Chapter Text
What should you do when you witness the end of a life? Cry and wallow in the darkest corners of disconsolation? Feel your heart shatter, a million fractals of sharply glittering reflections exploding in a mere fraction of a second? Some believe time is nothing more than an illusion though – so should you instead decide to lie on your bed, a place of restless solace, and stare up at the empty ceiling? If this were the case, could you then be compared to a lonely garden gnome, fated to ponder life’s every aspect through a single perspective? Would you shrivel away from the light, choose to accept the pitiful concept of simply existing and allow your garden to wither; green to grey, flesh to bones, petals to stems? Perhaps your coping mechanism is to simply scream. Shut the doors. Close your blinds. Block your ears. Scream. Dry your eyes. Breathe…
Scream.
He does none of those. Instead, his eyes flutter closed momentarily, chest heaving, hands shaking, before he pulls himself away and picks up the computer mouse again. They’re becoming more frequent, or maybe he’s becoming more attune to them. He doesn’t witness these deaths, exactly. He feels them; what it’s like to have the frigid wind tug at your hair, howling in your ears, the moment of impact with the blistering ground causing him to flinch violently, hand clamped over his mouth in a desperation to quell any yell; what it’s like to have your vision swim, blotting in and out of darkness, your throat constrict as though a pressure is forcing its way from inside out, desperate, erratic gulps for sweet sweet oxygen achieving nothing; what it feels like to stand there, shivering, your heart rate increasing tenfold, breaths quickening to mere pants, as you will every instinct in your body to remain still – ‘do not move’, you think, ‘it’ll be over soon’, you remind yourself, ‘the lights are closer now, and they’re fast, they won’t stop’.
How dearly he wishes for them to stop.
He’s better at dealing with them now, definitely more subtle. The panic that envelopes him every time he realises something is about to happen however, will never leave him. He’ll drop what he’s holding, frantically disappear into one of the empty rooms in the company building, lock the door and rake a hand through his hair. The number of times the stylists have grumbled at him for messing up his styled hair is limitless, but he doesn’t care, why should he? The studio door clicks open, and his head snaps to the sound. Immediately, he attempts to steady his breath, and pulls his expression into his signature straight smile :] as Jisung enters the room, a plastic bag filled with takeaway containers in his hand.
“Eh? What’re you doing here…?” Chan grins, his eyes widening dramatically. Swiftly, he swipes his computer mouse to the top of the screen to check the time.
2.23am
“It’s so late Jisung, were you practicing choreo?” he continues, hitting save on his keyboard so he doesn’t accidentally delete his work while distracted. “I brought you food,” Jisung mumbles, lowering it onto the coffee table and carefully unpacking it all. Chan’s mouth begins to salivate excessively as the smell of chicken wafts towards him, but he rubs his face and resists the urge to sit down with Jisung and eat to his heart’s content. Jisung plucks a drumstick from the box, “Why are you working here alone?” he questions, a sad pout on his chubby cheeks as he wanders over to the computer, careful not to drop any crumbs. Chan shrugs, hoping it’ll satiate Jisung’s concern.
It doesn’t, of course, and his pout morphs into a small frown. Jisung tries to shove the chicken into Chan’s mouth, offering it to him demandingly.
“You eat, you eat,” Chan waves it away and turns back to his computer, “You wanna listen? I think it’s almost finished, something’s just not right with the auto tune… I think. It sounds off,” he picks the headphones off the desk and holds them out for Jisung, who has taken a bite of the chicken happily and is munching away. Again, he tries to give Chan the chicken drumstick, and refuses to take the headphones until Chan is eating the chicken.
As Jisung listens to the song, Chan’s mind drifts back to the corners of his thoughts, the shadows that have been swirling there for a long while now. He doesn’t know when it first began, doesn’t want to remember it to be honest. He was in his room, dozing off into a comfortable sleep, the purple LEDS providing a soft glow to the darkness.
It was abrupt, swinging into him out of nowhere, but he sat bolt upright, hands grappling with the sheets desperately. His vision swam, and he retched on dry air. He groaned and keeled forwards, hands suddenly clutching his chest as it tightened painfully – corkscrewing into his heart, but at the same time it was as though someone was trying to pry it open. He retched again, and he regretted in that moment that he had chosen purple to light his room earlier. The colour was making his head pound, his belongings swimming in and out of his vision, worsened by his unstable swaying. In a panic, he crawled over to the side of his bed. Then with a last hacking cough, he vomited onto the floor, the acrid taste on his tongue causing him to recoil, the stinging burn in his throat making his eyes water. Not that it mattered. He couldn’t see shit anymore. A dry sob escaped his lips, as he desperately tried to fumble for something to ground him back to reality. He saw speckles – grainy, fuzzy, surreal.
The world tilts, and maybe he falls off the bed too. And he’s gone.
“It’s not the auto tune effect – it’s the timing of the bridge,” Jisung drags Chan back to reality, his head bopping slightly to the music. Chan blinks and scoots aside to allow the younger to fiddle with the computer mouse, rewinding the audio so he can listen again. Chan is finishing off the chicken drumstick, so he hums in acknowledgement instead to Jisung’s feedback. “Yeah, it’s the bridge. The vocals need to be delayed a little,” Jisung concludes, “Want me to fix it up?”
In the silence of the room, Jisung pulls over another chair and gets to work. Chan watches him contentedly for a while, happy to absorb himself in the clicking and tapping of his first child’s proceedings - watching him edit and perfect the track they’ve been working on for the past few months. Jisung glances at Chan, his concentration breaking, “You’re unusually quiet.”
Chan reaches over and squeezes his shoulder comfortingly, “Just thinking.”
“Right... well, eat more. And then go to bed,” Jisung insists, briefly squeezing the hand on his shoulder in return. Chan sighs and hoists himself out of his chair, sinking back onto the couch so he can easily dig into the food.
“Thanks Hannie,” he mumbles, and when the man makes no move of acknowledgement, Chan smiles softly and nibbles on some more chicken.
He woke that time, on the floor of his bedroom, dangerously close to the stinking heap that was his vomit. His head pounded, a dull ache ringing in his skull as he mustered all his strength to simply stand up and pull over the blinds.
“What the fuck was that?” He groaned, resting his head on the window and basking in the warmth of the early morning sun, so comforting, so full of life – a steady presence. After he spent the next ten minutes gathering his wits and cleaning up the mess, he brushed it off as food poisoning; maybe something in the food Hannah cooked last night (he’d never tell her that, of course).
On another day, in another place, maybe a few weeks from then, he had returned to Korea, jumping straight back into his busy schedule. They were in the middle of an interview, not the first, and certainly not the last. In hindsight, he was thankful he had chosen to stand in the back row. At first he thought he merely needed to cough, a ticklish sensation wrapping around his throat, a ghost of a hand caressing his neck. He swayed dangerously when he felt it tighten harshly, so suddenly, and his heartbeat escalated, his legs becoming jelly.
His head snapped back as his whole body teetered over the edge of the platform he was standing on. A searing pain blazed across his neck for a second, causing him to grapple with it in shock. Changbin grabbed his arm at that point, preventing him from completely falling over backwards.
“You okay?” he whispered, careful not to draw too much attention to the pair, professional as always. Chan corrected himself and tried to control his breathing, forcibly inhaling and exhaling through his nostrils. He pulled a face, his eyes wide, and waved his arms a little, “Thanks. Almost lost my balance there.”
Throughout the rest of the interview, he remained silent, thinking hard. What just happened? And why did it feel like… he had just been… hung?
It took him months to string two and two together, months of spontaneous moments of death, in which he remained alive. He’d be drowned countless times, be stabbed infinitely, shot in the head, electrocuted, run over by train… after train… after train, until he fully accepts that these were all connected. As time wore on, he began to hear things too, inner monologues he supposed, of their voices. He figured if this condition, whatever it was, lasted long enough, he’d soon be able to see it too.
Stay. Just stay. Stay’s. It’s you. You’re not staying. He was burning in the middle of a fire. That much was obvious by the scorching pain on his skin, brutal enough that he just wished he couldn’t feel. He screamed into the couch pillows, knowing full well that the studio was soundproof, but paranoid all the same that any of his members would hear him.
‘Thank you Stray Kids, for everything.’
Stay. He couldn’t tell at this point whether the pain was his or from the person who was dying. Both, perhaps. All this time, the people who were dying, the people who were killing themselves, were Stay’s. Or maybe this time was a coincidence, maybe this person just happened to be a part of the fandom.
It wasn’t though.
More and more often, in the midst of some version of death, he heard thoughts, whispers:
“You got me this far Stray Kids.”
“Skz you’re my everything.”“
Keep fighting Stray Kids.”
“Chan, I love you.” “Thank you Chan.” “Life was good thanks to you, Chan.”
Fuck. This. Shit.
Stay.
His members were either dense, playing dumb or he was an incredible actor and the sneakiest being on all of planet earth. He had no idea how he had managed to hide this, for so long, and not hear a peep out of any of them.
Sure, he attributed his puffy eyes (from tears) to a lack of sleep, or too much time in front of a computer screen. Maybe his lack of sleep could be contributed to insomnia, not that he genuinely didn’t want to sleep with the fear that he might wake abruptly to a strangling death. Again. Usually, before anything happened, that panic would settle in, a familiar feeling of fear, ‘I can do this. I’m going to do it. I want to die. Do I want to die?’, and in these moments, he’d excuse himself to the bathroom.
“Chan hyung’s gone to the bathroom.” – posts Hyunjin.
Yeah. To die.
He yawns, stretching as he returns to the studio from a genuine bathroom break. He’s excited to return to his work; a sample he’d stumbled across waiting to be incorporated into a new song. After he shuts the door, he checks the time on his phone. There’s an hour and a half until 12am– he needs to do Chan’s Room soon too, it’s Sunday. He was comforted by Chan’s Room, to see so many Stay’s on his lives, thankful to have them there, rather than at the top of a building, or sinking at the bottom of a river. He decides that the sample can wait – it’s saved anyway. He flipped his black hood over the top of his cap, carefully adjusting it so it was presentable, and began to set up the live. He had a few songs in mind that he’d play for you all but was really hoping you’d contribute to the song suggestions too. He smiled, and he laughed, and he danced along to the songs, joyously reading your comments and responding with enthusiasm despite it getting later into the night.
Then the mood shifted when his eyes skimmed over a particular comment. He froze, and his bubble of security popped. He wasn’t sure if he had managed to blot you out, or if the fear had only crossed through after you had sent that message, but he was positive that the person who typed the question, was the person currently pressing a knife to his heart – a small, sharp prick on his chest. Chan inhaled sharply and swivelled in his chair, “Yeah don’t… don’t hurt yourself, yeah?” The chat exploded with questions and comments, wondering why he was bringing it up and offering words of comfort. The sharp pain on his chest receded slightly, but the fear was still there, the emotional pain ever present. “Just because you have a lot of stress, it doesn’t mean that you have to relieve it by hurting yourself.”
There. Same user. New comment. ‘Your future isn’t worth living for’? Bullshit.
“If you think about the future… it’s best to just keep away from that and find different ways of relieving stress.” Self-consciously, he fiddles with his hoodie drawstrings and swivels in his chair again, desperate to hide the panic flicker across his features briefly. The knife was back.
“You never know what’s going to happen in the future. Something might go wrong, then there might be a turning point and then- from then on you feel really, really regretful,” he’s rambling at this point, thoughts unhinged, spluttering and mixing like mush in his brain. He just needs to get you to stay.
He takes a deep breath, and drills his eyes into the camera, pleading with what little he could offer, “If you really, really can’t help it or if you really just don’t know what to do or you’re really- really lost, as I’ve always said,” he smiles, eyes shimmering, “come here; look for me, ask me, talk with me.” He waits, praying, fiddling his thumbs below the desk.
And the agonising feeling fades, leaving him deflated, relieved.
“I’ll try my best to relieve your stress,” he concludes, then spreads his arms wide. He knows Stay didn’t ask for it, but he was offering one of his hugs more for himself than them.
His relief would be short-lived. He can’t save everyone.
I guess, it’s about time I introduce you. You, not as one of those who have given up. Not as one of those who have caused Chan’s suffering. I introduce you, as simply you. You, who carefully pulls your keys out of the café door. You, who draws down some of the shutters with a soft smile. You, as wonderful, loving, bubbly you.
You make your rounds around your haven, your café. It’s a combination of everything you could possibly imagine to be creative. It’s been your dream to create a safe hub for the public that incorporates a library, a café, study area, art studio, computer labs, rehearsal room and even a recording studio. Pets were welcome, of all kinds, as long as they wouldn’t fight with each other, and you were open from 7.30am in the morning until 1am the following day. If anyone fell asleep studying, working on music or reading, you’d leave them where they were and pull out the blankets you kept in storage. The policy for this was simply a bond of trust. Customers could stay working for the night as long as they didn’t mind watching you drift around in the morning in your bedhead and PJ’s, slowly beginning to set up for a new day. You would always offer them a morning hot chocolate, coffee or tea, free of charge, but more often than not, they’d leave their money on the counter when you turned away, refusing to let you best them in a game of generosity.
Books could be borrowed, studios and study rooms booked, pets left in the backyard day/night day care. Equipment was supplied in all the rooms, instruments for loan, computers to log into, art tools for perusal. The rule for these? Don’t break them. If customers break them, they pay for them. If something run’s out, let you know. You only offered the basic necessities anyways, so you restocked them yourself. Anything else customers bring for themselves. It was safe. It was cosy. It was yours. Yours to give. Admittedly, you still had to pay off the loan you took out to set up the place, and if time grew short you were considering shutting down the recording studio – it was the least used area. You pushed the last few stray chairs in as you considered whether to make yourself a final cup of tea before settling down in your apartment upstairs. There were two people currently dozing in various locations of Café Studio, one of whom was a regular. A third customer was sipping the last dregs of his coffee, watching your humble movements out of the corner of his eye.
“Mind if I call it a night on one of your couches?” he asks, scraping back his chair to place his mug on the counter by the coffee machine. That’s James. James fucking Jamison. Always here for whatever reason, never not here, where you wanted him to be. You withhold a sigh and the temptation to pinch the bridge of your nose, “Yeah, go for it. You know the drill.”
You welcome all customers, all are valuable guests. Except for him. He just won’t take a hint.
He saunters idly over to you, hands in his pockets, and clears his throat, “So… are you sure you won’t be free any time this week?” You can feel his eyes drilling into your back and scrunch your nose distastefully, pulling out your phone as if to check something, “I can’t, I run this place.”
He’s still staring at you, so you whisk your earphones out from a pocket in your apron and plug them into your ears. It doesn’t take you long to press shuffle on your playlist, and immediately your current favourite song begins to play, as if it knows exactly what would help you through this situation, or maybe they knew.
“What if you just shut the place down for the day?” he asks with an awkward laugh, running his hand through his hair dramatically. So cool. You roll your eyes and turn around to face him, internally dancing to the song in your ears. You give him a once over, genuinely considering him, “I can’t shut down my only source of income for a day.” “Even for-”
“Especially not for you.” The two of you stare at each other and you can sense that somewhere in those blue eyes of his, you’ve angered him. He’s not pleased, and he never has been with your constant rejections, but so far he hasn’t tried anything. He would be stupid to do so, with surveillance cameras set up everywhere and two customers sleeping not far away.
Go kill yourself.
You wince as sharp pain crackles across your forehead, “Sorry what?” James blinks at you quizzically, his sizzling demeanour vanishing at your confusing outburst. “I didn’t say anything.”
Go. Kill yourself.
You hiss, hand clutching your forehead, and stumble into the nearest table. James is onto you in a second (“Woah there”) trying to support you, when the table was doing just fine. “Back off,” you snap, pushing him away, which causes you to stumble back into the window, the last one without its shutter pulled down, “and shut up.” Again, he blinks at you, ever the stupid dolt he is.
‘Heh… funny.’ Why’d I say that?
Desperately, you swivel and press your forehead to the cool of the glass window, groaning in agony. The music playing in your earphones becomes too much, so you tug them out of your ears, your phone lighting up on the paused song of “Silent Cry”, by Stray Kids.
I wonder if it’ll still be funny after- if I-
You crack your eyes open and peer outside, dimly trying to discern whether this was a voice in your head, or a voice in real life. It spoke with a pained clarity, exhaustion numbing what could have been a voice of laughter and passion. How you knew this, you had no idea.
“Hey, are you good? Are you on your period or something?” James piped up helpfully, and if you weren’t so heavily concentrated on scanning your surroundings outside you might have kicked him out of your store right then and there.
Then you spotted someone. A lone figure, shrouded in the hazy glow of a streetlight, leaning over the bridge railing. Café Studio was located on the banks of the local river, wide enough for boats to barge through, deep enough to be terrified of the unknown creatures writhing within.
You watched, the incessant pounding in your head diminishing the longer you stared at the figure. If he wasn’t standing in the middle of the light, you wouldn’t have spotted him in his completely black outfit. Someone certainly wasn’t one for colour. He leaned further over the railing, clutching his beanie to his head as though afraid it would fall off in the wind. In seconds, you had ripped your phone and headphones from your apron, leaving it on one of the tables, and fumbled with the key to unlock the café door. It was chilly out, but you ignored the goosebumps speckling your skin, and James’ confused fucking shouts – like would the guy stitch his mouth shut please.
That was him. The idiot leaning too far over the railing was the one whispering nonsense in your brain. How you came to this conclusion was to anyone’s guess, but it was him. In the seconds it had taken you to sprint over to him, he had clambered on top of the railing, balancing precariously, his hands in his hoodie pockets, gazing into the depths of the water. Maybe in another life, if you weren’t out of breath trying to stop him from ending it all, you might have been enamoured by his features. As you drew closer, you could make out the defined cut of his jaw, his wide shoulders, plush lips tinged with pink from the cold, dark eyes alluringly intimidating. This wasn’t that life though, and you paid no attention to any of it really.
A dawning realisation settled on your features however, after a brief assessment of his face caused you to realise that you knew him, perhaps not personally, but still knew him. “Bang Chan?” you whisper, the name falling from your lips in a panicked whisper, “Chan no…” your legs work harder, and you pray almost deliriously that he doesn’t do it. Don’t do it. He can’t.
“Bang Chan!” you yell, losing all sense of discipline as he sways gently, contemplating, “Chan!!” he doesn’t appear to hear you, absorbed in his own mind. You’re there, you’re right there, and this time, when you call desperately, “Christopher!” his eyes snap up to meet yours.
It’s this particular moment, that will be ingrained in your mind in the following years. The way his eyes spark in shock at the sight of you, then relax, as though he understands, and has complete control over everything in his life. Without hesitating, you snatch at his clothes and tug him backwards. His heavy body crashes into yours, but you don’t care. You wrap your arms safely around his waist as you tumble to the paved path in a heaped mess of clothes and limbs. He wriggles around in your grasp, trying to position himself more comfortably, and eventually wind up staring each other dead in the face, blinking through your lashes up at him, his palms on either side of your head. An uncomfortable silence settles between you, fizzing in the limited space between your faces. Then without warning, you roughly shove your hand behind his head and pull him down into a hug, tears beginning to stain your cheeks.
“What the fuck? What the fuck?” you croak, needlessly shoving your hand underneath his beanie so you can tangle it into his curled hair, “What the actual fuck, were you doing?!” you cling to him tighter, and your breath escapes in garbled gasps that quieten to silence when you feel the trickle of wet tears on your neck. Gently, you remove your hand from his head and relax your body, allowing him to remove himself from you if he so wished. He burrows his face further however, his arms collapsing onto his elbows, and suddenly you can hear him sobbing.
The tears on your neck weren’t your own. He sounds so broken, crying his heart out as though he were a lost little child who dropped his ice cream. The raw emotion and lack of restraint in his sobbing scrapes at the threads of your heart, and again, you’re crying. Crying with him, for him – understanding everything, and nothing at the same time. Eventually, you wipe the tears from your face, trying to figure out what to do next. You need to comfort him, talk to him, remind him that he’s worth this world, and the world doesn’t deserve him because by god- if anyone knew even a scrap of what this man meant- he’s laughing. Why is he laughing?
His warm breath tickles your neck as he chuckles, his sobs magically morphed into an amused laughter, which is the most concerning thing by far. Chan pulls away from you, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he laughs and hastily dries the tears on his face.
“Sorry. I am so sorry you had to see that,” he grins, and you frown at him.
“Sorry I had to see what? You almost jump off a fucking bridge, or your tears? It better not be the latter Christopher, or I’ll gladly rewind time and push you over myself.” Almost immediately, you regret the words tumbling out of your mouth when his face crumbles again, “Would you really?” he whispers, sitting up beside you.
“No. No I was kidding. I was just- you’re allowed to cry, Chan,” you sit up too, and then it’s just the both of you, sitting alone, a strange pair, by the railing of a bridge.
“So you know who I am then?” he dutifully asks, gingerly fixing his beanie and offering a small smile.
“Yeah,” you take note of the way his posture deflates, and add quickly, “But it doesn’t matter. None of that matters. What matters is that you tried to…” your words die in your throat at the reproachful glint in his eyes, shimmering eerily in the lamplight. Instead, you stand up and offer him a hand. He cautiously accepts it, allowing you to help him stand with you.
“Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you,” you smile, giving his hand a shake. He stares at you, bemused, and shakes your hand back.
“Christopher Bahng. And… thanks.”
You’re not sure if he’s thanking you for stopping his plummet to death, or for helping him sit up, or for letting him cry… he could be thanking you for a lot of things, so instead, you do the next best option.
“Want to head over to my café? I’ll make you a cup of coffee,” you offer, flicking your head to the still lit building, where fucking James is standing outside, ogling you from afar, his hands on his hips.
“Sure… only… I assumed you’d know I don’t drink coffee,” he shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets again, and as your eyes slide from James and then back to the man in front of you, you suddenly struggle to process everything that’s just happened.
“Why would I? We just met,” you flash him a coy smile and lead the way. You stroll into the café, holding the door open for Chris so he can step through, his hands still in his pockets. James makes to follow, but you slam the door shut in his face and lock the door swiftly.
“Uh…” Chris begins, his eyes wide, asking for an explanation.
“No questions. He won’t leave me alone, and that’s that,” you grin brightly, then rush to disappear behind the café bar and begin to prepare him a drink. He seats himself on a stool and tries to watch as you work. You grow uncomfortable in the silence, especially with him watching you so closely, so you instinctively begin to ramble.
“This is Café Studio. You might have noticed by the sign out front.” He nods, indicating he’s paying attention. “I run this place entirely myself, and I live above…” You tell him everything you can think of, from the studios attached to the café, to your favourite pets that frequently get dropped off for day care or overnight stays. His eyes light up when you mention the recording studio, and you have a feeling he’ll go back to the topic after. In no time, you have two hazelnut croissants prepared, a steaming mug of white hot chocolate for yourself, and a mug of caramel hot chocolate with a dusting of cinnamon for him (you refuse to tell him what’s in his drink, which makes him pout sadly because he loves it). You lapse into silence as you eat and drink, and you know you need to breach the topic again, somehow, you can’t just leave it unattended.
“Can I ask…” you begin, but he interrupts you smoothly. “I just wanted to see what it would look like.”
Chan knew he could never tell you that he’d experienced death a hundred times over in the past months. You’d think him insane.
You knew you could never tell him you heard his voice, loud and clear in your head. He’d think you delusional.
“About that… recording studio… does anyone use it?” he inquisitively asks, and you shake your head sadly in response, wiping croissant crumbs off your face.
“Not really… I’m considering selling it. I need to repay the loan I took out, and if the recording room is just dead weight then I don’t see why-”
“Don’t. It won’t be dead weight. I’ll pay for your loan,” he hurries, and is about to say more before he reconsiders, “Mind if I check it out?”
Of course you don’t.
Chris returns to his hotel later that morning. It’s 4am by the time you crawl into bed, recounting the events of the day in a sluggish fashion. Only 2 and a half hours ago you had pulled him away from certain death. A shiver disturbs your spine as you replay the memory, and you curl tighter into your blankets. What if you hadn’t? His inner monologue certainly didn’t sound like he simply just “wanted to see what it looked like.”
Somehow, you manage to drag yourself through the rest of the morning, living off a few hours’ sleep at most. Thankfully, there aren’t many customers to begin with, giving you a chance to get organised a little later than usual. Chris had left with a small smile and a wave, and you watched him disappear down the street, a part of you worried he’d decide to try the bridge again.
He returns in the afternoon with the same small smile and wave, shocking you to the core. He’s got a cap pulled low over his eyes, hood pulled neatly up, and a black mask obscuring most of his face. The only reason you recognise him this time is because of those actions, and the particular way his eyes crinkle, disappearing when he genuinely smiles. Quietly, he asks for the same drink you made him earlier that morning and asks to borrow the recording studio – “change of scenery,” he explains casually.
As the days go by, he visits as often as he can, always with those same twinkling eyes, and always still carefully covered up. You have no idea how he’s managed to convince his company to continuously let him out in public without staff, nor how long he’s staying here for. He must be on vacation or something because this was certainly not Korea. You frequently check up on him too, never hesitating to ask whether he needs any support. He shakes his head every time and stares at you unblinkingly, trying to convey a message through only his eyes.
You’re already helping him. This haven, your haven, is helping him already. You don’t know this of course. Nor do you know that his odd connection to suicidal Stay’s has ceased. He hasn’t felt them in ages, and in a twisted way, he’s relieved – hasn’t felt this light in a while.
“Mind if I book the whole café out for a day?” he mumbles to you from your side, his hands nimbly working with the coffee machine to produce an order for a customer. One day he had asked if you could teach him a few things on the machine. Before long he knew how to make every drink, and happily watched underneath his mask as customers sipped his creations. Every drink that is, except for the special one you made for him – it was actually your Mum’s recipe. You refused to teach him, but he could easily figure out the ingredients and method to make it for himself by now, if he really wanted to, which perplexed you every time he asked you to teach him.
Truthfully, he didn’t really want to know. He just liked seeing the tiny crease on your forehead and adorable smile whenever you refused. And now… he had even more reason to come back. For the hot chocolate. Definitely.
“The whole-? Library and everything?” You inquire, as you refill the jar of chai powder.
“Mhm,” he hums, nodding to a regular as they float by, “Staff want us to film a Skz-Code Episode while we’re here, and they left it up to us to decide where.”
“Oh. Sure. What do you need, for me to close up for the day?”
“I want you to stay though. Don’t disappear upstairs to your apartment… please. Can you stay and… watch?” he innocently asks, and you stare at him in surprise, clipping the jar in your hands shut with a snap, “Am I allowed to?”
It turns out that would be their last day. They returned to Korea on the following. In hindsight, you wish you had hugged Chris tighter when he tackled you with one before they left after filming, raising the eyes of several staff members and causing the Skz Members to chuckle with one another.
Chris was hugging you because he would miss you, and he was afraid that if he left, the traumatic episodes would return.
You were hugging him because you were full to the brim with Stray Kids’ warmth and happiness, but also because an unfamiliar safety nestled into your stomach as he hugged you, burying his face into your neck – the same place he had where he first met you.
“See ya soon, mate!” Felix called, carrying a box of your brownies. He had given you his recipe, and you eagerly followed its instructions while you watched them record their episode, smiling contentedly at their tinkering laughter, “These taste better than mine!”
“No one can beat Felix’s brownies,” Hyunjin muttered through a smile, but he’s happily munching on one of yours all the same. Jisung also has his mouth stuffed, his chubby cheeks wobbling as he nods his head. Seungmin offered you a polite handshake, and Jeongin an energetic round of high fives. Somewhere in the distance, Changbin calls out your name, and performs a half heart above his head. You complete it, sticking your tongue out playfully. Not surprisingly, you and Chris have to duck back inside the café to hunt down Minho, who’s been playing with the cats left in your care for the day.
You didn’t find out that Stray Kids were leaving until that night when you spotted a live of them on your YouTube at the airport, and your heart plummeted with a sadness you couldn’t explain.
What… a strange… dream.
Everything become’s more surreal when you discover an envelope by the coffee machine the next morning, tucked neatly under the corner where Chris would usually stand to make his coffee’s. You pull it out carefully; there’s no name penned on the front. Curiously you pull out two sheets of paper. The first you open is in Chris’ handwriting (he had been leaving random notes and scribbling his signature wherever he could during his visits, so you were relatively familiar with it now),
A B C D E F G
I wanna send my code to you
Eight letters is all it takes
And I’m gonna let you know
Lyrics. You flip over the paper and stare in a daze at the phone number scribbled there. Further down the page, there’s more lyrics, but from a different song.
Together, I feel time has flown so fast
In my time, memories are crowded
I didn’t know the sky was so clear like this until I met you
I thought the sun was only scorching
Thank you for coming to me
And becoming the same shadow as mine before approaching the light
“Chris you cheesy ass,” you laugh, heartbeat thumping loudly in your chest.
You can STAY.
You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you almost forget about the second piece of paper. It’s a receipt. And on the bottom, are more words written in his handwriting.
The loan for Café Studio has been paid off,
and the rent on your apartment.
It’s all yours now.
You can thank me when I come back.
Your eyes widen, and a small gasp leaves your lips. You fumble for your phone and add his number to your contacts. Then sparing no second, type out a message.
(A/N: When dialogue is in script format, it's meant to represent text messages)
You: “No you did not”
In the few seconds that you stare at your message, that you sent to Chris, disbelief written across your features, your phone buzzes with a response.
Chris: “Oh but I did”
You laugh, the sound gradually increasing as you throw your head back, giddy, a delicate pink tinge warming your cheeks.
“Something good happen?” James interrupts, rapping his knuckles on the counter to get your attention, “No side barista with you today? Who was he anyways, and what was with that mask?”
“He’s… a good friend. Care for some tea?”
“But I don’t like-”
“Perfect.”
What should you do when you witness the end of a life? Cry and wallow in the darkest corners of disconsolation? Feel your heart shatter, a million fractals of sharply glittering reflections exploding in a mere fraction of a second? Some believe that time is nothing more than an illusion though – so should you instead decide to lie on your bed, a place of restless solace, and stare up at the empty ceiling? If this were the case, could you then be compared to a lonely garden gnome, fated to ponder life’s every aspect through a single perspective? Would you shrivel away from the light, choose to accept the pitiful concept of simply existing and allow your garden to wither; green to grey, flesh to bones, petals to stems? Perhaps your coping mechanism is to simply scream. Shut the doors. Close your blinds. Block your ears. Scream. Dry your eyes. Breathe…
Chris: “Are you awake?”
You: “I am now”
Chris: “Sorry go back to sleep”
You: “I was kidding Christopher”
You: “Of course I’m awake”
Chris: “That’s not a good thing”
You: “Look who’s talking”
You: “Are you all good? Can’t sleep?”
Chris: “Just felt like a chat”
They only visited him in nightmares, he discovered, which was still an improvement from before.
You: “Sure”
You: “Care to explain your latest Insta post?”
Chris: “No haha”
You: “You burnt Stayville to the ground”
You: “I think that deserves an explanation”
Chris smiles and flops back into his pillow. It certainly was an improvement from before. His mind was working over the possibilities, the many different choices he could make from here on out. Did you have something to do with this condition? Were you the solution to it all? What was it about you, exactly, that drew him to you?
You can thank me when I come back, he had written.
He thinks… he’ll be back for sure.
Notes:
Yay! Milestone Event 1, Check!
Feedback is always appreciated, negative and positive alike. I apologise for any editing or formatting errors, I’m forever learning.
Until next read!
- Kaisowoo
Chapter 2: Hey...
Summary:
After some time as long-distance friends, Chris surprises you by appearing at your Café - and he asks you out... with a little help.
!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!
Chapter Text
-
(A/N: When writing is in script format, it's meant to represent text messages.)
You: “CHRISTOPHER!!”
Chris: “I have done absolutely nothing”
Chris: “You have no right to be calling me that”
You: “What do you mean nothing you little shit?”
Chris: “Hey hey”
Chris: “This name calling is undeserved”
You: “YOUR HAIR. IS ALMOST BLONDE.”
Chris: “Oh is it really? I didn’t notice”
You: “You’re actually annoying”
Chris: “Only for you~”
-
Your breath hitches suddenly, and you turn off your phone with a click, deciding that it would be irresponsible to try and respond after that. With a wide yawn, you drag yourself out of your bed and amble over to your window. The sun is only just beginning to rise, so even when you pull the blinds across, your room remains relatively gloomy.
Life’s been good. You’ve been chilling, honestly. Café Studio has been as busy as always, regulars coming and going, newbies learning the ropes. This morning, there are more than a few late-night goers snoozing in various places, and you smile quietly to yourself, making a mental list of the warm drinks you’d make this morning. Harry loves his cappuccino’s, and Taleena could never go wrong with a chai.
The only thing you do before heading downstairs to the café is wash your face in the bathroom to rid your eyes of sleep. The customers are aware of your policy. They accept your generosity in your pyjamas or they don’t stay at all. Carefully, you roll up the shutters, letting the early morning light filter into the café, hesitant to make too much noise and wake up your guests.
The coffee machine is, unfortunately a little loud, so you decide to wait for the first few customers to wake up before you begin to make their drinks. To kill time, you head out to the backyard, where a black Labrador puppy cracks open her eye, stretches, and prances over to you.
“Hey Harvs… heyyy Harvey baby, how was your sleep?” you ask excitedly, your voice pitched higher than usual. She jumps up onto her hind legs, resting on your knees with her tail wagging, tongue lolling eagerly.
“Your Mum’s gonna come pick you up soon. Oh I bet you miss her hey?”
You’re scratching her lovingly behind her ears when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket.
-
Chris: “Did you watch our performance?”
-
You can’t help the small smile that dances across your features. Someone’s fishing for praise.
-
You: “How else would I know that your hair IS ALMOST BLONDE”
Chris: “did we do okay?”
You: “Of course! You all did so well!”
Chris: “that’s a relief”
Chris: “my voice cracked a few times haha”
You: “I know”
Chris: “it’s embarrassing”
You: “To you”
You: “Trust me Chris, no one cares”
Chris: “I do”
You: “Except for you”
Chris: “you noticed?”
You: “Of course I did”
Chris: “then everyone else noticed too”
You: “I noticed because I knew you would notice”
Chris: “you must know me pretty well then”
You: “Only as well as I can through messages”
Chris: “all problems have a solution”
You: “HAH”
You: “what?”
Chris: “Bin and Jisung want to know what you think about their rapping”
You: “They were amazing!”
You: “Their outfits especially oh my gosh?”
Chris: “yeah I’m proud of them”
Chris: “Jisung was nervous before we performed”
You: “Was he?”
You: “Tell him I said he was fantastic!!”
Chris: “sure thing”
Chris: “he’ll appreciate that”
-
You frown and scroll back up to your previous messages a little. Even though this man is a world away from you, his disappointment can distinctly be felt through the phone. You hadn’t complimented him yet, and although he’s happy to hear praise for his members, he deserves to hear praise for himself too.
-
You: “Oi Chris”
Chris: “Yeah?”
You: “You should wear pink more often”
-
Harvey scratches at your shoes, vying for your attention and you shove your phone back into your pocket, a little frantic about complimenting him. He should wear pink more often though, that was pure fact.
You had been keeping up with their content over the past few months, eagerly liking photos and watching live streams, laughing along with them and giggling, like any Stay would do. The only difference this time, however, is that you could do all of this with Chris. The first time he called you, it was out of the blue. At the time you had your phone by the coffee machine, and you were busy making James a mug, desperate to get him out of your café. The moment your phone started to ring, vibrating obnoxiously on the counter, you fell into auto-pilot mode. Usually when people call you while you’re working, you automatically place it on speaker so you can multitask.
Chris’ voice hesitantly calling out to you startled every fibre of being in your body.
“Hey… you there?” he paused, waiting for a response, but your shocked state didn’t allow you to, “Bad timing? Sorry nevermind-”
“Wait wait wait wait- Chris?!” you dropped everything you were holding, completely forgetting about James’ coffee, and scrambled for your phone. “Chris?!” “Yes. Chris.”
You had your phone to your ear now, and your heart was thumping wildly in your chest.
“What’re you- sorry I was just surprised.”
“Did you not see my Caller ID? Why are you surprised?” he laughed, the tinkling sound sending butterflies into your stomach.
“I didn’t. I just answered – but also you’ve never called me before…” You waved a dismissive hand towards James, basically telling him to get lost, and that you’d make his coffee in a second. He frowned, and his eyes became icy – being the stubborn, annoying, prick that he is, he sat down on the barstool.
“Who’s Chris?” he casually called, and you rolled your eyes, ignoring him.
It had turned out Chris just needed to talk to someone. Someone who wasn’t directly related to Stray Kids. Everyone was nervous that day, he couldn’t talk to anyone around him without seeing the nerves in their eyes. It was just making him nervous.
“You’ve got this Chris. What makes you think you won’t get the award?” you sigh, trying to reassure him as best as you could.
“Yeah well, it’s not just that. It’s our performance too. This could be big for us. This Western coverage could do wonders for Stray kids.”
From then on, calls kind of become a regularity. In the middle of the night, you’d wake to your phone ringing. He’d apologise profusely for waking you up, but he’d be so excited to tell you something that it doesn’t bother you. One time you face timed him, testing the waters. As soon as he answered, the first thing you heard was him whining about not wearing makeup, the first thing you saw was him hiding his face between his hands, sitting at his studio desk.
“Chris I literally don’t care. I’m face timing you because you have to meet Bailey.” Then you flipped the camera to show him the Royal King Charles Spaniel that you were babysitting today. His gasp of joy completely made your day.
“He looks like Berry!”
-
Life’s been good. You’ve been chilling honestly.
But if we’re talking about honesty here, as the days wore on your heart ached increasingly. Sometimes it would get to the point where you’d avoid Stray Kids content, just because it was painful to think about Chris being so close, yet so far away. You dearly wished… you had hugged him tighter before he left the first time he was here. The first, and last time – and you had no idea when or if he’d return. Even though he said he would… in his cheesy little notes. He’s never once mentioned it over a message or call, and you’ve never once dared to ask. Just being able to communicate with him was a gift in itself…
What even are you two… anyways?
-
You find yourself wiping down the windows, making sure they’re squeaky clean, as customers bustle around your café. No one currently wants a coffee and no one has any requests with the library or anything, so you take the time to squeeze in a bit of regular cleaning. Just as you’re about to move onto the last set of windows, one of your customers, Ashley, comes bounding up to you.
“Hey there’s a phone ringing in your office,” she smiles, proud to be of help. You put your cleaning materials down onto the floor, and your forehead creases in exhaustion, “Just when I thought I’d be able to clean.”
“I think you should really hire an assistant, or employees in general. I have no idea how you manage to run this place yourself,” Ashley grins.
“Yes well… business isn’t too intense really. I’ve managed thus far,” you sigh and dust your hands off on your apron, then pause lost in thought. Hiring some others would be helpful, even if it costs you money, it’ll give you more time to just live a little.
“Do you have a job Ash?” you abruptly ask, and the girl shakes her head slowly, eyes widening in excitement, “Would you like to work here?”
“Oh- can I? When can I start?” she squeals, eagerly dashing forwards and scooping up the cleaning equipment you recently abandoned, “Can I start today?”
Ever so sweet. Ashley’s one of your favourites, even though she’s still in high school.
“Um… I mean I have to sort out the legal requirements first so probably not until…” you halt as the expression on her face sullens, and change your mind, “If you really want to help out, you can start today. I’ll call it your induction, yeah?”
Ashley nods with glee and turns to clean. The phone has stopped ringing by this point, but you can just as easily call them back anyways.
“I’ll be back in a second.”
Thankfully, the phone begins to ring again when you walk into the office, and you pick it up with a renewed gusto, “This is Café Studio! How may I help you today?”
“Uhh… does your animal daycare do cats?” someone mumbles, their accent startlingly British.
“Yes of course, when did you want to drop them off? Also did you say cat…s??” you query, scrummaging around for your bookings book and a pen.
“Yeah uh- my friend here. He has um. Three cats.”
You pause, and dimly wonder why his voice sounds familiar, and you also note that his English isn’t entirely English.
“All good. I’ll just need some other info… just the names of the cats, when you’d like them to stay… your name and a phone number, if possible?” you’re sitting there, anticipating his answer, but the other end has gone radio silent.
“Are… you still there…?” you cautiously probe, not wanting to be annoying.
“Soonie, Doongie and Dori.”
You slowly lower your pen to the table and sit up straighter, the familiar names registering in your brain. You don’t think you’re meant to hear the conversation on the other end of the line, but there’s whisperings and panicked discussion.
“What’re we supposed to do for the name? Are we allowed to say Minho?”
“Uh…I don’t know- just put Chan’s name, he’s probably there already anywa-”
This voice sticks out like a sore thumb, the low octave causing you to jolt in your chair.
“Shhhhhhhshshshhh,” the first-person hushes, but it’s too late.
“Felix?” you croak out, mouth going dry. British accent… British…
“Jisung?” The silence on the other end of the phone is profound, and somewhere else, presumably in the same room as Felix and Jisung, there are people laughing in the distance.
“Ah shit,” Jisung curses and the line dies.
You’re not even thinking straight as you throw the phone onto the desk and bolt out of the office, your spinning chair ricocheting away. What do you mean he’s probably there already? They’re messing with you. There is no way, what on earth would he be doing here, unannounced, when he’s got an entire schedule-
He’s here.
He’s here. He’s here. He’s there. He’s standing right there. Already busying himself with the coffee machine, muscle memory walking him through the timings, and the fiddling. A new black cap, perhaps a new black mask. A stylish leather jacket, a plain white shirt... but the same dark eyes, the same smile crinkles, the same brown curls.
He’s here.
You catch Ashley standing to the side hesitantly, obviously curious to know why some random stranger has just walked up to your coffee machine. She wasn’t a regular yet when Chris was around before. Ashley eyeballs you, then points slowly at Chris, trying to figure out what she should do.
