being chubby makes you all squishy and warm.”

Y/N swallowed. The way Lia said it made her suddenly recoil in on herself.

She laughed anyway. “Yeah.”

“I don't think you're chubby,” Anna chimed in with a raised brow. “You're a healthy weight. Lia's just being silly.”

Smiling, Y/N shrugged. She didn't really care either way.

“Oh - em - gee, my back kinda hurts though,” Lia said suddenly and she leaned back onto her friend. Y/N hastily moved her head to the side to avoid getting her face squished like her chest and torso and thighs were.

Anna cocked her head to the side. “Why?”

Lia shrugged. She took another bite of her panini. “Dad hit me with his belt. Usual shit.”

“He hit you?” Anna's mouth gaped open. “Are you okay?”

Lia laughed nonchalantly. “Yeah. I'm used to it.”

“That's awful,” Reagan commented. “I'm sorry.”

Clearly pleased now that she was the centre of attention, Lia recalled a multitude of instances where her father had physically abused her; as Reagan and Anna gasped and sympathised with her, Y/N shifted uncomfortably under Lia's weight.

She had heard all of these stories before. They were the same stories Lia told anyone and everyone; a wow factor, something to shock the people around her. Perhaps she genuinely didn't have an issue with sharing the experiences that caused her the most harm. Or perhaps she was looking for the sympathy that she was always guaranteed to get.

Frankly, Y/N didn't understand how she could bring herself to tell people so easily.

She couldn't imagine telling her friends about the prison-like conditions of her house. She couldn't imagine any of them understanding either, not when they all seemed to have families made of angels.

Y/N bit her tongue. She wasn't sure she could quite take the soreness of her legs being squished by Lia any longer.

“Lia … I need to go to the bathroom,” Y/N said suddenly in her quiet voice.

Lia sighed, annoyed. She shuffled off of Y/N's lap and watched as Y/N gingerly got up from her seat. She immediately pushed Y/N to the side and started to laugh as she vacated the empty seat.

“Mine now,” Lia giggled. “Take your time.”

Y/N smiled as she reached for her bag. As she walked away, she shoved her earphones into her ears, immediately breathing a sigh of relief when the opening chords of her favourite song tickled her brain. It felt like a breath of fresh air, and she shut her eyes briefly.

Pushing open the door to the bathroom, Y/N headed for the cubicle at the end. She locked the door before slowly rolling her trousers down her thighs and sinking down onto the toilet seat. She dropped her head into her hands and rested her elbows upon her knees. Her breaths left her mouth in slow puffs. She could feel a surge of something unpleasant and nauseating stirring inside of her, and it was beginning to rob her of her breath. She shut her eyes. Her heart was beating fast; too fast, and Y/N swallowed hard, pressing a hand to her chest. It seemed to jump out of her skin, making her blink rapidly as her eyes began to swim with tears.

It was funny, really. No matter how much time had passed, she always managed to end up in the same place. Locked up in a toilet cubicle somewhere with tears running down her cheeks and the inevitable sense of dread spinning around and around in her stomach like a tumble dryer.

She didn't even understand why she felt the way she did. After all, her parents were right … she was lucky. She had a house, and a bed, and food and water. She had everything while others had nothing.

Who was she to feel depressed?

Y/N scoffed internally and rubbed the back of her hand over her damp eyes. She was pathetic; she had friends, she had a somewhat solid place amongst the students at her school. It wasn't as though she was a complete loner; in fact, she was far from it. She always had someone to hang out with, someone to eat lunch with.

Then why on earth did she feel so alone?

The girl loved her friends. But even though the affection was there, there was also a sense of detachment from them present at all times. It was as though something was missing. Sitting with them, talking with them … they were nice enough. But no matter how nice they were, it was like they didn't understand her. But that was normal for Y/N. She had never really felt understood.

Not here.

Not at her house.

Not anywhere.

It was as Y/N wiped her hand over her eyes again did she see the smudges on her thighs. Dried smudges, they were the colour of wilting rose petals. Y/N's breathing became shallow as she stared at her skin with round eyes. Fingers trembling, the girl tried to wipe away what she could. She was careful, not wanting to disturb the deep lines imprinted within her skin even further.

She did her best to push the thought of blood and pain away from her mind as she exited the cubicle. Gripping the sides of the sink for support, Y/N's reflection stared at her with blank eyes, her mouth downturned at the corners and her brows furrowed. She looked deathly today, the ghostly pallor to her skin more like parchment than usual.

But she smiled at herself in the mirror anyway, reattaching the happy mask to her face that she wore daily.

She smiled wider. Maybe if she smiled hard enough, she'd finally manage to convince herself that she really was happy.

Masterlist

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