“It’s… it’s okay Ash… he’s fine…” you murmur, voice a hoarse whisper.
Chris suddenly stops, and his hands slowly fall to his side. He swivels around and stares at you, eyes wide, as if wondering himself what he’s doing here. You gulp, heart threatening to abandon your body. This isn’t real. This can’t be real.
“Hey…” he mumbles, through the cloth of his mask, “how you doin’~”
Again, your brain is complete jelly right now, so it’s no surprise when your mouth fails to form coherent words. As if in a daze, you stagger over to him, your feet dragging on the floor.
“Y/N?” he hesitantly asks, when you continue to merely stare at him, mouth parted in shock, eyes shimmering with pent up emotions.
“How am- how am I doing? How am- can I give you a hug?” you blurt out, and you can visibly see the tension in Chris’ body evaporate. After a second of numb silence, he spreads his arms wide, “C’mere.”
You dash forwards and sneak your arms around his abdomen, slamming into him with a force that makes him stumble backwards with a little ‘oof’. Chris wraps his arms around you, rubbing comforting circles on your back.
“How can you say that? How am I doing? You’re insufferable,” you whine into his shirt, and an unfamiliar sound of embarrassment escapes his throat. Carefully, he places his chin on your head, “It’s been a long while~ I didn’t know what to say, don’t tease me…” he cries, eliciting a string of giggles from you.
After what feels like an eternity, you pull yourself away from him and move to stand at your place by the coffee machine, picking up the grinders he’s abandoned so you can finish the order.
“What are you doing here?” you breathe out, as Chris sidles up beside you to start the next order. The tips of his ears an adorable shade of pink, and your heart flutters when he turns slightly to face you and his sparkling eyes gaze into your own, crinkling at the corners to show he’s smiling wholeheartedly despite his mouth being hidden behind his mask.
“Am I not allowed to be here?” he chuckles back, reaching over to snag a takeaway coffee cup.
“Don’t respond to a question with a question!” You pout, clicking the portafilter into the grouphead of the coffee machine. The low hum of the coffee trickling out of the spouts begin as he leans over to whisper in your ears, “I’m here for you. I told you I’d be back didn’t I?” Chris presses the button to start the coffee on his end, placing his cup neatly underneath the spouts. Your coffee has finished pouring, and all it needs now is milk. Chris stares at you blankly, his eyes flickering to the coffee you’re supposed to be making, and then back to you. He’s frozen your brain though, and once he realises this, his ears turning pink again, he snatches your coffee cup from the machine and does the milk for you.
The coffee machine stops whirring, and regathering your wits, you grab his coffee cup, and begin to do the milk for it. You’ve switched orders now.
“You’re back for my hot chocolate aren’t you, you little liar.”
Chris clicks a lid on top of his coffee- your coffee? and places it down on the bench, “What can I say? You never told me what goes in it.”
You do the same, capping the takeaway coffee with a lid, “Okay come on, you can’t keep saying that. You’re practically a coffee connoisseur now. You can easily figure out how to make it yourself.” You grab both of the coffees and move around him checking the name on the order and preparing to call it out for the customer. It’s Ashley’s. Chris sneaks up behind you and slides his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him again, “Mhmm… listen again, you never told me what goes in it.”
“Oh,” is all you can say, your brain working overtime to figure out precisely what he means. Truthfully, you know exactly what it means, but you’re refusing to admit it – at least your mind is, maybe not your body, because you can feel the tips of your ears burning.
“Are those mine?” Ashley wanders over, her intuition kicking in apparently. After she was instructed to leave Chris alone, she had gone back to cleaning the windows.
“Yeah- yes,” you breathe, wriggling to try and escape Chris’ grasp, “but why’d you order two?”
Ashley gratefully accepts one of the coffees, blowing into the small hole to cool it down, “The other one is for you.”
Your heart melts a little, and as Ashley takes a sip of her drink, Chris sneakily extricates the remaining coffee from your hand, pulls his mask down and takes a sip.
“Hey- Ash ordered that for me, not for you,” you swivel around and try to take it back off him, “you don’t even like coffee.”
Chris’ nose scrunches up in distaste after his sip, but he still refuses to give it back, holding it high above your head, “What’s yours is mine.”
“Since uh- when?!” you retort, rolling your eyes at him and trying to yank his mask back up his face.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Ashley gasps, and Chris freezes. He immediately pulls his mask back up, and hands you back your coffee, “I know you!”
“No you don’t Ash,” you state at the same time Chris says, “Not surprised.”
You turn to stare at him in shock, but he just shrugs nonchalantly, “Are you a Stay then?” he quizzes, leaning forwards and pressing his hands on the countertop to prop himself up.
“Oh me? No not really. I haven’t had time to- she is though,” Ashley garbles, pointing at you unabashedly, “That’s how I know who you are. Remember?” She’s talking directly to you now, “You were playing one of their songs over the speakers a while back and I asked who they were.”
Oh. Yeah you remember now. Ashley had asked you about them, and because she genuinely seemed interested you lost your self a little in explaining who Stray Kids were.
“He’s your bias isn’t he? Bang Chan?”
“I’m your-” Chris starts, but you interject him swiftly, “Well duh,” then without sparing a glance towards him, you address Ashley, “We’re going to have to keep this quiet, yeah?”
She leans closer and whispers with a wink, “Oh yeah for sure. Can’t have all the Stay’s chasing you for dating Bang Chan, right?”
Chris bursts out laughing, suddenly hiding his face in his hands, and you splutter uncontrollably, “I’m not- hang on- what gave you that impression- we’re just long-distance friends.”
Ashley sucks in air through her teeth and grabs her heart dramatically, “How does it feel Bang Chan? To be friend zoned?”
Chris is laughing so hard he’s practically wheezing, desperately trying to breathe through his mask.
“Oh- it hurts- I’m in so much pain- how could you?” he manages, clutching his own heart in his hands and pouting with his eyes at you. You step back from them both; Chris who’s still chuckling, and Ashley who’s smiling at you with a knowing look.
“What am I missing here?”
“I like this child. Keep her. Ashley right? Just call me Chan,” he’s finally stopped laughing, but his eyes are still glimmering with mirth.
“She’s keeping me alright. I work here now,” Ashley grins with pride, taking another sip of her coffee, “Anyway so… are you going to do it or do I have to do it for you?”
Chris falls apart laughing again, leaning heavily on the bench to support himself. The pair of them seem to be on a completely different page to you, and you’re just standing there in confusion.
“Okay! Okay wow! This is… not how I was planning on doing it,” he wheezes, and Ashley sighs, impatient, “Who cares?!”
“Planning on doing what?! Someone help me out here, what is happening?!” You cry, face scrunched up in desperation, head flicking from one person to the other.
“Okay you,” Chris begins, flicking his head towards you, “Close the café tomorrow-”
“Or just leave it up to me,” Ashley chirps eagerly.
“-that works too. I’m taking you somewhere.”
You raise your eyebrows in amusement, a little thrown off by his assertion, and Ashley’s collaboration, “Where and why?”
Chris shrugs, “The beach, with food, and because I want to,” Ashley is nodding in the background, as if she knows this is exactly what he’d say, “I haven’t been in a while.”
“I’m poor. I can’t afford to buy food just for the beach,” you stubbornly state, mind trying to figure out if he was being genuine.
“It’s called a fucking date. Chan will pay for you,” Ashley snaps, and Chris nods vigorously, “Took the words right out of my mouth.”
Your heart is hammering in your chest as you speak, “Oh-kay, you two get along too well. Your induction isn’t over yet Ash, get back to work.”
“Yes boss,” Ashley grins, skipping away with her coffee.
“She’s bright,” Chris chuckles, watching her leave, “This isn’t exactly how I was meant to ask you out but I think it worked out fine.”
He’s not even looking at you as he speaks, but when he registers your silence he turns towards you.
“Wait- you were being serious?” your mouth drops open in shock, and Chris shakes his head at you. He pushes himself off the counter and grabs your shoulders with a little shake.
“Yes. I was being serious. Go out with me tomorrow?”
“What about- what about the rest of Stray Kids, where are they? Don’t you have things to-”
Chris squishes your cheeks playfully to shut you up, “I told you before. I’m here for you.”
You squirm in his grasp but he holds you steadily, “That’s not the only reason though, surely.”
“Yes. It is. Everyone’s on a two-week holiday and it was a toss-up between whether we returned to our families or here,” Chris’ eyes stray from yours to the side of your face, and he carefully brushes a strand of hair back, “The Kids really loved your Café, and it only exists here.”
“You’re lying,” you breathe, eyes wide.
“I am not… so… how difficult would it be to close shop the day after tomorrow? They want to come over.”
In his eyes, you can see a flicker of exhaustion. You can tell he’s not happy to have to inconvenience your business just so Stray Kids can visit in peace. It’s not an inconvenience at all though.
“Sure! Tomorrow can be Ashley’s first shift, and I’ll close shop the day after,” you grin, suddenly burrowing yourself into his arms and pulling him into a hug, hiding your happiness from the world.
He’s here.
-
On this first little date at the beach, where you had a picnic blanket and food set up, the rest of Stray Kids gate crashed halfway through. They ate half your food, picked you up by your wrists and ankles and threw you into the water. This shocked you to the core because… since when were you that friendly with one another? They seemed to welcome you to the family pretty quick. Chris was laughing back at the picnic set up. And the Skz members gleefully pestered you for confirmation of whether Chris was your boyfriend. When you nodded, soaking wet, they sprinted back to him and crushed him in a mountain of hugs, teasing him and cooing him.
Then, yelling over the top of one another, dragged Chris all the way down to the water where you still stood. He was laughing, putting up a bit of a fight but not really; he’d always be gentle with them. Once the members had managed to group everyone together, Jisung started chanting “Kiss! Kiss!” and the rest of the members joined in. Chris was hiding his face in his hands, making distressed noises, his ears burning bright red. You shook your head in disbelief at the members around you, and instead pulled Chris into a hug, which he reciprocated, burying his embarrassed face into your neck. There were whoops and cheers (and Jisung’s disappointed “awhhhhh”), and then you forcefully pushed Chris down into the water, a stupid grin on your face. He came up spluttering, shocked, and then dove for your ankles. You squealed and sprinted away, crash landing into Felix, who caught you, but stumbled and fell into the water too – and then suddenly, everyone was getting dragged under.
Notes:
A/N: Yay! Milestone Event 2 (And a Half) Check!
Feedback is always appreciated, negative and positive alike. I apologise for any editing errors, I’m forever learning.
Until next read!
- Kaisowoo
Chapter 3: It's a Sign
Summary:
It’s been a few months since you and Chris have been in a long-distance relationship, and now you’re visiting him in Korea for an upcoming concert. Just some playful moments with Stray Kids, and also your first kiss with Chris :)
!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!
Chapter Text
–
(A/N: When the dialogue is in script format, it's meant to represent text messages.)
Chris: “babe, I’m sorry I can’t pick you up”
You: “it’s okay!”
Chris: “I’m really sorry, you know that right?”
You: “Chris it’s okay, I know you are”
Chris: “A manager’s coming to get you”
Chris: “They’re nice I promise”
Chris: “you aren’t mad are you?”
You: “CHRISTOPHER BAHNG”
You: “IT’S OKAY”
You: “why would I ask you to pick me up???”
You: “you’re literally famous”
You: “you can’t just be seen picking up some girl at the airport”
Chris: “I know I know”
Chris: “I just feel bad”
Chris: “And you’re not just ‘some girl’”
You: “Don’t feel bad”
Chris: “But it’s your first time in Koreaaaaaaa”
You: “Yes it is baby, I’ll see you soon”
Chris: “But I could be seeing you at the airport”
Chris: “I’m sorry :(”
You: “Chris”
You: “It’s”
You: “OKAY”
--
You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, letting your phone fall into your lap. Your plane is about to land, and it’s time you buckled up. You understood perfectly well that he wouldn’t be able to do these kinds of things for you. He has a schedule to work around, and he couldn’t just be seen dating someone. That’d make things difficult for him. You had been hesitant to visit him in Korea for a long time, but he was insistent on getting you over to him. You had your café to worry about, and potential dating scandals popping up.
Ashley had graduated now, and she was perfectly happy to become the acting owner of the Café. She had proved herself a long time ago, and she was more than capable of handling the café herself. She was even welcome to use your apartment during the period in which you weren’t there.
It was a little chilly in the airport, and as you stood there, waiting for your luggage to roll around on the conveyor belt, you wished you had worn a jacket. Your phone pinged with a message: Chan had sent you a picture of the person picking you up.
-
Chris: “Send me a pic of you so I can give it to the manager”
You: “Just send one you already have”
Chris: “Don't have one of what you look like right now”
You: “Fineeeeee”
-
After some time, you’re nestled safely in the passenger seat of a car, the manager talking with you in broken English. Despite the language barrier, it didn’t feel overly awkward, and the manager was super polite, if a little nosy. You had found the motivation to learn a little Korean too, which helped a lot.
–
The lounge room was cosy, and you greeted everyone who walked past you with a nervous nod of your head. You hadn’t considered whether the other JYP trainees and idols would know of your existence. You wondered dimly if they were smiling at you out of pure grace, or if they genuinely thought you welcome here. It wasn’t until a girl who looked about the same age as you plonked down on the couch beside you that you grasped the full situation.
“You’re Chan’s girlfriend, aren’t you?” she asks with wide eyes, hands placed gently on her knees.
“Ah… yeah,” you smile nervously, unsure what to do.
“Wow, you must be so nervous. That’s brave of you to come here,' she continues, sounding genuine.
“Mmh, well he really wanted me to visit… but I’m worried about any scandals or-”
“It’s okay! Everyone here knows, and Chan’s really careful, he won’t let anything happen to you,” she grins, getting up to grab a drink from the fridge.
“Ah- ah really? Everyone knows?” you laugh, gratefully accepting the drink she hands you with a tilt of your head.
“Of course!” she plonks back onto the couch with a sigh, “He fought with JYP about you.”
“Oh,” your heart sinks faster than you ever thought possible, and your grip tightens around the bottle in your hands.
“Oh no. Don’t feel bad about it. It was quite admirable,” she smiled comfortingly, carefully placing a hand on your shoulder, “He must care for you a lot, to fight that hard for you.”
You’re about to respond, when the sound of loud shouting and raucous chatter is heard outside the room. The girl removes her hand from your shoulder and rolls her eyes, “That’ll be them. Loud as ever.”
You grin at each other, and your excitement grows as the noise intensifies. Suddenly, the backs of Jisung, Felix, Changbin, Jeongin and Hyunjin appear, blocking the doorway.
“No no, don’t let him in!”
“Is she even in there?”
“Yeah she’s there, I saw.”
“Stop him!”
The girl beside you starts laughing, covering her mouth with glee, and you can only shake your head in amusement. They let Minho and Seungmin slip past, who yell your name when they see you. Seungmin aggressively waves, and Minho bounds up to you, sitting down next you with ease.
“Yah!” You fail to contain your laughter when you hear Chris yelling from down the hallway, “What’re you doing?!”
The chaos intensifies in front of the door as the Stray Kids members jostle with each other to try and form a more solid wall. Seungmin joins the fray, standing behind them and stretching his arms and legs out wide.
Minho suddenly grabs your wrist, “Hide, hide.”
You stare at him in confusion, so he forcefully pulls you up from the couch and drags you over to one of the storage cupboards.
“You want me to-” “YES HURRY UP!!” he demands. You giggle and busy yourself with trying to fit into the cramped cupboard, standing as straight as you can so Minho can shut the door on you.
“Yahhhhh…. don’t make me force my way through.” You can hear Chris yell, and the noise of the Stray Kids members only intensifies.
“You can’t have her to yourself!”
“Can I teach her our choreo?”
“She should come to rehearsals with us!” The comment from Seungmin, louder than the rest, makes you audibly snort with laughter.
“You can’t force your way through! You’re too old man!”
The laughter after this makes your heart swell. You’ve missed the sound of all of them laughing, and their relentless bullying.
“Oi!” Chris yells, and if possible, everything sounds more chaotic.
“Move! Move!”
“Seungmin you’re dead, oh no.”
“He looks mad- out of the way!!”
“GO GO- I DON’T WANNA DIEEEEEE!” Eventually, Chris seems to make it into the lounge room, only after the Stray Kids members have scattered this way and that.
“Suhee???”
Ah… so that’s her name.
“Your girl’s nice, Chan. She’s really cute.”
You swear, there will never be a quiet day around Stray Kids.
“Chan Chan! Suhee’s tryna steal your girl!”
“Suhee thinks she’s cuteeee, oh you’ve got competition now!!”
The sudden silence creates an image in your mind, and you have a gut feeling that Chris has swivelled around and raised his hand, feinting a threatening slap.
“Minho hid her,” Suhee laughs, “She’s in the cupboard.”
“Where? This one?” his voice sounds closer now, and your heart slams into your chest. The anticipation building, you clamp your hand over your mouth, careful not to breathe too loudly.
When the cupboard finally swings open, breathing loudly no longer becomes an issue when your breath is knocked out of your lungs. They must have just come from a dance rehearsal. Chris has sweat glistening on his forehead, and his hair is thoroughly ruffled.
“Hi,” he whispers in tiny, a small smile on his face, eyes shimmering with happiness.
“Hi,” you whisper back with a little wave.
“You’re right Suhee, she is cute,” Chris states, before snatching at your clothes and pulling you into a rough hug.
Immediately you’re engulfed in his scent - his perfume mixed with his sweat - and you nuzzle your nose into his clothes with a sigh. Chris has his own nose buried in your hair, and his arms around your waist squeeze you the tightest he ever has. You’re home.
“I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much. How was the flight? Are you tired? Did you get here okay? Do you need food, water? Anything?” he’s asking you too many questions that you can’t even process them all, so instead you pull away from him and smile, “I’m fine Chris.”
Carefully, you move to wipe the sweat from his forehead with your sleeve, but he jerks his head away from you. “Don’t do that, don’t dirty your sweater.”
Impatiently, you grab his chin to pull his head back and you successfully wipe his forehead. Chris is staring at you in shock, his arms loosening around your waist.
“That wasn’t very cute,” Felix hums, and Suhee pushes herself off the couch.
“Nice meeting you!” she calls, then disappears from the lounge room.
“That wasn’t very cute at… all,” Hyunjin repeats, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
“That was sexy,” Jeongin pipes up from over by the fridge. He’s busy looking for something to eat and doesn’t notice the surprised look on everyone else’s face. Jisung suddenly throws himself onto the couch, lying on his stomach, his feet swinging in the air. He rests his chin on his hands like a pretty princess and contributes his 10c in the most British accent ever possible, “That’s a bit spicy.”
Chris grabs the nearest pillow and flings it at him.
"Hey! How come you didn’t throw a pillow at Jeongin?!”
“Favouritism!”
“Maknae on top! OhwoooOH!”
“He’s corrupt!”
Again, there will never be a quiet day around Stray Kids.
–
It’s been a few days, and the Kids have managed to drag you over to one of their dress rehearsals. They have a concert the following week, another reason for why Chris was eager for you to visit. They’re messing around and being chaotic as usual. Some getting their makeup done, others warming up their vocals in random corners of the room, some checking out the laid-out snacks with curiosity.
You’re standing with your back up against the wall, happily munching on an ice cream while you watch them. Chris waddles over to you with his own ice cream in his hand and stands right in front of you, blocking your vision.
“You okay?” he asks with wide puppy eyes, “Are you bored?”
“Nothing’s ever boring around you guys,” you grin, nibbling on more of your ice cream. Chris’ eyes flicker down to your lips, watching as you eat.
“Are you okay?” you ask him, eyes momentarily flickering over to the food table, where Changbin has finally picked out a snack.
“Everything’s okay when you’re here,” Chris throws back at you with a grin. A faint blush dusts your features, and Chris’ grin only widens.
“You’re insufferable,” You hiss, pushing his chest playfully.
“Only for you~”
Hyunjin has decided to pick a fight with Changbin, and they’re both now arguing over the snack in Changbin’s hands.
“I picked it up first!”
“I don’t care, that’s my favourite.”
“There are more!”
“Can you see more? Are there more? I must be blind… oh wait… THERE’S NONE THERE! THAT’S THE ONLY ONE!”
“Hmmm, maybe… I’ll give it to you if you give me a kiss.”
“What?!”
“On the cheek. Hm? Hm?”
Hyunjin laughs, and then out of nowhere, lunges forwards to try and wrestle the snack out of Changbin’s hands.
All of this is happening somewhere in the background by the way. It’s happening, but you can barely hear it (surprisingly). After Chris being an unrelenting flirt, you’ve found yourself completely drowned in his eyes, trying to memorise every speckle, every slight shade of brown you can see. He’s holding his ice cream in one of his hands, and with the other, is carefully trying to fix the stray strands of your hair, biting his bottom lip in concentration (which you can’t help but notice).
As Changbin and Hyunjin wrestle for the snack, wreaking havoc in the dressing room, they circle around and around. Eventually, they’re positioned right behind Chris, and the laughter of the rest of the Stray Kids members causes you to look around in curiosity, finally drawing your attention away from Chris. Not him though, he’s still watching you fondly, so used to the noise of the Kids that he’s able to simply tune them out.
After a particularly hard shove, Changbin rocks back into Chris, shoving him forwards. Instinctively, Chris’ arms rocket out to brace himself on the wall, caging you between them, your faces centimetres apart. You fail to contain a little gasp of shock, and swallow nervously. Chris’ eyes are wide and he’s breathing heavily, his warm breath tickling your skin, causing your heart to thump loudly, blood rushing to your cheeks.
Changbin and Hyunjin are apologising to their leader, but again, you barely hear them. The room falls suddenly silent, and your skin prickles with the realisation that everyone’s eyes have turned towards the pair of you; the staff and the Kids are watching with bated breath. And still, Chris doesn’t move. He seems to be frozen, and so are you. His eyes flicker to your lips again, bright pink thanks to the cold of the ice cream, and his mouth parts slightly, agonising over something. Then he inhales sharply and withdraws himself from you, “You okay?” he mumbles, but you’re still standing there like a deer caught in headlights. His entire face has gone pink, but you can see he’s trying to control his embarrassment.
He chuckles, grabs your wrist, and forces your ice cream up to your mouth, “Eat,” then turns away to finish off his own ice cream and have the finishing touches added to his outfit.
“Have they kissed yet?” Jisung whispers from over by one of the mirrors, asking anyone who can hear him.
“They can hear you, you know,” Felix deadpans, and Jisung shrugs, “Genuine question.”
Chris sighs, fiddling with his earring by the dressing table, his back turned to you. Finally, you take another bite out of your ice cream, carefully slipping your phone out of your pocket to busy yourself with something else.
You haven’t yet. But you almost did. So that was something. Thanks Bin. Thanks Hyunjin.
–
This morning, you’ve gone out to get some food for lunch. The Stray Kids members had left the dorm earlier for a final rehearsal, leaving you by yourself to roam. You’re suddenly craving hot pot, so after a quick search on your phone, begin the short walk to the nearest place that does it. The sun is warm on your face as you stroll with your hands deep in your pockets.
You’re to fly back home in a couple of days after their concert tomorrow, and you’re dreading the moment, but right now, you’re content to breathe in the fresh air, wistfully thinking about the new memories you’ve just created with Chris and his Kids. They did in fact, try to teach you some choreography, and you had a blast being yelled at by Minho, and then almost being reduced to tears of joy when everyone started yelling at Chris, who had tried to defend you.
Your mind even drifts back to that moment, so close. Maybe if you had just found the courage you could have pecked him on the lips, or the cheek, or anywhere really. Anywhere would have been good if you had been thinking straight. You’re so lost in thought that your surroundings are beginning to blur slightly, not paying attention much to where you’re going.
Across the street, Chris pauses, his eyes catching on a person he finds awfully familiar. It’s you, absently walking towards a destination unbeknownst to him. His face cracks into a grin and his heart rate increases, excited to run into you by chance. They’ve just finished up with rehearsal, and he was headed off for a bite to eat as well by himself, savouring his alone time.
He’s loved having you here, loved every second of it – cherished your smiles, and your laughter with the boys, ingrained the pattern of your eyes in his mind, relished in the warmth of your hugs. He’s craved your attention when you’re occupied with the members, missed your presence when he’s sleeping by himself in his room (you had taken up residence on a mattress in the lounge room).
He'd almost, almost kissed you. Tempted to. Desperately wanted to press his mouth to yours in that moment and finally satisfy his curiosity. Would it be soft? Would he melt into a puddle on the floor? Or would an unknown desire creep up on him and urge him to take more, be greedy. All just for you.
He physically shivers, and after a quick check for cars, dashes across the road to halt you in your tracks. He yells your name eagerly, trying to get your attention before you walk too far.
Your head snaps up at the sound calling, but for some reason your body continues to walk. You’re so shocked at the sight of Chris scampering over to you that with a loud whack, you walk face first into a street sign. You stumble back in pain, manage to trip on your own leg, and fall to the ground with a thud.
Chris is laughing before he even reaches you, a stupid grin plastered on his face. You glare up at him, pouting and rubbing your forehead.
“Are- baby are you okay?” he wheezes, offering you a hand. You grumble and swat his hand away, standing up yourself. Your stubborn antics cause him to laugh even more; he leans over and grabs your shoulders for support.
“How did you manage to-”
“It’s not funny!” you yell at him, but before you know it, you’re a laughing mess too. There’s something about seeing him all giggly, so carefree, that soothes your soul. You’re now competing with a bruise on your head, the warmth of embarrassment flooding your face, and struggling to breathe. Chris tilts his head up to look at you, his hands still gripping your shoulders tightly.
His grin fades when he notices the sparkle in your eyes, the pure joy emanating from you. Slowly, he stands properly and a hand shifts to caress your right cheek. His eyes can’t seem to rest on a particular spot. They’re roving from your eyes to his hand on your face, to your lips and back again. You lean into his touch and smile, trying to read his solemn expression. His cheeks are red from laughter, hair ruffled and curly after rehearsals. Then your eyes drift down to stare at his plush lips, and you know you’re lost. You’re gone. You’re his. If only…
“I… I’m going to give you five seconds to slap me,” he whispers, his thumb caressing your cheek lightly. You blink at him in confusion, “Why would I-”
Chris steps closer, closing the gap between you, and leans down, eyes fluttering shut. The kiss is soft, hesitant, but also filled with tender care, as though the kiss alone could convey everything you mean to him.
When he finally pulls away, he lingers a second longer, his nose rubbing yours before stepping back completely.
“What-” you stutter, hand zooming up to your lips in surprise.
“Five…” he begins, looking like a pure gentleman with his hands clasped neatly behind his back, “Four…”
“Chris what- you can’t just- did you just-”
“Three…” You stand there with your mouth wide open, trying to process. Chris takes a step back towards you, a small smile gracing his features.
“Two…”
“What-”
“One…” he grabs your chin gently and angles your head up. Your eyes are wide with surprise, and by this point you’ve stopped breathing again.
“You didn’t slap me…” he whispers, eyes trailing down to your lips again.
It’s you this time who initiates it, grabbing at his shirt to pull him into you, teetering on your tiptoes. Chris’ other hand snakes around your waist, resting comfortably there to support you. Finally, you pull away a little breathlessly, stunned by your own actions.
“Wait- why do you-” you peck him on the lips again, “Why do you taste like-” Chris grins at you, then offers a final longer lasting kiss.
“You taste like watermelon?”
“S’probably the lip balm Hyunjin bought me. I think it’s got rockmelon in it too,” he chuckles, before reaching down to link your hand with his, “Where are we eating babe?”
He’s beginning to walk you in the direction you were going before but stops when you don’t respond. His smile causes your stomach to swoop, and he shakes your hand to ground you back to reality.
“Jagi. Where are we eating?” he asks again. “Hot… hot pot…” you murmur, “Why is that so you?”
“Hm?” he asks, dragging you along again, obviously knowing the area better than you do and immediately understanding where to go.
“Rockmelon and watermelon.”
“Is it?” he hums, eyes twinkling in adoration.
“Yeah… I’ll have to thank Hyunjin later…” you link your arm with his and snuggle closer, a warmth spreading from the top of your head to the bottom of your toes. Chris places a loving kiss on your head, “Order whatever you want, I’m paying.”
“No. No you’re not I am.”
“We’re not arguing over this.”
“Then at least let me pay for myself.”
“No.”
“Let me pay for myself!”
“Absolutely not. Never.”
“Chris.”
“It’s called a fucking date. I pay for you.”
You roll your eyes and shove him gently, “Ashley is such a bad influence on you.”
“Nahnah, remember she took the words right out of my mouth.” Chris grins, winking cheekily at you.
Notes:
A/N: Yay! Milestone Event 3 Check!
Feedback is always appreciated, negative and positive alike. I apologise for any editing errors, I’m forever learning.
Until next read!
- Kaisowoo
Chapter 4: Sunshine to the Moon
Summary:
Slice of Life, another night after closing shop. Your Café has gotten busier thanks to that Skz-Code Episode filmed there finally being released. Tonight however, Chris is here to brighten the night. This is the first time you both admit to loving each other by the way - but it’s cute I promise.
!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!
Notes:
Chapter Notes: Fluff, Minor Suggestiveness (Super Minor)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
--
It’s been another tiring day. Perhaps even more chaotic than ever before. Chris had given you warning, but JYPE had only just released the Skz Code Episode that they filmed ages ago here. Chris had argued to have it released at a later date, to protect your privacy and give you more time to live normally before things suddenly changed.
He was right of course, with Stay’s being the detectives they are, and Stray Kids being the famous idols they are, your Café was soon discovered, and before long you had a stream of customers flowing in and out practically around the clock. They’d take photos where the members sat, ask if they left messages around the place, ask you so many questions about them that you didn’t feel you had the right to answer.
Even with Ashley by your side, doing her best to help keep the business afloat on a daily basis things were strained. You’ve just recently set up an application process for new employees because dear lord, you needed them. Ashley even suggested adjusting your usual policy, which you were hesitant to do at first, but eventually caved at the exhaustion evident in your poor, younger friend and employee.
Customers were no longer allowed to stay overnight, and you closed at 11pm rather than 1am now. It was perhaps your least favourite thing to do – going around to wake up sleeping customers when it was time to close shop. Chris was right, Ashley is bright… and awfully considerate. She even considered that it’d be beneficial for your relationship with Chris, closing shop early, so you can spend more time together when he’s here.
Naturally, Chris can no longer help you at the coffee machine, even if he wears a full disguise, Stay’s would recognise him immediately. Whenever he visits, he can’t do much except lounge around in your upstairs apartment. It pains you to have to lock him up, but both of you know you can’t risk a scandal. Previously, Ashley would be able to hold the fort, allowing you and Chris to escape out on a little date, but not now… now you’re too busy to leave Ash by herself. You really really need new employees. Preferably people who aren’t Stay’s… so you can explain your relationship with Chris and not have them leak any information.
This… this is too much.
–-
You sigh and rest your forehead on the cold glass of the window. You’re meant to be pulling down the shutters, having finally kicked James out of your Café. As per usual, he was asking too many questions, wondering why you’re suddenly so busy. He asked you out again the other day, and you finally snapped. You told him, straight and clear, that you were taken. In hindsight it probably wasn’t the best idea, because he now spends a lot of his time asking you who you’re dating; of course, you can’t tell him.
A pitiful groan rumbles through your throat, and you try to quell the hurricane of thoughts swirling incessantly in your mind. The chill of the glass is a small reprieve, but it still hurts to think.
“Jagiya… baby, are you okay?” Someone calls out to you. Your heart leaps into your throat at the endearment, and you muster the energy to spin yourself around, eyes lazily falling onto the man standing at the bottom of the staircase, his face distorted in concern.
“Another boring day for you, wasn’t it? I’m sorry, Chris,” you murmur, dragging yourself towards him with your head drooping. He meets you halfway, immediately pulling you into a tight embrace and placing an affectionate kiss on the top of your head, “Sweetie it’s okay. I’m perfectly happy to work on our songs all day.”
You sigh into his shirt and twist the fabric in your hands desperately, your heart aching, “You might be but I’m not…” you pull away so you can see his face and pout sadly, “You’re meant to be here on break, not working away.”
His soft smile causes your heart to melt, the ache only intensifying after he pecks your nose with a delicate kiss, “Jagi. You’re working, so why can’t I?”
You frown at him and lightly thump your forehead into his chest several times, frustrated, “We both shouldn’t be working.”
His hand drifts up to knot itself in your hair, stopping your actions, “Shhh shh, don’t be like that baby.”
You grumble and pull away from him properly, but not before he swoops in to kiss your cheek.
“It isn’t so bad… once you finish closing up we can hang out, yeah?” His eyes are sparkling mischievously, and you sigh in resignation, knowing that he’s right. You turn to finish closing the shutters, and Chris continues to talk, “Besides, I’m the one who should be apologising…”
The shutter hits the ground with a little click, “Why?”
“If I hadn’t asked to film that episode here your business would never have gotten this busy,” he frowns, absently fiddling with the sleeve of his hoodie. You swivel on your heel and stalk up to him, “Don’t-” you lightly pinch his arm, “-you say that. Ever.”
Chris smiles shyly down at you, his gaze sorrowful, guilty. You shake your head at him, grab his wrist and tug him along up the stairs, “Come on, you go wash up and I’ll whip up a late dinner, if you haven’t eaten already.”
Chris pushes ahead of you suddenly, opening your apartment door with an elegant twist of the door handle, “There’s no need baby, dinner’s in the fridge. I’ll heat your share up for you.”
You blink at him in confusion, but he merely grins back at you.
“You… cooked me dinner?”
Chris snatches at your waist and pulls you in for a swift kiss, stunning you, “Anything to make your life easier.”
–
After half an hour of arguing with Chris about why he shouldn’t have cooked dinner for you (in which you only shut up after he physically shoved food into your mouth), you’re now sitting comfortably in your bed, blankets pulled over your knees, as your eyes skim the page of the book you’re reading. Chris insisted you wash up first, so you’re currently waiting for him to finish up in the bathroom.
“Tomorrow’s Wednesday isn’t it?” He asks, emerging from the bathroom in only his boxers. Your eyes briefly flicker from your book to the defined lines of his abs, before you return to nonchalantly reading, “Yeah. Café’s closed tomorrow.”
“You can look longer you know,” Chris grins, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Shut up,” you grumble back, turning to the next page of your book.
Chris giggles happily and crawls into the bed next to you, his arms immediately taking residence around your waist despite you sitting upright.
“Mmh you smell good,” he mumbles, and you spare him a glance. His nose is buried in your shirt, his hair askew over his eyes. Carefully, you brush the curls away, and he snuggles even closer, “I just showered.”
Chris’ voice comes out muffled, “Okay and? I just showered and I don’t smell as good as you.”
This elicits a small chuckle from you, “Maybe you should start using my products then.”
He inhales obnoxiously and then sighs in content, “I think I will.”
“Chris, I’ll be back, I've got to turn the lights off,” you murmur, massaging his scalp briefly. He only tightens his hold on you, a little whine escaping, “No. You stay.”
“Baby let me go please.”
“No.” “You literally left them on.”
Chris sighs and rolls away from you, his displeasure evident on his face, “Fineeee.”
You roll your eyes at him and pad over to the bathroom, hyper aware of your boyfriend watching your every movement. He sits up as you amble over to turn off the light for the bedroom, your thumb holding the current page in the book you’re reading. Finally, in the darkness, you fumble around for the lamp beside your bed so you can continue reading for a little longer. Its warm glow reveals Chris still watching you, a half-smile, half-smirk plastered on his face.
As you crawl back into bed and try to get comfortable, Chris chuckles and leans his head back onto the headboard, “You might as well call me that lamp,” he begins, eyes boring into the ceiling as though something fascinating was up there.
“Why…?” you pause, preparing yourself for the inevitable joke you’re about to hear. Chris grins evilly, and tilts his head towards you lazily, “Because you turn me on.”
You hiss and make to whack him on the head with your book, but his reflexes kick in and he swiftly grabs your wrist.
“Oh I knew you were going to do that,” he laughs, leaning over so he can kiss a trail of warmth down your trapped arm. Your eyes are wide as he grins sinfully up at you, his tongue poking his cheek playfully.
“Go to bed you little shit,” you gripe, yanking your wrist away from him and turning the lamp off in a rash decision.
At least he can’t see the crimson blush on your face now.
“Awh… you don’t want to read anymore?” he mocks, his arms finding home around your waist again, pulling you in close so he’s spooning you, his breath tickling the back of your neck.
“Nope. We’re sleeping now,” you demand, linking one of your hands with one of his that’s on your stomach.
The pair of you settle into silence, your mind drifting off into haze at the steady sound of Chris’ breathing, the rise and fall of his chest pressed against your back. You’ve been absently tracing his knuckles, trying to memorise the specific rise and fall of each, and the spacing between them. After a while, you stop, not because you want to, but because your mind has fallen deep into that state of fuzziness between almost falling asleep and being barely conscious.
“Is it possible to get… water hungry?” Chris murmurs, dragging you out of your semi-slumber.
“Hmm?” you croak, as Chris adoringly rubs his nose on the back of your neck, making you shiver. You can feel him grin at your reaction, and you’re half tempted to shove him away from you so you can sleep in peace.
“Water hungry. Is that a thing?” he repeats, and the question properly registers in your brain. You frown and shimmy yourself around, so your noses are now touching. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you squint to try and see his eyes in the darkness, “Do you mean thirsty?”
A small smile cracks onto your face when Chris inhales sharply and stops breathing. After a loud silence, he makes a noise of embarrassment, and you giggle lightly.
“I think I’m tired,” he whispers, trying to inch himself even closer to you.
“Then go to sleep,” you scoff, closing your eyes again.
“Can’t,” he bites back.
“Why not?”
“You’re not hugging me,” Chris’ leg shifts to tangle itself in between yours, and after another little giggle, you wrap your arms around his waist, resuming your soothing rubs on his back this time.
“Your hands are cold,” he complains against your lips.
“Then put on a damn shirt.”
“Awh but you like it when I’m not wearing one.”
Stomach swooping, you blow sharply on his face in feigned annoyance, causing him to draw back slightly with a laugh.
“Go to fucking sleep,” you say once more, because clearly he didn’t understand you the first time.
–
Later on in the night, the bathroom summons you, and with a quiet grumble, you roll yourself out of bed. Thankfully, Chris has drifted over to his side of the bed in his sleep and doesn’t have himself tangled around you. Carefully, you click on your lamp and tiptoe to use the toilet.
When you’re done, you decide you don’t really want to go back to bed yet. Instead, you crawl over to sit cross-legged on the floor, analysing your boyfriend’s face in the half-light of the room. He’s snoring gently, his lips slightly parted. Your heart softens at the way his cheek is squished up against his arm, strands of his curly hair clinging adorably to his forehead.
You hoist yourself up onto your knees and brush the strands back, heart swelling as your gratitude for his existence threatens to tumble out of your mouth. No, you must stay quiet. Don’t wake him, he needs to sleep. You’re still stroking his hair back softly, your thumb brushing his forehead delicately when his snoring stops.
You gulp and pull away from him, hurrying back around the bed so you can crawl back under the covers, Chris’ back to you. Still, you don’t turn the lamp off, not entirely finished with admiring him, even from behind. His back is slightly exposed to you after you had pulled the covers down to get out of bed, and you make no move to hide it again.
It’s in this moment, smiling gently at his figure, your heart full to the brim, that you realise it all over again. He’s yours. You’re his. You’d die for this man. You’d play limbo with the devil just to crawl your way back up to him. You’d pledge your life to counting the stars if he so asked. It doesn’t matter that it would take forever, because your forever lies within him.
You shuffle closer, and after a brief hesitation, begin to happily trace the lines of his back muscles, relishing in the softness of his skin. You pause, checking to make sure he’s still sleeping, and then continue your drawing motions. You’re lost in thought, thinking about where you could possibly take him out to tomorrow because you’re finally free. Your gaze is watching your fingers absently move, but you’re not really paying attention. It’s after a minute of repeating the same action that you realise what you’ve done.
Subconsciously, you’ve been writing the same words over and over on his back. You stop, fingers ghosting his skin, and swallow. Then one more time, confirming it for yourself, you rewrite the same words.
I Love You
You do. You love him. You love- you love him. This sudden understanding causes you to gasp slightly, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. You trace the lines again, a little faster this time, fully picturing the words on his back.
Chris abruptly rolls over, his eyes immediately boring into yours, and your hand snaps up to your mouth in an attempt to stifle your surprise. He’s smiling softly, eyes crinkling in delight.vSlowly, he reaches for the hand covering your mouth, opening your palm out to him. With a single finger, he lightly traces your palm, and you realise almost instantly that he’s writing letters, one by one.
He's nibbling his bottom lip slightly in concentration, and when he finishes, his eyes flicker back up to you. You know of course, exactly what he’s written there, each stroke of his finger sending the letters jolting towards your heart. You had just spent the past few minutes writing the exact same thing on his back. You’re still silent though, trying to process, mind whirring faster than it ever has before. Chris takes your silence as confusion and begins to write the words again, as gentle as the first time.
He's halfway through writing “love” when you slip your wrist out from his hand and promptly bury your face into his chest, hands snaking around his back tightly.
“Are you serious?” you whisper, curling up on yourself, face burning.
“Are you?” he whispers back, caressing the back of your head. You pull away from him and sit up, eyes wide with shock. He stares right back at you, waiting for your answer, his dark eyes searching yours. You lean down and peck his forehead, “I love you,” then his right cheek, “I love you,” his nose, “I love you,” his chin.
You kiss him everywhere you can possibly reach from his shoulders up, avoiding his lips for whatever instinctive reason, repeating those same words over and over again, a mantra. Your actions reduce Chris to a mess of giggles and happy laughs, “Okay, okay, okay!”
He grabs the back of your head and roughly pulls you in for a real kiss, but his lips are soft against yours, tender. When you pull away, your lips still linger, and it is like this that you feel and hear him say the disastrous words back, “I love you too.” Your laugh comes out as a breathy giggle, and suddenly you’re kissing him again, everywhere you can.
“Baby, baby,” he laughs, “Stop it.”
But you can’t. You literally, physically can’t. Somehow you’ve managed to crawl on top of him, straddling his bare chest. Chris grabs your shoulders and pushes you up, grinning at you from below, “Since when were you this affectionate?” he coos, hands sliding over to cup your face and squish your cheeks. You roll your eyes at him and press on his chest lightly, again, feigning annoyance.
“You’re adorable,” he murmurs with a dopey expression, “My love is adorable.”
“Shut up,” you whine, collapsing on top of him and hiding in his neck. My love. My love. My fucking love.
“I love you. So much. And you love me back,” Chris laughs, wrapping his arms securely around you, “Wow! You love me back. Wow… This is the best day of my life.”
“I said shut up,” you grumble.
–
You wake in the darkness, mind immediately tracking back to your moment of “I love you’s” earlier, butterflies swirling intensely in your stomach. Then you realise the reason you’ve woken up in the dead of night again, is because Chris isn’t sleeping with his arms around you. You roll over and find him sitting up in bed, his headphones snug around his ears, forehead creased in concentration as he clicks away on his laptop. You sit up and place your chin on his shoulder, staring at him with googly eyes.
“Sorry, did I wake you?” Chris mumbles, turning his head slightly.
“What’re you doing awake?” you ask, carefully slipping the headphones off his head to rest around his neck.
“Mmh… inspiration struck me, so I wrote a new song,” his eyes haven’t left his computer screen, even without his headphones on he continues to work.
“Chris it’s 2am,” you sigh, taking over the touchpad to check the time in the top right hand corner, “go back to sleep, love.”
He inhales sharply and fully turns towards you, a slow grin emerging, “You see, that is exactly why I cannot sleep.”
You blink at him in confusion, and he elaborates, “You can’t just brush my hair out of my face, spend the next five minutes writing ‘I love you’ over and over again on my back, pepper me with a billion kisses, and then expect me to sleep.”
You grin shyly at him, your head drooping, “Now you’re just making me feel bad because I fell asleep.”
“No. No that is not what I-” You interrupt him by reaching over and sliding his computer out of his hands. Carefully, you hit the command to save his work, eyes briefly skimming over the saved title ‘For My Love’.
“You were inspired to write a song for me?” You chuckle, closing the laptop and removing his headphones from his neck. Carefully, you place them both on your bedside table, and grope around to pull him down into the bed. You can tell by how warm his face is when you press close that he’s blushing.
“So what if I was?” he asks.
“So… I think you’re really cute, but your love wants you to get more sleep,” you giggle, pulling his head underneath your chin.
“Okay…” he mumbles, breath growing laboured with sleep.
–
Chris wakes with his nose buried in your hair, and he immediately grins. He abandons your warmth to grab his phone and check the time. It’s just past 9am, you both should really get up and get going, but he doesn’t particularly feel like it. You roll onto your back in your sleep, and a mischievous glint catches his eye when he notices your shirt hike up a little, revealing your bare stomach.
Chris swiftly scampers into the adjacent office, plucks a random marker from your desk, and then carefully crawls back onto the bed, doing his best to not wake you. He lifts your shirt up a little higher, then with his tongue sticking out, uncaps the marker and writes the message ‘Chris was here!!’ on your stomach, complete with his little dino-worm drawing.
Just as he’s finishing up, you groan and your eyes flutter open, noting the sharp prod of something on your stomach. In a second however, it disappears, and Chris has crawled on top of you. He moves to kiss your cheek, but still hazy with sleep, you don’t register what he’s doing and accidentally move your head.
What was meant to be a wholesome good morning peck turns into a surprising peck on the lips. You stare at him with wide eyes, and his cheeks immediately bloom red. You grin at how embarrassed he is and lean up to give him a legitimate kiss good morning. You’re both grinning like idiots now, and you’ve completely forgotten about whatever it was that Chris was doing on your stomach earlier.
Exactly Chris’ plan. Distraction… successful.
“Good morning sunshine…” he happily chirps, the familiar endearment causing you to smile happily. This time though, you have an idea.
“Good morning moonlight,” your smile intensifies as Chris pauses, stunned, and you wriggle your way into a seated position, forcing him to do the same.
“Moonlight?” he questions, his voice cracking slightly in the early morning.
“Yeah. Moonlight. ‘Cause even in the darkness you still shine.”
Chris blinks at you, then after a second, grabs your arm to pull you into his lap, “Okay sure,” he pecks the top of your head, a favourite action of his, “but you got one thing wrong. If you’re my sunshine and I’m your moonlight… then I shine because you do.”
You laugh and let Chris drag you both under the blankets again, hugging you tightly as if his life depended on it. After a minute of tranquil silence, you yawn, stretch and move to get up and out of bed. Chris doesn't crack open an eye as he grabs your head and forces you back down into the pillow, causing you to yelp.
“Chris! We’ve got to get up now,” you chide, pushing yourself back up and glaring at him. He’s smirking cheekily but his eyes are still closed, and you shake your head at him, “C’mon.”
"Who says we have to get up?” he asks, finally staring back at you.
“I do,” you demand, and a little staring contest is initiated, neither of you blinking. Chris begins to pull faces and tease you, but you refuse to give in to his antics.
“Okay fine fine,” he relents, “I’m getting up. But come here first.”
You raise your eyebrows at him.
“Please,” he adds with a tiny nod. Bewildered, you shuffle over to him, only to scream in shock when he swiftly grabs your shirt and pulls it up over your head. The act is so out of the blue, and he’s unnecessarily strong that you can’t do anything about it. He runs off with your shirt and you curse, chasing him out of the bedroom and into the lounge room.
Chris grins like a mad man, sticking his tongue out at you from the other side of the couch. “Give me my shirt you fucking rascal,” you spit, but you’re grinning just as hard.
“Come and get it,” he teases, waving it around like it’s a flag. You move to one side of the couch, and he moves to the other. You both run in circles around the couch, giggling and yelling. Eventually, out of breath and panting, Chris laughing his heart out with his hands resting on his knees, you decide that this game should come to an end. While he’s occupied, you leap over the top of the couch and tackle him to the ground.
“Oh shit-” Chris wheezes as you wrangle your shirt out of his fist. You’re about to put it back on, when Chris sits up and stops you, struggling to talk properly through his laughter, “Hang on, babe wait. Look down.”
You do, your arms up in the air, halfway through the sleeves of your shirt. It takes you a moment to read his little message, and then with a yell, you use your shirt to whack him repeatedly.
His laughter doesn’t cease even after he’s pulled you on top of him to stop your playful, indignant hits.
“God I love you,” he chokes out, resting his head back onto the floor, “Don’t rub it off, leave it there for the rest of today.”
“I love you too, but I can’t leave it there, what if people see?” “
Who’s going to see it underneath your shirt?”
“What if I wanted to wear something cropped today?”
“Okay, then wear something cropped! Let the whole world know who you belong to.”
“Chris. You know I can’t do that.”
“Mmh but I want the whole world to know.”
“Christopher.”
“Fine fineeeee, okayyyyy. Just don’t wear anything cropped then. Want one of my hoodies?”
Notes:
A/N: Yay! Milestone Event 4 Check!
Feedback is always appreciated, negative and positive alike. I apologise for any editing errors, I’m forever learning.
Until next read!
- Kaisowoo
Chapter 5: The Date of All Dates
Summary:
Slice of Life. Just a fun little date with your boyfriend ^-^
Oh what's that? The pair of you cause a scene at a restaurant? Society knows about your relationship? Is there a break up? What's happening?! Oh no!!!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!
Chapter Text
--
The video had popped up on your feed, and without much else to do, you clicked on it, happily fast forwarding to the action. Stray Kids had landed at the airport, preparing for a performance nearby. This live was a while ago though, and you smiled softly at the sight of Chris, walking with powerful strides behind the rest of the group, his protective eyes peering out from between his mask and beanie.
The man in question nudged your shoulder, squinting curiously at you, again, covered up by the same mask. Different beanie this time though, and he had his hood pulled up over the top.
“Why’re you watching that when I’m right here?” he chuckles, leaning in so he can speak directly in your ear.
“I’m not allowed to come watch you land, so at least I can watch it here,” you chuckle back, admiring the way the Chris on your phone comfortingly placed a hand on Jisung’s back to direct him through the crowd, letting him know he wasn’t alone.
“I don’t understand why JYP won’t let you really,” Chris mumbles, snuggling in closer to watch himself over your shoulder.
You tilt your phone screen towards him slightly, “I think it’s obvious.”
“Yes but you could just be any other fan. I’m not saying you should personally be waiting to pick me up. You could still be in the crowd though,” he reaches over to slide your phone out of your hand, blinking at you once for permission. He rewinds the video slightly so he can analyse it again, always on the lookout for how he can improve his idol impression.
“And what if you see me? Can you pretend that you don’t know me?” you tease, opening your palm to ask for your phone back.
“I’m not an idiot, I’m not about to profess my undying love at the sight of you,” Chris rolls his eyes as he places your phone back in your hand, and you switch it off, “although that is tempting to do,” he finishes with a wink.
You huff and slump further into your chair, turning away from him so you can watch the houses and cars whip past you outside the train window.
“On second thought, Stays might correctly interpret the happiness in my eyes as me being in love with someone in the crowd, which is absolutely correct – so yeah, maybe JYP is right.”
You turn back to him with every intention to prove that his eyes can’t possibly be overanalysed by Stays like that, but your words die in your throat when you lock eyes. He’s right. Stays would easily be able to tell. Even with his mouth obscured, and majority of his head covered with a beanie and hoodie, the radiant joy emanating from his eyes is enough to melt your heart. The corners of his eyes are crinkled slightly, but his eyes are still wide with rapt attention. You tilt your head and scan his irises closely.
It's not often in real life that you would use the term ‘sparkling’ to describe someone’s eyes; maybe if you’re writing sure, which is rare enough as is. You couldn’t think of anything else to describe the way he’s looking at you though, so with a sigh you settle for that mental description and decide to change the topic.
“Where are we going?” you ask him, glancing up at the map listing the train destinations above the opposite window.
“Somewhere fun,” he simply replies. You raise an eyebrow at him, but decide to give it up for a while. You’d been asking him the same question at random intervals, hoping to surprise the answer out of him, but he hasn’t said anything truly useful. The pair of you lapse into a comfortable silence, and after a while your gaze goes unfocused, lost in your own thoughts. Chris’ hand sneakily slips into yours, and he places it neatly on his thigh, carefully stroking your knuckles. This shakes you out of your reverie, and you glance at your linked hands, a small smile gracing your features. This would have been completely cute if you hadn’t looked up at Chris’ face, his eyes frosty, staring at someone on the opposite chairs to you two.
The poor man opposite was now awkwardly looking away, a blush spreading from his neck upwards.
“What’d he do to you? What’s with the glare?” you ask, slowly piecing together the reasoning for Chris’ actions, but wanting to hear it from the man himself.
“He was staring at you,” Chris grumbles, letting his head drop onto your shoulder, his hand still gripping yours.
“Okay… well while he was doing that, I was busy thinking about how soft your lips are. There’s no need to be possessive,” you chide, trying to prove a point. Chris laughs and unlinks your hands, instead stretching his arm out around your shoulders protectively.
“My lips? So randomly? You can’t even see them right now.”
You grin cheekily and tilt his head towards yours, then press a little kiss to his mask, “I don’t need to see them to think of them.”
Chris’ eyes go wide, his thoughts frazzled, scanning the features of your smiley expression. Without even thinking, he pulls his mask down briefly to properly give you a quick kiss, then pulls his mask up and sits back in his chair like nothing had happened.
“Chris,” you hiss, “Don’t do that again. What if someone recognises you?”
He gives you the side eye, contemplating, but then shrugs and dismisses the topic. You sigh and lean into his embrace, worried that his antics will lead to your photos plastered on the internet. Catching the train was risky enough, but your car was currently being serviced. Even though a little day spent hanging out in your apartment together would have sufficed, Chris was insistent on taking you out and about.
You only agreed because you figured he didn’t deserve to be cooped up on one of the few days he could mentally and physically rest.
--
Once you got off the train, Chris immediately linked your hand with his and pulled you through the crowd, his head bent low to try and hide his face better. Being out in the public with him like this always made you nervous, and you could tell Chris was aware of it by how he was rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand. Generally, when you went on dates, you’d stalk out café’s that weren’t busy, or seek beaches with no crowd. It had become a recent hobby of yours, scouring the internet or roaming around town for cute little nooks and crannies you could safely spend time with him at.
This time however, Chris wouldn’t tell you where you were going, and apart from his vague disguise and minute efforts to keep his head low, everything was at risk. A part of you had a gut feeling that he simply didn’t care anymore. You walked side by side in silence, squinting in the bright sunlight. Carefully, you tried to arrange your hand in his, worried that it was getting too sweaty. Chris glanced at you, shook his head with a slight chuckle, and offered his arm for you to link with instead.
“You going to tell me where we’re going yet?” you urge, constantly eyeing the people walking past to make sure they don’t recognise him.
“Not until you relax,” he hums, watching your anxious expression.
“You aren’t going to tell me even if I do relax,” you huff, heart stilling at the gaze of a young girl’s eyes lingering on Chris for a little too long.
“Well… if it’s any consolation, I found something for us to do where no one will be able to see my face,” he directs the pair of you around a corner as you stare at him questioningly. Wasn’t that always the idea?
“It’ll be dark,” he continues, coming to a halt right in front of a place you don’t recognise. In fact, you haven’t recognised the location for a while now, which has only added to your concerns. You sigh in disbelief as you read the sign above your head.
“Laser tag?” you croak, slowly turning to look at Chris with every ounce of judgement you can muster. Your heart cracks a little at the sight of his eyes dulling, the life dying within them at your apparent disappointment.
“Yeah…?” You chuckle and slip your arm out of his to grab his wrist. Then without pause, roughly tug him inside the building, “Alright babe but don’t expect my sympathy when you lose!”
Chris’ relief is evident in his laugh, and you hate yourself for a second there, for ever making him doubt himself in the first place.
“You forget who I am,” he teases, “There’s no way I’m going to lose.”
--
He was right. It is dark. Even though there are coloured lights flickering around and the diminished haze of a few button lights on the walls, your vision is limited. In fact, you reckon the LEDs flashing around obnoxiously like you’re in a disco party are meant to confuse and make things more difficult, not actually help you. Your teams had been randomised, and you have to say, your teamwork was shoddy at best. Your side of the game kind of just treated it as an ‘every person for themselves’ kind of situation.
Originally, the staff had asked whether the group wanted their teams randomised or selected themselves. Randomised won majority (much to your chagrin), and Chris had been placed on your team. Upon seeing the way Chris was standing behind you, his arms wrapped in a hug around your waist, chin on your head, one of the staff members swapped him with someone in the other team with a devilish grin. Thanks, now the game was truly on.
It's been maybe 10 minutes, and you haven’t seen Chris anywhere. You’ve scored a few good shots on his team though, peeking out of window holes and ducking from one blockade to the next. You had a feeling Chris had commandeered his team, naturally slipping into a leadership role. They seemed to hunt and shoot in a coordinated effort, often ambushing and sneaking up from all sides. Something felt off about them however, they seemed restrained, pulling away frequently when there was still plenty of opportunity. Sometimes you noticed, they seemed to get bored of shooting a member of your team.
Chris had removed his beanie as he walked into the arena, carefully tucking it into his belt for safekeeping, and the last thing you saw of him was the fuzzy curls of his hair. He’d assured you he’d keep his mask on, and now that you think about it, you were quite positive this had only contributed to his team easily following his orders. What kind of person wouldn’t follow the directions of a mysterious, good-looking man who spoke with an eased authority?
You winced as your suit lights flashed after a laser gun sound effect played from over by your right. Someone had found you. You leapt through the window above you and disappeared on the other side of the wall, taking shelter for a second. When the sound died, you took the opportunity to push yourself up and scamper away, looking for a better spot to recuperate and maybe counterattack.
“Chris!” you froze at the calling, trying to listen again over the sound of guns firing and the music playing in the background, “Oi! Chris! She’s over here!”
Oh shit.
You took off at a sprint, heart thumping wildly in your chest, gun abandoned at your waist. You ducked around a wall, leapt over another, and found yourself standing, breathing heavily, backed into a carefully chosen corner. There were no windows on either side of you, and the wall was far too high for anyone to jump over. You admit, it wasn’t the best choice in regard to an escape route, you were literally cornered. However, you could never outrun Chris, so you figured the best option was to bunker down and hide for a while.
Suddenly, all firing completely ceased. You weren’t sure what your teammates were doing, or what Chris’ team was doing for this matter. You didn’t know this of course, but Chris had managed to parkour his way to the top of the wall you were currently cowering behind. His teammates were watching eagerly from below, on the other side of the wall, trying to stifle their chuckles. No wonder all the shooting had stopped. How was your team supposed to shoot the opposite team if they were all stalking you?
Chris watched you for a second, his eyes gleaming in the darkness, then swivelled around from his perched position to offer his team a salute. In a fluid motion, he jumped off the wall backwards, landing right in front of you. Your scream made his team collapse into raucous laughter, and for a second there, they could have been Chris’ Kids.
“Jesus fuck how did you even-” you’re cut off by Chris pulling down his mask, trapping you up against the wall, and kissing you softly. He backs away after a second, whispering, “You’ve lost this one babe,” and with an infuriating raise of his hand, shoots you, your lights going off again in the location where most points are gained.
Before you can even process, let alone say anything in response, Chris disappears behind the wall to return to his team, and you can hear him yell, “Mission accomplished guys, the floor is all yours, thanks for your help.”
“Our pleasure!”
“Too easy.”
“All good bro.”
You beeline along the path ahead of you, rocketing away from Chris’ team members that have dashed around the wall, eager to attack. You almost collide with one of your own team members, who sees the flock of people chasing you and runs alongside you.
“WHY ARE THEY ALL CHASING YOU?!” she yells, ducking around a corner to try and get some shots in.
“My devil of a boyfriend,” you spit, joining her and helping to make the group scatter.
You were right. They were holding back earlier. If there was any hope that your team was out on top, that was most certainly not the case by the end. Even with you trying to organise your team once you eventually found each other, Chris’ yelled commands and his team’s speed, stealth and ferocity was unmatched. His encouragement and cheers of celebration could be heard literally everywhere you went, and his team caught on. Their motivational yells and cheers worked wonders on boosting their team.
By the time the siren blasted over the speakers, and the white lights flashed on, immediately blinding, you were a sweaty, huffing mess. You meandered your way over to the exit, following the stream of people jostling each other to snag some cold water first. Chris bounded up to you out of nowhere, slinging an arm around your shoulders and unnecessarily leaning on you. You almost buckle under his weight, exhausted to the core.
“How was that, hey?” he laughs, shaking you slightly in his adrenalin-rushed state. You simply groan in response and amble your way over to the scoring board on the TV. He already has his beanie back on his head, although a few of his curls are sticking out haphazardly.
Naturally, Chris’ team hurtles towards the pair of you, having already discovered that they won. Chris remains attached to you but offers a round of enthused high fives, congratulating them and praising their teamwork.
“You should join an official team,” someone grinned at him, to which Chris only laughed in response, shaking his head.
“I don’t live around here, I’m only here to visit my girl,” Chris tugs you closer, and you smile sheepishly, hesitant to interact when Chris is potentially seconds away from being discovered.
“Surely your number then. Hit me up when you’re here and we can play another game?” he asks, tilting his head imploringly. Chris’ eyes widen and you tense at the question, unsure about how he’s going to handle this.
“I can’t do that, I’m sorry,” he replies simply, trying to convey his sincerity through his eyes. A girl from Chris’ team wanders over, casually eyeing Chris from head to toe now that they were out in visibility again, “What about me? Up for trades?” she asks, her eyes wide and innocent.
Chris shakes his head again, and you tug his hoodie in a warning. It was time you wrapped this up and left.
“What are you a celebrity or something? Why are you hiding your face?” the girl asked, squinting at Chris, as though trying to see underneath his mask.
“What if I was?” Chris nonchalantly replies, and at this you take a fistful of his hoodie and make to drag him away, mind spinning, heart stuck somewhere in your throat.
“I’d try harder for your number!” she states, eyes boring into your own.
“Not a chance, I’m very much taken,” Chris pulls you into a tight embrace, burying your terrified face into his chest. You wrap your arms tightly around him, worried about the words that are going to tumble out of his mouth.
“I’m not allowed to give my number out to anyone, company rules,” he murmurs, and at this you crane your neck to stare at him. (A/N: I do not know if this is actually true, just pretend it is T-T.)
Two things he said there were horribly wrong. One, he basically just admitted that he was in fact a celebrity, two…
“You gave me your number though,” you point out, frowning. He glances down at you and pulls your head back into a hug.
“I broke the rules for you.”
Immediately, you stop breathing at his words, cheeks blossoming a lovely shade of pink, and you mumble into his chest, “Is that why… you fought with…”
“How’d you find out about that?” he interjects sharply. It seems you two have almost completely forgotten about the other two people standing in silence, watching you.
“Suhee… Suhee told me…” you answer after a moment’s hesitation. Chris only sighs and brings a hand up to caress the side of your face, “Everything’s fine now though yeah? Don’t even think about it.”
“So… is Chris even your real name?” the bloke asks, startling the pair of you out of your bubble.
“Of course not,” Chris replies, then with a slight tip of his head as a goodbye, he grabs your hand and walks you out of the building. Not before you manage to hear the man and woman talking to each other, “Google him.”
“How? We don’t even have his name.”
“Take a picture quickly.”
“’Ness that’s not right. We’re not going to do that.”
You silently thank the man, and mentally spit on ‘Ness, but speed up your pace regardless, hoping to get out of sight and out of mind.
--
You’re back on the train again, headed closer to home where you can stake out your favourite restaurant for a bite out to eat. It’s your favourite mostly because of the semi-private booths they provide, and if Chris sits up against the wall, he’s hidden relatively well. Chris heaves a deep sigh and wriggles out of your snuggle, whining about being hot and stripping himself of his hoodie.
“I’m sweating more than I did in laser tag,” he complains, folding it neatly and placing it on his lap, then snuggling back up to you. Carefully, you ease the hoodie out of his lap with a cheeky grin on your face, aware of Chris’ eyes watching your every movement.
“I’ll hold it for you,” you comment, sticking your tongue out when he rolls his eyes knowingly, “You’ll hold it, or you’ll permanently borrow it?”
You hug it tightly, playing with the fabric between your fingers, then bring it up to your face to inhale its scent.
You’d never have been able to guess his perfume’s ingredients if he hadn’t read it out to you one day to satisfy your curiosity: notes of spicy pink pepper and creamy ylang-ylang (that’s a tropical tree originating from the Philippines btw), combined with fierce musk and a sensuous vanilla base. That scent alone is enough to make your heart swell, a sense of safety and security washing over you with each breath.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Chris puzzles, “Why are you smelling my hoodie like it’s cocaine?”
You pull your nose away from his hoodie to calmly respond, “Because this is my cocaine you dumb twat.”
Chris laughs and rests his head on your shoulder, looking up at you through his eyelashes, “I know mate, I just wanted to hear you say it.”
“That your scent is my cocaine?” You grimace, neatly placing the hoodie onto your lap. “
Okay well not that specifically,” he pouts, “just that my scent drives you insane.”
“You are a strange man,” you tut, resting your head on top of his, wishing more than anything in the world at that moment that you could remove his beanie so you could feel his soft curls.
“You seem to like this strange man, so I think you’re stranger.”
--
Finally, you’re sitting opposite Chris, slurping happily away on your cookies and cream smoothie while Chris takes generous sips from his pineapple juice. You’re sitting in your favourite spot waiting patiently for your food to arrive. Chris locks his phone and places it face down on the table, turning his attention to you with crinkled eyes. He’s wearing his hoodie again, much to your disappointment, so he can use his hood to hide behind instead of his beanie, giving his hair some room to breathe. Your eyes roam the curls, savouring the peaceful silence as you stare at each other.
Eventually, Chris begins to chat away, and you reciprocate his enthusiasm, laughing and giggling at the stories he tells you about Skz, adding your own input when his words remind you of something, and even as you eat, you continue to rally stories and questions back and forth at each other.
“Bailey’s coming in for day care tomorrow.”
“Is he? The one that looks like Berry?!”
“Mhm!”
“Can he stay with me upstairs?”
“Uhm… I don’t see why not…”
You glance down at your plate and realise there’s only one mouthful left and blink in surprise. Chris had finished his meal a couple of minutes ago and was leaning back into the booth leisurely. You shovel it into your mouth and scoot out of your seat to pay for the food before he can, but he leans over and snatches at your arm, frowning at you.
“We’ve talked about this a million times before jagiya,” he clarifies, his eyes narrowed, “you’re not allowed to pay.”
You raise your eyebrows at him and yank your arm out of his grip, “Then you should have beaten me to it.”
You scamper away swiftly as Chris lunges for you again, sending a jolt through your heart as he scrambles up to chase you.
“Yah! Dol-awa!” (Come back here!) he yells, but you don’t really need to. He’s already hooked an arm around your waist and trapped you between his arms, your wriggling and laughter doing nothing against his strong grip.
“Okay okay okay. I won’t pay. You can let me go,” you fuss, wriggling in his grasp, but he sighs and hugs you tighter.
“Never. Will never let you go,” he mumbles, kissing the back of your head affectionately.
You’re not aware of this, but his hood has fallen down in his scramble to stop you, and without his mask since he was eating, he’s completely and utterly exposed. The lady at the counter looks up to sus out what the commotion is about, and her eyes immediately widen at the sight of Chris’ head perched lovingly on top of yours.
“Bang Chan?” she gasps, the delirious excitement evident in her awestruck expression. Your heart plummets into the ground as Chris stiffens around you.
“Hi! Oh my gosh, please can we take a picture together?” she hurries around the desk, swiftly pulling her phone out, and Chris instinctively drags you protectively behind him, hiding your face.
“Ah- ah no. No sorry, no photos today,” he rushes, arranging his hood that you’ve haphazardly tugged onto his head again. The lady pauses and seems to remember you’re there, her phone dropping to her side. She points at you with a curious tilt of her head, “Is she…?”
You cringe and step away from Chris, walking with your hair curtaining your face back towards your restaurant booth. You’re dimly aware of the rest of the restaurant guests peeking over the top of their booths and leaning over to get a better view.
“Is there someone famous here?”
“Who’s she asking for a photo?”
“Bang Chan, she said Bang Chan.”
“BANG CHAN?!”
“Who’s he with?”
“Who’s she? His girlfriend?”
“No way is Bang Chan dating someone.”
“Eva’s going to be so mad.”
“I wonder how Stays are going to handle this.”
“Come on, we have to get a photo.”
Chris swivels around and follows you back to the booth, smiling sheepishly and pulling his hood even further over his head.
“Babe let’s go,” he whispers, but the neighbouring table hears his muted words, and the whole restaurant is chattering again.
“They’re dating. He called her babe.”
“Did you get a good look at her? Is she even pretty?”
“She’s kind of average.”
Chris flinches, his eyes downcast as he realises his mistake, but you offer him a small smile of encouragement and gather your things. Chris thinks for a second, his hands fiddling, then pulls his hoodie off himself and yanks it over your head. He whisks his beanie off the table, tugs it onto your head and hands you his mask from his pocket. You blink at him, but put it on regardless, finishing off the disguise by pulling the hood up over your head. He seems to care more about your coverage than his own.
“There’s no way they aren’t dating.”
“I think he settled.”
“What does she have that I don’t?”
You can see Chris’ jaw clench, the offhand comments beginning to annoy him, so you shake your head at him and nod towards the exit. He grabs your hand, making your heart thump wildly in fear – he’s really not doing anything to help ease the rumours.
“Chan who is she?”
“Do you even like her?” Chris pauses, and you try to tug him onwards, pleadingly.
“She’s the love of my life and that’s that,” he snaps, the break from his usual polite stature towards fans causing the restaurant to fall silent. You gulp and hiss at him, his name falling from your mouth in a panicked urgency. Half of the people in here probably didn’t even know who he was; just crazed at the experience of being in the proximity of a celebrity.
“He’s not even that good-looking, you sure he’s famous?” you hear someone whisper, and your head turns towards the voice, an unknown flame sparking, “He’s probably only famous because his father’s rich or something. That’s how it is these days, isn’t it?” they continue, and you stalk over to them, causing Chris to stare at you in surprise, too busy glaring at the restaurant guests to hear the comments about himself.
You slam your palm onto their table, causing the two girls to jump in surprise.
“You say anything else about him and I will skewer you,” you lean over and snatch her fork from her plate, “with your own fucking fork.”
“Bold words from a girl cowering in her boyfriend’s clothes,” the other girl smirks, folding her arms challengingly.
“At least I have a boyfriend,” you seethe, hand clenching around the fork.
“Nice try bitch, I have one too.”
“Not after my famous boyfriend with a rich father sends an assassin after him.”
Her eyes widen at that, and you lazily throw the fork back onto the table.
“His name’s Bang Chan, as I’m sure you’ve heard, why don’t you google him on the phone you’ve been taking pictures of us with-”
Chris swoops in out of nowhere before you can finish your sentence, grabbing you by the waist again to lead you away. When you try to free yourself, blood boiling and not finished with your fight, he bends down and hoists you over his shoulders, walking you out of the restaurant while you yell in fury. After a while, he puts you back down, commands you to stay put while he returns to pay for the meal, and you begin to regret your actions. Chris seemed eerily nonchalant, and you knew you crossed a line by confronting those two girls. You probably made things more difficult actually, and you cringed as you pictured the next headline.
‘K-pop idol Bang Chan of Stray Kids allegedly dating a psychotic woman who threatened restaurant guests'
You’re so busy letting your thoughts eat away at your mind that you don’t even realise Chris is standing in front of you again.
“C’mon, let’s go home,” he sighs, his hands tucked into his shorts pockets.
“I messed up didn’t I?” you mumble, not daring to look him in the eye.
“I did too. It’s okay. I’ll sort it out with JYP later,” his eyes briefly skim over the sign above your head, and he disappears inside the store he left you in front of. After a minute, he returns with a packet of skittles for you.
“Just forget about it for now okay? I’ll figure it out when I get back to Korea. And who knows… maybe everyone in there has a conscience and won’t even consider posting anything.”
You snort and tear open the packet of skittles, craving the sour lollies all of a sudden, “That’s being overly optimistic.”
Chris laughs and begins to follow the route back to your café, you trailing behind him sadly, shoving skittles in your mouth with the mask pulled down to your chin. You frown at Chris’ back and the realisation hits you. He’s likely going to fight with JYP again. He’s likely going to be given a choice between you or his career. You can tell from his deflated posture as he walks ahead of you that he’s thinking the same thing.
You can feel that dreadful sting in the corners of your eyes intensifying, and reflexively, you close the distance between you two, snagging him in a back hug. You deliriously rub your face into his shirt, trying to stop yourself from crying, and he arches his back in response with a little gasp, “That tickles.”
“I’m sorry Chris. I’m so so sorry.”
“None of this is your fault. I wasn’t careful enough.”
“You’re always careful. I saw that the restaurant was kind of full today, I shouldn’t have suggested it. I’m the one who’s not careful”
“That’s enough. I said forget it.” Chris squirms around and pulls you into a proper hug, sighing into the top of your head, “Don’t you worry… about a thing… it’s going to be okay, yeah?” he inflects the statement into a question, and you think he’s trying to reassure himself more than you.
You won’t let him choose. You’re not going to let him pick between his career or you. That’s not happening. He shouldn’t have to do that. You clench your teeth and bite back the tears, willing them to stay trapped in your eyes. You’ve made your decision. You pull away from him, eyes glistening with an unmatched determination.
Chris’ face darkens at the sight, and he cups your face in his hands desperately, reading every single line of your set expression correctly.
“No. I know what you’re thinking, and I’m telling you now – do not, under any fucking circumstance, think it.”
You remain silent, drowning yourself in his desperate eyes, lips frozen in a thin line.
“Y/N no. Don’t.”
“Want some skittles, Chris?” you nonchalantly ask, tearing your eyes away from him to stare into the contents of the bag still in your hands.
“No. No I don’t want skittles. I need you to fucking understand-”
“I understand,” you interject, eyes flickering back up to him, but you figure your emotions aren’t controlled enough, and you can see the panic rise in his beautiful irises.
“No you fucking don’t. I can see you fucking don’t. Everything is going to be okay. I’ll sort it out, I promise,” he insists, clutching your face just that little bit tighter.
“I know you will. Now do you want some skittles or not?”
Chris glares at you, then pulls you into another rough hug, squeezing the air out of your lungs. You wish he wouldn’t. He’s making it so much harder for you to keep back the dam of tears threatening to overflow.
“This- this here, in my arms right now, is my entire world. I’m not going to let anyone take that from me,” he whispers, and your heart crumbles to pieces.
Would he let you take it from him?
“Please eat some skittles. Sugar makes you feel better. Just don’t eat all of them okay?” you mumble into his shirt, and he pulls away, bitterly laughing, “Alright, give me those damn skittles.”
You pass them over to him, smiling brightly. When he grins back at you, it’s like everything has fallen back into place, none of that just happened, it’s just the two of you again, the world fading into blurry insignificance around you.
You’ll miss him.
--
For now though, you’re going to spend as much time with him as possible. You’re contemplating the situation as you sit on your bed, Chris calling out to you from the other side of the bedroom door.
“Quit being mean~ let me in.” (A/N: What happened to "spending as much time with him as possible", hm?)
You’ve been checking the internet consistently, anxiously waiting for the news of your relationship with him to be leaked. Nothing was up so far. If something does happen, then Chris will naturally fly back to Korea as originally scheduled in a few days and immediately try to sort things out with JYP. It might work out well, it might not. You know however, that if he’s ever forced to pick between his career and you, you’re not going to let him choose you.
“Jagiyaaaa… baby I miss you… let me in please?”
You sigh and flop back onto your bed just as your phone pings with a notification. Your heart stops – this is it… dispatch have found out surely. The relief that floods through your veins resolves into amusement when you realise the notifications are from Chris. He’s spamming you.
-
(A/N: When dialogue is in script format, it's meant to represent text messages.)
Chris: “baby I’m sorry”
Chris: “please let me in baby”
Chris: “muffin?”
Chris: “sweet pea?”
Chris: “the love of my life”
Chris: “beautiful cinnamon roll who’s too pure for this world”
-
You grin at the new endearments emerging, feeling your insides go all soft and squishy at his antics. After a moment of thought, you message him back.
-
You: “Sorry doesn’t bring back my fucking skittles Christopher”
-
You pad over to the door as Chris yells in frustration, “I didn’t mean to. You offered them to me, and you were right. Sugar does make you feel better.”
As soon as you unlock the door and swing it open, Chris’ face lights up with joy. He tackles you with a hug that makes you stumble back in surprise, and you desperately fight back your grin, opting for an annoyed expression.
“Don’t lock me out again like that please. You need to be by my side at all times. 24/7. That was torture.”
You snort and carefully push him off you, wandering back to the bed, “We’re literally in a long-distance relationship, how am I supposed to be with you 24/7?” Chris waddles over to you, but you frown at him and point to the floor, “Nah-uh. You sit on the floor, I’m still mad at you.”
He whines and pouts at you, his eyes as wide as saucers.
You know you’ll cave if he starts acting cute with you, so you pick up your phone and busy yourself with social media. Chris plonks himself down on the floor with a sigh, his legs splayed out wide in a V-shape, “I’ll buy you more skittles.”
“I wanted those ones. They were special.”
“Since when? I’ll buy you as many special skittles as you want,” he huffs, folding his arms. Over the next few minutes, you do your best to ignore his whines of distress and needy sighs, his pet names and sugary chatter. You’ve been watching him out of the corner of your eye and decide to ignore the fact that he’s somehow moved a metre forward from where he originally was.
You yawn and stretch, putting your phone down to look at him properly for the first time in a while. Immediately, he stretches his arms wide and grasps rapidly at the air in front of him, asking quietly for cuddles, his legs bouncing in sync. Best leader. Five-year-old. Kangaroo. Mashed potato. You shake your head at him and give in, his adorable antics filling your heart too much. You crawl off the bed and settle into his outstretched arms, nestling your face into his neck. You place a delicate kiss there, and mumble against his skin, “If you ever, ever eat all my skittles again when I tell you not to, I will end you.”
Chris laughs and wraps his arms and legs securely around you.
“You can end me whenever you want love. Just as long as it’s you doing it.”
You pinch him lightly with an amused laugh, “You’re such a cheesy ass.”
“Only for you~” he laughs, the vibrations from his throat rippling through you.
“Shut the fuck up, when are you going to stop saying that!” you yell, sitting up properly in his arms and trying to escape from his grip.
“I’ll stop when I stop loving you. Which is never,” his grin could almost be described as sadistic as he tightens his grip on you, proving his point.
“Jesus Christ, oh my god you’re atrocious,” you grin, hiding your face with your hands in embarrassment.
“Awh is my girl shy? There’s no need to hide baby, you’re adorable when you’re shy.”
“Shut it.”
“Come on… there’s no need to hide your beautiful face,” he teases, pulling at your fingers to try and remove them.
“I said shut-” your words resolve into giggles as he begins to tickle you, your muscles tensing at his actions, “Chris- okay stop- no- hey! Stop-,” you plead, rolling around on the floor desperately. Chris places his hands on either side of your head, leaning over you, giving you time to breathe.
He shifts his weight to one of his arms and affectionately brushes your hair out of your face, “I meant what I said, yeah? I’m never going to stop loving you.”
You smile and pull him down on top of you, whispering heartfelt sweet nothings into his hair.
You don’t think you ever will either. Which hurts.
--
It’s later on in the night and you’re typing away on your laptop, sitting cross-legged on the couch, sorting through a few financial reports and business requirements to finish up the night. Chris is also busy working, sitting by the TV with his back to the wall, his laptop charging.
“Are you sure you’re comfy down there?” you ask him swiftly, eyes refusing to leave your computer screen even when he glances up at you.
“With the amount of blankets and pillows you’ve thrown at me to use, you’d think I’d be comfy enough,” he grins, shuffling around a little and arranging the pillow at his back.
“I just don’t think you should be sitting on the floor,” you roll your eyes, pausing briefly to stretch your fingers.
“You made me sit on the floor before,” he teases, clicking his touch pad in quick succession.
“That’s different,” you grumble, arching your back and trying to fix your posture, “although I have to say, sometimes I think the floor is comfier,” you finish up the sentence you’re typing out, uncross your legs, and move to sit on the floor, your back resting comfortably up on the couch.
The minutes pass as you fall into silence again, the atmosphere humming with a productive energy. You were antsy earlier, fidgety, still waiting for an article, or a social media post, or anything that would begin the drastic snowball of catastrophic events. Instead of worrying Chris, you chose to occupy your mind with work. Chris picked up on your productive mood and sat down to work too, and it had been a little over 2 hours since then.
Neither of you moved from your positions, except to stretch and grab a glass of water or snack for one another. You had basically forgotten about the whole fiasco, so absorbed in your own work, that when a notification from a newsagent you’re subscribed to pops up on your screen, your heart initially leaps in excitement; your body already used to reacting this way in the hopes that it’s something to do with Stray Kids. Your mind clicks back into reality, and you stop breathing as you click on it with your mouse.
“Bang Chan of K-Pop group ‘Stray Kids’ rumoured to be dating”
The bold title leaps at you, and your eyes seem to be glued to it, rereading it over and over again. Eventually, you remember you need to breathe, and exhale as you scroll down the page. You lick your lips nervously as you skim the article and briefly assess the photos complimenting it. Overall, the both of you had done an exemplary job at keeping your face hidden. None of the photos showed more than your hair and eyes. It was so blatantly obvious that it was Chris in the photos though, which would make it hard to refute the idea that he was dating at all.
He so… clearly was. Although taken out of context, and in the incorrect sequence of events, every single picture that had Chris’ expression in it displayed genuine worry, or a fondness that couldn’t be mistaken. Fuck. You glance up at Chris, wondering if he’d seen the article yet, but he appears to be engrossed in his work, his headphones snug around his ears, biting his bottom lip in concentration.
You pinch the bridge of your nose and let out a shuddering breath, trying to mentally prepare yourself for the following days, heck, the following weeks. Maybe even months. And now, the inexplicable urge to have Chris next to you overwhelms you. You might lose him soon, and you’re busy working away? He’s right there. Metres away, and he’s not snuggling with you? How pathetic.
“You’re too far away,” you grumble, staring pointedly at him and crossing your arms. Chris glances up and pulls his headphones off, “Sorry?”
“Why’re you so farrrr?” you pout, mimicking the same grabby motions he had used earlier. You stare sadly in his silence, watching the corner of his mouth twitch, “The outlet is here, and you made it so comfy.”
Internally, you curse your kindness and sniff in disappointment, turning back to your work, “Fine then, be that way.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Chris scoffs, putting his headphones back over his ears, but his grin has finally broken through.
Just as you knew he would, after a few more minutes of silence, but little work, Chris unplugs his computer and saunters over to you, plopping down next to you with a quiet grunt. You give him a little smirk, and a classic side eye, then go back to pretending to be completely absorbed in your report.
“Shut up,” he sighs, snuggling closer so your shoulders are touching.
“I didn’t say anything,” you grin, cherishing his warmth, his presence. Now your productive mood has evaporated, the event you were trying to distract yourself from having already occurred.
You put in your best effort to write another paragraph but give up halfway through and end up staring blankly at the screen, mind trying to think over how best you convince Chris to let you go. A thought crosses your mind, and you consider it wholeheartedly, directing your brain power into imagining the past two years without Chris in your life.
What if you had never accepted his request to film Skz-Code in your café? What if you had ghosted him when he messaged you? What if you hadn’t noticed him, standing on that bridge? What if you were too occupied with James? What if… no… he’d be dead.
The thought remains in the forefront of your mind, and without your knowledge, tears begin to trickle down your cheeks. Somehow, a part of you knew that you were meant to see him then. You couldn’t explain that searing pain or voice in your head, and you weren’t about to try and figure it out now. Chris has been watching you for a while now, his head turned slightly, eyes flickering from your stock-still hands to the misery in your expression.
He reaches across and gently wipes one of your tears away, making you flinch in surprise. Truthfully, he was quite comfy where he was by the outlet. He wasn’t planning on moving to sit next to you, knowing full well that he’d lose all sense of productivity by snuggling up to you. That all changed when his phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see a message in the group chat consisting of only Stray Kids. Hyunjin had sent the article, and he didn’t need to click on it to know what it was about.
-
Hyunjin: “Chan hyung? You know about this right?”
Chan: “yeah”
Hyunjin: “what’re you going to do?”
Felix: “is Y/N okay?”
Felix: “you haven’t broken up yet have you?”
-
His heart throbbed at the thought, and he swiftly typed out a response, trying to quell the onslaught of questions and comments of concern from them all.
-
Chan: “I’ll sort it out”
Chan: “I’m not breaking up with her”
-
It clicked in his head then, why you were complaining about him being so far away, when you’d been working like this for the past 2 and a half hours perfectly fine.
“I told you to not think about that under any circumstance,” he whispers, watching as you hastily wipe your tears away. His mind is already working overtime, conjuring a risky plan.
“I’m not- I wasn’t… I- did you see the article?” you murmur, trying to organise your thoughts.
“Mhm… and I’m about to do something about it,” he takes a deep breath in, closes up his production software and opens up YouTube, “You trust me, yeah?”
Your eyes widen as he begins to set up a live, and you grab his arm to stop him, “Chris you can’t. What will JYP say?”
“I don’t give a damn about what he’ll say,” he scoffs, briefly checking what episode number of Chan’s Room he’s up to. It’s only Saturday, but you figure it doesn’t matter now. (A/N: Sit with it. I know Chan's Room is on hiatus, perhaps permanently, shush, no need to remind me.)
“You better give a damn Christopher because your entire career is on the line right now,” you snap back, and a fizzle of fear simmers through you as Chris’ eyes flutter closed and his jaw clenches.
“Do you… trust me…?” he asks again, opening his eyes to stare at you, unblinking. You gulp and slowly nod.
“Pull up ‘FAM’ for me then babe.”
You have such a bad feeling about this.
--
You’re sitting in complete silence, trying to read the spam of comments on the side of his screen as Chris chats away happily, using his phone to play song requests and make recommendations of his own. The article was only recently released, but you can’t be sure of where else the photos have been leaked.
You’re about 20 minutes in when you spot the first comment asking about the photos. Chris either doesn’t see it, or intentionally ignores it, and continues asking for more song requests. 30 minutes in and the entire chat is swamped with questions about the same topic. You.
So far, Chris hasn’t spared you a glance once, knowing full well that his fans would ask about who he was looking at. This time however, he turns towards you, asking you a silent question, having finally reached the point of no return, his whole reasoning for starting the live finally occurring. You gulp and quietly nod again, leaning back to grab a pillow from the couch and tuck it protectively in front of you. Chris glances briefly back to the comments, searching for one he can work with.
“Ah! Where am I?” he pipes, looking around the room as though trying to figure that out himself, “I am… on a brief vacation…” he pauses to read the comments again, engaging with the audience professionally.
“No no, not in a hotel- I mean… um…” he sighs and rubs his face, and suddenly you don’t know how you feel about how easy it is for him to act, “I’m… um… I’m actually at my girlfriend’s house?” he grins sheepishly, a squeaky laugh escaping. The chat explodes with a new wave of comments.
“Yeah so you all saw the photos right? I was um… a little sad to see them, because Stays have always been… you know, respectful. But yeah, I am dating her.”
If the comments were projected in actual voices, your head would have combusted. There are so many, and majority of them are in capitals, and you’re struggling to comprehend even only a single one.
Chris, used to this, reads one out loud for the benefit of his viewers.
“Is she with me? Yeah, well yeah, I am um… in her house,” he laughs, adjusting the computer a little on his lap, “You want to meet her? Ooh I don’t know, I think we’d have to ask her.”
He looks at you, his eyes wide, and you smile in encouragement, but internally you’re a panicked disaster.
“Oh-kay, hang on guys,” Chris announces, sitting up so he can push his computer further away along the floor. When he returns to your side, you’re now visible in the screen, eyes paralysed with fear, half hiding behind a couch pillow.
Chris props his elbow up on the couch, resting his head on his hand, the other resting comfortably on your thigh, squeezing it in encouragement. You wave shyly at the camera, offer a small smile, and try to burrow yourself further into the pillow.
“Jagi… it’s okay, you don’t have to read the comments, Stay just wants to meet you.”
You take a deep breath, briefly glance at Chris, who’s smiling comfortingly, and slowly lower the pillow.
“Hi Stay. Do I need to tell them my name?” you inquisitively ask, and Chris shakes his head, “Only if you want to.”
You consider it, then decide not to, “Yeah. Hi. I am… Bang Chan’s girlfriend. I promise I’m looking after him, don’t worry.”
Chris’ grin widens, and he reaches over to pull you into his arms. You wriggle to get comfortable, trying to think of what to say.
“Uh… like Chan said earlier, he is… at my house- how in the world do you do this every single week? I can’t think of anything to say,” you start, turning to look at Chris. He smiles and pecks your forehead, causing you to jerk back in surprise.
“It takes a while to get the hang of it,” his eyes briefly flicker down to your lips, and you scramble out from his hold and onto the couch behind him.
“I think I need the comments to rebound off, but I also… don’t want to read them,” you stammer. Chris is grinning cheekily at the computer screen, and his hands reach up behind him, using the camera to locate you, and tugs your legs around his shoulders, so his head is now in between your knees.
“You see what I have to deal with Stay?” you chide, trying to extricate yourself from him, embarrassed at how intimate he’s being on live.
“But I’ve never seen you this nervous before, it’s so cute,” he laughs. You grab the nearest couch cushion and whack him on the head with it, making him laugh even harder.
“Okay, okay. I’ll read the comments for you,” Chris gasps, crawling towards the computer to lay on his stomach, “How did we meet? Oi babe, do you wanna explain this?” he asks, twisting to look back at you slightly, his eyebrow raised.
“Oh um, I don’t know. You were at my café?” you shrug.
“You make it sound so unromantic,” he grimaces, turning back to the computer screen.
“Well it wasn’t really,” you frown, hopping off the couch to lie down beside him.
“Okay, I’ll tell them how we met then,” he grins, and you stare at him, wondering what kind of fabricated story he’s going to garble now. There’s no way he’s going to mention how he almost launched himself off a bridge and you stopped him.
“She saw me outside her café and I looked a little lost, so she asked if I needed help and she was so respectful and nice, offered me a croissant and drink for the road, and I was down bad.”
You roll your eyes at him and place your chin in your hands to read some comments. Surprisingly, there were more positive comments than negative, although the negative ones still made your stomach churn. Perhaps that one edit was right, Stay’s wouldn’t care if the Skz-Members started dating, they’d just be happy the members were getting bitches at all.
For a while, the pair of you take turns rebounding stories of your relationship, switching positions to the couch, to the floor to standing up and stretching frequently. Chris occasionally transitions into Korean, catering for his target audience’s needs, but he still translates for you, chuckling about how he should speak it more often at home so you can learn some too.
You’re asked how well you know the Stray Kids members, and a whole bunch of other questions that you ignore. You do your best to ignore the negative comments too, but they’re starting to get to you a little, and at some point the negative comments definitely outweigh the positive.
Chris pauses in the middle of trying to explain the context for the photos taken today, his eyes caught on a particular comment. He pushes himself up and reaches for the computer, scrolling back through the chat to locate it. As soon as he finds it, his expression goes resolute, and a little gasp escapes your mouth.
Go kill yourself.
You know with your whole heart that it’s directed towards you, but it doesn’t bother you as much as it should. Instead, the phrase stirs memories in your mind, positive you’ve heard it before. And of course you have, in your mind, the first time you saw Chris. You turn to try and read his expression, but it’s gone blank, his eyes void of emotion.
“Chan,” he doesn’t move at all, his eyes still locked on the comment, “Chris. Baby.”
You nudge him slightly, but it’s like his soul has completely left his body. He’s not even here anymore.
“Jagi. Babe. Channie,” you wriggle closer to him and whisper in his ear, “Christopher.”
He inhales sharply and turns to you, eyes foggy with confusion.
“Are you okay?” you quietly ask him, reaching over to rub his back comfortingly.
“Are you? We can stop if you want,” he pushes himself up into a seated position and crawls over to lean back on the couch. You follow, snuggling up to him, a dawning realisation emerging from the depths of who knows where, “I’m fine.”
It should have been obvious. It should have been painfully obvious. That voice was him right. On that day. He had seen a comment just like this one in a live. And that’s what he was doing on that bridge. Chris falls silent for the rest of the live, and you try your best to talk your way through it, drawing the computer closer to you after a while so you don’t have to lean forward to read the comments.
You yawn and check the time via the clock on the wall. It’s almost 12am. You peek at Chris, trying to signify that he should probably end the live, but his eyes are drifting shut, and his breathing has grown heavy.
“Yeah so… thank you Stays, for giving me the opportunity to meet you all.”
Chris’ head suddenly droops onto your shoulder, and you glance at him again, a small smile forming on your face, before you return to address the live.
“I hope… I hope you’ll all be supportive… of Chris and I… he means the world to me… and that might not mean much to you, because he definitely means the world to a lot of you as well,” you find yourself stroking the curls off his forehead, and in his semi-conscious state, he snuggles even closer, his lips forming words that are only just barely audible, “I love you.”
You turn back to the live, eyes wide in disbelief, wondering if he was loud enough for the live. Clearly he was, the chat has fallen apart again. You chuckle and kiss his head gently, “I love you too Chris.”
--
Later on, he wakes to a stiffness in his neck and back, his head still resting on your shoulder. He winces and sits up, eyeing your sleeping posture with your head resting up against the couch, his computer sitting in your lap.
“You should have woken me up…” he mumbles quietly, knowing full well that you could not hear a word, “I love you jagi… more than you know…” Chris sighs and shuffles over to you, sliding his laptop onto the floor. Carefully, he tucks a gentle hand around the back of your neck, supporting your head, the other in the crook of your knees. As quietly as he can, he hoists you up into his arms and steadily walks over to your bedroom.
He stumbles a bit as he tries to lay you down, and you stir slightly. Eventually, he manages to pull the covers over you, and he tucks you in neatly. You groan and mumble something incoherent, and he waits with bated breath, wondering if you’re going to wake up.
“I… could beat the shit out of you…” you murmur, and Chris allows himself a smile. He bends down and kisses you softly, his heart aching with all the words he wishes he could say, all the love he wishes he could give.
“You absolutely could… and the insane thing is… I would let you…” he softly whispers, then leaves your side to turn off the lights around the apartment.
He scoops up your laptop and his, puts them both on charge in the office and then goes on the hunt for his phone. He finds it not too far away from where your laptops were abandoned, and as soon as he clicks the screen to check for notifications, his heart sinks into his stomach, settling uncomfortably there at the sight of the messages.
He chooses to open the group chat first, smiling slightly at their words of encouragement. They were watching the live earlier, and continuing to tease him even through messages, providing running commentary.
The latest messages, however, make him hate his career for a second. Only for a second.
-
Jeongin: “the managers are saying you need to come back”
Jeongin: “now…”
Jeongin: “I think they’ve booked a flight for you”
-
Chris sighs and opens up the message from one of his managers. Sure enough, there’s a passive-aggressive request for him to return to Korea, a flight ticket attached. He clicks it to check the time of departure, and seethes when he realises the flight is in 2 hours. Jeongin wasn’t kidding when he said ‘now’.
He takes a moment to compose himself, already trying to work through his argument in his head, and starts to gather his belongings, turning on the lights again. They’re strewn out everywhere; wallet on the bench, clothes folded on the couch, composing gear in the studio, paperwork in the office. He rubs his face vigorously in his hands as he tries to fit them all nicely into his suitcase and travel bags.
“Chris…?” you yawn, head peeking tiredly out of your room. His heart cracks as he looks up at your drowsy state, unsure about how he should tell you he had to leave.
“Did I wake you? I’m sorry,” he sighs, standing up gingerly, his knees cracking, “try and go back to sleep, I’ll wake you up later.”
He gulps as you take in his gathered belongings, but your dazed expression doesn’t change.
“You weren’t planning on leaving without saying goodbye were you?” you mumble, walking over with a stretch and hugging him with a squeeze. Chris’ breath catches in his throat, and he wraps his arms securely around you. If only he could freeze time.
“I’d never do that to you, I just didn’t mean to wake you,” he sighs, swaying the pair of you gently.
“What time’s your flight?” you pull away from him with wide eyes, fully awake now. Chris’ jaw clenches, and he pulls out his phone to check the current time.
“In one and a half hours.”
“They couldn’t have given you more time?” you grimace, stepping away from him to pick up his possessions and start packing.
“Apparently not.”
After a minute of watching your silent movements, he goes back to packing, heart simultaneously swelling and shattering. He knows you’re thrown off by his sudden departure, a few days earlier than scheduled. He can tell by the way you zone out frequently as you pass him his clothes. He can tell by the way you stare absently at his laptop. He can tell by your carefully controlled expression, displaying no sadness, but a forced strength.
Chris doesn’t have to take everything that belongs to him. He returns as often as he can, so by this point he has his own toiletries here, his own drawer of clothes, his favourite snacks and drinks in the kitchen. He just wishes he didn’t have to leave his favourite belonging. You.
After another 15 minutes, he’s fully packed and he’s sitting on the couch with you tucked safely in his arms, basking in your warmth, but a little terrified in the fragility of the silence.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
You nod, knowing ‘as soon’ could mean anything from two weeks to six months.
“Don’t worry about anything okay? I promise… everything will be okay. JYP can’t do anything to my career, he needs me – and I’m going to use that as leverage.”
You nod again, mind on a completely different train of thought.
“I’m not going to lose you, I swear. I’m never going to let you go.” He takes his words quite literally this time.
He almost missed his flight.
Notes:
A/N: Yay…? Milestone Event 5 Check…?
Feedback is always appreciated, negative and positive alike. I apologise for any editing errors, I’m forever learning.
Until next read…
- Kaisowoo
Chapter 6: Heartbeat
Summary:
You break up with Chris :| Does he chase after you? Yes. Yes of course he does because it would be boring if he doesn't. There's also a fight, naturally.
!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!
Notes:
Chapter Notes: ANGST
Listen to this after if you want, it was the inspiration for half the fic hehe:
"heartbeat" - bts but it's raining and you're running after the love of your life who's leaving you
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7NoI3C1yv6Q
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
--
Notice Regarding Bang Chan’s Personal Life
Hello, this is JYPE.
Recently, there has been a great deal of speculation and discussion surrounding Bang Chan's long-distance relationship. We understand that our fans are concerned about his well-being and how this relationship may affect his commitments as an idol. We want to assure you that our highest priority is the well-being and professional responsibilities of our artists, including Bang Chan.
Due to the outlash of feedback received from the recently leaked photos of him with his significant other, he has been restricted from visiting his partner for the time being. We understand that this situation may raise questions and concerns among fans, and we appreciate your continued support and understanding.
We want to make it clear that Bang Chan's personal life, including his relationship, is his private matter. However, we believe in being transparent with our fans to address any concerns. We want to emphasise that this romantic relationship will not affect Bang Chan's performance, schedule, or duties as an idol. He remains fully committed to his career, his passion for music and his responsibilities as a member of Stray Kids remain unwavering.
JYP Entertainment will continue to provide Bang Chan with the necessary support and guidance to ensure that he can balance his personal life and professional obligations. We believe in nurturing a healthy work-life balance for our artists to ensure their well-being and success in their careers.
We kindly ask for your understanding and support during this time. Please continue to support Bang Chan and Stray Kids as they work hard to bring you great music and performances.
Thank you.
--
That was approximately four months ago. Chris had informed you of the situation as soon as he found out, and when you read the official notice, you couldn’t help but scowl at how supportive they were making themselves seem. What they were really hoping was that the separation would cause a shift in your relationship, and you’d break up. Not that it mattered, because that is exactly what was going to happen, what you had been planning from the beginning.
--
Chris flops into his studio chair, raking a hand through his hair in his exhaustion. It’s taking a toll on his health if he’s being honest. It’s paining him that he can’t call you as frequently as he’d like, can’t see you whenever he pleased, can’t hug you like you’re his teddy bear. He wondered how you were doing constantly; in the middle of dance rehearsals, working in his studio, posing for the camera, grinning in interviews.
He sighs and tugs his phone out of his pocket, opening up his camera roll and scrolling through his photos with you. His camera roll is half Stray Kids, half you. Eating ice cream, in the car, sitting on park benches together, at the beach, snuggled together in your apartment. His mind immediately relaxes as he scrolls through them all, reliving each memory he has with you. The heat from him officially announcing your relationship still hasn’t died down, and there are trucks with LED signs still rolling up frequently to the front of JYP. (A/N: Inspired by the uproar from losing Chan's Room irl obviously, in this world however, it still exists)
He checks the time on his wristwatch, and mentally calculates whether you’d be sleeping or not. He’s supposed to do Chan’s Room, but he wants to see you too. After a moment of contemplation, he seeks out your contact and hits the face time button. You answer after a second, immediately propping your phone up on the kitchen counter so you can move around.
“Hey, you okay?” you smile at him through the camera, and Chris grins back, admiring your adorably unkempt state: messy hair, PJs, bare face. He props you up on his computer monitor and leans back into his chair.
“Yeah ha. I just wanted to see you,” he shrugs, and you shake your head at him in amusement, “I thought you’d be asleep.”
You sigh and drag your chopping board into the camera, waving your knife around dramatically, “I’m kind of hungry.”
“Are you seriously cooking a whole ass meal at… 3am?” Chris laughs, dragging his chair closer to watch as you chop up vegetables and toss them into a pot.
“I was craving soup, and then I remembered I could satisfy my own cravings if I actually tried. Here, want a carrot?” you ask, picking up a slice and shoving it towards the camera. Chris giggles and opens his mouth. You blink in surprise when he grabs a carrot stick from off camera and munches on it, “Thanks for the carrot.”
“Who knew we were that in sync,” you laugh, shoving your carrot into your mouth and chewing happily.
“Stay with me?” he asks, finishing off his carrot as you go back to your cooking, “I’m going to do Chan’s Room now, but can you stay on call?”
“Sure.”
--
You had been stalling your decision for months now. It’s been half a year, and Chris still hasn’t been able to return to your side. To top this off, your trash can is ridiculously full of letters you haven’t even opened. In the beginning you would hesitantly tear open the mail, but the amount of hate and death threats you were receiving never seemed to stop, so Chris eventually ordered you to just stop reading them.
You figured some people had recognised you thanks to the Skz-Code episode. Although you weren't part of the episode itself, people picked up on you as the owner of the Café when they visited. This knowledge was slightly scary, but... you'd manage.
Sometimes, when your mood wasn’t the best, you would pluck a letter out at random. The words within it only confirmed your reason for ever thinking of breaking up with him. Your socials and emails were swamped with them too.
Chris couldn’t go live without people asking him about you, both in a positive or negative way. Stray Kids’ couldn’t go anywhere or do anything without someone asking about how the relationship was panning it out, and you were tired of hearing Chris calmly explain exactly what the official notice from JYP had stated. You could tell he was sick of it too. As time wore on, you noticed more and more in Chris’ demeanour, in Skz-Talker, award shows, back-stage footage, he had grown reserved, silent.
He was captured spending time on his phone often, in an irritable mood more frequently, and the Stray Kids members often gave you updates on his moods, behind his back. He really only seemed happy when he was talking with you, or messaging you. And that… as an idol? No that’s not allowed. You frown at the image Jisung had just sent you: a picture of Chris sitting on a bench up against the wall of the dance room, staring off into space, his posture deflated.
-
(A/N: When the dialogue is in script format, it's meant to represent text messages)
Jisung: “He feels different”
You: “I’ve noticed”
Jisung: “he really misses you”
You: “I know Jisung”
You: “I miss him too”
Jisung: “JYP is mean”
You: “Chris just needs to snap out of it”
You: “He’s an idol first and foremost”
Jisung: “I think he just wants to be yours”
Jisung: “First and foremost”
You: “Yeah but he can’t just give up on his life like this”
You: “not for me, not for anyone”
You: “he worked too hard for this”
You: “suffered too much”
Jisung: “this is the worst he’s ever suffered”
You: “no it’s not”
Jisung: “I think it is”
You: “Jisung, tell him I said he needs to remember who he is”
Jisung: “he said he knows who he is”
You: “who is he?”
Jisung: “I’m not going to tell you what he said”
You: “why?”
Jisung: “You’ll just get mad”
You: “…”
Jisung: “I think he’d give up everything for you”
Jisung: “JYP spoke with him again today”
Jisung: “I think that’s why his mood has worsened”
You: “… Me or Skz???”
You: “Ji?”
-
You sigh and rub your temples, trying to ease the migraine that’s forming. Jisung’s left you on read, and you know exactly what that means. This is it. The tears that you’ve been holding back ever since you first considered it start to fall. The tears that you’ve buried deep down into your soul flood out. They’ve been hiding there, threatening to return, ever since he bought you those skittles.
Your sobs rack through you, chest heaving, as your bottled-up emotions explode out of you in waves. You’re laughing through your tears now; sobbing, quietly screaming, laughing, all at once. You didn’t cry as you packed up your suitcase, didn’t cry as Ashley hugged you tightly, before she signed the official transfer papers. You never cried while you were on call with Chris, or as you read his sweet messages in the morning. Never cried at how miserable he looked on screen, never cried as you packed up your decorations and belongings. Never cried as you bid your official farewell to your regulars, and hosted Ashley’s take over celebration.
And now you were crying, and oh how it hurt.
Ashley peeks her head around the bedroom door. She had recently moved into your apartment, preparing for your departure. Ashley was the owner of Café Studio now. She would live in your apartment, and she would take care of the business. You reached for her desperately, needing someone, anyone to support you. She walks over and pulls you into a tight embrace. You curl up against her, burying yourself into her neck, sobbing wholeheartedly.
“Are you sure… this is the right thing to do…?” she quietly asks, patting your back. You bitterly laugh and wipe away your tears, trying to still your erratic breathing. She’d asked you the same question countlessly over the past few months, but you were stubborn in your decision.
Chris’ declining attitude and personality change was only confirmation that you needed to get out of his life, so that he could return to being the wonderful idol that he was before he met you. You’d go home, back to Australia (A/N: Australia because the irony for Chris) and take a few months to reset with your family. You’d already applied for a course at university, finally pursuing the path your parents had initially wanted you to take. You had really wanted to try the Café first though, wanted to make your dream a reality. Things would work out okay. You sniffle and pull away from Ashley, who’s expression is filled with nothing but pity. It was time for you to disappear.
Most of your belongings had already been shipped back home, and your parents had been keeping up to date with your relationship via the internet. You had eventually informed them of your relationship with Chris, worried that they would first find out via the spam of the internet. Tears almost spill again when you realise you’ve never really spoken to Chris about your family, never had the opportunity to introduce him to them. All you’ve ever told him is that you have two younger brothers.
You disappear into the office, leaving Ashley sitting by herself on the couch, and open up your laptop, immediately booking the first flight you see over to Perth. It leaves in… 2 hours.
--
Are you ready, reader? Yeah sorry, Kaiwoo here to ruin your lovely reading experience to speed up things. I love writing don’t get me wrong, but I can be a lazy ass sometimes, so I’m going to give the following events to you straight.
You try to call him, a couple of days after you’ve returned home, having finally worked up the courage to explain what you’ve done. You’re a coward, really, fleeing the country before even talking to him about it.
In all honesty, he’s probably already picked up on your absence. You haven’t actively messaged him or called him yourself over the past couple of days, only responding to his messages and answering his calls for brief conversations. He probably knows what’s up.
I lied. He doesn’t. He’s been as busy as ever, and he’s been pushing himself harder lately, trying to distract himself from you. JYP did speak to him, but it wasn’t anything to do with an ultimatum. JYP had spoken to him about his declining performance, told him to get his shit together – and he fell into an existential crisis for a little while.
Jisung left you on read because he assumed Chris was given an ultimatum. So all in all, this just comes down to communication errors. Communicating long distance is always hard though. He hasn’t noticed that your efforts into communicating with him have lessened. Which is exactly why, what you’ve done to him… will end him.
“You can end me whenever you want love. Just as long as it’s you doing it.
”You pinch him lightly with an amused laugh, “You’re such a cheesy ass.”
“Only for you~” he laughs, the vibrations from his throat rippling through you.
“I… could beat the shit out of you…” you murmur, and Chris allows himself a smile. He bends down and kisses you softly, his heart aching with all the words he wishes he could say, all the love he wishes he could give.
“You absolutely could… and the insane thing is… I would let you…” he softly whispers, then leaves your side to turn off the lights around the apartment.
Hm. That panned out well, don’t you think?
--
Chris bows in thanks to the other dancers in the room, wiping the sweat off his forehead and throwing his jacket over his shoulder.
“Thank you guys, great work today everyone,” he smiles, patting those closest on the back with confidence. The rest of Stray Kids are finishing up their thanks as well, and are gathering their belongings, having finally finished another exhausting dance practice session. The room empties of other dancers, leaving just Chris and his Kids’ alone.
Minho and Jisung are talking quietly with one another, Hyunjin still trying to perfect a difficult dance move. Changbin gulping down a whole bottle of water, Felix sprawled out in a star on the floor. Seungmin and Jeongin are sitting crossed legged by the wall, staring at everyone in a tired and dazed state, fluffy hair sticking out everywhere.
“Anyone hungry for chicken?” Changbin asks, addressing the group as a whole. There are a few murmurs of assent, and Minho states that he’ll order some. They begin to chatter about what to order, drinks included.
Chris is staring at his phone, smiling at the notifications from you, unaware of the conversation around him. There’s two missed calls and one voice message. You’ve never left him a voice message before. Excited to hear what was so urgent that you had to leave a voice message, he turns his volume up so he can hear you over the noise of the Kids’ and activates his message bank.
[You have one new message]
He places his phone on top of the mini fridge and grabs a bottle of water, taking a generous gulp as he waits for the audio to play.
[Let’s…]
He slowly lowers the bottle at the tone of your voice, the hesitancy.
[break up.]
His body stiffens and his eyes widen, his heart skipping a beat.
[I’ve been thinking about it for a while.]
Chris blinks and his mouth parts in surprise, his breathing starting to intensify.
[Let’s break up.]
By now, the Kids’ have fallen silent, all of them watching Chris. All of them grasping the situation. All of their hearts cracking at the sight of their frozen leader. Chris is blinking rapidly, tears welling in the corner of his eyes. This can’t be happening.
[It’s not that you’ve done anything wrong.] [It’s not that our love lacks anything either.]
“No-” Chris murmurs, his hand shaking around the bottle he’s still holding.
[It’s just that… in some cases… love can only continue to a certain point.]
Chris’ other hand drifts to cover his mouth, shaking, a fragile gasp escaping his lips. The members drift over to him, surrounding him in a comforting hug.
He needs it. He makes no move to hug them back, makes no move as Seungmin eases the water out of his grasp. His hands lock at his sides as they lean into him. They can tell he’s fighting so hard to keep his tears at bay.
[So please don’t try to look for me…] [So that I can leave with good memories of you.]
Chris’ vision is blurry. His face is crumpled in an expression that almost makes him look mad. He really is, fighting with himself.
[Please don’t try to look for me.]
He’s trembling. His entire world is collapsing. Piece by piece. Memory by memory. All of it floods through his mind.
[I.. too… cherish you very much.]
He stumbles forwards, his breathing erratic, and the members watch as he snatches his phone from the fridge, the voice message still playing, and grabs the door handle to leave.
[So that’s why, I’m going to stop it here.]
Chris chokes back a pathetic sob and swings open the door, sprinting off, his jacket flying off his shoulders and landing on the floor.
It’s pouring rain outside. At least no one can see his tears.
It leaves me feeling seasick, baby
Chris bursts out of the JYP building, ignoring the yells of managers, trainees and staff alike. Immediately, he’s drenched from head to toe, but he couldn’t care less. The water seeps straight through to his bones, and he looks around desperately, like he’s searching for you – but obviously you’re not here. He unlocks his phone and calls you, the rain spattering the screen with droplets.
“Pick up,” his mind delirious, his teeth clenched, drawing in heavy breaths, “pick up pick up pickuppickuppickup- answer your fucking phone!” he dials you again and takes off at a sprint, running along the footpath, the rain pelting him. He can barely see where he’s going, his hair slick on his forehead.
Seems like I'm locked deep in the dreamlike reality
He’s called you about five times, panting in the rain before the thought crosses his mind. Chris swivels himself back around and sprints back to the JYP building, swerving past people in umbrella’s. He couldn’t care less about the water that he’s dripping everywhere on the floor, couldn’t care less about the surprised yells of employees as he pushes past them. He bounds up the steps, skipping as many as possible, the burn in his legs already growing, and bursts into JYP’s Office without even knocking.
“What did you say to her?” he asks, frantic, eyes flickering with pain.
“Say to who?” JYP frowns, the conversation he was having with a trainee coming to an abrupt stop.
“Y/N. What did you say to her?” Chris repeats, growing impatient.
“I have not… said anything…” JYP deadpans, offering a sympathetic shrug.
It spins me 'round and drives me crazy
Chris is back out in the rain. He didn’t waste a second after those words left JYP’s mouth, turning tail and dashing back out of the building again. He was meant to head back to the dorms, but he’s been running around in circles, trying to process, trying to think. He stops in the middle of a nearby park, hyperventilating, letting the tears fall from his eyes straight to the ground, his hands braced on his knees.
“Why…? Why why why? You can’t do this to me,” he sobs, swiping the water from his phone screen again to dial your number for the nth time.
It seems that I'm like the moon in the midday
“Good morning sunshine…” he happily chirps, the familiar endearment causing you to smile happily. This time though, you have an idea.
“Good morning moonlight,” your smile intensifies as Chris pauses, stunned, and you wriggle your way into a seated position, forcing him to do the same.
“Moonlight?” he questions, his voice cracking slightly in the early morning.
“Yeah. Moonlight. ‘Cause even in the darkness you still shine.”
Chris blinks at you, then after a second, grabs your arm to pull you into his lap, “Okay sure,” he pecks the top of your head, a favourite action of his, “but you got one thing wrong. If you’re my sunshine and I’m your moonlight… then I shine because you do.”
If I was only by myself
“Don’t leave me. You can’t leave me. You can’t-” Chris sinks down onto his knees, burying his face into his hands. The rain is beginning to die down, but that doesn’t matter to him. A whine escapes him, against his will, and it turns into a drawn-out moan as he collapses in on himself, a lone man in the middle of an even lonelier park.
If I didn't know you
“I need you. I need- why would you-” he looks at his phone again, then in his frustration, throws it into the nearby bush. He’s pacing around on the footpath in a panic, raking his hands over and over through his hair, tugging at it, his eyes puffy with tears, bottom lip trembling. He curses and scrambles around in the bush, plucking his phone out and shoving it into his pocket.
Maybe I'd have given up
Chris takes off into another sprint, his body needing to do something, trying to feel some other kind of pain that isn’t in his heart. Eventually, he stumbles into the wall of a building, desperately needing it for support, gasping for air.
“Why would you-” his voice cracks into a dry scream, hammering his fist on the wall once, his forehead resting against the cold brick.
Lost at sea
That was him. The idiot leaning too far over the railing was the one whispering nonsense in your brain. How you came to this conclusion was to anyone’s guess, but it was him. In the seconds it had taken you to sprint over to him, he had clambered on top of the railing, balancing precariously, his hands in his hoodie pockets, gazing into the depths of the water.
But my heart's still on fire
With a burning desire
Gonna get you back like it's
destined
He flinches at the sound of a car horn rapidly honking, and he pushes himself off the wall to locate it.
“Yah! Hyung! Get in!” Minho yells, waving at him from the driver’s seat of one of the company cars. Chris shakes his head slowly, leaning back onto the wall, not in the mood to be sitting in a car with anyone. Needing instead to punish himself, make his body sore, let his throat go raw with his screams and his sobs.
“Okay, I guess you don’t want a lift to the airport then!” he yells again, winding up the window with a raise of his eyebrows. Chris lets out an exasperated laugh, annoyed with himself, his mind clearing.
“Okay okay okay. I won’t pay. You can let me go,” you fuss, wriggling in his grasp, but he sighs and hugs you tighter.
“Never. Will never let you go,” he mumbles, kissing the back of your head affectionately.
I wish that you would love me
The car is practically silent as Minho drives, silent except for Chris’ sniffles. He’s staring off into space, and Minho’s worry for his elder only intensifies the longer they drive for, his eyes frequently flickering from his leader back to the road. A ringtone reverberates through the car, and Minho answers by pressing a button on the steering wheel.
“Yeah?”
“’Lix booked a flight ticket, tell Chan hyung it’s Gate 21, Flight FR3421, and leaves in an hour.” Changbin responds, the sound of his hurried footsteps echoing through the phone as he walks.
“He’s here, I have him. He can hear you,” Minho calmly states, and Changbin makes a noise of acknowledgement before continuing on, “Jisung’s explaining things to JYP, I’m headed there now.”
The sound of a door opening is heard, and then even louder, the voices of JYP and Jisung arguing.
Like yesterday, don't let go of this hand ever again
Chris’ hand sneakily slips into yours, and he places it neatly on his thigh, carefully stroking your knuckles. This shakes you out of your reverie, and you glance at your linked hands, a small smile gracing your features.
And every time my heart beats Match your steps so you don't wander around ever agai n
He’s going to find you. He doesn’t give a shit about how mad JYP will be. Doesn’t give two fucks about his schedule. He will find you. And he’ll never, never let you go.
--
I’m interrupting again, I do apologise. I unfortunately have run out of the mental capacity to continue writing like this. My heart, my mind, my soul can’t handle it. Chris gets on the plane, and he tries to sleep. He suffers really bad nightmares, and suddenly that strange occurrence is back. People are dying again. In his dreams though. Stays are dying again. He wakes up with a start and coughs up blood, it drips out of his hand and onto his clothes, and he’s shaking, trembling, wracked with fear and hurt and pain.
He needs you.
--
Chris thanks the taxi driver, pressing his phone to the EFTPOS through the car window and hoists his bag higher on his shoulder. Hyunjin had stuffed his bag with basic necessities and passed it on to Minho to take with him as he went on the hunt for Chris. The shutters are pulled down on your café. You must have just recently closed, it’s only 11.17pm.
After a brief hesitation, he hammers on the café door. When there’s no response, he takes a step back, searches for a pebble on the ground, aims, and throws it up at your apartment window. It takes him a couple of tries, but Ashley’s head suddenly peeks out. Her eyes widen as she recognises Chris, and she immediately disappears.
Chris’ confusion only mounts when Ashley pulls up the shutter and opens the door, the keys jangling in the lock.
“Where is-” he begins, but Ashley swiftly interrupts him, “She’s not here.”
The young girl suggests that Chris comes inside, asking him twice because Chris’ mind has stopped working again.
“What do you mean she’s not- she has to be,” he pleads and Ashley sighs, holding the door wider for him. Chris’ legs feel heavy as he walks into the café and follows Ashley upstairs to your apartment.
“I… I own this place now… I live here,” Ashley begins, cautiously analysing Chris’ expression. His breath is immediately wiped out of his lungs at the obvious lack of your presence. Your decorations are gone, your photo frames vanished, every essence of you eradicated from the apartment.
“Where… where is she…?” Chris murmurs, his bag slipping from his shoulders and down onto the floor. Ashley hums sadly, bouncing on the balls of her feet with her hands behind her back. Chris slowly turns towards Ashley, struggling to confirm coherent words, “Where- where did she go?”
Ashley sighs and clasps her hands together sadly, “She didn’t want me to tell you this… but quite honestly, I was never a supporter of this plan in the first place.”
“This was a plan?”
“Been planned right from the start of it all. Since the skittles, she said. She’s home now.”
“Home? This is her home. She should be- her home is with me.”
Ashley shakes her head and disappears into her bedroom, your bedroom, Chris’ gaze lingering on her retreating form. After a minute, Ashley returns with a cardboard box in her arms.
“These are yours… your possessions. She wanted me to throw them out but… I… didn’t have the heart to,” she hands Chris the box, and he opens the lid hesitantly, blinking back tears.
His clothes, his toiletries, his snacks, his drinks.
“Where is she?” he asks again, asking for a more specific answer, “Where’s her home?”
“She’s with her family, back in Australia… Perth.”
Chris inhales sharply and stalks over to the couch to place the cardboard box there. He whips out his phone and types out a quick message to the Stray Kids’ group chat, letting them know of his current situation.
-
Jisung: “Go get her. I’ll fight with JYP again, no problem.”
-
The rest of the Kids’ react to Jisung’s message with a thumbs up.
-
Changbin: “I’ll beat his ass this time.”
-
Message's of agreement follow, and Chris manages a small smile.
“I’m not going to give you her address until you rest,” Ashley stubbornly states, assuming that Chris is booking a flight to Perth, “She’d want you to rest.”
Chris contemplates Ashley’s words, glancing at her outstretched hand. A wave of exhaustion crashes over him then, and he nods in assent, handing his phone over to her.
“No booking flights until tomorrow. Go wash up and get some sleep,” Ashley commands, walking over to place his phone on the kitchen counter.
He spends most of his time standing in the shower, staring at the wall, his brain foggier than the steaming glass windows. He’s absently fiddling with a bracelet on his wrist.
“Happy Birthday Christopher~”
“What’s this?”
“It’s a gift for me, obviously.”
“Alright, you goose. Stupid question. Can I… open it?”
“Of fucking course.”
"…"
“It’s got my name on the underside… so you can carry me wherever you go.”
“I love you.”
“I know.”
“Oi! C’mere you little shit, say it back!”
“Happy BirthdayyyyyyyyyyAHH! DON’T TICKLE ME!”
When he finally gets out of the shower, changing into one of his hoodies from the cardboard box of his belongings, he finds Ashley lying down on the couch, blankets draped on top of her, scrolling on her phone.
“I’ll sleep on the couch. What’re you doing?” Chris asks, towelling his hair. Ashley lowers her phone and frowns at him, “It’s fine. You can take the bed.”
“I don’t think I can…” Chris whispers, and Ashley nods in understanding.
“I thought you might like to… I haven't washed the sheets yet because they… they still smell like her…”
“Oh,” Chris falters, swallowing thickly.
“I just thought- that it’d help you sleep better. I know it helps me sleep better… I… I miss her too…” Ashley smiles softly, going back to scrolling on her phone.
“You miss her?’ Chris asks, his voice croaky.
“She’s like an older sister. Of course I miss her.”
“Oh.”
They do… smell like you. But it’s not you.
--
Chris clicks open his phone, reading the text message from Ashley. She’s finally sent him your address using his recently traded phone number. He sighs and leans back into his plane seat, fiddling with that bracelet again. He’s trying to work through what he’s going to say to you when he finally sees you again. His gaze is unfocused as he stares out of the plane window, watching the clouds drift lazily past, the world small, insignificant.
Fear courses through him, and he sits up straighter, the back of his neck prickling, goosebumps emerging everywhere. His breath seizes in his throat as the barrel of a gun is pressed to the side of his head, cold and hard, digging painfully into his skin. He looks around in a panic, irises blown out and terrified, but of course – there’s no actual gun at his head. Chris’ hands grip his armrests tightly, his knuckles white, as a voice, echoey and distant, murmurs in his mind.
“Just pull the trigger and it’s done… it’s as easy as that…”
Chris’ breath returns in ragged huffs, his heart screaming in his chest, eyes flickering with horror.
“Please,” Chris begs, his voice coming out in a pitiful whine, “Please, not this again. Please.”
--
I’ll help you out here, since I’ve been a lazy author and haven’t been keeping you up to date with Chris’ strange condition much. This strange connection to suicidal Stays ceased to exist when he met you. They only visited him in nightmares, but even then, they eventually stopped too. It’s only just recently that they’ve returned… ever since you’ve left him. Ever since you’ve denied him your love. This time is different though, this time the symptoms are more severe.
I suppose… you can think of it like this – imagine you’ve been tortured for a long time, and then eventually you find release, you find freedom. Wouldn’t it be 10x worse if suddenly you’re thrown back into this torture? Thrown back in after finally having a taste of freedom? Yeah. I think it would be.
--
Chris hears the click of the trigger, loud next to his ear. There’s a brief bang, which makes him flinch, a stabbing pain in the side of his skull, and he’s gone. He’s dead. You can forget about his mission to find you. You can forget about his heartbeat, his thoughts, his soul. He’s dead. Died at the same time someone else in the world shot a bullet through their brain. He’s dead.
“Excuse me? Sir, please wake up. Sir! Natalie! Go get a med kit! Quickly!”
Chris stirs, his head groggy as his eyes drift open. His vision is blurred, so even when he turns his head to stare at the person gripping his shoulder tightly, he can’t tell who it is.
“What…?” he mumbles as if someone’s just woken him from his peaceful sleep, and the flight attendant turns back to him in shock.
“It’s alright sir, just sit still don’t move your head. I’m just going to apply pressure to the wound okay?” she murmurs, grabbing a cloth off another flight attendant and pressing it to the side of his skull.
“What?” Chris asks again, his vision clearing.
“Sir, you’re bleeding,” she states, staring at him in confusion. She retracts her other hand to show the blood coated all over it.
“Am I?” he asks, and his senses fully return to him, panic gripping him as he feels his blood trickling past his ear, dripping everywhere on his seat, a strange throbbing in his skull. He bolts out of his seat, shoving past the attendant and dashes down the lane to lock himself in the bathroom.
In record time, someone’s banging on the door, urging him to come out so he can be tended to, and that he’s bleeding severely and should seek medical help. Chris ignores them and stares at himself in the mirror. He’s been shot. He dips a shaking hand into the blood oozing out of his skull, retching at its stickiness.
“What the fuck?” he wheezes, stumbling forwards to support his quivering self on the sink, nausea slamming into him. He retches again, leaning forwards into the sink, preparing for the vomit. Nothing comes though, and when he looks up into the mirror again, suddenly he’s just staring at himself – tired, trembling with fear, but nothing much else.
His hand zooms up to his head again, but there’s no blood. There’s no bullet wound. Just him.
“What the actual fuck?” Chris repeats again, groaning and slamming his forehead into the mirror (A/N: Please help me, I actually don’t think there are bathroom mirrors on planes but just fckn pretend there is because it was necessary). Eventually, he scoffs and pushes himself up, fixing his hair to make it look a little less ruffled.
“That’s fucking new,” he growls, glaring at himself in the mirror, then up above, as though he’s blaming a higher entity for his suffering. He takes a deep breath and finally notices that the knocking on the bathroom door has stopped, and instead he can hear panicked whispers.
“I don’t understand, where did the blood go? My hand was covered in blood, where did it-”
“No, I know I saw it, I gave you the cloth to-”
Chris unlocks the bathroom door and swings it open, staring at the flight attendants with a hesitant grin, “Sorry ladies, did you need the bathroom?”
Their jaws fall open in shock at the sight of him, unwounded, unphased.
“No you- your head was bleeding badly just a second ago,” One of them stutters. Chris frowns and stares at them like they’re insane, then steps out of the bathroom and closes the door slowly, “I… think I’d know… if my head was… bleeding. Are you guys okay?”
They blink at him, stunned. Then clear their throats nervously and turn to stare at each other before muttering, “Do you think we’re just tired?”
Chris shrugs apologetically, gives them a little bow and turns away to return to his seat. Behind his back, they continue to talk, “How can we both possibly hallucinate the same thing though?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Let’s just… yeah let’s go rotate… I think we need more sleep.”
He’d always wondered what would happen if you were ever to leave his side. He’d never figured out whether the suicidal connections stopped because of you, or if it was purely coincidental. If there was any silver lining to this situation, it would be that he now knows that he needs you. He wants you and he needs you. Please. Come back to him.
--
Chris gulps as he drags his suitcase to a stop in front of your family home, double-checking the address on his phone. His heart is beating frantically, and he can’t tell if it’s from nerves or excitement. The sun is warm on his back, but at the same time it prickles his skin, sizzling it with an uncomfortable anticipation.
Slowly, he meanders his way up the driveway, admiring the red and yellow kangaroo paw framing its outline. It’s almost a relief when he steps under the shade of the front patio, welcoming the protection from the sun. After a steadying breath, he presses his finger to the doorbell, head tilting at the sound of it ringing from inside. There’s some muted shuffling, brief yelling and then the door clicks open. Standing in the doorway is someone who isn’t you but could basically be a duplicate of you.
Her hair through to her eyes, height through to her smile; it’s so shockingly similar to yours that Chris almost breathes your name. Eventually, his mind corrects itself and he notices the wrinkles lining her expression, the mole on the wrong spot, the different jawline.
He’s just met your mother.
“Hi, are you alright? Can I help you?” she asks, blinking at him through the screen door. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but as he thinks over it, he probably should have expected it. He hadn’t prepared himself to come face to face with one of your parents. Her eyes flicker over the backpack and suitcase behind him, and she squints, an idea formulating in her mind.
“You’re… Christopher right?” she frowns, just as he opens his mouth to introduce himself.
“I’m- yes- I’m- yeah that’s me…” he responds, his voice feebly dying in his throat. Your mother swivels around on her heels and calls over her shoulder.
“Noah honey, Chris is here can you pop the kettle on!?” Then with a swift click, she unlocks the screen door and swings it wide, smiling gently at Chris.
“Who’s here?!” Noah yells back, and your Mum rolls her eyes.
“Christopher! Y/N’s boyfriend!” she shakes her head and returns her attention to Chris, who’s standing frozen, a little confused and disoriented, “Sorry about the yelling love, come in, come in.”
Chris fumbles for his suitcase behind him, but your Mum gestures again, “Oh don’t worry about that, I’ll grab that. You just make yourself at home.”
Chris hesitates but catches a familiar glimmer in her eyes and thinks better of it.
Once inside, he takes note of the shoes gathered neatly by the corner and takes his own off before leaving the inside doormat, carefully placing them to the side.
“Just walk straight through to the living room, my husband will bring you a coffee-”
Chris swivels around and opens his mouth to explain that he doesn’t drink coffee, or tea, but your Mum slaps her forehead in realisation and chatters on, “Oh dearie me, you don’t drink coffee do you love? NOAH!”
“Yes honey?!”
“Have we got any pineapple juice in the fridge?!” she yells again, and Chris can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed at being stuck in the middle of a conversation being yelled across the house.
And… how did she know about… pineapple juice being one of his favourites…
“My name’s Kiara love, Kia works fine though,” she explains, dragging his suitcase inside and shutting the door with her foot.
“I don’t mean to intrude-” Chris begins, hands tightening on his bag straps.
“Oh nonsense my dear boy. You’ve won me some money,” she waves at him, squeezing past and leading him into the lounge room where Noah is setting a glass of pineapple juice and a hazelnut croissant on the coffee table.
“That’s not how you should be welcoming him, Ki,” Noah scoffs, eyeing his wife pointedly, “There’s no need to involve our bets. Leave the poor man alone.”
“This poor man has his priorities straight,” Kiara scoffs back, rolling Chris’ suitcase to a stop beside the couch, then shuffling over in her fluffy grey indoor slippers to take his bag off him. Chris doesn’t really want to know what the bet is about. He could probably guess, so instead he stares at Kiara’s slippers, bewilderment melting into embarrassment.
“Are those… Wolfchan-” he begins as Kiara plonks his bag down next to his suitcase.
“Hm? These?” she asks, lifting a foot up, “Yeah. I bought them for Y/N years back, but then she left, forgot to pack these and then said I could use them because we’re the same size. They’re super comfy too.”
Chris’ heart falters at the mention of your name, and Noah seems to notice this, for he pats the couch next to him with a small smile. Chris slowly sits down and accepts the pineapple juice, taking a tiny sip.
“If you have anything to say son, then you’re welcome to. However, I’ll just point out that there’s no need to introduce yourself or explain why you’re here. Y/N told us everything.”
Chris nods and takes a deep breath, eyeing the hazelnut croissant with disdain. Did they know about the significance of that croissant too? Looking at it makes his heart ache.
“I can’t… I can’t lose her,” he eventually breathes, and Kiara sits down on his other side.
“We know sweetie… and I think it’s quite admirable that you’ve flown all this way to find her,” she nods, placing a tentative hand on his back.
“Yeah well… I had no choice she wouldn’t- she’s not answering my calls… or my messages,” Chris sets the glass down and urges himself to not cry. No crying, especially not in front of your parents. Enough.
“At least she didn’t block you. It’s a sign that she hasn’t completely let go yet either, so just try your hardest son. I know my daughter is stubborn, she gets that from me unfortunately, but if you try hard enough…” Noah rambles, his hands wildly gesturing, but eventually lapses into silence.
“Where is she?” Chris eventually asks, dreading the question. He resents the way it sounds coming out of his mouth, broken and vulnerable. He resents that every time he has asked, he’s come up short, people telling him they know nothing, or she’s not here. He resents having to ask the question at all.
“She’s out with Oliver right now, but she’ll be home soon, don’t worry,” Kiara chirps, rubbing his back comfortingly.
“The dog Kiara. The dog. She’s taken Oli, our Aussie Shepherd, out for a walk,” Noah adds, and Chris can’t help but crack a small smile as Kiara rolls her eyes and Noah continues, “What’re you trying to do? Spark a fight out of jealousy? Oliver’s a dog, not a human.”
“Oh give it a rest honey, I’m sure Chris doesn’t get jealous that easily.”
Chris picks up his drink again and takes a generous sip, deciding it better to let Kiara believe that to be true. He does, sometimes… get jealous.
“Now, I know you love our girl. That much is obvious,” Noah grins, “But I want to know why you need her in your life.”
Chris frowns at the question, his hand digging into the holes of his ripped jeans, and at his confusion, Noah elaborates, “You can love someone, but still let them go, simply because you do love them. I want to know why you love her and need her in your life.”
He thinks he understands the question now, and before he can even think his mouth is spilling words.
“She makes me happy. I know my career is rough, it’s chaotic, it’s strenuous. But the days that I do get to see her are the best days of my life. She’s never expected anything of me. She’s never held me in high regard just because I’m an idol. She sees me as me. I’m just Chris to her.
“Sometimes I look at her, and I can see snippets of myself – the way she treats her customers, the way she tackles her work, the way she loves. And I- she gives me a reason to love myself. Through loving her, I’m learning to love myself. I feel loved, when I’m with her. And the world is okay. It’s full of love. And suddenly I want all this love to go to her.
“Her smile makes me smile. Her laugh does that too. I’m never going to forget that look in her eyes when she’s listening to me talk about my day. And now- I-” Chris can feel himself cracking, his voice breaking as he tries to continue, and a realisation hits him so hard that he has to stop talking. When he finally continues, his voice is barely a whisper, “And I would do anything in the world to see her smile and her eyes and even her attitude… replicated in our kids. But I can’t- they won’t exist if she doesn’t- if I can’t-”
Chris takes a shuddering breath and stops himself. He’s not going to say anything else. If he continues he genuinely won’t be able to contain his emotions. “I think you should probably marry her first,” Noah smiles, “And you have our blessing for that.”
Chris chuckles, the laugh escaping from who knows where. Thanks Noah.
“What do you mean our blessing, we hardly know Chris yet and you’re already saying they can marry?” Kiara frowns, and Noah sighs.
“Kiara, my love. You were the one who bet on him trying to find our daughter, I thought you’d agree.”
"Hold your horses, I was only kidding.”
“You need to work on your timing, that was not a great time to kid.”
Chris is only half paying attention to their banter. His reason? He’s heard you, and now his brain is selectively tuning out your parents, instead fixating on the laughter in your voice.
“Oli! C’mere boy let me take that leash off you hey?”
Chris slowly stands up, in a daze, and your parents quieten, watching as he progresses around the corner following the sound of your voice. When he sees you, he doesn’t know how he feels. Excitement? Fear? Trepidation? Relief? You on your knees, smiling as you unclip your dogs leash. You, so close, yet so far away, separated by a glass door.
Eventually, you look up. The surprise that flickers across your features at the sight of him standing beyond the glass door swiftly vanishes, replaced instead with a cold harshness. A look that makes him feel like he’s lost. He’s lost you. You drop the leash onto the outside table, then seem to contemplate him. When you slide the door open, Chris doesn’t know what to do, what to say, his rehearsed lines flying out the window.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” You seethe, sliding the door shut behind you forcefully.
“I’m here for you,” Chris croaks out, and your jaw clenches.
(A/N: Please tell me someone remembers this parallel. It hurts me.)
“How did you even-” you pause and sigh in resignation, “Ashley.”
Then with a final glare directed towards him, you stalk past, ignoring him as he mutters your name repeatedly.
Immediately, you notice the pineapple juice and untouched croissant on the coffee table (A/N: And this parallel, the croissant guys), but your parents are nowhere to be seen.
“Can we talk? Please?” Chris asks, following you as you scoop up the food and drink and unceremoniously dump them in the kitchen.
“Go home Christopher,” you scoff, rummaging around in a basket full of vehicle keys.
“Home? I am home.”
“No, you’re not. You’re in my house.”
“It’s technically your parents-”
“I don’t give a shit about technicalities, you’re in my house and you’re not meant to be. Get the fuck out,” you hiss, your voice rising. Chris stares at you, his soul evidently shattering piece by piece.
“I don’t understand,” he murmurs, his voice broken.
“What’s there to understand?” you sigh, rubbing your forehead in frustration.
“Why did you- why are you here, why did you leave… me?”
“I broke up with you the way that I did so we wouldn’t have to go through this. I did that because- I said that I cherished you did I not? I didn’t want to go through this. This fight. This-”
“Then don’t fight. We don’t have to fight, just come back to me.”
You grit your teeth and brush past him again, scanning the dining table, looking for something, ignoring him.
“Why did you leave? I told you to not think about leaving under any circumstance, I said I would sort it out and I did. So why the fuck did you leave me? Why did you run? Why did you disappear? You left without warning, you left nothing behind. All I got was the worst fucking voicemail of my entire life and you expected me to just- live with that?!”
You breathe through your nose heavily and turn back to him, a fire burning in your eyes, “I thought you said you didn’t want to fight?”
“I’m the one fighting here, I’m the one fighting for you. But I want to know why. Why am I fighting for you? I thought everything was fine. I thought-”
Finally, you crack, your voice exploding in a yell, “I LEFT BECAUSE I COULDN’T MAKE YOU CHOOSE BETWEEN STRAY KIDS OR ME!”
Chris falls silent, staring as you pull out a chair and sit down, defeated.
“I left because I knew you’d choose me. I knew you’d choose me over the career you’ve lost blood and tears for. And I couldn’t do that to you.”
“That’s not a decision for you to make,” Chris growls, his fists clenching by his side.
“Yeah? Well I made it my decision to make.”
“I can live, with both Stray Kids and you in my life. That is not a problem. There was no need to-”
“Oh it’s not? It’s not a problem Chris?” You snap, standing back up and continuing your search for whatever… it is that you’re searching for.
“No! It’s not!”
“Go back and watch your interviews. Go back and watch any fucking footage with you in it and it’s pretty fucking obvious that it’s a problem.”
You disappear down a hallway, and Chris speeds after you. After a brief knock on someone’s door, you push it open and poke your head inside.
“Ry, have you got my bike keys?” you ask.
“Who’re you fighting with? Is Chris here?”
"Just give me my keys and go back to your game, god damn it. You got plans with my bike?”
Chris hears the jangling of keys and as you pull away from the door, a boy in his late teens peeks out, headphones resting on his shoulders. He blinks at Chris once, watching as you shove past him and out into the loungeroom again.
“Hi. Nice to meet you Chris. M’name’s Ryan. Oh, and… a word of advice, never yell at a woman, it only infuriates them more.”
Chris grimaces and follows you outside again, trying to clear his head.
“Look. Please. Just come back with me. Let me be yours again.”
“Chris, I love you to bits. I love you so fucking much, but you need to let this go. You need to let me go. You can’t throw away your career, just for me.”
“You can love someone, but still let them go, simply because you do love them. I want to know why you love her and need her in your life.”
“I thought I was more than just an idol to you.”
These words seem to strike your heart, and your hands fall limp at your sides.
“You are…” you whisper, “Chris you are… you’re so much more than just an idol-”
“Then why?” Chris whispers, pinching the fabric of his clothes.
When you don’t answer him, merely continue to stare, Chris continues at a whisper, tears beginning to pool at the bottom of his eyes.
“I die. I’m dying. I will die over and over again, the longer you’re not by my side. The longer you-”
“Then go die somewhere else.”
(A/N: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH - NAH SCREW YOU. THAT WAS FOUL)
The silence is profound. It’s so loud that it’s ringing in his ears. He’s trying to take in your deadpan expression. Trying to suppress his tears, the threatening urge to scream in fury. The desire to pull you into his arms and never, actually never let you go. And he’s processing your words, each second passing a stab to his heart. He thinks, perhaps, this has been the most realistic stab he’s ever felt. The most painful.
Chris of course, is not lying when he says he’ll die every day without you. Naturally, you don’t know that. And naturally, you don’t know how badly you’ve just hurt him.
“You don’t mean that…” he whispers, walking towards you, trying to reach you, “take that back, you don’t mean that.”
You take a step back and shake your head, Chris’ arm dropping to his side, his tears beginning to openly flow down his face. The sight makes your eyes start to sting, your heart shattering at his broken form. You turn away and head back outside again. Chris watches your retreating figure through the haze of his tears.
“Y/N,” he cries, eventually following you outside as you jam a helmet over your head and swing yourself over a motorbike, “Y/N where are you going?”
As soon as the helmet obscures your face, you’re crying, and it’s with every last bit of resolve remaining that you start the bike in silence, not wanting him to hear your sobs.
“Y/N!”
Before he can reach you, you take off, leaving him standing by the front gates, his hands holding his face, his tears trickling through his fingers. Chris stumbles back into the wall and sinks to the floor, burying his head in his hands. After a couple of minutes, he looks up at the sound of people moving around him, and immediately wipes his face upon seeing Noah, Kiara and Ryan standing above him, sympathetic expressions on their faces.
“Let her cool off, talk to her again later when she’s back,” Ryan helpfully says, his hands entrenched in his hoodie.
“She shouldn’t be cooling off on her bike, I’m worried for her. She’s a bit of speed demon isn’t she?” Kiara mumbles, looking out at the open gates.
“She’ll be fine. I taught her how to ride, she’s not stupid,” Noah grumbles, pulling Kiara into a side hug.
“People can do stupid things when they’re in pain.”
Ryan’s last words only make Chris break down again, and he curls tighter into himself.
“Come back to me,” he sobs over and over again.
--
You find yourself pulling your bike up to park by the beach. That’s perhaps the fastest you’ve ever ridden, the wind louder than your thoughts, stinging your skin into numbness. You’re shaking by the time you get off your bike, and you actually have no idea how you’re still alive. The dried tears on your cheeks feel cold in the air.
After propping your helmet up on your seat, you meander your way towards the water, stripping yourself of your shoes and socks so you can feel the sand between your toes. You’ve no idea why you’re here, of all places. You just rode until you couldn’t feel your fingers anymore. Rode until your legs were stiff.
The beach is Chris’ favourite place, so why are you here? The sun’s already beginning to set, and you sink down into the sand, watching the waves creep up to your toes, tickling them gently, then retreat silently. So blue. So endless. So cold. So peaceful. You think, that if you could decide how you die, you’d like to die in the sea.
--
You’ve been out for hours, sitting at the beach until you can’t feel your limbs anymore. When you finally return home, it’s dark, and you’re shivering from the cold. Your parents have gone out tonight. It’s their monthly movie night, and you hardly doubt they’ll break tradition just because Chris is here. If he’s still here. Ryan will most likely still be gaming in his room, and Dennis is at Uni, so it’ll just be you and Chris really. If he’s still here.
As quietly as you can, you slip inside, staring in a daze at the places where you and Chris were just fighting only hours ago. It’s not until you walk to go put your keys in the basket that you hear him, breathing softly on the couch. He’s sitting up, like he was waiting for you to get home, and again your heart breaks, your hand flying up to your mouth to quieten your sob. They all must have been worried for you. It wasn’t sensible of you, to tear up the road on your bike when you’re not in the right headspace.
You pad over to him and sit down on the coffee table, watching as he sleeps, his face free of pain, hurt and sadness. Just peaceful.
“Why did you have to follow me here?” you ask softly, resisting the itch to push his hair out of his eyes. You’re sitting there, in silence, for a few more minutes before Chris whines in pain. His forehead is crinkled, eyebrows knitted together, and his hand darts up to his scrunch his shirt, twisting it into a knot.
“I don’t want to- no- no no no-” he murmurs, and you move to his side immediately, whispering soothing words, falling back into a familiar routine.
“Chris, hey, I’m here, it’s okay, you're okay...”
Chris takes a shuddering gasp and his flash open, wild and panicked. He’s moving around too much that it makes it hard for you to grab at his shirt… and he’s drenched. You blink and perform a once-over. He’s drenched. How is he- he was dry just a second ago-
“Chris.”
He’s gasping wildly for breath, his hair stuck to his forehead, curls flattened out.
“Chris why are you- how are you-” you’re grabbing him in bewilderment, trying to find a part of him that isn’t soaked with water. In the next second he’s coughing out water, buckets of it spilling out of his mouth. You yelp and jump out of the way, skittering backwards on the couch, and Chris finally seems to register your presence.
“Y/N?” he gasps, swaying and clutching his chest in a panic, “I can’t- I can’t- I’m drowning-” he coughs, and you can only stare at him in confusion. Out of nowhere, he grabs your arm and yanks you into him, hugging you tightly, tears leaking from his eyes as he trembles around you, his clothes soaking yours, his hands frigid with cold. Almost immediately, Chris’ shuddering gasps cease, and you swivel in his arms in surprise, watching as the water seeping his clothes fades into nonexistence, his hair miraculously dries, returning to its previously fluffy state.
“I’m so confused,” you bluntly state, eyes wide.
“I’ll explain, I’ll explain. Just don’t… just stay with me.”
You curl back into his embrace as he tugs you closer, hiding his face in your neck, inhaling your warmth and scent like it’s his life force.
“Stay with me,” he murmurs again, tightening his hold around you.
--
To save myself the difficulty of writing ‘explanation’ dialogue, he explains. Right from the beginning, everything to do with his connection to suicidal Stay’s, and how you’re connected to them too. You remain silent the entire time, absorbing the information. When he’s done, still hugging you tightly, he falls silent, and you can sense that he’s nervous.
--
“I understand if you don’t… believe me…” he eventually murmurs, nuzzling further into your neck, “I don’t really believe it myself…”
“I believe you,” you whisper back, hand reaching up to stroke his curls, tears forming in your eyes again, “I believe you I do.”
And then you’re explaining how you heard his inner monologue that day, on that bridge. And then you’re hugging him tighter and placing kisses on his head through your tears. And now you’re apologising, over and over again and Chris is sobbing with you, but he’s muttering a different set of words.
“I love you.”
--
Do you return back to your Café after this? Yeah. Yeah you do, and Ashley is overjoyed to see the pair of you walking hand in hand up to the Café. How’s JYP doing? Oh he’s fine. Rethinking his life choices after Changbin and Jisung confronted him again, stopping him from ruining Chris’ career. Don’t worry though, JYP isn’t all bad – he removed the restrictions on Chris from seeing you, truly amazed by Chris’ dedication to you.
There won’t ever be a day where the world is completely happy with your relationship with Chris, but as long as you march through it together, work through it together, everything will pan out okay. Just ignore the haters, who are they to get in the way of something so pure? Something so valuable?
Notes:
A/N: Anyways, the ending was lowkey rushed, and I’m sorry about that – but it got harder to write the longer I wrote for. You don’t know how difficult it is to turn Chris into a sobbing emotional wreck.
Feedback is always appreciated, negative and positive alike. I apologise for any editing errors, I’m forever learning.
Until next read!!
- Kaisowoo
Chapter 7: Sweet
Summary:
Happy Birthday to you! Some more fun with Skz??! ... Surprise?
!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!
Notes:
Chapter Notes: Fluff, PDA (Public Display of Affection)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
--
You tear your eyes away from the book you’re reading to glance at your phone. It’s vibrating on the side table, Ashley’s contact visible on the screen. With a smile, you slide your bookmark in between the pages and answer the call.
“You here already Ash?” you grin, putting your book down on the couch and hoisting yourself up, ambling over to your apartment door. On the other end of the line, Ashley is panting heavily.
“Yeah- I’m here,” she huffs, and you chuckle in amusement, bounding down the stairs. You end the call as you reach the bottom since you can already see your friend standing at the entrance to your Café, her face blotchy and red.
She stumbles in after you swing open the door, immediately shoving a wrapped gift into your hands. You accept the gift from her with a grin, immediately thanking her and hugging it tightly.
“Happy Birthday!” she breathes, bending over to rest her hands on her knees.
“Are you okay? Did you run here?” you ask, disappearing behind the Café counter to fetch a glass of water.
“Yeah- I needed to- get here quickly- last minute arrangements-” she laughs, accepting the drink gratefully and downing it in a few seconds, “I think giving him my number was a bad idea.”
“Who? You dating someone?” you ask, eyebrows raised, taking the glass back off her and placing it carefully into the dishwasher.
“Hah, you wish. Doesn’t matter, let’s head up?” Ashley grins, fanning herself and leading the way back to your apartment.
“How come you’re here so early anyways? I thought you weren’t coming over till one?” you ask, ripping open the wrapping and tossing it into the bin before following her. Inside it is a shoe box, and by the time you remove the lid, Ashley’s already at the top of the stairs. You gape at her from the bottom, staring in pure horror at the gift you’ve just unveiled.
“Ashley what the hell? Is this what I think it is?” you groan, pulling out the onesie from the box.
“You’re welcome,” she grins, flinging your apartment door open and disappearing as you sprint up the stairs.
“Hey!” you yell, dashing up the stairs and throwing the onesie unceremoniously at her. She catches it with a giggle and holds it out in full display.
“I thought you’d like it,” she pouts, but her eyes are sparkling with mischief.
“Ashley I love anything you get me, but really? A Wolfchan onesie?” you grimace, playing with the soft material between your fingers.
“Yeah! Chris is going to love it! It’s got ears, and even a little tail-”
“Ash that is exactly why I’m questioning your motives.” Ashley pulls a face and dumps the onesie back into your hands. “I already have Chris. He’s Wolfchan enough.”
“You have to wear that all day today by the way, especially when you’re face timing Chris,” Ashley grins, picking up the book you abandoned and flicking to your bookmarked page.
“Between you and my mother, I’ll be able to open up my own Bang Chan merchandise store,” you scowl, which makes Ashley giggle.
“Go and get changed into that onesie birthday girl.”
--
Your face is flushed red as you exit your bedroom, pulling the onesie hood over your head so you can show Ashley the full fit.
“I can already see Chris’ face,” she grins, running over to give you an excited hug.
“Who put you in charge of our fan club?” you sigh, hugging her back in return.
“No you watch, as soon as he sees you in that onesie he’s going to gush and call you so cute, but his ears will be red.”
You sigh but nod your head in agreement, pulling away from your friend to ask her what she’d like to do first, “You’re here earlier than I expected, so…”
“Okay okay, first… karaoke, then we cook lunch together, then we watch a movie. I’ll… work out what else we do tonight later,” Ashley smiles, prancing away to set up the karaoke machine.
“Is this your birthday or mine?” you chuckle, following her to bring the microphones out of the cupboard.
“You love it when you don’t have to make the decisions though, or you wouldn’t have asked.”
--
Ashley’s here for a sleepover to celebrate your birthday, if that isn’t already obvious, but little do you know something bigger is planned for you. Chris has been on tour for a while now, and he’s apologised a hundred times over for not being with you to celebrate. He promised he’d face time you though, and you were looking forward to it – a little less now that Ashley was making you wear this onesie, because you know Chris will not shut up about it for a loooong time.
Eventually, the sun begins to set after hours of you and Ashley having fun in each other’s company, and you migrate over to the window to watch it disappear behind the city skyline. Your phone rings from over by the couch, and you bolt out of your chair to grab it, not wasting a second in answering.
“Happy Birthday!!” Chris yells, his smiley face appearing on the screen.
“Thank you!!” you grin, padding back over to sit next to Ashley on the chairs you’ve pulled up.
“How was your day baby, get up to much?” he asks, moving his face closer to the camera so the only thing you can see is his beautiful eye briefly.
“Of course! Ash is here with me, I’ve had lots of fun with her,” you rotate your phone to include Ashley and she waves madly.
“There she is!” Chris grins, waving back at her, “There’s my girl.”
“Excuse me, what?” you laugh, directing the camera back to you and arching an eyebrow, “Your girl?”
“My wing woman,” Chris winks, and you roll your eyes, pretending to be jealous.
Ashley leaves her chair and walks up behind you, yanking your onesie hood over your head – it had fallen off a long time ago and you hadn’t been bothered to pull it back up.
“Chris do you like the present I got your girlfriend?” Ashley questions, placing her head on your shoulder, but Chris isn’t paying attention.
His eyes are trained on something off camera, and his expression tells you that he’s trying to non-verbally communicate with someone.
“Chris,” Ashley repeats, and he finally looks back, grinning wildly, “Look at how cute Y/N is in a Wolfchan onesie.”
“Don’t push it,” you hiss at her, shaking her off your shoulder.
“I think I’ll see it better if you come downstairs.”
You blink and it takes you a moment to process his words. Chris flips the camera around, revealing a strangely familiar coffee machine, “Want a drink?” he asks, the smirk evident in his voice.
You’re out of your chair in seconds, sprinting around your furniture and practically hurling yourself down the stairs. You probably shouldn’t have though, because you barely manage to stop yourself from colliding with a group of people waiting at the bottom.
“Surprise!” they yell, and your heart leaps into your throat at the sight of the Stray Kids members waving their arms around and doing jazz hands. Ashley thuds down next to you, grinning from ear to ear, watching your stunned expression. All of them are wearing their corresponding Skzoo onesies. It takes you a second to realise that Felix and Seungmin have swapped though.
“What are you doing here?” you breathe taking the final few steps down and embracing them in a massive group hug. They part ways, revealing Chris standing behind them all, an intricately decorated cake in his hands.
“Hey babe,” he smiles, tilting his head teasingly, the ears on his Wolfchan onesie flopping on his head.
“Hi,” you breathe back, fiddling with your hands in an attempt to squish the urge to throw yourself at him.
“Make a wish?” he asks, eyes alight with joy, but in this moment, you hardly think a wish is necessary. It’s already come true.
--
You’ve no idea how many pictures Felix manages to take of you and the rest of Skz, and the amount that he snaps of you and Chris doesn’t ever end. The whole group is enamoured with your matching onesie’s, Chris grinning bashfully by your side, playing with your tail happily.
“I’m actually going to murder you all in your sleep,” you whine, twirling around to jerk your tail out of Chris’ grasp.
“You’re so cute though~ makes me just want to- ” Chris engulfs you in a hug and shakes your body, the overdose of affection sending butterflies to your stomach. How he thinks you’re cuter when you’re wearing the same onesie is a mystery.
You glare daggers at Ashley sitting on one of the common room couches as she laughs and nods in approval. Her prediction about Chris’ reaction is close to accurate and you’re not entirely thrilled.
“Ashley you’re not even wearing one, shut your mouth,” you scoff, wriggling in Chris’ grip, but he clings onto you tighter, his chin digging into your shoulder.
The Skz crew all suddenly make noises of realisation, looking at each other to and fro, chattering and pointing, looking for Jeongin in his Foxiny onesie.
“Jeongin Jeongin where’s your spare?” Hyunjin asks, his head on a frantic search for their luggage.
“Ah!” the youngest exclaims, and he dashes over to the corner of the room where they’ve stashed their belongings. After a second of unzipping, he pulls out a second Foxiny onesie. He shakes it out and then hands it to Ashley, who’s staring at it in pure mortification.
“Why do you have a spare?” you ask curiously and Minho answers swiftly, “When we went out to buy them, Jeongin’s was too small, so we had to buy another.”
Ashley still hasn’t taken the onesie, recoiling from Jeongin.
“Go on~ welcome to the family,” he urges, more insistent this time when he passes it over.
After Ashley begrudgingly disappears upstairs to change, you waddle over to the couch, Chris still clinging to you. Upon understanding that you want to sit down, he pulls you into the couch, dragging you into his lap and you snuggle up to his warmth.
“How did you manage to decorate the common room so nicely?” you ask him quietly, admiring the colour coordinated balloons, streamers, banners and decorations strewn all over the place. He hums in thought, proud of the praise, and turns slightly to look lovingly at the Kids. They’re arguing over the sequence of games they would play in a bit.
“I couldn’t have done it without their help. They might have been more excited than I was honestly. We got here at one o’clock and started setting up while Ashley kept you upstairs.” He kisses the top of your head affectionately, and you look up at him with wide eyes.
“Is that why Ashley got here a couple of hours earlier?”
“Aha yeah, it was a last-minute thing, but the Kids wanted to get here earlier than initially planned – they were anxious about not getting all the decorations set up or the party games, and Felix had to bake the cake.”
Ashley bounds down the stairs, her fox tail swinging, and immediately everyone falls silent.
“Tah-dah!” she giggles, spreading her arms wide and doing a little twirl. Jeongin’s cheeks burn scarlet, and when the member’s notice they tease him relentlessly.
Who knows, maybe Chris won’t be the only one in a relationship for too much longer.
--
After a few energetic games that take you a few minutes to wrap your head around (some are familiar that you’ve seen from Skz-Code episodes, others are completely new), and enjoying a hearty meal of ordered in pizza (Minho paid), you make the decisive decision to cut up Felix’s wonderful cake.
“I’ve been working on my icing,” he proudly announces, as you cut the cake into slices and put them on plates for everyone. Chris is at your shoulder, handing out the plates and spoons. Seungmin wanders up and tries to shovel a spoonful in your mouth, but you wave him away.
“No no, it’s okay you enjoy.”
Chris grins at the two of you, a soft expression in his eyes.
“Bin have you got a slice yet? Ji?”
It takes you a moment to realise why Chris is gazing at you so fondly, but then you remember usually Chris would be serving the food out to his Kids’, and Seungmin would usually attempt to feed him as he does so. This time… is different.
“Chris pass me your plate,” you smile but he shakes his head, indicating that he doesn’t want any cake, “You don't want cake? That's a first.”
As you take your seat around the table they’ve set up, everyone happily munching away and complimenting Felix’s baking skills, you dig a spoonful of your cake and offer it to Chris, your eyebrows raised.
“It’s okay, you eat,” he smiles, placing his elbow on the table and resting his head in his hands, watching affectionately as you shrug and shove the cake into your mouth, melting at its taste.
“Wow, Lix did you bake this from scratch? It’s good!” you gush, “Chris, are you sure you don’t want any?”
He smirks and sits up properly, his eyes flickering to your lips briefly, “Fine, I’ll try some.”
Happily, you go to scoop up another mouthful for him, but he swiftly grabs your chin, tilting your head up to him and kisses you softly. Your mouth parts in surprise, and his tongue takes the opportunity to briefly swipe inside. When he finally pulls away, he licks his lips, contemplating the taste, “Hmmm… sweet.”
He grins, leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms. Your entire face is beet red, and the table has fallen completely silent.
“What? It tastes better like that,” Chris clears his throat, his eyes burning a hole through the tablecloth, his ears (only just visible under the hood of his onesie) sizzling with an embarrassed heat. You swallow nervously and turn back to your cake, avoiding the amused gaze of Ashley and the Kids’.
Minho sections off a decent sized chunk of his cake and puts it in his mouth, half of it still sticking out. He turns to Jisung sitting next to him, and points to the cake in his mouth, words fumbling out as a hum. Jisung splutters and recoils, making Minho’s eyes crinkle with laughter.
“We’re not a couple- what’re you doing-” Jisung laughs, and with a devilish grin and a little shrug, Minho chews the cake into his mouth.
“I actually can’t handle you two, quit being romantic in front of me. Get a room,” Ashley groans, her forehead colliding with the table. Which ‘couple’ she’s referring to, could be anyone’s guess. When she goes to do it again, Jeongin’s hand flies out to catch her forehead, “Yah, don’t hurt yourself,” he frowns, so Ashley turns in her seat slightly to thump her forehead into Jeongin’s shoulder instead, making him laugh.
“Is JYP going to let all of you date now?” you ask, trying to subtly redirect the conversation. The table erupts into considerate chatter again, arguing with each other over whether the big man would, and who would most likely pick up a girlfriend (or boyfriend) next. After a while, Chris pushes his chair back and disappears into the front of house, where the Café is.
The Kids’ don’t pay him much attention, especially not since Felix and Hyunjin are arguing with each other, “I’ll be first.” “Hyunjin mate, I have more followers than you.” “That’d make it harder for you to find a genuine person though.” You wordlessly communicate with Ashley, who nods as you leave, jumping straight back into the conversation to try settle the dispute between the two fairies of the group.
You find Chris pouring himself a glass of water, and he smiles shyly as you walk up to him, a worried expression on your face.
“You okay honey?” you ask, and Chris promptly chokes on his water.
“H- honey?” he asks and you cheekily grin, wrapping your arms around him in a protective hug.
“Seriously though, what’s up?”
Chris sighs into your embrace, putting the glass down on the counter, “What I did before, I’m sorry. I wasn’t even thinking. It’s like I just- forgot the Kids’ were there.”
You laugh and pull away from him, eyes crinkling at his stressed expression. You reach over and pluck a cookie out from the cookie jar, offering it to him.
“Sugar makes you feel better?” he asks, before he takes a bite out of it, straight from your hand. Swiftly, you stand on your tiptoes slightly and kiss him, tasting the cookie just as he had done before. You smile sweetly as you step away, admiring his simultaneously flustered and shocked expression.
“You’re right, it does taste better.” Then you take a bite out of the cookie and walk away without a second glance… until you round the corner and look back to see him with his head in his hands, ears burning brightly, whispering frantically, “Why is she like this?”
Christopher, I’m like this because you are. Idiot.
--
It’s a little while later, and the Skz Family (including you and Ashley, you two are part of that now) have finished cleaning up the table and rinsing the dishes to go in the dishwasher. There’s hardly a bite of Felix’s cake left; the two slices sitting in your fridge upstairs. You’ve all collectively decided on one final game before you pull out the mattresses and blankets, plus the projector so you can snuggle down together and watch a movie.
Chris is sitting on the floor, his head between your legs as you sit on the couch, and you’re mindlessly playing with his hair. He pulls your legs onto his shoulders, so now it’s almost like he’s giving you a shoulder… back ride? (like piggy back but on the shoulders?). Jisung and Changbin are both wearing headphones, music blasting loudly into them, as Seungmin holds up a whiteboard with the chosen Skz song for Changbin to yell. No gestures allowed, only words. The trick is, Jisung has to repeat the right song – but it’s a little hard to hear with the music.
“Secret Secret!” Changbin bellows.
“What?”
“Secret Secret!” he tries again, yelling it a little slower. You’re a giggling mess, and Chris is clinging onto your legs for dear life, his laughter broken between gasps for air. Jisung can only pull faces of confusion, trying to lean as far forward as he can without leaving his spot.
Changbin begins to lose his patience after so many times of repeating the same words, so he tries a different tactic.
“It’s your song!”
“I HAVE MANY SONGS!” Jisung screams back and most of the Skz Family is rolling around on the floor again.
“THE FUCK DID YOU HEAR ME SAY THAT BUT YOU CAN’T HEAR ME SAY ‘SECRET SECRET’?!”
“WHAT?!”
Changbin groans and punches the floor a couple of times in tiny. When he looks up, you can tell he’s got another idea. In an atrociously performed British accent, Changbin yells, “Oh my god Secret Secret is so amazing! I love that song, that’s so beautiful.”
“Ah! Ah! Secret Secret!” Jisung yells and by the way everyone’s cheering and yelling in delight amidst laughter and struggles for breath, Jisung can tell he’s got it right. Changbin swaps out with Hyunjin now, and Jisung with Minho. Hyunjin’s tongue briefly darts out to wet his lips in determination as he sits on his legs, a fierce competitiveness in his eyes.
A lightbulb clicks in your head, the thought striking you thanks to Hyunjin, and you lean forwards slightly to murmur to Chris, “You know we never stop tasting our tongues?”
Chris tilts his head back with a bemused expression, your hands still tucked safely away in his hair, “How about I taste yours for a change?”
You tug his hair sharply in annoyance and he raises his eyebrows, daring you to do it again.
“What exactly are you suggesting Mr Bahng?” you scoff, reverting to absently twirling your fingers through his hair.
“Exactly what it sounds like… Mrs Bahng,” he grins, then turns back to watch as Ashley holds up the whiteboard with the song ‘Double Knot’ written on it for Minho to read.
Hyunjin gets the right answer in record time after Minho switches up from yelling ‘Double Knot’ to ‘Shoelace’, trying to give Hyunjin a little more to work with. You’re hardly paying attention to this though, because your brain is malfunctioning after Chris’ cheeky name for you.
--
As soon as you returned with your projector in your hands, Seungmin bustled over, extricated it from you, and ordered you to sit down and relax. After a slight protest, you shrugged and fumbled around for your emergency Pepero supply below the Café till – for those days where you needed to feel a little better. Now though, you’re just craving some.
“Where’s Chris?” you ask mildly, snuggling into the couch to watch Minho and Seungmin fiddle around with the projector.
“He’s in the bathroom,” Felix calls out from his spot on the floor, scrolling through his phone to try and find a movie to watch.
You break open the Pepero box and happily munch on one, relishing in the environment where you can simply just watch the Kids’ while their attention isn’t on you. Well… that doesn’t last long. Sure the Kids’ might not be focused on you, but you hear their Dad before you see him. You jerk the Pepero away from the sneaky hand that’s appeared over your shoulder, turning to glare at Chris.
“Please? Just one?” he begs, trying to grab the box again, and with a grin you shift it to the other side of your body. You’ve still got a quarter of a Pepero stick dangling out of your mouth, and a playful smile crosses Chris’ features before he murmurs, “Fine I’ll just have yours.”
He leans over the couch and takes your mouth with his, kissing you gently and carefully pulling your remaining Pepero out. Your brain refuses to work as he shares this kiss with you, and when he pulls away, it takes you a second and a round of stunned blinking to realise that he’s slipped your Pepero box out of your hands and waddled off with it gleefully.
“Yah!” you yell, leaping over the couch to try and get it back. He grins and sprints away from you, hiding behind Hyunjin who was previously towering over Felix’s shoulder, trying to help him choose a movie.
“What? What’re you doing?” Hyunjin asks, his eyes wide, naturally spreading his arms wide to protect his leader even though he has no clue why.
“I stole her Pepero,” Chris giggles, pulling one and out offering it to Hyunjin from behind to nibble on, which makes you suck in an annoyed breath. Jisung overhears the conversation and bounces onto the couch, clapping his hands excitedly, “Pepero! Let’s play!”
Ashley looks up from her phone to curiously ask, “You can play a game with Pepero?”
Immediately, an excited tension fills the room, and everyone turns towards you, waiting for your instruction.
“Fine. But Christopher give it back to me please, I’m in charge,” you sigh, holding your palm out for the box.
“Ehh? No I’m in charge, I suggested the game!” Jisung protests, bounding off the couch and grabbing the Pepero before Chris can hand it over, “Ashley and Jeongin!” he points. Your eyes light up in amusement, and you dash over to Ashley to explain how the game works.
It doesn’t take long for Ashley’s embarrassment to show, evident in her blush and fidgety hands. You chance a glance at Jeongin, who’s staring at Ashley with this dumbstruck expression on his face.
“Why Ashley?” he eventually asks, but then winces and corrects himself, “No- I don’t mean it like that- I wouldn’t mind if- she wouldn’t- I don’t mean it like that either- I mean…”
Both of the foxes are blushing now, hiding their face from one another, and it’s with utmost passion that Jisung pulls out a Pepero stick and offers it to Ashley. She takes a deep breath and puts it into her mouth. Then, eyes wide, she waits as Jeongin crawls over after the encouragement from the Skz Family.
Ashley completely stiffens as Jeongin’s face draws nearer with every bite of the stick, and her eyes have long since been closed, relying instead on the feeling of Jeongin’s breath becoming heavier on her face. It’s only when Jeongin lets out a particularly shaky breath that Ashley opens her eyes again, and you giggle as Jeongin stops where he is, their mouths centimetres apart, just to stare.
Eventually, he bites his part off and drifts away, swallowing nervously, “It was easier to do when you weren’t looking,” he mumbles, but Ashley isn’t paying attention. You rub her back comfortingly as she clutches her cheeks, trying to cool them down.
“How was that?” you whisper to her, and she whispers back so only you can hear, “I… might have enjoyed that a little too much…”’
You’re grinning so hard that your face is beginning to hurt; but imagine the possibilities!! Your face immediately falls however, when Jisung does a happy little dance and calls out the next two participants. You… and Felix.
“What?” you and Felix say at the same time, then still in sync, you both look at Chris, who’s grin has faltered slightly.
“Ji, that’s not happening,” you huff, shaking your head in annoyance.
“I’ll do it with anyone else, but don’t put me with her. Don’t put anyone with her unless it’s Chris... to be honest,” Felix frowns.
“No. No it’s okay. It’s just a game,” Chris interrupts, just as Jisung goes to point at someone else, awkwardly scratching the back of his head.
Everyone turns towards Chris again, who’s leant back on his arms and is sporting a small smile. His carefree attitude makes you feel a little uneasy, and you’re about to completely retract yourself from the game when Felix clears his throat, “Um… I guess I can just bite it off early, but that’s a waste of a Pepero… kind of defeats… the purpose of the game…”
Minho punches Jisung on the leg, hissing about his stupidity.
“I’m sorry, I was excited I forgot, I forgot-”
“You can’t fucking forget, they’re so intimate what do you mean you forgot.”
“It’s okay, just play the game properly,” Chris sighs, inclining his head towards Felix. The two Aussie’s wordlessly communicate, and Felix clears his throat again before standing up to retrieve a Pepero from Jisung.
He hands it to you like a gentleman, and a little uneasily you put it into your mouth, shifting your weight slightly on your legs so you’re a little more comfortable on the ground.
“Just pull away if you get… um… uncomfortable okay?” Felix urges, and you nod in understanding, linking your hands behind your back. As Felix kneels down, your eyes drift back towards Chris. He’s still leaning in that nonchalant position, but just as Felix begins to nibble on his end of the Pepero, you note the way Chris’ hands tighten on the threads of the carpet slightly. For a second, you consider pulling away, frightfully aware of the way Chris’ body tenses and his mouth falls into a thin line the closer Felix moves towards you. You can distinctly feel his warm breath on your mouth, see every single freckle on his bare face.
Thankfully, Felix snaps the Pepero before he gets even closer. You know he could definitely have gone further, but you’re glad that he didn’t. You chew the rest of the Pepero into your mouth and look back at Chris with wide eyes. His tongue is poking his cheek and he’s staring into the carpet, his mind elsewhere.
You offer Felix a high five, which he takes as a relieving sign of everything being a-okay. Chris is still staring into the carpet when you walk over, looking nervously down at him. The Skz Family watch on with bated breath, not a sound of movement to be heard. Chris slowly looks up, his eyes piercing yours and when he smiles softly at you, there’s a collective movement in the room – like everyone has remembered to breathe all at once.
“My turn?” he quietly whispers, and you laugh, trying to understand Chris’ mind.
Is he trying to be possessive? Is he trying to prove a point? Why did he act like it was okay when his body language clearly showed that he wasn’t entirely pleased. Jisung gives you a Pepero stick, and you kneel down in front of him, heart galloping as Chris sits up properly. You hesitate, then offer him the Pepero, deciding to switch things up.
He raises his eyebrows at you but takes it anyways. You lean forwards, waiting for him to put it in his mouth, but instead… he crushes it to pieces in his hand, snatches at your arm and pulls you in for a heated kiss, his lips crashing against yours with mixed emotions. There’s obvious jealousy in there, but there’s also that tenderness he never forgets to leave out, and the overall combination has your head spinning.
You pull away as swiftly as you can though, stumbling back in shock, trying to pull yourself together.
“Hang on- play properly-” you huff, “And… maybe make some sense.”
“What sense?” Chris asks, smiling innocently.
“Why would you let Felix play with me if you know you’re not going to like it,” you frown, and Felix nods rapidly, just as confused as you are.
“I trust both of you with my life. I was testing myself more than you guys. It turns out your mum is wrong babe, I do get jealous easily.”
You groan in annoyance and wave your hand around at Jisung, indicating that he should give you another Pepero. You twirl it around between your fingers once before moving back to Chris, tilting his chin up and telling him to open his mouth. He raises his eyebrows again, but obeys, nonetheless. As soon as his mouth closes around the Pepero, you move in, taking large bites into your mouth.
You’re centimetres away from another kiss when you stop and stare at him, admiring the pink dusting on his cheeks and his blown-out irises. Then with a manic grin, you snap off your end of the Pepero and drift away, denying him the action he was waiting for.
“Hey, c’mon you can do so much better than that,” he grumbles, pulling his remaining Pepero out of his mouth like it’s a cigar, “Jagiya. Wow aren’t you cruel?” Chris takes an indignant bite out of his Pepero and flops back onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling in resignation. Meanwhile you’re giving a round of high-fives to the Skz Family, who are congratulating you on putting Chris back in his place.
“He already stole a kiss, I wasn’t about to give him another,” you laugh, sitting down on the couch, eyes lingering on Minho. He catches your mischievous expression and glares at you, but you brush it off.
“Jisung your turn. You and Minho,” you clarify, and not for the first time that night, there’s a round of excited “ooh’s” and “ah’s” circling.
“I’m the host, I can’t participate,” Jisung retaliates, and you cross your arms.
“You’re the host because I let you be. That’s my Pepero, remember?”
--
You wriggle like a worm so you’re closer to Chris, struggling a little within the cocoon of your sleeping bag. He chuckles and helps to pull you in, his hand snaking out of own cocoon. You kiss him on the nose gently in thanks and snuggle into him, happy to be sleeping by his side again, his warm breath tickling the top of your head.
Well… you’re not the only one sleeping with him. You and Chris are pretty much right in the centre of the Skz Family who are chatting away and getting settled (not so quietly) into their sleeping bags on the train of mattresses you’ve lined up. Behind you, in order, lies Ashley, Jeongin, Hyunjin and Changbin. Behind Chris lies Felix, Minho, Jisung and Seungmin.
“Oi are you two gonna watch the movie or just sleep?” Felix nags, lightly shoving Chris.
“Mmm we’re sleeping,” Chris mumbles back, his hand knotting itself into the hair at the back of your head. Felix shrugs and turns away to chat with Minho, Jisung and Seungmin.
“Happy Birthday love,” Chris whispers, and you crack your eye open to see him smiling softly at you through his lashes. You smile back and stare, unwilling to break the serenity in the silence between the both of you as you admire every detail of the others face.
“I have something to tell you,” he continues, his eyes fluttering closed again, his voice gravelly with the effort of speaking quietly.
“Yeah? Are you okay?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbow to rake your hand through his hair affectionately and twirl it through your fingers. The corner of his mouth curls up at your actions, and he snuggles deeper into his sleeping bag.
“We extended our contract. I should have spoken to you about it before we did it,” he looks up at you, eyes wide with shame, smile faltering slightly, “I wanted to, I swear I did. It all just happened so fast, and we were promising so many things to Stay and then-”
You bend down and kiss him tenderly to shut him up, and his voice dies in a stutter.
“Don’t stress honey,” you smile as Chris’ breath audibly hitches, mentally deciding to turn the word into a frequent endearment, “It’s okay. This is your life, you spend as much time as you want with Stray Kids and with Stay. That’s your choice. I’m not going anywhere even if you extend your contract out until you’re actually 52.”
Chris groans and pulls you down into his chest where you can feel his steady heartbeat.
"Yes. Don't go anywhere... don't do that again," after a beat of silence, he continues, "Are we really going to be long-distance until I turn 52?” he grimaces, absently rubbing circles on your back.
“If that’s what happens, then that’s what happens. As long as you are a part of my life in some way, I’ll be more than happy. I have my business, you have your career, and if we have each other – even if it’s only for short periods of time… then that’s enough for me.”
“Okay, but what if I want to fall asleep hugging you every night for the rest of my life?”
“No way?” you gasp, pushing yourself up slightly to give him a cheeky grin, “Bang Chan actually sleeps?” Your question was meant to be playful, but his solemn response makes your heart crack just a little, “I do when I’m with you. I don’t get nightmares.”
You sigh and snuggle back into him, trying to wrap your arms around him (unsuccessfully thanks to the sleeping bags), “I thought that… as long as I didn’t ‘deny you my love’ then it would stop…”
“I’m still figuring it out…”
In the silence that follows, you take note of the Skz Family having quietened down, munching on popcorn and other snacks as they watch the movie they’d finally agreed on (sort of) – ‘My Neighbour Totoro’.
“Jagi…”
You hum in response to Chris’ slurred voice, his sleepiness creeping up on him.
“You know your business?”
“Mhm.”
“You should set one up in Korea baby, then you can work in that one and I get to see you all the time.”
Your heart thrills a little at the suggestion, the possibility exciting your mind with the potential of expansion. The adrenalin dies swiftly however, when you realise that you don’t have nearly enough financial support or humanitarian resources to do so. You voice your concerns quietly to Chris, telling him that you’d have to set things up better here first.
“I can help… with money…” he interrupts, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a state of relaxation, despite your disappointment at the crushed opportunity.
“Absolutely not,” you hiss, a spark of anger flaring inside you at the thought of him wasting more money on your business. When he doesn’t respond, you look up to glare at him, but your expression softens at the sight of him peacefully sleeping, a tiny snore beginning to emerge. You sigh and lie back down, kissing the inside of his neck lightly before drifting off into your own sleep. I’ll figure it out. Let’s go to Korea.
Notes:
A/N: Let's go to Korea!!!!
Feedback is always appreciated, negative and positive alike. I apologise for any editing errors, I’m forever learning.
Until next read!
- Kaisowoo
Chapter 8: You Helping, or What?
Summary:
You've arrived in Korea! And you say some... stuff... that sets off a chain of events where Chris is a little wild. You’re kinda delulu too- for a bit.
!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!
Notes:
Chapter Notes: SUGGESTIVE AF, Borderline Smut (Phone Call? Chris is being a tease??), Kisses- uh uhm yeah, Fluff
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
--
You take a steadying breath and snap a picture of your surroundings as you hop off the plane, hand grasped tightly on your bag strap. You’re finally about to start a new chapter of your life, right here in Korea, with Chris by your side. Swiftly, you move to the side so you’re out of everyone’s way and send the picture both to Chris (letting him know you’re here), and to Ashley (letting her know that you arrived safely).
Your younger friend was holding down the fort at the original Café Studio for a while, at least until you got the new one properly set up, then she’d follow you here. It was a decision she was adamant on. She didn’t want to be left behind, and you were quite relieved she was joining you in the long run. For now, Ashley would train up the new manager for that branch of the Café. This is insane.
As you’re standing there, shuffling on your feet and waiting for your luggage to roll around on the conveyor belt, a million thoughts rush through your mind. The stress of opening up a new Café is already beginning to get to you. There’s hundreds of things you need to do; go shopping for a whole new wardrobe (you had packed light), shop for furniture, hire employees, organise menus and ingredients and prices and marketing and-
“Your suitcase has just gone passed you for the second time,” someone mentions at your side. His voice jolts you out of your thoughts, and in a slightly flustered scramble, you chase after the offending possession and yank it off the belt.
“Wait- how did you-” you turn back to the person, his dark eyes glinting in an amused fashion.
Despite this being the only part of his face you can see (everything is hidden behind a mask, cap and hood), you recognise him immediately.
“Christopher?!” you yell quietly, marching back over to him. You can tell he’s grinning through his mask, and you don’t think you’ve ever struggled more in your life than that moment. The urge to squeeze him tightly in a hug is so overwhelming, especially when he spreads his arms wide with a tilt of his head. You don’t though. Just stare at him in shock.
“What are you doing here?” you question, and he rolls his eyes. In a swift movement, he takes the few steps forwards and pulls you into his arms, crushing your face into his chest and burying his own in your hair.
“Hello to you too,” he grumbles playfully, and with a sigh you hug him tightly back, that familiar safety and adoration washing over you.
“I want my question answered still,” you demand. When you pull away, his hands slide down to rest comfortably on your waist and he pecks your forehead with his mask still on.
“I’m picking you up obviously,” he responds with a raise of his eyebrows.
“But you shouldn’t be. You know that because you’re covered from head to toe so no one recognises you,” you reprimand, stepping away to grab the handle of your suitcase again. Chris naturally moves to take it off you, and with a little shake of your head, you let him, linking your hands together so he can lead the way.
“Yes well, this disguise does absolutely nothing if you’re not hiding away too,” Chris winks at you, and you grimace in realisation.
“I’m not that famous, am I? Do I need to start disguising myself in public too?”
“Oh haha, okay. Miss Girlfriend of Bahng Christopher Chahn, not that famous.”
You whine and pull your scarf up higher over your face, now self-conscious and paranoid about everyone around you.
“Hey,” Chris nudges you, “Relax jagiya. The whole world knows we’re dating, what’s a little ‘Bang Chan picked his girlfriend up at the airport gonna do’?”
You smile nervously as you exit the airport, nodding to a few people who’s eyes noticeably widen at the sight of you. Shit okay.
“Oh I don’t know Chris, maybe it’ll fuel the never ending hate train towards-”
“Enough. Forget about the hate train. Nothing and no one is going to hurt you, I won’t let them.”
Chris steers you down into an underground car park, and after a slightly tense walk in silence, Chris fumbles for his keys and unlocks his car, its black colour reflecting the bright lights illuminating the area. He dashes around to open the door for you, shoving you gently out of the way when you go to do it yourself.
“My car, my rules,” he chides, swinging it open with a bow, “My princess doesn’t open doors for herself.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose and tilt your head down, trying to hide your embarrassment.
“What does that make you then?” You laugh, as you duck into the car, “My prince? My knight?”
“Your husband,” he smirks, startling you with a peck to your forehead with his mask briefly pulled down before he closes the door. He really should stop joking about that kind of thing. At this rate, you’re going to die of a heart attack before you make it back to your new house, let alone live long enough for him to be your husband. You patiently wait as he stows your luggage away in the boot, fiddling with the stereo to figure out how the bluetooth works.
As he starts the car and begins to reverse out, you yell in triumph when your phone connects and wasting no time, press shuffle on your Stray Kids playlist. Chris laughs at your antics, leaning forwards to check for cars before turning out of the carpark.
“You don’t have to play our music, you know,” he smiles, glancing at you quietly vibing, before his eyes return to the road.
“It’s good music, why wouldn’t I?” Is your reply, and Chris only sighs, “It is good music, Christopher, don’t you sigh like that.”
You shake your head when he doesn’t respond, just stares blankly at the road. With narrowed eyes, you try a new approach.
“I’m so lucky, d'you know that?”
Chris glances at you again, his eyebrows creasing momentarily in confusion. You shrug and turn to look at the road ahead, “I just so happen to have a handsome, adorable, sexy, cute, sweet, kind, generous, loyal producer for a boyfriend.”
“Okay hang on-” He interjects, but you don’t let him speak.
“You know he also sings too? And raps? That is talent right there. Don’t even get me started on the fact that he can dance,” you fan yourself and wolf whistle, “He’s got moves, I’m telling you.”
“Jagiya-”
“Ohhhh! I should tell you that he basically founded the group too! Logo, name, members and everything.”
“Okay, but it took time and effort-”
“His entire fandom joke about him being the Dad of Stray Kids, did you know that? He cares for his members so much. And they also call him ‘best leader’ all the time.”
“Hey- no they do not-“
“Best leader! Best leader! Best leader!” You continue to chant, eyes sparkling as he groans into the steering wheel, having stopped at some lights.
“Jagiiiiiiiiiii, that’s enough…”
“Best leader! Best leader! BEST LEADER!”
“Stop. Stop- I’m not-”
“Chris the light’s green. Best leader! Best leader!”
He looks like he’s contemplating his entire life for the rest of the drive, one hand on the steering wheel, head tilted to the side with that fed up expression of his. You still haven’t shut up and you refuse to do so until he agrees with you. Your incessant chanting doesn’t stop even as he opens the car door for you, his expression still resolute. He digs into his pockets and whisks out some keys, dangling them in front of your face tauntingly.
“I won’t give you the house keys until you shut up,” he negotiates, and your mantra turns into quiet whispers, your whole body jumping along to its rhythm. Chris sighs and shakes his head, shoving the keys back into his pocket.
Out of nowhere, he lunges forwards, wraps his arms securely around your midriff and hoists you over his shoulder, dragging you out himself. Staggering slightly, he kicks the door shut with his foot.
“Hey put me down!” You laugh, kicking your feet wildly, but then remember you’re supposed to keep chanting, so resume.
“Best leader!”
“Shut up.”
“Best leader!”
“No more.”
“Best leader!”
“I am not.”
“Best leader!”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“Best leader!”
“You’re talking nonsense.”
“Best leader!”
“Enough.”
“Best leader!”
Abruptly, Chris puts you down and pushes you up against the door to your new home. His arms swiftly cage around your head and he leans close, breathing heavily on your face.
“Enough means enough,” he whispers threateningly, and your mouth zips shut, startled at the slight edge in his tone… and his close proximity.
“Finally,” he whispers, exhaling in your silence and closing the small gap between your faces to press a relieved kiss to your lips.
When you try to shift your head away, disappointed that you still haven’t managed to get him to agree that he’s the best leader, he grabs your chin roughly and pulls you right back in for more, not allowing you to say another word. Your mouth parts slightly in surprise, eyes widening as he gleefully takes what he wants. Chris, naturally, takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, pressing ever closer, apparently trying to crush you against the door - greedy. You groan and push against his chest instinctively, trying to breathe. Eventually, (when you yank his shirt harshly) he pulls away, breathing heavily, eyes still glued to your lips. You take a second to collect yourself, heart trying to cool down from its marathon, and an unfiltered thought escapes your mind, “Jesus I didn’t know you could be so dom.”
Chris splutters and his eyes lock with yours. Immediately, you can feel your face heat up, cowering under his gaze and the embarrassment of your thoughts.
“What do you mean you didn’t know? Have I not always been the dominant one in this relationship?” He laughs, and you sag back into the door, chuckling at yourself too. Again, unbidden, your thoughts escape you unfiltered. Maybe it’s the adrenalin of being in a new country, or being with Chris, or everything that’s just happened.
“So… da… ddy?” You mumble, and Chris tears himself away from you faster than you thought humanly possible.
You blink and he’s already back at his car, opening up the boot to haul your suitcase out, a panicked expression on his adorable face. You exhale in amusement and saunter over, your hands in your pockets. Once you peek your head around, you can properly see that Chris is now leaning forwards on the car with his hands, his eyes wide and blinking, ears burning red.
“So… best leader is… da… ddy?” You tease once more. Chris flinches, and as you go to taunt him again he rushes forwards, his palm closing over your mouth to shut you up.
“Do not- do not say that again,” he growls, but his eyes are saucers.
“You said that you’re Stay’s daddy though-” you mumble, struggling to breathe through his hand.
“That was- that was a joke-”
You yank your face away from his palm and fold your arms indignantly, “Sure it was. Sure it was.”
"I was just- catering to what they-“
“Best leader or daddy?” You interrupt, grinning gleefully because you know you’ve backed him into a corner.
“Oh come on.”
“Best leader or daddy? And neither isn’t an option.”
Chris rubs his face with his hands, stressed, and your grin widens at the sight of his ears burning brighter than they ever have before.
“Best- best leader,” he eventually mumbles, then turns away to roll your suitcase back up to the house.
--
And thus… begins your new life.
Little did you know that your teasing in that moment would lead to a torturous rest of the day.
--
Chris has to head back to JYP later in the evening. For now though, you’ve basically hired him to help you drag furniture around and decorate the place. It’s still relatively early in the morning, and you think that sooner or later, the both of you are going to need to lie down for a nap. You never asked him to pick you up at the airport, your landing was during the dark hours of the morning.
The original plan was to stay in a hotel and visit JYPE to retrieve your keys when the sun was actually up. Chris assured you that his time off was approved, and that he could manage on only a few hours sleep. Not that this pleased you much more. Apparently, Chris had been sneaking into your house long before you had even arrived here, lugging packages and boxes of furniture and basic requirements in without your knowledge.
“The Kids’ helped too - don’t worry, they offered.”
Now, you were sitting on the floor, puzzling over an instruction manual and trying to find the corresponding pieces of the bed frame. As long as you had this set up for today, you’d be satisfied with yourself. Chris was busying himself with the dining table out by the kitchen. He had insisted on a larger one than the one you had before, so that the rest of Skz could visit too. You agreed because his point was valid, but also because it’d probably be nicer when Ashley finally comes to stay as well.
Eventually, you sigh and realise you might need some help. Who knew the pieces of a bed frame could be so bulky and hard to deal with?
“Hey Chris?!” You yell, eyes roving the bits and pieces around you to find the right pile of screws. His response is muffled when he yells back, like he’s got something in his mouth.
“Can I have a hand for like… maybe five minutes?”
Sure enough, when Chris appears in the doorway to your room, he’s got a screwdriver in his mouth.
“You need a hand?” He repeats, pulling the screwdriver out from between his plump lips.
“Yeah just c’mere a sec please? Help me connect this-” You pause when you feel his warm hand slip into yours, his fingers wiggling to comfortably rest between your own.
“Five minutes? I can do that. Make it ten,” he grins, swinging your hands childishly, “In fact, you can have my hand for as long as you like.”
Blankly, you stare at your linked hands swinging between you, then slowly look back up at Chris, a sympathetic expression on your face, “You’re cute, but you know that’s not what I meant.”
“Humour me,” he shrugs, shoving his screwdriver into one of his pockets for safekeeping, “What do we need to connect?”
What could have been a five minute task turns into a twenty minute one. Chris refuses to let go of your hand, tightening his grasp whenever you try to pull away. His clinginess makes your heart swell, but also teeter on the edge of frustration as you simultaneously laugh and struggle to connect the bed frame with him attached to your hip. You think, rather than him helping you, he’s just making it harder.
He tugs you around and directs your body parts as if he owns them, and although you comply after an amused laugh, you can’t help but wonder what on earth has gotten into him.
“Chris baby, it’d just be easier if you let me go-”
“Never letting you go.”
“No- so that we can properly work together on this-“
“We can properly work together like this too-”
“Chris-”
“I don’t want to hear another word. Pass me that bracket?” You shake your head at him but pass it on regardless, and after some time, you successfully manage to put the bed frame together.
You laugh, you stumble over each other, yell in mock annoyance at each other, and even admire each other as the time ticks by. Not a word is said again about your linked hands, interwoven so tightly.
--
It’s been an hour or so since then, and now you’re returning, shaking your hands to dry them, from a bathroom break. You find Chris sitting on top of the finished bed, mattress, blankets and all. He’s typing something happily on your phone, his eyes crinkled in delight.
He’s typing… he’s typing something on your phone.
“Babe,” you ask, your hands on your hips. He doesn’t even look up. “Jagiya. Is that my phone?”
“Yeah, what about it?” He haughtily responds, raising a delicate eyebrow, but still his eyes are glued to the screen.
“What’re you doing on my phone?” You question, walking over to him and staring down at your screen. He’s messaging someone, apparently conversing with a person who’s presently responding in kind.
“It’s Jisung,” Chris elaborates, finally eyeing you pointedly to gauge your reaction.
“What’d he say?” You quiz, plopping yourself down next to him and peering at the messages.
“Is Chan hyung getting on your nerves yet?” Chris snorts, scrolling up briefly so you can read the conversation.
“Of course I am? She love’s it though?” You scoff, raising your eyebrows at his response.
-
(A/N: When dialogue is in script format, it’s meant to represent text messages)
Jisung: “Give her back her phone you possessive shit”
Chris (on your phone): “pre-debut han jisung makes his appearance”
Jisung: “pre-debut han jisung is here for a chat with your girlfriend, not you”
Chris (on your phone): “disrespectful child”
Jisung: “old man”
Chris (on your phone): “how original”
Jisung: “Minho wants to know if you guys have made the bed yet”
Chris: “Yeah, we have”
Jisung: “he made this face 😏”
Jisung: “it was scary”
-
You laugh in amusement at their banter, deciding to ignore the last few comments, and hold your hand out for your phone.
“Alright can I have my phone back please?” You ask, rolling your eyes when Chris pouts sadly at you. “Chris can I have-”
He does not give your phone back. Instead, he gently grabs your outstretched hand, brings it up to his lips and kisses your palm softly, staring at you through his eyelashes.
You swallow nervously as he kisses a soft trail from the centre of your palm right down to your fingertips, each press of his lips to your skin sending tingles through your body. Dimly, your mind recalls Jisung (Minho’s?) suggestive messages, and then you numbly realise that you’re both currently sitting on the bed in question.
It’s with a racing heart that you slide away and disappear into the lounge room, nonchalantly beelining towards a cardboard box full of decorations. You can put a few decorations up before lunch, maybe a few paintings and photo frames. Sounds good. Yep.
--
Deep breaths.
--
Chris had, naturally, followed you and helped unpack the decorations, organising them and trying to help you decide where to best hang them. Now it’s just a matter of actually putting them up. He’s twirling a hammer and staring at the packet of nails in your hands worriedly.
“And you’re absolutely sure you want to use nails? There are plenty of other ways we could do this that won’t put a hole in the wall,” he offers, picking up the nearest painting and propping it up on the wall. You hesitate, watching as he marks the position of the painting with a pencil.
Eventually, when he puts the painting back onto the ground and turns back to you, you respond.
“Yeah just- pound the nail into the wall,” you shrug, and it’s not until you notice the shit-eating grin on his face, that you regret your words.
“I’ll pound you into the wall.”
You groan and spin on your heel, throwing the packet of nails haphazardly onto the dining table and beginning the search for your phone.
“We putting up these paintings?” He calls after you, that infuriating grin still planted firmly on his face.
“I’m ordering lunch.”
Chris appears at your side and kisses your cheek, squeezing your shoulder affectionately, “You hungry? I’ll go out and get something. I know a place, but they don’t do phone orders.”
“Are you sure? I could just get take out-” You frown, picking your phone up from the bed.
“I’m sure. I’ll be back in jiffy.”
(A/N: “jiffy” is simply Aussie slang for ‘in a very short time’.)
--
How’s this day going to end?
--
Chris barges back in after about half an hour, proudly holding up a bag of the food he was adamant in retrieving, “How’s the prettiest person in the world doing?”
You smile at his question, currently occupied with unpacking cutlery and other kitchen necessities.
“I don’t know. How are you?” You throw back, languidly adding a fork to the cutlery drawer as he pauses in the doorframe.
“Me? I’m- what?” He chokes, caught off guard, “I’m not the prettiest person-”
“How are you Christopher?” You press, taking the food out of his hands and smiling at the rosy tint on his cheeks.
“I’m fine,” he mumbles, his voice cracking slightly.
You dish out the steaming food onto the recently unpacked plates, passing Chris his share before serving yourself. He sits down on one of the barstools and patiently waits for you to join him before he digs in. You sigh in content at the explosion of flavours in your mouth, and for once, neither of you speak during your meal.
It’s not until about halfway through of just basking in the warmth of each other’s company, munching happily with satisfaction, that Chris interrupts the cosy silence.
“I’m not the prettiest person in the world,” he frowns, swallowing a mouthful thickly. You sigh and turn to him, placing your fork onto your plate.
With your elbow propped up on the table, you rest your cheek in your palm and stare at the man next to you as he eats, a small frown evident in the crease between his eyebrows. Even in this state, unkempt due to the hours of physical labour, hair a disastrous mop of twisting curls, not a particle of makeup to hide him… he’s softly glowing. You can see his dark eyes swirling with a million thoughts, the pieces of his mind reflected in the glimmer of his pupils.
Your eyes trace the line of his prominent nose, the curve of his plush lips, the cut of his jaw flexing as he chews. Not the prettiest person in the world, huh?
Chris’ face morphs into his characteristic soft smile, the one that gives him the look of a child, adorable and in need of protecting. Slowly, he turns towards you, this smile :], only intensifying.
“You’ve been staring at me for a while now,” he mumbles, and you can’t help but inhale sharply.
If only you could capture this image, this image of him, and permanently keep it somewhere. You can’t though. That’s not how this works, but it’s okay… because you’ll permanently keep it in your mind, your heart, turn it into a part of your soul.
“Are you… alive…?” He asks, waving a hesitant hand in front of your face. The corner of your lips quirk slightly, and before you turn back to your food you utter, “Sorry, I was busy admiring a work of art.”
Chris stares at you, his ears red, for a long while before he returns to his food. Who knows? Maybe he was trying to string his thoughts together. Maybe he was trying to figure out how to express his devotion, his love for you. Maybe he was admiring what he thinks is a work of art, more beautiful than any piece of music he could ever produce… and that… is saying something.
—
“Oh fuck me,” you whine, as you stoop to pick up the screw that you’ve dropped for the 4th time. Chris looks up from where he’s sitting, fiddling with his screwdriver, and in your peripheral vision you can see him smirk.
“That wasn’t an invitation,” you sigh, not even looking at him properly. Chris abandons his project and stalks over to you on all fours, oddly prowl like - steady and paced, taking his time.
“I mean it,” you demand, “leave me alone.”
You’re looking down at the instructions between your splayed out legs, searching for the next step when Chris’ hand sneaks in between your arms and onto your chest.
“Chris-“ you begin to protest, but his mouth presses to yours swiftly, his tongue unfairly swiping. Assertively, he pushes you down to the floor, never breaking the kiss, and crawls on top of you.
“Christopher-“ you try again, during a gasp for air.
“Yes…?” He chuckles, grabbing your head gently in his hands and caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. Just as you go to speak again, he kisses you softly, stopping you from jerking your head away with his sudden fierce grip on your head.
The next maybe… 30 seconds are spent with you constantly trying to speak, and him shutting you up with kisses, each one more fierce than the last.
It’s only when your phone begins to ring beside you that he stops suffocating you, instead shifting his affection to your neck, his hands roving the shape of your body lovingly.
“Christopher Bahng,” you chide, trying to string two thoughts together. Everything feels hot; his hands even through the fabric of your clothes, his lips, his tongue. You moan involuntarily as you reach for your phone, wondering how on earth he’d manage to find that particular sweet spot on your neck so effortlessly. He kisses it just that little bit harder, sucking at your skin slightly - trying to elicit that same response. You’re going to ruin him if you become anymore vocal.
“Chris- hang on- wait- I need to answer this call it’s Ashley- oh fuck you-” you whine, as his hands slip underneath your shirt in response, his careful ministrations white-hot on your skin. You squirm underneath him, trying to escape as you answer, words tumbling out of your mouth in a panicked rush, “Hey Ashley- hey- hi, you okay? What’s up?”
“Oh I’m fine. I wanted to see how you were doing!” She chirps back, so bright and cheerful that you almost smile - you would have if a certain Bahng Christopher Chahn hadn’t decided to lift your shirt up, exposing your stomach, and drifted down to shower the skin with his affection.
You hiss instead and slide yourself away on the floor. He frowns at you and simply follows, this time holding onto your waist to keep you still. You try, in vain to hold a decent conversation with Ashley, hand covering your mouth to stifle your moans. Since you’re trying to converse however, you need to remove your hand to speak - and this means trouble when Chris decides to press a kiss teasingly close to the band of your shorts.
You’re breathing heavily now, and Ashley falls silent mid-sentence.
“Chan is with you, isn’t he?” She asks, and you laugh almost deliriously.
“Yes he is, and he’s being a downright pain in the ass.” In a last ditch attempt, you try to force yourself away, but he’s gripping you almost a little too tightly.
“He’s always been the source of your distraction, hasn’t he?” Ashley giggles, and there’s an unmistakeable smirk in the tone of her voice.
Chris laughs at this, the first sound he’s made in a while, and you’re only a little startled to know that he’s been able to hear your conversation the entire time. You hadn’t realised your phone volume was that high. Chris crawls back up your body and speaks directly into the phone, “I’m the source of her pleasure actually.”
“Oh dear god. I had already I assumed I didn’t need you to spell it out for me,” she groans, her voice becoming distant on the phone as if she’s holding it away from her in disgust.
“Hey- Ashley that is not what is happening- he’s just being an absolute prick-“ you fumble, emotions struggling to settle; embarrassment? Panic? Desire? Guilt? Shame? Lust? Love? What? Huh? Who?
“Are you sure about that? I’m gonna go anyways- leave you to it.”
“Ashley-Louise don’t you go anywhere. I’m sitting on the fucking floor right now trying to put a chair together.”
“She’s actually lying on the floor, but details don’t matter I guess.”
“Christopher.”
“And where are you Chris?” Ashley asks, almost mockingly.
“On top of her,” he responds matter-of-factly, and you cry out in embarrassment.
“See I mean- I congratulate you on managing to pin her to the floor, but that’s not a very nice place for your first fuck is it?” Ashley jokes, and her words make you completely freeze.
“You’re absolutely right, I’ll take her somewhere comfier,” Chris decides.
“Ashley I am so sorry about Chris, he’s just messing around as per usual- I am so sorry, I’ll make up for your lost innocence when you get here, I promise,” you ramble, emotions definitely deciding to settle on guilt and embarrassment.
“I’m not that much younger than you, ya know. This is nothing.” Ashley’s last words bounce around in your skull after she ends the call.
And you’re left to stare in a wild craze at the man above you, eyes glimmering with a satisfied mirth, his mouth pulled into a smug smirk.
“Back to it?” He whispers, and you glare at him.
“No way,” you try for a snap, but your voice comes out slightly broken and quiet.
“You were most definitely enjoying that though,” he continues, leaning down to kiss your forehead.
“I’m not- I’m not ready- for any of that,” you eventually manage, hiding your face in your hands, “I’m scared- I’m just scared-“
Chris rests his full body weight onto you, squishing the air out of your lungs, and snuggles into your neck.
“That’s okay. It’s okay. It wasn’t an invitation - I know.”
“Chris- I’m sorry- I just-“
“Don’t apologise… there is absolutely no need to apologise. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to-”
“Stop trying to justify it, there is no need to.”
“No but- I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want.”
“I want you. As a person. That’s it.”
“Yes but-”
“I want your love.”
“That’s what all of your antics today was about, wasn’t it?” You whisper, guilt consuming your heart.
“I want you to feel safe. I want you to feel comfortable. And if you’re not-“ Chris hoists himself up to smile down at you, “Then I’m not either.”
Notes:
A/N: I’m Minho right now: 😏
Feedback is always appreciated, negative and positive alike. I apologise for any editing errors, I’m forever learning.
Until next read!
- Kaisowoo
Chapter 9: First for Everything
Summary:
Hm so... sidong georeo noko oneul bamdo drive~ for the first time? Like it's more so just the foreplay, I don't actually write the swiji anko dallyeo feel the heat inside~ part, and then there's the aftermath.
!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!
Notes:
Chapter Notes: Borderline Smut (foreplay, anyone else hot or is it just me?), Kisses- uh uhm yeah, Fluff
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
--
You smile and pick up your pen once more, scribbling down some carefully chosen words. Beside you, a slight breeze ruffles the curtains, the suns glow warming you as you work. This is perhaps, the worst part about opening up a new Café in Korea: the financing. Café Studio has never been more successful, and at the behest of your boyfriend, you decided to expand – “You should set one up in Korea baby, then you can work in that one and I get to see you all the time.”
Now you were here, in Korea, almost completely set up and ready to go. Chris is with you today, deciding that he'd rather work on a few things in the comfort of your house rather than at JYPE. One of the many benefits of moving to Korea - now he's practically around the corner. His nights as of late have been split fairly evenly between working away at JYPE, hanging out at his dorm, and snuggling away with you at home.
You stretch and turn around in your comfy swivel chair to watch the man in question on the couch. He’s humming quietly as he clicks away on his computer, occasionally pausing with a crinkle of his forehead as he listens to the track through his headphones.
Your head curiously tilts to the side, watching his fingers smoothly type, then pause to click the mouse, and then you watch as he rubs his face, stressed and displeased with his progress. Chris groans, tears his headphones off his head and flops back into the couch dejectedly, a feeble whine of frustration escaping his plush lips.
You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to stop yourself from nagging him about how he works too hard. He will always work hard, as will you, and he needed to stop procrastinating as well. The downside to him being home with you was that he would prefer to snuggle with you and spend time with you rather than keep up with his work. He’s been yours for a couple of years now, and he takes every opportunity he can to stay by your side, increasingly so, craving your affection.
Chris hears your discontent, and his head snaps up. He drags a hand through his fluffy hair with wide eyes and a questioning smile, “You good?”
He chuckles at your silence and his characteristic smile morphs into a silly grin, happy to simply have your attention. The fluttering warmth that floods through your soul threatens to overflow, and it is with every last piece of self-restraint that you force yourself to nod, instead of abandoning your work and joining him for a cuddle on the couch.
For a minute, the both of you just stare at each other. You can see the amused glimmer in his dark eyes distinctly, and it only intensifies when he raises his eyebrows and slides his computer off his lap onto the couch. He pushes himself up and slowly walks over to you, stopping in front of your chair so you have to crane your neck slightly to look up at him properly. You remain silent as he stares down at you, analysing you perhaps.
He grabs the back of your chair and swivels you around so you’re facing your paper work again abruptly.
“Go back to your work,” Chris laughs, cheekily ruffling your hair and messing it up thoroughly. You huff and try to spin around again, but he’s preventing you from doing so, his strong hands vice-like on the chair.
“You’re supposed to be my boyfriend. Not my Dad. Quit telling me what to do,” you whine, knowing full well that he has every right to tell you what to do. He laughs again, and the genuine sound sends chills sprinting up your spine.
“I’ll tell Jack to message you then. He’ll tell you to get back to work.” Chris snickers, and you freeze, slowly lowering your pen onto the desk.
“Jack… isn’t my Dad either,” you murmur, and Chris leans in, wrapping his arms around your neck loosely and placing his chin on your head.
“He’s my Dad, so that means he’s yours too. Well… at least soon he will be,” you can hear his smile as he says this, and your brain is abruptly encased in ice. He really needs to stop joking about this - my fucking god.
“You… smooth… fucker…” you mumble, trying to cover up your sudden incapability to function as a human being. He's basically proposed... for the hundredth time... Chris spins you around to face him, one of his arms shifting to push up against the desk behind you so he’s leaning over you. Your lungs stop working as he draws even closer, his breath tickling your ear.
“Glad to know you think I’d be a smooth fucker,” he whispers seductively, and your heart must've gotten stuck in your throat, because you're incapable of speaking.
Chris moves so that his nose brushes yours gently, his eyes piercing your own, mischievous at the sight of the blush spreading from your cheeks to your ears.
“Maybe later we can find out if I’m as smooth as you think,” he continues, before softly kissing you, the plus of his lips moulding comfortably with yours, a lingering taste of pineapple letting you know he's recently been drinking the juice.
A/N: I am fed up. The amount of time's I've gone to punch something is innumerable. Someone be this smooth with me, come on.
Your mouth falls open as he moves away, back to his computer and his comfy couch, leaving the air around you sizzling with tense energy. The vacant spot in front of you, where he just was, feels awfully empty.
You’d think that you’d be used to this kind of thing by now, what with how often he's an atrocious tease, but you aren’t. You’ll never get used to his flirty ass.
Chris continues to work as if nothing happened, but after a minute, he realises you’re still sitting there, dumbstruck, and he slowly inhales... and exhales... his eyes fluttering closed. He clears his throat nervously, and your breath hitches in your throat when he chews his bottom lip, contemplating something.
“Go back to your work babe. Please,” he sighs, with his eyes still closed. You shake yourself awake and order yourself to be a functioning fucking human being. Control yourself.
You fold your arms and cross one leg over the other, an eyebrow arching in defiance.
“It is literally your fault that I stopped working,” you scowl, and his eyes flash open, the sudden intensity in his gaze causing you to jerk back in surprise. He stands up again and moves swiftly back towards you.
“Up,” he commands.
“Sorry, what?”
“Get up. Out of the chair.”
You hesitantly stand up and step to the side, snorting in annoyance when Chris sits down in your recently vacated chair.
“C’mere,” he murmurs, a determined gleam in his eyes. Your eyebrows quirk again, “I’m already here.”
He offers a coy smile and his eyes narrow, “I mean… sit down.” (A/N: Be humble...)
“On… the floor?” You think you know where he’s going with this, and you’re not entirely sure you’re in the right head space to be sitting in his lap at the moment.
“You really are stubborn,” he grins, shaking his head. You yelp as he promptly leans over and grabs you by the waist, pulling you towards him and forcing you to sit snugly in his lap. He rearranges himself so you’re sitting between his legs, and you squirm, trying to get comfortable. Chris inhales sharply and tenses around you.
“Stop-” he chokes, hands tightening briefly around your waist, “mmhm- don’t do that.”
You freeze, and naturally, your head disappears straight into the gutter at his stuttered breathing.
“Sorry- I didn’t mean to-” you begin, but he interrupts you, his thumbs caressing your hips gently.
“Go on. Write. I’ll edit and help you along the way,” he mumbles, and you laugh, your embarrassment fading quickly.
“What would you know about business reports?”
“Come on darling. I practically own Stray Kids, I think I know quite a bit,” he answers simply, a slight tone of exhaustion lingering in the air. You don’t know what to say in response to that, and even if 'practically owning Stray Kids' has anything to do with business reports, so instead you try to actually focus on your work. After a couple of minutes of blankly staring and writing down one word (‘and’), you sigh in defeat.
“How in the hell am I supposed to focus when you’re hugging me, and I’m sitting in your lap?” You grumble, but Chris just shrugs.
“I dunno. Figure it out baby ‘cause I don’t plan on going anywhere.”
You scowl at his response and rub your forehead in frustration, then decide to give up completely. Your pen drops to the desk with a clatter, and you flop back to rest your head on Chris’ shoulder, curling up slightly and burying your nose in the crook of his neck.
You inhale his vanilla under toned scent and sigh in content. His arms snake around your waist to hug you properly, and you hear him moan slightly as your breath tickles his neck, tiny little goosebumps on his skin blurred in your vision. After a small smile, you press a chaste kiss to his neck, and his exhale is stuttered again, his chest falling in an awkwardly disjointed manner.
Chris’ hands unexpectedly slip under your sweater, and you shiver at the sudden contact. He begins to rub absent circles on your skin, and you hum appreciatively.
“Feels nice…” you whisper and Chris releases another shuddering breath.
“Baby, I think- I think it might be best if… if…” he begins, his voice quieter than usual. You raise your head and try to read his expression; distracted… and conflicted.
His soothing hand movements on your hip cease and he grips your sweater instead. He gulps and momentarily breaks eye contact, licking his lips nervously, before he stares at you again. His breathing is extremely controlled, and as you move to try and get off his lap his eyes flutter shut with a sharp intake of breath. Experimentally, you wriggle in his lap again, eyeing his expression. Chris throws his head back, something close to a whine escaping from his mouth, the sound shooting straight through to your core.
"If you keep-" he begins, his eyes still screwed shut tightly, "If you keep-"
“Am I not allowed to move?” You ask curiously as he rubs his face vigorously. Oh you know you're not supposed to move.
“Ah… no. No you can movuhmmmhm-" his sentence is cut short as you shift again, and he tilts his head up to stare at you, his gaze piercing, "You know exactly what you're fucking doing, don't you?"
A small smile cracks onto his face, his eyes shimmering, and your stomach erupts into butterflies at the sight.
“Alright, well I’m getting kind of hot I might change…” you grin nervously, then hop off him as quickly as you can. You leave him on the spinning chair and walk over to your walk-in-wardrobe. As you do so, you hear Chris mumble something along the lines of “I’ll just… read over what you’ve done so far.”
As soon as you enter the confines of your wardrobe you sink down to the floor, your hands clutching your head, in a bit of a panic. What the fuck? Why are you- your brain is filled with way too many unholy thoughts all at once and you quietly scream. Stop. BUT HIS LAUGH- AND HIS HANDS- AND HIS LITTLE WHINE- AND HIS MOAN- AGHIOEHGOIEHOGIAEETIOASD! (A/N: Just like me fr). You take a deep breath and try to control your thoughts… and your hormones.
Once you feel calm enough you stand up and take your time to pick out a shirt and some shorts. You quickly slip into your shorts, remove your sweater and are reaching for your shirt when you hear the flutter of falling paper behind you. You swivel around and become a statue of Medusa’s when you notice Chris standing there; your pen hanging limply from his right hand, your paper works scattered sadly on the floor, his eyes wide and mouth slightly parted.
“Fuck? I am so sorry-”
It’s not like you haven’t seen each other without a shirt on before, you’ve been together for a while already.
“Chris, it’s okay, it’s nothing you haven’t-”
“You’re really not making this any easier for me,” he grumbles, and then suddenly he’s pressed up against you, pinning you to the wall with your hands above your head, his lips smashing into yours fiercely. He pulls away swiftly however, and your breaths mingle as he tilts his head, his eyes trained to your lips.
“Fuck,” he whispers again, and your heart threatens to implode as one of his hands lowers to cup your face, the other tightening around your wrists above your head. Carefully, his thumb caresses your bottom lip, pulling it downwards slightly, before he leans back in.
This time… when he presses his lips to yours, something snaps.
Chris pulls you closer, carefully sliding his knee between your thighs, shoving it harshly right up against your clothed heat, which throbs almost painfully thanks to the pressure and friction. Once the necessity for oxygen becomes too overwhelming, you separate, panting. Chris turns away from you and runs his hands through his hair again in a desperate panic.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck," he croaks, inhaling sharply.
Something is possessing you right now. Cause it’s not you. Surely. You step forwards and spin him around, snatching at his shirt to pull him in for more. Your body is moving on its own. You press yourself so close to him that Chris stumbles back slightly, but welcomes your hungry kisses all the same, just as eager, if not more so, his hands running rampant on your body.
You gasp as his hands shift to under your butt to hoist you up, squeezing it momentarily, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You wrap your legs around his waist, hand tangling swiftly into his hair, and he staggers out of your wardrobe, never breaking the kiss. His teeth graze your bottom lip, and you tug at his hair slightly in response, lost in the moment.
Chris abandons your lips to attack your neck, still stumbling around almost deliriously, trying to navigate his way across the bedroom. You moan and tilt your head slightly, trying to give him more access.
"I love you," Chris breathes against your skin, before returning to suck on a particularly sensitive spot, "God I fucking love you."
Finally, you both topple onto your bed, the action causing your eyes to snap open as your back hits the silky covers. You’re met with two brown eyes staring down at you, two eyes dark with a foreign emotion. You press a hand to your chest, trying to calm your rapidly beating heart as Chris breathes heavily.
He watches you absently, then returns to kissing a hot trail on your neck and brushes your hair out the way as he moves slightly lower. You groan when he kisses a particularly sensitive area back on your neck, and Chris pauses, his hot breath fanning out on your skin. His eyes are trained on the same spot, and after a second, he leans back down to slowly kiss it, his delight evident in his sinful grin when his actions elicit the same sound from you.
Chris focuses his attention right there, his tongue swiping, teeth grazing, kisses digging deeper, harsher, sucking slightly, until there's a beautiful mark left behind. You're an absolute squirming mess below him.
Your hands shoot up to his head, burying them deep into his fluffy hair as his tongue swipes on your burning skin.
“Chris…” you groan, as he takes a moment to admire the love bite he’s successfully left on your neck. Abruptly, he grabs your hand and places it on his chest. Your eyes widen as you feel his heartbeat, thumping just as fast as yours.
“Can… you feel… what you’re doing to me?” He mumbles, pulling your hand up to his mouth to kiss your fingertips softly. He lowers himself to kiss along your collarbones, then skips your bra and down to your stomach.
A/N: I can’t even fucking describe this shit right now. Where are my delulu pills?
A whimper escapes your mouth and your legs tighten around him, desperate for some friction.
“Look… at what… you’re doing… to me…” Chris growls, each phrase punctuated by ravenous kisses that send a sparks running through you. Suddenly he collapses onto you, his head resting on your stomach, and you yelp in surprise.
“Fucking hell. Baby, I cannot do this…” he whispers, his voice shaking.
You reach down to softly play with his hair, thinking.
“You can’t do what?” You eventually ask and his head snaps up.
“Do you really want me to answer that?” He whispers, his eyes clouded. Slowly, you nod and Chris pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, a mild glare on his face. The air is squished out of your gut as Chris presses on your stomach to move back up to your face, and his nose is brushes yours softly, your lips tingling as his breath falls back onto them.
He continues to whisper, eyeing your lips again, “Are you really sure… you want me to answer that?” He repeats and you gulp.
“Yes-?” You answer but you’re immediately cut off by him closing the gap between your lips and kissing you hungrily.
“I cannot do this-” he kisses your jaw, “because I’m struggling to resist-” he kisses your lips, “the urge…” he moves down to your neck and kisses the already marked area. You hiss as he finishes his sentence, “to fuck you senseless…”.
A moan escapes you after Chris’ tongue flicks your lips. He’s moving from one place to the next so quickly it’s driving you positively insane.
“Christ… topher…” you groan as he deepens the kiss, absolutely devouring you. You tug at his hair desperately and he chuckles, but his low chuckle turns into a shocking laugh, and he rolls off you, now lying beside you, staring angrily at the ceiling.
“Fuck I cannot do this!” He yells, his voice painfully cracking, half crying half laughing. You’re in a bit of a daze, your mind replaying the same scene over and over again. He wants to… to…
Chris releases an exasperated sigh and sits down on the edge of the bed with his face in his hands. You hesitate, then make up your mind and turn your head to watch him.
“Why are you resisting?” You bite your lip anxiously when Chris completely freezes. You can’t even see him breathing. Then he responds, his voice muffled due to him refusing to remove his hands from his face, “My head says stop but my body clearly wants you.”
You sigh and crawl over to him, then grab a fistful of his hoodie and pull him back onto the bed. Now you’re looking at an upside-down version of Chris. You stare at each other hard, and you brush his hair away and kiss his forehead lovingly.
“Maybe you should ignore your head…” you whisper with a smile.
“I don’t want- you said you were scared- what?”
“I... want you too… I'm... I'm not scared anymore…” you reassure him and it’s amazing how quickly his mood switches up. In quick succession, he flips himself the right way and pushes you down onto your back.
“Say that again,” he demands.
“I'm not scared anymore?” You respond.
“No… the other one… say it again…”
“I... want you too…?”
His eyes flutter closed, and he takes a deep breath, “Are you… sure about this?” he quietly asks, hands scrunching the bed sheets anxiously. You smile softly at him and lean up to kiss his cheek gently, "I'm sure."
Chris' eyes flicker open hesitantly, and as he exhales, he dotingly tucks some of your hair behind your ear, "I'll look after you I promise. I'll be careful."
"I know you will."
He hesitates, his eyes searching yours desperately, "Fuck, baby I want you so badly but are you sure?"
You don't answer.
Instead, you pull him down and kiss him, your hands travelling along his chest to grab the hem of his hoodie. You pull it up and help him remove it.
“You were right… it looks like I will find out if you’re a smooth fucker…” you grin, and Chris rolls his eyes.
“I can be more than smooth, but that's for another time.”
--
You groan and try to roll over, but your face scrunches up when you realise that you can’t. For a moment you’re confused – then you notice the arms wrapped around you, preventing you from moving, and smile. Chris looks incredibly peaceful when he’s sleeping. You’d be content to just listen to his breathing for the entire day if given the opportunity.
Your mind begins to work through the haze of sleep, and your eyes widen, face heating up in seconds, remembering the events of that morning. You gasp, but quickly cover your mouth, not wanting to wake your boyfriend. It didn’t work. Chris grumbles and hugs you tighter, one of his eyes cracking open.
“Good afternoon sunshine…” he mumbles, yawning.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you…” you respond, guilt evident in your voice.
“Did you have a good nap, hmm…?” He asks, staring at you with a smirk on his face.
“What- yes?”
“Oh I bet it was good. Especially after-” You cover his mouth to stop him from speaking and wriggle out of his grip. Then you proceed to tumble out of the bed and stand up gingerly, planning on making your way to your wardrobe, again, for some fresh clothes.
You take a step and wince slightly – it hurts a bit. You can walk though, well- you can until Chris appears out of nowhere and scoops you up bridal style. “Are you okay? Was I too rough?” He asks worriedly, his eyes wide and panicked.
“No- no you weren't, I'm okay!” Is your instant reply, and a sly smirk emerges on Chris’ face, which of course, makes your heart seize.
“I guess that means it's time for round two then baby,” he chuckles, dumping you back on the bed. You stare at him in astonishment.
“Let me ruin you this time, sweetheart?"
Notes:
A/N: Well then.
Feedback is always appreciated, negative and positive alike. I apologise for any editing errors, I’m forever learning.
Until next read!
- Kaisowoo
Chapter 10: Please Stay
Summary:
Chris has a nightmare connected to his experience of Stay suicides, and you try your best to comfort him.
!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!
Chapter Text
--
Chris affectionately ruffles Jeongin’s hair, leaning heavily on his shoulders as he congratulates the younger on his effort at the dance rehearsals today.
“Jeongin-ah you did so well today~” he grins, hugging the man tightly. Jeongin makes a noise of discontent and tries to shy away, proud of the praise but not exactly eager to be on the receiving end of the affection from the father-figure of the group.
Chris shuffles them over to the benches, still clinging to Jeongin excitedly, but eventually releases him to grab a bottle of water. Carefully, Chris wipes at the sweat dripping down the side of his face and downs the whole bottle in just a few seconds.
“Anyone up for chicken? I’m starving,” Changbin calls, already picking up his phone to order the takeout.
“Oh- chicken? I’ll pay,” Minho offers, shaking his hair out of his eyes.
“Nahnah. My treat, I’ll shout,” Chris interjects, “You’ve all worked hard, you deserve it.” He picks up his own phone and sits down next to Jeongin on the bench.
Chris tugs at his shirt a little, trying to fan some air onto his overheating body and briefly glances at the vaguely spread out members, waiting to see if anyone would dare contest his word. Jisung opens his mouth, his eyes wide, but upon catching sight of his leader raising his eyebrows slightly, the quokka decidedly turns to talk Hyunjin.
A satisfied smile gracing his features, Chris clicks open his phone, and his smile morphs into a grin, his heart fluttering at the text messages from you.
-
(A/N: When dialogue is in script format, it's meant to represent text messages)
You: “Drink lots of water please”
You: “I know you’ll smash today’s rehearsals”
You: “You won’t think so”
You: “There’s always room for improvement”
You: “Yes Christopher”
You: “There is”
You: “but please don’t push yourself too hard”
You: “Be proud of yourself, even only a little please?”
You: “I’m proud of you”
You: “I hope you know that”
You: “I always will be”
You: “No matter where you are”
You: “Or what you get up to”
You: “I’ll always love you too”
You: “Always always always and forever”
You: “Doesn’t matter where I am”
You: “My love will always search for you”
You: “You’re my moonlight”
You: “You shine even in the darkness”
You: “See you later alligator :)”
-
Chris shakes his head with a little chuckle, already typing out his response. It’s late… well… it’s early in the morning and your messages were only from a few minutes ago. He’s preparing to spit back every single message of adoration and concern, but also chastise you for still being awake.
-
Chris: “My pride for myself goes to you”
Chris: “Thank you though, the Kids worked hard”
Chris: “I’m ordering them chicken, you want some?”
Chris: “Actually what are you doing still awake?”
Chris: “Go to sleep please”
Chris: “And jagi, it’s cute that I’m your moonlight”
Chris: “You’re my sunshine for sure”
Chris: “But you know the sun would shine even in the darkness too?”
Chris: “I’ve told you this a million times as well, but I shine because you do”
Chris: “I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?”
-
He blinks and stares at the little “Read at 2:56am” pop up in place of the “Delivered”, then scoffs at the sight of 3 little dots dancing on the corner of the screen. You’re typing back. Indignant at you still being awake, he clicks your contact and swiftly calls you.
“Bin can you order chicken for everyone? I’ll pay for it in a second.”
“Yeah yeah,” he responds, having never stopped placing the order from earlier.
(A/N: Let's pretend there's a 24/7 chicken place somewhere in Korea...)
“Are you calling Y/N?” Jeongin asks, leaning over slightly. Chris offers a brief nod and whispers back, “You can say hi in a second.” You pick up after more than a few rings, which is atypical of you, especially since he knows you’re already on your phone.
“Chris?” You ask, your voice sounding dry. He grins at his name falling from your mouth, happy to hear your voice.
“Jagi~” he frowns, “Why are you still awake? Go to sleep.”
Jeongin scoots away, suddenly not in the mood to say hi, his eyebrows knitted together in concern, nose scrunched in mild disgust. Chris playfully whacks Jeongin’s arm, amused by his antics. The Kids should be well in truly used to this affectionate side of him, but they still liked to mock him for it.
A small chuckle filters through the phone but you remain otherwise silent. Chris shivers, goosebumps unknowingly erupting on his arms, and he involuntarily snuggles into himself, an arm wrapping around his waist securely.
“Are you in bed right now?” He nonchalantly asks, then lowers his phone at the request of Jeongin, “I’m putting you on speaker by the way, Jeongin wants to say hi.”
“Hey- hi Innie,” you manage, voice still unusually quiet.
“Did Chan hyung wake you? You sound tired,” asks the youngest, peering worriedly at the phone screen.
Slowly, the other Kids have wandered over, just as eager for a chat with you, even Changbin, who’s still adding to the order. He’d been going around and asking what everyone wanted.
“Yah, Y/N-ah do you want Chan hyung to drop off some chicken for you? He’s paying,” Changbin calls, biting his bottom lip in concentration.
“Nah… I’m all good thanks Bin.”
“Did I actually wake you up baby? You’re so quiet,” Chris asks, panic spiking somewhere in his chest.
“No no. I was awake. I’m just glad I got to hear your voice again,” you mumble, and Chris tilts his head in confusion.
“Glad to hear you too but what does that have to do with…” his voice trails off as he shivers again, an unwelcome fear trespassing over him, his heart pounding in his chest incessantly for an inexplicable reason, “Where are you? Is that wind I can hear?”
The Kids’ look up at Chris, confusion registering on their expressions, but Chris isn’t paying any attention to that. He’s zoned in on your apparent silence, eyes narrowed at the rushing sound filling the phone speakers in place.
“Anyone else cold, why’s it suddenly so cold?” He grimaces, crossing his legs to try and keep his body warmth closer, “Y/N where are you? It’s the middle of the night? Why’s it so windy?”
Again, your silence follows, but this time Seungmin breaks it, “There’s no wind hyung. I don’t hear any.” There’s collective nodding with murmurs of agreement and Jisung leans even closer to the phone just in case.
“And hyung, hyung how are you cold? We just finished rehearsals…”
“What happened to being a human heater?”
“Yah… what wind are you hearing? The line’s dead silent.”
“Are you getting sick or something?”
“Getting old?”
Chris swallows, his brain tuning out their babble. He’s now shivering violently, the tips of his ears tinged pink. His throat has gone achingly dry, and his breath is coming out in stutters that he’s trying to control.
He blinks, tears pricking the corners of his eyes and then he sees it. Just a flash, a flicker, as though imprinted briefly on the inside of his eyelids, and his stomach swoops just for a second - your shoes perched on the edge of a building. You’re looking down, shivering in the cold, at the drop below you - the endless fall, twinkling happily with the neon lights of the dark city. They’re waving at you, blinking with festive cheer.
“Y/N what are you-” but it was only a second, and Chris’ vision returns to his own. Panic grips him, and he bolts up, jumping over the legs and bodies of the members and disappearing straight out of the rehearsal room. There’s no way. There is absolutely no way.
“Y/N. You still there? Stay with me,” he pleads, but one glance at his phone makes his heart sink into his stomach. The call’s been ended. He doesn’t get too far down the hallway before he staggers into the wall, his vision spotting and dropping in and out of consciousness - that frightful deliriousness between sight and darkness, blurring together uncomfortably. Somewhere behind him, although alluringly distant, he can hear the echoing voices of the Skz Members calling out to him frantically.
In a moment of relieved clarity, his eyes widen in surprise at his new surroundings, the chilly night air blanketing his body in pinpricks of discomfort, the wind eerily whispering in his ears. Immediately, his arms wrap around himself protectively, and his head whips around in a disjointed fashion, his brain processing the abrupt change of scenery. Above him, the stars twinkle with a disguised mirth, the moon only just visible behind the filter of the clouds.
Usually, the night sky served as an aid of comfort for him. Tonight however, it only increased his sense of panic, particularly when he saw your figure silhouetted in the distance; distinct and soft against the chaotic lights of the city. He sees you standing there, your back turned to him, rocking back and forth on your feet, hair billowing out behind you, and all at once the world tilts.
“Y/N,” he whispers, launching himself forwards desperately. His fear for you quietens his voice, scared he’ll accidentally startle you… and you’ll fall, “Jagiya,” he calls out a little louder this time, wondering why in the world it’s taking him so long to run over to you. Was he even moving at all? A strangled yell leaves his throat as he watches you shuffle hesitantly, bringing yourself just that little bit closer to the edge.
He’s an arms length away from you now. In just a second he would have you in his arms and he’d never let you go. In just a second he’d cry without abandon and repeatedly ask you why; how did he fail you this severely for you to want to end it all? This doesn’t happen however, because he notices the barrier at the last second, the distorted ripple of it in front of him, and he brings himself to a stop, panting heavily.
“Y/N!” Chris yells, hand reaching out to tentatively touch the force field, “What’re you doing?! Y/N what’re you-“ It’s only now does he realise that you can’t hear him. You mustn’t be able to. There’s no way you would just choose to ignore him when he’s chanting your name over and over again.
“I’m proud of you”
“I hope you know that”
Your head is still tilted down, staring at the abyss below you, and you’re anxiously wringing your hands behind your back. Knowing now, that he can’t scare you to your death, Chris’ voice fully returns to him and he screams your name. His voice heard from anyone else would sound so broken, so angry, laced with an unmatched frustration.
To him however, he couldn’t care less. To him, all he wants is to break through this fucking barrier, whatever fucking transparent bullshit this is, and pull you into his arms. He hammers rapidly onto it, his hand curled into a fist. This achieves nothing but a hazy ripple effect.
“I’ll always love you too”
“Always always always and forever”
“Y/N. Baby. JAGIYA!” Chris yells, and his face is crumpled in his desperation to stop himself from crying. What’re you doing? What’re you- what the fuck? How did I mess up this badly? I can’t lose you. Jesus fuck- don’t do it, please. Please. For a second there, Chris believes you’ve heard him, but he doesn’t let the relief completely wash over him.
You’ve turned around, swivelling carefully on your heels, and even this action makes him flinch forwards, his breath quickening. Don’t fall, don’t fall, think this through, please, please I need you don’t leave me pleasejagiyababyiloveyouwhat’reyoudoingpleasecomebackdon’tdothisican’tdothiswithoutyouineedyouineedyou.
“Doesn’t matter where I am”
“My love will always search for you”
Your face is void of emotion, completely blank and unreadable, but this isn’t what shatters him. No. Not even the way you tilt your head confidently to the sky, as if this isn’t the scariest thing you’ve done in your life. The last thing you’ll do. Might as well go out with confidence right?
What shatters him is the way your features soften at the sight of the moon, glowing brightly now with the clouds having drifted away. What shatters him is the loving smile on your face, the twinkle in your eyes, the absolute adoration on your face when you murmur, “You’re my moonlight Chris. You shine even in the darkness, I know you will.”
Chris breathes out a broken chuckle, nails digging into the barrier painfully, but he barely registers the way his fingers have begun to bleed. Who the fuck cares?
“No no no no, I shine because you do. I reflect your light. The moon reflects the sun’s light. You’re my sunshine. You’re my sunshine. I need you in my life I can’t- fuck shining in the darkness. You can’t do this to me. What are you doing?! Can we talk about this please- did I neglect you? Did I not love you enough, what wasn’t enough? I’ll do better, I’ll be better for you, just stay with me please. Please stay,” he rambles, his voice hoarse.
You look at him then, your eyes locking directly with his, and your smile widens with a pained finality. Chris’ breath is lost somewhere in his throat, and every movement of his pauses - all but for the beating of his heart, loud in his ears.
You can’t see him, that’s not how this works. I suppose you could thank the greater gods above for giving Chris this last moment to look you in the eye, and remember all over again why he loves you.
Or maybe it’s not something to be thankful for.
Maybe this just made it worse.
What are the odds that you’d decide to look at that spot, picturing so clearly your lover’s affectionate expression? If you combine the two images, blur them together - your imagination with the real Chris, staring heartbroken at you… the juxtaposition would be quite fascinating wouldn’t it?
You take a deep breath, arms spread wide.
Chris’ breath is sucked further into his throat, his hands combing through his hair in a final panic.
Your eyes flutter closed.
Chris’ eyes widen.
The silence of your graceful topple backwards, disappearing from sight, is broken only after a few seconds; broken by the gut wrenching scream of a man as the realisation hits him.
You did it.
You’re gone.
You’re... dead.
“See you later alligator :)”
--
Christopher wakes with a start, tearing the blankets from him and disappearing into the bathroom, hands scrabbling for the light switch. He slams the door shut and rushes to the mirror, eyeing his fingers in a panic.
Relief momentarily washes over him when he decides his fingers are perfectly fine. In his reflection, the clear stain of tears line the sides of his face, and he chokes back a sob at the shimmer in his eyes. He looks absolutely pathetic. Sweaty, hair tousled, breath uneven, puffy eyes… tears. Pathetic.
Chris twists the tap on more forcefully than he’d meant to, and douses his face with the cold water, careless about what he’s splashed everywhere on the countertop. He collects himself after a moment, but can’t bring himself to move and open the bathroom door. Can’t bring himself to look at an empty bed. Can’t bring himself to see your side vacant, and have to accept all over again that you’re gone. He’s lost you.
But… what is he thinking…? Because… you’re there.
You were woken up by Chris’ frantic departure and crawled out of bed to pad over to the bathroom, your hand lingering on the doorknob. You stand there, listening to the sound of his breathing, waiting for him to calm himself down.
You know he will. You know he never likes to see himself this vulnerable. If he had spiralled, you would’ve burst through without any hesitation. Right now though, you know that he wouldn’t want you to see him like this.
“Chris?” You hesitantly ask, and the heavy breathing on the other side of the door abruptly stops, “Honey, can I come in?” Eventually, there’s ruffled movement, and you can tell he’s gone to dry his face.
“No- no it’s okay. I’m fine. I’m all good,” he calls out, and you sigh, resting your forehead on the door.
“Christopher we’ve been together for more than three years. I’d be a pretty pathetic girlfriend if I believe you when you say that.”
His voice is closer when he responds, and if you had to guess, he’s pressed himself up against the door to personally stop you from coming in, “It’s okay, I’ll be fine.”
“What kind of a relationship are we in that makes you feel like you can’t be vulnerable with me? You’re not any less of the protective, mentally and physically strong man that you are for me, even if I do see you cry.” He laughs at this, and you allow yourself a small smile, relieved to at least provide a semblance of joy.
“I love you,” he chuckles, and the slight thud on the other side of the door tells you he’s rested his head back onto it. Experimentally, you twist the doorknob, but it holds fast. He’s twisting it back to stop you from opening it.
“The thing is Chris. I love you too, but I love it even more when I can see my love and make sure he’s okay.” You’re able to turn the doorknob a little further now, his grip having slackened, “I don’t mean to press, but I know what you’re like… was it another nightmare?”
The door cracks open slightly, and just as you’re about to take this as an invitation to pull him into a comforting hug, it slams shut again.
“You don’t understand,” he grumbles. You inhale sharply, your heart painfully stinging, and move away from the door. On the other side, Chris immediately regrets his words, cursing himself for his stupidity.
“Okay. You’re right... maybe I don’t,” you quietly whisper, voice breaking slightly. As soon as you turn away and begin to trek back to your bed, the bathroom door is flung open.
“No- jagiya- that’s not what I-” Chris snatches at your arm and pulls you roughly into a back hug, his chin digging painfully into your scalp, “I know I can be vulnerable with you, it’s easy with you.”
You remain silent, hands grasping his arms so you can hug him back somehow. He’s warm… and safe around you, but you think this comfort should be the other way around.
“I just- I just- you just died, in front of me. And I couldn’t do anything about it.”
You tense in his arms, eyes stinging as he tightens his hold on you.
“I couldn’t bring myself to look at you when the image of your suicide was still fresh in my mind. I can’t still. You left me. I didn’t want to look at you and wonder when you would leave me again,” his voice is barely a whisper as he buries his nose into your hair, taking deep breaths.
“I… killed myself?” You tentatively ask, trying to shuffle the both of you over to the bed.
“Right in front of me. You couldn’t hear me pleading with you,” Chris mumbles, and with difficulty you wriggle around in his arms to hug him properly.
He sighs into your embrace, and you lean back onto the bed, dragging him with you. Lying on top of you, he shifts so he can bury his face in your neck, and you massage his scalp comfortingly. Your stomach has twisted itself into a knot, pained to know the contents of his nightmare, sickened by the twisted irony of it all.
“I’m not suicidal Christopher. I never have been. It’s you-”
His breath is hot against your neck, and he squeezes you impatiently, “That was one time.”
“One time is one too many,” you snap, but apologise immediately for your tone, “Sorry… I know it was years ago… and I understand why you tried to… who wouldn’t in your position? I think I would have too.”
Chris whimpers quietly, and you reprimand yourself for reminding him of the thought.
“I’m not going to. What I’m trying to say, is that I still think about that moment a lot. It’s how I met you.”
Chris places a delicate kiss on your neck, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he speaks, “Yeah you pulled me off that god damn railing without any hesitation. I could’ve broken something.”
“You broke me,” you retaliate quietly, “You still break me.” Chris is silent at your words, and you stop your massaging of his scalp, lost in thought.
“That surprised expression you had when you finally heard me. It’s imprinted in my memory. Sometimes you give me that same look… and I can’t help but think what if?” He rolls off you and sits up against the headboard, gesturing for you to sit in between his legs. You do so almost subconsciously, still thinking hard.
“What if I hadn’t saved you that morning? What if I couldn’t? Maybe this is the universe’s form of karma for you,” you cringe at your train of thought, but Chris surprisingly laughs, peppering your head with kisses.
“Trust you to knock off my nightmare of you falling off a building as the ‘universe’s karma’.” You roll your eyes and grab at his arms, linking his hands around you yourself.
“Okay, let me rephrase… I’m just trying to say that… we all have our demons… and sometimes mine is that day you tried to kill yourself,” you look up at him to see him frowning, trying to understand your train of thought. You continue, “I guess I might be one of your demons.”
“One of my demons is the thought of losing you,” he eventually corrects, “So… I won’t ever lose you. Ever.” You giggle at his pout and bring one of his hands up to kiss it affectionately, “You won’t lose me. I’m not going to leave you.”
“Oh yeah? The last time I thought I wasn't going to lose you, you up and left to a whole other continent across the seven seas,” he snorts, and you deflate in his arms, guilt riding up to your heart.
“I- I know… I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I swear.”
“You won’t be able to. I’m not letting you out of my sight,” Chris grumbles, pulling you impossibly closer and tightening his hold around you, “Especially not after that nightmare. You’ll tell me yeah? If you ever have any worries? You won’t just one day decide to launch yourself off a building?”
“Of course I’ll tell you, but we won’t ever get to that point. I won’t leave you so suddenly-“
“Been there done that. I still have that voice message saved y’know. How could you just leave like that?”
“Wow, you’re really strung up about that still. I’m sorry… I’m sorry… that was one time and that was a year ago.”
“One time is one too many. And that’s another one of my demons. That entire experience,” his voice is light now, and you can tell he’s joking with you, but deep down you know he’s still hurt by that period of time.
“Okay Mr. Separation Anxiety,” you grumble, “However can I make it up to you? Do I need to marry you? Worship you in bed? Follow you around for the rest of your life?”
Chris grins down at you and tilts your head so he can squarely kiss you, “They all sound good to me.”
You raise your eyebrows, his face still pressed close, and whisper, “You want me to marry you?”
“Not the part I thought you’d comment on,” he chuckles, pressing close to kiss you into silence again.
“No- Christopher I’d worship you in bed any day- you want to marry me?”
“Why is that such a surprise? Has that not always been in the books for this relationship? Were you planning on staying my girlfriend forever?” Chris’ affection has travelled to your neck, tugging at your hair a little roughly to angle your head for better access. You’re beginning to regret your suggestion of worship in the bed.
“No I… I just didn’t think- I mean you joke about it all the time, I didn't think you were serious serious about it,” you groan, forcefully pulling yourself away and scrambling out of his lap. You cross your arms as he pouts at you, and you immediately miss his warmth.
“I’d marry you right here if I could,” he shrugs, simultaneously pointing at you, and then at the vacant spot between his legs.
“So why don’t you?” Is the only retort you can come up with, your brain going blank - and it’s only after it spills out of your mouth that you realise there’s a million reasons for why he doesn’t.
“You want me to get on my knee and propose right here right now? Cause I will,” he grins, “I gladly will, but… I’d rather I get the chance to do it properly.” He leans over and his hand encircles your wrist, trying his best to drag you back to him, but you dart off the bed and disappear into your office, still barely processing everything.
“And where are you going?” Chris yells impatiently, and after a moments pause you yell back to him.
“I’m gonna get some work done!”
“Right now? The sun’s hours away from rising!”
“So? You do it all the time.”
“No- okay-” he sighs, and you can hear him flop back onto the bed, “Come back here please… I need… you need to fix this…” his last words are so faint that you have to poke your head around the office door and ask him again.
“You can’t just suggest you’ll worship me in bed and then leave,” he whines, and your brain falls into numb shock again.
“I was humouring you, I wasn’t being serious. Did I not just die in your dreams 10 minutes ago? And now you want to-“
“Yes, because I took your humour very seriously,” he glares, stopping his snow angels on the bed just to eye you.
“It’s the middle of the fucking night Christopher,” you sigh, turning away to start up your computer on your desk.
“So? We do it all the time.”
You smash your forehead onto the table, walls caving as he uses your own words against you for the umpteenth time.
“I fucking hate you Christopher.”
“This is your fault,” he yells back.
“I really do hate you,” you scowl again, when he’s already kissing a trail down your neck and his hands are lost up your shirt.
“I love you too,” he grins.
“You made up that nightmare thing just to get my sympathy didn’t you?”
“No. I’d never make something like that up. But you never know, now I might just make something else up in the future.”
“You’re… actually insufferable. And don’t you dare say ‘only for you~’ in that cheeky voice of yours.”
“We can be insufferable for each other.”
“So I’m insufferable as well? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes- will you hurry up and take this damn shirt off? It is- in- the way.”
“You’re so unbelievably impatient.”
“Only for you~”
“Son of a-”
“Shut up and fuck me, woman.”
“Say please?”
“Wow. You did not just-”
“Say please.”
“Are you really going to-”
“Say. Please.”
“I’m a bad influence.”
“And I’m waiting.”
…
“Please.”
“Please what?”
… …
“Please fuck me, jagiya. Before I turn your suggestion of ‘worship of my body’ into the ‘degradation of yours’.”
“Oh.”
Notes:
A/N: Cute. I think.
Feedback is always appreciated, negative and positive alike. I apologise for any editing errors, I’m forever learning.
Until next read!
- Kaisowoo
Chapter 11: Soonie, Doongie and Dori
Summary:
I don't really want to spoil anything, but Chris takes you out on an adorable... rather significant date.
!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!
Chapter Text
--
Complete with an amused smile and a laughing man at your side, you gently shove Minho out of your Café, encouraging him to leave for the umpteenth time.
“Min they will be fine,” Chris insists, his cheerful face hidden between his fingers, trying his best to stop his laughter.
“Turn the TV on for Soonie if he misses me; he’ll watch something with me in it!” The worried man yells, craning his neck to try and catch sight of his cats one last time before he leaves.
“Yes and Dori’s favourite toy is that fluffy mouse on a string, and Doongie likes to sleep on pillows, and all three of them like the same cat snacks,” you recite, the specificities ingrained in your braincells.
Minho’s cats have come to stay while his parents go on vacation. They can’t stay at his dorms obviously, so instead you offered to help him out. Your Café does have that pet day/night care… but this one would be free of charge. “I’ll be back as often as I can Y/N, thank you so much,” Minho bows, and you shake your head at him. With one final fleeting glance through the windows, Minho disappears from sight.
Chris wraps his arms around your waist, snuggling into you from behind, “He loves his cats more than he loves us, I swear.”
“They’re his kids, what do you expect?” You grin, turning your head slightly to kiss his cheek.
"And you’re sure it’s definitely okay to leave his kids alone in your apartment for a few hours tonight?” Chris questions, pulling away from you to head upstairs.
“Absolutely, I’ve made my place cat proof and there’s plenty of entertainment. I might just leave the TV on too and put on a playlist of Stray Kids content,” you chuckle, following your boyfriend upstairs.
Right, Chris has organised a little date - but he hasn’t told you what. Sound familiar?
“Hey Chris- can you at least give me a hint so I know what to wear?” You sigh, rummaging around in your wardrobe, stressing. After a second of silence, Chris walks in to join you. He looks a little flustered, his hands fidgety and eyes wide. Biting his lip, he tugs at a random pair of pants from your shelf, tosses them at you, then after a brief hesitation, disappears to his wardrobe and fishes out one of his hoodies.
You raise your eyes at him and he shrugs, “Comfy is all you need, don’t stress.” Then he disappears around the corner again, sprinting away with tiny steps.
“Comfy is all I need,” you repeat, voice mocking as you throw his hoodie over your head, “Then what the hell are you wearing Christopher?”
It’s a valid question.
He’s dressed in a light blue collared button up with the sleeves rolled up, faded-grey ripped denim jeans and stylish black platform boots with innumerable laces and even a decorative zip down the side. You supposed he looked comfy, but still he was a lot more dressed up than just a pair of jeans and his hoodie.
You sigh and brush your hair out of your face, trying to neaten it up in a way that it’d still look okay underneath a hood. You’re half contemplating taking your fashion into your own hands and finding something to wear yourself, using Chris’ fit as a guide, when the man in question ricochets into the bathroom.
“Hey- how far away are you from finishing up?” He breathes, eyeing you from head to toe.
“Like five minutes- I just need a little makeup since you said ‘dress comfy’,” you frown, staring at him through the bathroom mirror. Dress comfy. He’s wearing makeup himself and has his hair all styled… and you’re… in his hoodie.
“Chris- why are you-”
“Can you make it ten minutes? Take as much time as you need…” he pleads, puppy eyes emerging from nowhere. At this you turn to stare at him, hands disappearing into the sleeves of his hoodie since it’s a little oversized.
“You want me to take longer?” You breathe. He’s got silver jewellery on too; thick, circular earrings and pearled bracelets.
“Yep,” he simply replies, and then disappears again.
“Uhm…” you’re left dumbfounded as you slowly turn back to the mirror.
Rather than the five minutes you had proposed, you extend it out to fifteen, trying to find jewellery that compliments the jewellery Chris is wearing. By the time you exit the bathroom, sneakers and socks in your hand, the sun is beginning to set. Chris is crouched by his bedside drawer, scrummaging through the contents.
“Where the fuck did I put it?” You stand there, watching him as he bends to peer under the bed, “Where the fuck- how the fuck?” When he props himself back up on his knees swiftly, he freezes at the sight of you staring at him.
“Need help finding something?” You laugh, stooping to put your socks on.
“No,” he curtly responds, hoisting himself up scratching the back of his neck, “No- it’s fine… I’ll find it-”
You shrug and finish putting on your shoes as Chris returns to his frantic search, “Wanna tell me what it is? I might’ve seen it.” Chris laughs and disappears into the office, shifting a stack of papers out of the way by the sound of it, “You won’t have seen it. It’s fine, I’ll find it.”
You frown and poke your head around the door, watching him open drawers roughly and slam them shut with just as much force.
“If you’re looking for your wallet… it’s in the kitchen…” you helpfully add, smiling as Dori pads up to you and rubs up against your leg.
“No… it’s fine I know where that is. It’s fine. It’s okay, I’ll be with you in a sec just head down stairs babe, I just need… five minutes,” he mutters, whizzing past you and out into the living room. You follow him out and see that he’s desperately searching every nook and cranny of the couch.
“Christopher- what are you looking for?”
“Sorry Doongie, you’re gonna have to move mate… did you eat it?”
“Chris.”
“Where the hell did I put it?”
“Christopher.”
“How did I manage to lose…”
“Honey.”
Finally, he stands to look at you, taking a deep breath to try and compose himself.
“Is it that important…?” You tilt your head at his silence, at his eyes drilling into your own.
“You have no idea…” he whispers, then throws his head back with a groan, “Just go downstairs, I’ll be with you in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, yeah?”
You do as he says, mind spinning excessively as you idly scroll on your phone. Chris rubs your back to let you know he’s behind you, and when you turn around your heart fades a little at the sullen expression on his face.
“Couldn’t find it?” You whisper calmly, and Chris smiles sadly.
“No. Nope. I’m an idiot… but…” it takes him a great deal of effort to say the next few words, his voice strained, “but it’s okay, we should just go before it gets too late.”
--
“Where’s your car…?” You ask, blinking at the empty spot where it usually sits out the front.
“It’s already there,” Chris sheepishly smiles. His overall posture is still deflated, and even though you’ve assured him countlessly that he’ll find this important object one day, nothing seems to cheer him up.
“It’s… already there…” you repeat, eyes narrowed, “if… the car is already there then how are we supposed to- okay none of what you just said makes any sense.” Chris pulls you towards him to kiss your forehead, and then with a soft smile, links his hand with yours easily.
“You’ll see when we get there. It’s not too far,” he strokes some hair out of your face and begins to drag you in the direction of his… mysterious date.
He’s right. He’s taken you to the park around the corner, the place where you’d go to eat ice cream, or feed the ducks, or bask on a picnic blanket in the sun. Sometimes you’d go for a walk, or for a bike ride… skateboards was always the best. In no time, you spot Chris’ car parked on the grass, and you dimly wonder if this is even allowed. There’s no one else around though - the sun has just about disappeared behind the horizon.
As you draw nearer, Chris unlocks his car and drags you around to the boot.
“Okay wait here,” he insists, and with a deep breath, he opens up the boot to reveal… a picnic… set up? He’s pushed the back seats down so there’s more space, and there are cosy blankets and pillows strewn about everywhere. Your favourite books are nestled in the corner, and you have a feeling he’ll want you to read to him - one of the many things he asks you to do when you’re together.
There’s a little picnic basket waiting to be opened on the other side, and a box of sweet treats carefully decorated. Chris takes another deep breath and reaches into the car to fiddle with a switch. In just a second, a string of fairy lights flickers to life, twisting and bending in and out of the blankets, along the interior of the car and dangling down from the roof.
Your mouth falls open in pure shock.
“I’ll… I’ll turn these off later and open up the sunroof and we can…” he begins, but you finish his shy sentence before him, “Lie back and look at the stars?”
:]
He smiles and nods slowly, biting his bottom lip nervously. Your face breaks into a delirious grin, and you charge forward to tackle him with a hug, positively knocking the wind out of his lungs.
“I love you,” you huff, burying your face into his chest and squeezing him as tightly as you can. His warm chuckle and arms snaking around to squeeze you back make your heart explode, the safety, adoration and security he brings with just those actions making your head spin.
"I love you too..." he whispers, his voice breaking slightly.
“I love you, you’re adorable. You’re so- you did this all yourself?” You ask, breathing heavily into his shirt.
“Mhm…” he mumbles, kissing the top of your head affectionately, and then one more time for good measure, “Only for you…”
You pull away slightly to stare at him, and your heart stops at his gaze, his tender expression. All you can see is you, reflected in his eyes.
“I love you,” you breathe again. His eyes narrow slightly with happiness, and the corners of his lips quirk just a little.
He’s silent as you stare at him, grinning childishly. He’s silent as you grab his wrist and hop up into the car, dragging him with you. He’s silent because he’s watching you. Watching your happiness, watching the twinkle in your eyes. Watching the curve of your smile, and the gentle flow of your hair.
He’s watching you and wishing to god, wishing with his soul… that he hadn’t misplaced that ring.
—
A/N: HAH HAHHAHAHAHA. HAH.
—
“Jagiyaaa! You sit back down right now, I will feed the cats in two seconds,” you yell, trying to shove your books back into the bookshelf.
“I’ve got it, I’ve got it,” Chris shouts back, his head already buried in the pantry.
“I’m the one who offered to look after the god damn cats. Can you sit down for one second and pick out a movie?” You chide, rushing over to him and practically yanking him out of the kitchen.
“I just want to help,” he pouts, laughing as you use all your strength to push him back to the couch.
Chris’ little date had felt like it lasted for eternity; giggling, reading, snuggling, staring, eating. The stars seemed especially bright tonight. Now you were back home. You’d only been out for a couple of hours at most, but it was enough to make your heart swell with love for this man. There was absolutely no way he’d be allowed to lift another finger for the next week, you swear.
You manage to shove him back to the couch, and he flops onto the couch when you force him to sit, pushing on his shoulders, but he follows you immediately when you turn away to get the cat food.
“Chris go away. I’m feeding the cats, stop being so stubborn,” you groan, speeding up your pace to the pantry. You swipe the tinned food into your hands and dash off towards Soonie, Doongie and Dori’s feeding bowls. Chris chases after you, leaping over the back of the couch to halt you in your path.
“Give me the food,” he grins, spreading his arms wide to stop you.
“No! I’m feeding them!” You scowl, trying to get passed him, but he scuttles in your way again.
“Give it,” he insists again, this time gesturing with two of his fingers, his bottom lip between his teeth. You sigh and walk closer, pretending to give in, but instead press a chaste kiss to his lips.
When you pull away, his head follows you slightly, looking for more, and in his distracted state, you slip past him smirking.
“Okay. Foul play,” he states, swivelling around to follow you again, “Just let me feed the cats.”
“Why do you want to feed them so badly?” You question, opening the tin and kneeling down to pour it into their bowls. He could be asking you the same question. Chris sits down next you cross legged and shrugs, watching you fill the three bowls with your tongue sticking out of your mouth, trying to estimate the portions correctly.
“It’s just one little job. And I wasn’t about to make you do it, not after that date you set up,” you continue. Chris has fallen silent, but you hardly notice, fixated instead on the cat food and your train of thought. He’s simply watching you again.
“I can’t believe you did all that by the way. It was so cute.”
By this point, Chris practically can’t even hear you. He’s sitting with his hands in his lap, his head tilted to the side slightly, watching the movement of your lips.
“Anyways, I’m feeding the cats because you shouldn’t have to care for everything.”
He’s smiling as he waits for that particular strand of your hair to slip past your ear and flop onto your face, his mind a haze, heart steadily beating in his chest.
“I’ll look after Minho’s cats, and I’ll look after you too, just like you look after everyone else.” Finally, you look up at him, and immediately you know he hasn’t heard a word.
“You’re not listening are you?” You chuckle, smiling at his dazed expression. He’s still silent for a second, just staring lovingly, and then the words tumble out of his mouth… the words you’ve been waiting for, and with a jolt of your heart you realise this is it.
“Marry me,” he whispers, not a fleck of insincerity in his voice. He’s not joking this time.
He swallows in your silence, sitting up straighter to continue, his hands fidgeting in his lap.
“Look I know- I know I’m not on one knee like I said I would be- I was meant to propose properly like an hour ago during our date- but I- I lost the ring, I can’t for the life of me find it, and I’m so- I’m so sorry- but I mean- I just want so badly to be your husband- and even though there’s no ring-”
Your smile has only intensified into a grin with each passing second of him rambling. Slowly, you put the cat food down and reach into your front hoodie pocket, hands fumbling around for the item you’d stowed away, kept on your possession the moment you’d found it amongst his clothes two days ago.
“There is a ring though…” you interrupt, and he abruptly stops his heartfelt explanation.
“What?”
Chris watches, his mind stuttering, as you prop yourself up on one knee in front of him and withdraw a familiar ring box from your (his?) hoodie. His mouth falls open slightly at the sight of it, growing exceedingly dry as you flip it open, revealing your ring.
“Will you marry me, Bahng Christopher Chahn?” You grin, struggling to contain your laughter.
“Hang on- wait a minute- where did you find-” Chris begins, rubbing his face.
“Awh just answer the question~” you tease.
“No that’s not- I’m asking the question not you, that’s not how this is supposed to-”
“Will you marry me?”
“Wait- wait no this is insane, this is not-”
“Will… you… marry… meeeeeeeeee?”
“I’m so stupid.”
“And I’m waiting.”
(A/N: PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD TELL ME SOMEONE UNDERSTANDS THIS PARALLEL)
Chris looks at you, then down at the ring, and then back up at you. He caves in those seconds, his voice cracking as he sits up on his knees and cups your face, “Yes. Yes of course you fucking shit, yes I’ll marry you.“
Finally, you let your laugh escape you, and his own face breaks into a grin at the sound.
“This is unbelievable- I cannot believe this,” he murmurs, his voice feeble as he pulls you into a suffocating hug, “You had it this entire time? Don’t tell me you knew even when I was searching for it earlier.”
“Oh I knew.”
“You’re a fucking shit- I was so sad. I was so fed up with myself, I thought I ruined that entire date- you’re a fucking little shit.”
“I could tell - you looked so defeated, but it’s okay… because it just made the whole date 100x sweeter.”
“I fucking hate you.”
“And you’re sure you want to marry the person you seem to hate so much?”
Chris glares at you, then pulls you in for a mind-numbing kiss, your senses tuned in to only the feeling of your fiancé in front of you. You don’t even hear Soonie, Doongie and Dori meowing at you to move out the way so they can eat their food in peace. (A/N: Yeah! Move out the way bitches, us cats are hungry and our Dad would be mad at you right now!)
--
The sun was warm on your back, the sand ticklish between your toes as you took steady steps down the aisle, clinging tightly to Noah’s arm. You smiled happily at the adoring gazes of the rest of your family - Kiara, Dennis and Ryan. Chris’ family was here too, Jessica and Jack Bahng standing proudly with matching grins. Hannah and Lucas, you noted, had already been for a little dip in the water.
Stray Kids, and Ashley of course attended the wedding too - and as you walked passed them you couldn’t help but bow your head and laugh at their wolf whistles and cheers. Chris’ was a grinning mess, looking as handsome as ever, and once you finally reached him, he couldn’t resist kissing you happily. This of course, resulted in yells of dismay and laughter alike.
You weren’t wearing a veil, and your hair was completely out, blowing gently in the sea breeze. It felt... unnecessary here.
You barely managed to get through your vows, struggling to form a coherent thought with the way Chris was looking at you, and when it was his turn your brain completely malfunctioned, admiring the way his tie sat snugly on his neck, his windswept hair, the happiness on his face.
“You’re not listening are you?” Chris pauses, smiling softly and brushing your hair out of your face. You blink and turn away slightly, trying to wake yourself up.
“Yeah sorry- I am so sorry- you’re just- hoo you’re hot in a suit I swear to god.”
As soon as the official ceremony was over, the Stray Kids members swooped in… grabbed you by your wrists and ankles… and sprinted you all the way over to the water, Chris being roughly tousled over too. You laugh at the familiarity of the situation, squealing slightly as the cold water drenches you.
Everyone surrounds the pair of you, Chris getting shoved into you as you try to stand, and you cling to him desperately. Jisung starts up the chant, and you grin at your husband, knowing you’re both thinking the same thing.
“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
You do. This time you do. Chris pulls you into a searing kiss, tasting slightly of salt water, one hand cupping your face, the other clinging tightly to your hip. When you separate, his forehead remains on yours, and he whispers, “What do you say we dunk Jisung first, hey?”
You laugh and nod, then kiss him swiftly one more time before you both turn with mischievous grins towards Jisung. His raucous cheering ceases, and he morphs right back into a quokka, trying to hide behind Minho as you and Chris race towards him.
--
You’re sitting with your head resting on Chris’ shoulder, waiting patiently as he opens up a video on his computer. You’ve just gotten back from your honeymoon, spent travelling all over the place. To Perth, where your family lives, to Sydney, where his family lives and even back to the place where your other Café is located - where he first met you.
“So… this is something I’ve made…” Chris smiles, sliding his finger on the mousepad, “Actually, the Kids’ helped with the song… but I produced it, wrote the lyrics for it, and I filmed almost everything in this video.”
You snuggle into him more, excited to see what new Stray Kids’ content was to be released. He seems to understand your train of thought, “It’s not for Stray Kids though.”
You frown and look up at him, confused. He only smiles and slides the mouse to the top of the video, so you can read the title.
‘For My Love’
“Is this that- wait is this that song you started writing ages ago?!” You ask, jaw completely slack.
Chris kisses the top of your head happily, then after a shuddering breath, presses play.
(A/N: And you should pull up the song "Mixtape: OH" by SKZ too. I've tried to time the writing with the music, so I hope it's okay. When the song starts, continue reading onwards!!)
As soon as the music reaches your ears, you’re tossed into disbelief, the nostalgic tune hitting you hard immediately. On the screen, there’s only the title, flickering in and out of sight.
The footage fades in when Jisung begins to rap, beginning with carefully edited videos of you. Just you. Walking ahead of Chris, unwrapping your birthday present, making coffee… cooking dinner, working in your office, sleeping… dancing around in the living room, playing with the animals in your daycare, reading… brushing your hair, talking with customers, listening to one of Chris’ new songs, swinging on some swings.
Then you notice the videos start to include Chris. Eating ice cream together, snuggling on the couch, walking hand in hand… watching a movie, messing around in the JYPE dance rooms, in the studios, in the dorms…
I thought I knew I was arrogant as if I knew everything
But I didn't know, with you
Why does it get harder the closer you get?
During Chris’ part, his vocals distinct, he’s standing as a relatively distant silhouette on a beach, the sun setting wistfully behind him, dancing and singing as a shadow. Your heart is painful in your chest.
As the chorus hits, the videos of both of you return, but they seem brighter, more vivid. Perhaps there was a filter on the previous videos muting their colours. This time it’s more than just you and Chris. You and Chris are with Stray Kids’, then with Ashley, then with your family, then with his. Your eyes are misting over, and you barely register that the real Chris is humming softly along to the tune beside you. You don’t even remember half of this footage being taken, but you remember the events.
All the Stray Kids members are now yelling into the camera, but they bob down to reveal Chris behind them all, just so he can say “Can I call you baby?”
Ayy (Baby)
Can I call you baby?
Ayy (Yeah, baby)
In front of love, I'm still a kid
From here on, the music fades slightly, disappearing to become merely background music. The footage is now the main focus, the music quietened so the other audio can be heard.
Chris has propped his phone up on the bedside table, and it’s with a start that you realise he’s sitting on your old bed, the one you had before you moved to Korea.
“I got you back. You’re back with me now. I’m so glad that you’re- I’m never losing you again. I should have paid more attention. I’m just glad that you’re back with me.” Chris swivels around to stare at the bathroom for a second, “Mhm, yeah you’re in the shower right now. You’re home. You’re with me.”
New video, new environment. Chris is sitting on the common room couch of your old Café, playing with a pillow in his lap.
“It’s your birthday today!! You’re upstairs with Ashley, she’s doing a good job of keeping you entertained. I’ll see you in a bit. I’m gonna call you. Oi! Seungmin stop hitting Changbin!”
“He hit me first!”
“No- no fighting-“ The video cuts off as Chris reaches for the camera, his attention elsewhere.
The next video displays you, sitting on the floor trying to understand how to put the bed frame together. Chris peeks the camera around the door frame, talking in hushed tones in the background.
“Welcome to your new home. Look at you, so hard at work already. You must be so tired jagi. Your plane fight must have been tiring, and yet you’re up and busy trying to look for screws. Behind you… nope other way ah there we go. You found them. Just like you found me. I’m glad you found me. I’m so glad you found me.”
When the bridge of the song hits, the mood is slightly different, and you know you’re going to have puffy eyes by the end of this video… because the footage shows a bridge. One that you distinctly remember. One that changed your life forever.
Chris holds his phone out to include him in the footage, and he stands there, leaning against the railing, smiling.
“This is where I met you, jagi. This is where you found me. Right here, on this bridge. I tried to die. I did. I told you I just wanted to see what it looked like, but I lied. I genuinely- I wanted to drown. But you saved me. You still save me. Every day. Thank you. Thank you for saving me. Thank you for loving me.”
The footage swiftly changes and now Chris is leaning on a sign post, and his mood is considerably happier here.
“I kissed you for the first time ever here, right after you ran into this pole. Aha, I remember that so clearly - I don’t know how you managed to- but anyways… I finally kissed you, after wondering for soooo long what it would be like. I did it. And now I’ve kissed you a million more times and will do so millions of times more. If you’ll let me.”
Chris is climbing a set of steps now, and he’s muttering into the camera, the footage shaky as he climbs.
“I had to get permission to come up here, because you don’t live here anymore. The manager of this Café Studio does- but anyways. Look here we are, your old house! It’s a bit different now, obviously… but… if we go through here… ta dah! You said you loved me here. I was so happy, so unbelievably happy you have no idea. I’m never going to forget the way you did that. You were so cute wow… woah being in here is a trip down memory lane. Wow… you’re still cute by the way, just saying.”
The video fades to black, the final few notes of the song ringing in your ears, and in the same font as the introductory title, the words ‘Thank you for loving me’ fade onto the screen, resounding and final.
You turn to the real Chris, who’s softly smiling at you, his eye’s utterly full of adoration and love.
“Thank you for loving me,” he repeats, and you pull him into a hug, crying into his neck openly.
Thank you. For loving him.
Notes:
A/N: I'm a puddle right now.
Feedback is always appreciated, negative and positive alike. I apologise for any editing errors, I’m forever learning.
Until next read!
- Kaisowoo
Chapter 12: You Stayed.
Summary:
Absolute fluff overload, but this time you're home with your husband Chris and you're trying to get some chores done.
Reimagined from @lovehyyuntold's (Guien, pronounced Gwen) "-Fluttering Between the Dusts of Our Love" on Tumblr - credits to her, and a nightmare I had, for quite literally inspiring this entire series; her fic is basically the base of this entire part, I merely added a few things here and there and reworked it just a little to fit my writing style and the series, and yes I have permission to upload this - honour to whom honour is due.
!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!
Chapter Text
--
“Hey hey- no!” You chide, clutching the laundry basket tighter to swiftly step away.
“I just crave your affection,” he whines, his open hands grasping the air where you stood.
Your breath comes out as a huff, eyes rolling to the ceiling with a slight shake of your head. You scamper further from the bed as he scrambles closer, like a child longing for a bite of your ice cream.
“I said no,” you continue, with a sharp wave of your finger, “I’m avoiding you for that very reason Chris.”
At your increased distance, he buries his face into the bed and writhes around like a worm, hands clinging desperately to the sheets, his next words adorably muffled, “We’ve been doing this for so long…”
Your lack of response causes him to sigh exasperatedly, and you watch as he picks himself up, grabs the nearest shirt by the edge of the bed and begins to fold it, carefully flattening out the creases. Admiration crinkles the corners of your eyes, irises twinkling as he pouts, a small smile creasing your features.
He’s moved onto one of your shirts now, and he folds it with a strange fondness, his hands gently placing it onto your pile; his actions soften your soul further. Your vision blurs as it disappears into your mind, a bubble of guilt emerging as you continue to gaze at him – an unsettling, heavy weight sinking into your gut.
His time with you is limited enough already, and you decide to fill it with chores? Your slight smile turns into a strained frown, and you swivel around to hide your displeasure, making your way to the laundry.
He’s a busy man. Too busy – but that was expected from a man with the entire kpop industry in the palm of his hands, an endless schedule of music production keeping him sprinting day and night. The group had extended their contract for a little longer, deciding to bask in their success for as long as they could; and you knew it pained him that it restricted his time with you.
And yet, he didn’t complain when you asked him for help. Okay, sure, he whined and teased, but you knew he wasn’t genuinely upset, just clingy. It would have been much more difficult to soldier through the chores if it weren’t for him, especially when every particle of dust could become a bunny, silently keeping to the shadows. It wasn’t exactly your faults when your careers were the overwhelming priority of your lives right now.
From breakfast to noon this cleaning fest had occurred, and the both of you were witnesses to the sun’s bright glow – its soft hue of gold glimmering into orange rays through the window. You were witnesses to the slight whistle of the wind slipping past the curtains.
Witnesses, and nothing more.
Your mind numb to your environment, you hadn’t noticed the heat radiating off the recently dried clothes. It wasn’t until you stepped back into your room, eyes falling to your husband, who’s back is now turned to you (still folding clothes diligently), that the heat catches your attention.
You shift your fingers uncomfortably, eager to put the basket down, but halt as an idea formulates in your mind, eliciting a small giggle. It would be karma, for Chris distracting you each time a new chore was started.
You tiptoe further into the room, creeping over to him, eyes trained on his movements. He’s muttering something to himself, no doubt related to his work, as he folds more clothes. You struggle to contain your laughter by this point, so there’s no doubt that he hears you. As expected, he turns around at the last second, effectively colliding with the laundry basket as you dump the clothes upon his figure.
Plan failed, but still successful anyways.
“Hot!” He hisses, flinching at the contact, “You cheeky little shit.” Chris reacts violently by reaching for you, an arm snaking around your waist almost instinctively.
Your malfunctioning reduces your reaction time, clutching your stomach as you wheeze with joy. The second you realise however, you wrangle his arm from your waist and wriggle away.
“Oh no you don’t!” He barks, stretching out further to snatch at your clothes. Your eyes widen as he tugs you roughly, causing you to stumble straight into his arms and topple both of you onto the piles of clothing scattered around the bed.
“How was that allowed, yet me offering my love to you earlier wasn’t?” He hums, his tone accusing as he burrows his head into the crook of your neck, spooning you as you try to wiggle out of his grip. This was to no avail however, as his arms tighten with each attempt – prey. You had become the prey writhing under the hold of a coiling snake; one so close to being devoured, should the escape fail.
“It’s allowed! It doesn’t count!” You squeak, courtesy of his mouth nibbling slightly on your ear, nose rubbing the back of your head, “And besides- I wasn’t showing you love or being a distraction really- Chris! That tickles! Stop-”
Far from obeying your request, he continues his antics towards the back of your neck, peppering it with kisses and occasional marks – tongue swiping here and there.
“Don’t resist… it’ll only get worse if you do,” he whispers calmly. (A/N: I had to roll over and scream into my pillow when I read this line of dialogue in Guien's work istg.) His breath caused goosebumps to arise on your skin, his fingers circling on your stomach eliciting a minute shiver. After a slight squeeze of your thigh, he switches up your positions, swiftly moving his legs to your sides, trapping you below him – smiling, he places his forehead on yours.
“I can think of plenty of other ways I can show you love,” he chuckles, gently kissing your nose.
“You cheeky little-”
“-shit?” He interjects swiftly, his thumb lazily caressing your cheek, eyeing your lips a little too obviously. (A/N: Writing my characters likes this is not fair to me, because there is no way anyone is ever gonna be this smooth with me.)
Perhaps he had managed to stun you into silence, or maybe (this was definitely the more valid reason), you’re too busy admiring him to respond. Curls of molasses fall down slightly, the sun’s gaze highlighting pure contentment written across his features. His eyelids are scrunched in adoration, his tender love spoken in the sigh against your lips – breaths lingering in a kiss that never occurred.
Eventually, you manage to choke out a response, gaze attached to the pure bliss that are his dark eyes - “We have chores Christopher.”
He lies both his hands on your cheeks, cradling your face beneath his grasp, and softly plants another kiss on your forehead. The infinite care with which he handles your head, as if you were the most fragile thing in existence, causes your heart to melt.
This feeling must have been expressed on your face, or maybe you are enough reason for him to smile again, eyes sparkling with an indescribable joy. He chuckles again, but this time the feeling is different – it’s like warm caramel next to a vanilla cake… that’s sitting beside a hot chocolate by the fireplace (A/N: ThAt MakEs nO SenSe, I’m sorry, but yeah!), as he begins to place kiss after careful kiss wherever he can, exploring the body he has already ingrained into the depths of his soul.
“I.” A kiss on your eyelid.
“Can.”Kisses for your cheeks.
“Never.” A kiss on your lips, biting delicately as if his desire could be explained through the action.
“Get.” One below your earlobe.
“Enough.” Another on your jaw, more as he ventures to your neck – dragging out the end of each word.
“Of.” Collar bones now, painfully taking his sweet time as he descends to your chest and remains there, grabbing your left hand.
His gaze bores into you as your eyes flutter open, and he must’ve looked ravished for you – there was no doubt in the world that he was in dire need for love. Your love. He’s grown absolutely frantic without-
“You.” Finally, he plants a kiss on the back of your hand.
“Christopher,” you whisper, grabbing onto his arms – somehow you had almost forgotten how obsessively rough they’ve gotten.
“You say my name like that ever again and I am not at fault for what happens next,” he mumbles back, the side of his lips curling up, holding onto you tightly – the space between you disappearing as he pulls your body closer.
(A/N: I am dead, Kaisowoo is dead - when I wrote this, I had to leave my room. Tell me he is not like that, go on. Tell me he does not have a name kink *coughs*.)
“The- the chores…” you stutter, internally smug at your effect on him, but still trying with all your power to stay on the right track.
“Chores aren’t my priority my love. You are,” he chuckles, nuzzling his face into your neck and inhaling heavily, drunk on simply just… you. As if they have their own mind, one of your hands curves around to his back, tenderly rubbing there, while the other tangles itself into his hair.
“I’m off tomorrow,” he murmurs, abruptly causing you to cease your ministrations, and your body stiffens at the news. He pecks your neck with a chaste kiss, never leaving his burrowed position, and you slowly resume your affectionate drawings on his back and tangling of his hair.
You knew he was scheduled to leave for a tour tomorrow. He told you months prior and hadn’t mentioned it again – but the date was engraved in your mind regardless. It was torturous, but he didn’t have a choice.
He chose this as his career, and these responsibilities and sacrifices came with it. Besides, his boys need him. He needs them. They rely on each other, care for each other – and all you could do, and will do, is support him. If you didn’t… you weren’t deserving of his love.
In the silence, the world around you crumbles, piece by piece, each slipping moment sending a fraction of your mind, your heart, tumbling into a darkness; the upcoming loneliness and longing for him due to his absence arriving early – even though he’s snug in your arms. His ability to casually sneak this into conversation dumbfounds you; too casual, especially when you grow miserable beyond compare without him.
Your minds at that moment must have been wired together however, so attune to each other’s thoughts; the following conversation reminds you that you aren’t the only one in pain.
“It hurts,” his whisper shatters the remaining fractures of your heart, and your eyes begin to sting with the threat of tears.
“What hurts?” You croak, fingers now gently massaging the back of his skull. You ask this even though you know what the answer is.
“My wife – how I miss you,” he whispers, lathering you with more kisses, still refusing to abandon the warmth of your neck, “I barely get to spend any time with you anymore. Do you know how devastated I am whenever I arrive home, and you’re either asleep or at work?”
You can feel the frown forming on his lips, and he holds you tightly as the seconds trickle, as if worried you will disappear if he doesn’t.
“Baby please. There’s no need to be devastated,” you clarify, understanding how much his job truly meant to him – knowing how much your own job meant to you.
“We both know it’s not your fault… and it’s not mine either. Also I literally work downstairs,” you go on, moving your hand down to caress the back of his neck and disappear underneath his shirt slightly, his warmth flowing onto your skin, “I know it’s not the same, but sometimes, we aren’t able to spend time with each other. We’re both busy people, especially you. And that’s okay. It’s why instead, we cherish these moments.”
He jolts up, and your hands are forced to abruptly shift comfortably to around his neck. His eyes are wide as they drill into yours, and your eyebrows furrow quizzically. When he says nothing, you begin to try and get back to chores once more.
“Now, let’s-” your sentence is cut short by a hearty giggle. Chris grabs your legs and wraps them around his abdomen, “What’re you- ah!” You squeal, clinging tighter to his neck. Deftly, he secures his hands around your waist and shuffles you both to the top of the bed, onto the pillows, where he gingerly lays you down again.
He hesitates not a second before he extricates himself from you and lifts your shirt to reveal your stomach.
“Christopher Bahng! Stop it!” You screech, as he nuzzles his head into your stomach, disappearing underneath your shirt, continuously placing kiss after kiss.
“Mmhmm… not happening sweetheart,” he presses a longer kiss to your skin, and you understand everything he wishes to convey in that moment, he doesn’t need any words.
“It’s cosy down here,” he sighs, carefully tucking his arms underneath you – clingy.
At this point, the only way you can think to overpower him is by tickling, and eventually you manage to reposition yourself on top of him, straddling his chest (amidst his cursing and begging you to play fair – which was inconsiderate, considering he literally never did). You yank the pillow out from underneath his head and pretend to suffocate him with it. His mocking screams for help eventually satisfy you, and you chuck the pillow to the side.
“That was mean,” he pouts, and you don’t resist the urge to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, “That was really mean,” he grins and you offer one more kiss on the lips to apologise, “What if I said that was really really mean?”
You raise your eyebrows and boop his nose with a shake of your head and a quiet chuckle, before you relax on top of him, clinging like a koala to your special tree. He sighs dramatically and whispers, more to himself than anything, “Worth a shot,” then proceeds to hum to a slowed tune of one of Stray Kids’ songs, “Silent Cry”.
After a minute of silence and Chris’ peaceful lullaby, he grabs your chin softly and tilts your face up to gaze at him.
“I love-” he begins, but your hand darts up to his mouth to stop him.
“I love you. You don’t even understand how much I love you. If I could pluck every single flower in this world, I would do so. I would spend my hours, my days, my years, taking the time to pick every single one, just for you.”
His eyes widen and his breath tickles the palm of your hand, but you continue, “Sometimes I don’t deserve your love. Your love cannot compare to- to anything- to-” you begin to break down as the thought of him leaving you trespasses your thoughts again and Chris’ eyes soften. Carefully, he pulls your hand away from his mouth, but only enough so he can pepper your palm with soft kisses.
“You know… that’s something that I’m supposed to say.” He chuckles.
“Yeah? Well too bad, I said it,” you smile at him, as he wipes away the stray tear on your cheek.
“God you’re fucking beautiful,” he whispers, gazing at you as though for the first time in his life.
(A/N: I swept my own breath away, the suddenness of his words, my lord.)
“Language,” you quietly whisper back.
“Shut up you,” he grumbles, pulling you down to hug him again, “Who made you my wife?”
“Bang Chan did,” you laugh, the sound causing a small smile to quirk his lips.
“Why’d he do that?” He moans, rolling his eyes mockingly.
“Because he loves me?”
“That’s right darling. I love you. I fucking love you. And I would gladly fuck-”
You cut him off before he gets the chance to start anything again, “I love you too Chris.” His eyes twinkle as he watches you snuggle into him further, hiding the stain blooming across your face.
He wishes, more than anything, that you understand the weight of those words. It’s his desperation, his goal, to make sure that you never live without knowing his love.
I love you too, Chris. I love you too.
In this moment, all worries have been forgotten – temporarily of course. There will come a time when you wake up the next day to the sound of him shuffling around, gathering his things before he leaves. There will come a time, where you cling to his arm at the airport, unwilling to let him go, despite his efforts to prise you from him.
There will come a time when he smiles at you brightly and offers a final wave, but then pulls down his beanie to cover his eyes, shimmering with salty tears as he turns away, leaving you struggling to deal with visibly seeing him in pain.
In this moment… however, it is currently 2.23pm. Your chores have been forgotten – the piles of clothes laying dejectedly on the bed, the dust bunnies breeding for all you care, because it’s just you, and your husband, frozen in a capsule of time, drifting off into sleep, and there’s no place you’d rather be.
-- from here on, it is completely my own writing
You wake to the smell of sizzling food, and in a moment of dazed sleepiness, struggle to comprehend the lack of warmth by your side. It takes you even longer to process the lack of clothes on the bed, and dimly struggle to recall if you managed to finish folding them earlier.
The curtain has been pulled shut, leaving the room in darkness, and with a slight moan you roll over to check the time on the digital clock by your bedside.
7.56pm.
“Chris?” You call out, tumbling out of bed and haphazardly dashing straight towards the only source of light you can see – the kitchen. As soon as you stumble into the room his eyes snap up to meet yours, lowering the knife he was using to focus his attention on you.
Your breath hitches as a memory, unbidden, returns to you. A bridge. A railing. An idiot draped in black, his eyes sparking in shock at the sight of you, then relaxing as though he understands, and has complete control over… everything… in his life.
“Hey honey, you okay? Did you have a good sleep?”
You blink slowly at him, trying to string your thoughts together and remind yourself that he’s not like that anymore.
“Yes. I- did you fold all the clothes?” You waddle over and eye the food he’s preparing, obviously for dinner.
“Mhm,” he hums, returning to his vegetables.
“You didn’t do anything else did you?” You question, turning to wash your hands in the sink. Chris doesn’t respond, so you prompt him again, “Chris?”
“No.”
Lies.
“What else did you do Chan?” He sighs, knowing that the use of his alternate name means you’re not playing anymore, and scrapes the vegetables into a bowl effortlessly, “I vacuumed the apartment, tidied the studio, decluttered the office and pulled the weeds out of the garden.”
You slowly turn the tap off, a familiar bubble of guilt sidling into your stomach. He did all that while you slept? You slide over to him and tap his shoulder demandingly, “Let me finish up here, what are you cooking?”
He glances at you, but refuses to move out of the way, diligently moving on to the next set of vegetables. You huff impatiently, then duck underneath his arms and wriggle your way in between, carefully easing the knife out of his grasp.
“What are you cooking?” You ask again, over the top of his amused laughter.
“You’re so cute,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his head on your shoulder, swaying slightly to a non-existent tune.
“I won’t be cute in a minute if you don’t tell me what you’re cooking,” you hiss, which only causes him to laugh more.
“A dish you don’t know the recipe for,” he responds haughtily, to which you roll your eyes.
“I know every single dish you’ve ever cooked.”
“Not your favourite dish; the one my Mum makes. We’ve never shown you how to make that,” he giggles, before he picks you up bridal style, causing you to yell and dangerously wave around the knife. He dumps you onto the couch in the living room and plucks the knife from your hands.
“How’s this? I’ll finish cooking, you can clean the kitchen after,” he places a kiss on your forehead and makes to return to the kitchen, but just as he’s about to disappear, pops his head back around again, “Find a movie to watch love and we can eat together, yeah?”
After a disgruntled sigh and a moment in which your gaze lingers over where he was, you scramble for the remote and flick on the TV, scrolling to find what you know to be his favourite movie.
I love you.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
And I miss you already…
--
Four and a half years ago you had pulled him away from certain death.
What if… you hadn’t?
--
Thank fuck you did.
Notes:
A/N: Thank you Guien, for inspiring this incredible writing journey :D
Feedback is always appreciated, negative and positive alike. I apologise for any editing errors, I’m forever learning.
Until next read!
- Kaisowoo
Chapter 13: To Live the Life of Bang Chan
Summary:
Finally, the explanation for Chris experiencing the suic!des of Stays. After this chapter, there will be no further significant mention of it.
!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!
Chapter Text
--
Carefully, you slot the book back into its spot with a small shake of your head. You’d been pacing this aisle for a little over 20 minutes, browsing the shelves from top to bottom. It’s harder than it seems, trying to pick out a book as a Christmas gift. You thought you had Ashley’s taste in books pretty down pat, but now that you were actually at your favourite book store, picking out a book for her was proving difficult.
You sighed and sat down on the floor, crossing your legs, taking a minute to scan the shelves, eyes flitting about, looking for a cover that stands out. In your peripheral vision, you spot some movement at the end of the aisle and tilt your head slightly towards it. After a quick glance however, you dismiss it as just another customer, and go back to browsing from the floor.
“Christmas shopping?” You flinch and swivel to look up at the very customer you had dismissed, towering over you. You offer her a small smile and take in her kindly features, takeaway coffee cup in her hand, a book clutched in the other.
“Yeah um- sorry am I in the way?” You mumble, shifting backwards slightly so she can get past. She smiles down at you and chuckles softly. With a swish of her long brown coat that trails down to her shoes, she joins you on the floor, taking a generous sip of her coffee.
You stare at the familiar cup, and wonder quietly if she had gotten it from your Café. You never know though, many Café’s use the same packaging. Maybe you should invest in branded takeaway cups. Your eyes scan her outfit, far too chic to be in a place like this, far too… business.
Other than her incredibly long cloak, she’s wearing a light brown turtle-neck sweater, tucked neatly into her loose black dress pants. The entire fit is finished off with a stylish belt of… silk perhaps, with a silver buckle, and her black shoes are slightly pointed and polished.
It takes you a second to realise you’ve been staring for a little long, and breathe a sigh of relief when you notice she’s busy searching the shelves like you were previously. Slowly, you turn back to do the same, fidgeting slightly at the strangely cosy atmosphere between the pair of you.
“Hm,” the woman hums, taking another sip of her drink, “Might I recommend something?” She turns towards you with a smile and holds up the book in her hands, shaking it slightly to catch your attention - “10 Ways to Turn Your Boyfriend into Your Husband”. You laugh, shaking your hands in front of you, “I’m married.”
Her smile only widens softly, and for a split second her expression is so similar to your husband’s soft smile that your eyebrows crease momentarily.
“I wasn’t recommending it for you. I know you’re married.”
“Huh?” You stare at her, dumbfounded.
“Your ring,” she chuckles, passing over the book. You take it from her instinctively, panicking as she forces it onto you.
“Oh. For a second I thought you were telepathic,” you chuckle drily, flipping the book in your hands to the blurb and briefly skimming it.
“Unfortunately I’m not. Would’ve been a useful skill to have a while back though,” she sighs, staring sadly at her coffee.
“A while back? Why not now?” You question, mentally trying to figure out what to do with the book. Ashley wouldn’t read something like this… would she? Sure, she and Jeongin had been dating for a few years now, but did she really need a book like this? Might make for a good laugh though.
The girl hums quietly in thought, before she responds, “Would’ve been nice to know what was going on in his head.” You breathe out a sympathetic sigh and put the book into your lap, curiosity piqued.
“This was his favourite drink you know?” She continues, sipping from it slightly again. After a second, she straightens her posture and grins at you, “I do apologise. You didn’t come here to listen to a stranger in a bookstore ramble about their tragic backstory.”
Your eyes widen and you shake your head, twisting your entire body to face her, “I didn’t originally sure, but I’ll gladly listen now.” The corner of her mouth quirks slightly, eyes sparkling with something familiar, yet so foreign. Why does she seems so familiar?
“You’re so cute,” she states, before putting her drink down between her legs and leaning back on her hands.
“What are you drinking then? What was his favourite drink?” You prompt, already assuming that this unknown man was a romantic partner.
“Ah…” she croaks, blinking at the drink she literally had just abandoned, “It’s… a caramel hot chocolate, with a dusting of cinnamon.”
Your heart stops in your chest momentarily. That’s Chris’ favourite. You make that for him all the time.
“I got it from this Café not too far from here, it’s adorable honestly, such a creative nook.”
“Café Studio?” You press and when she nods, you dimly wonder whether you should tell her you own the place.
“Anyways - long story short, my boyfriend died a few years ago.”
“I- I am so sorry-” you manage, expecting something slightly different. A break up perhaps, not a death.
“Thank you, but it’s quite alright. There is no need to apologise for something you have no control over,” she seems to take the final sip of her drink then, shaking the cup slightly to check for any remainder.
“May I ask… how?” You gulp, your curiosity getting the better of you.
“Suicide,” she promptly states, and her smile is far too bright to be talking about this, “He jumped off a bridge and… drowned…”
Again, your heart stops. Your lips have gone exceptionally dry, breath lost somewhere in your throat. Well… doesn’t that strike awfully close to home? When she looks at you again, she’s got this expression in her eyes, one that throws you completely off and makes you recoil slightly. That sad, yet accepting gaze, relaxed as though she understands, and has complete control, over everything in her life.
“I don’t blame him really. He lived a rough life.”
You shiver underneath her gaze, piercing your own a little uncomfortably, and your mouth opens and closes, at a loss for words.
“If there’s anyone to blame for it, it’d be me,” her voice is quiet as her eyes trail down to the book she had given you, “It just means I wasn’t enough to make him stay.”
All at once, you feel like you have a million things to say to her. This stranger. Her pain visible, but oddly numbed. She’s so familiar; a lost friend maybe, a person you knew in another life.
“Oh well. It is what it is, hey?” She laughs, idly toying with the coffee cup in her hands.
“You shouldn’t- you know- it’s okay to grieve…” you frown, a little upset at her nonchalant attitude.
“Don’t worry, I did. I’m not heartless,” she chuckles, “But it was years ago. And… y’know, I’m trying to not burden myself with the loss of him.”
You nod in understanding, heart painfully throbbing as you wonder how you’d cope if Chris died. What if… you hadn’t saved him that time?
“Like he always used to say… it’s better to just enjoy life,” she inhales sharply and turns back towards you, her smile lopsided, “Just enjoy.” (A/N: ...)
When you don’t respond, still at a complete loss for words, mind spinning, confused at everything, she stands up and holds out a hand. You hesitantly take it and she helps you stand graciously.
“Hey, before you buy that book,” she nods at the one clutched in your hands, “Do me a favour and walk down to the end of this aisle, chuck a left and check out the books on display there?”
“Oh- oh yeah okay- sure?” You fumble, still holding onto her hand awkwardly. She flashes you a charming grin and turns to leave, but you cling to her hand a little tighter, “Can I get your number, actually?”
Her eyes widen and she contemplates you. Just as you’re trying to think of a reason why you’d like her number, she nods and asks for your phone. You watch as she adds her details to your contacts - Daniela Crane.
“You have a pretty name,” you mumble, taking your phone back.
“Not as pretty as yours, I’m sure.” Then with a final smile and a little wave, she disappears from sight. You stand there for a minute, staring at her contact on your phone before you swivel around and follow her directions. Walk down to the end… head left and…
Immediately, your eyes land on a black book, its cover embossed with delicate trimmings of gold swirling into a vague impressionist image of a wolf. You hone in on it, snatching it from the shelf and blinking at the soft texture of the cover. It’s not fluff exactly, nor is it leather. You’re not sure what it is. There’s no title on the front, but when you open it to the first page, your brain goes blank.
To Live the Life of Bang Chan
What? Cautiously, you flick to a random page of the book, eyes skimming the journal entry-like writing until something sticks out. Heart leaping into your throat, you backtrack slightly.
I have known him for a long while, loved him for just as long - and yet why is it only now that I find out about this strange phenonmenon? This whole time I assumed his insomnia was due to his workaholic nature. I assumed his nightmares were due to his stress. I assumed those moments where he sprinted away and locked himself in his room was because he had suddenly an idea for a song. How stupid of me, how naive.
I can’t blame him, for not telling me. It’s in his nature to hide away his vulnerability. And besides, how would you even explain to someone that you had experienced death 100 times over? How would you explain that you suffered the suicides of the people part of your own fandom?
He only explained to me after I saw it happen. I watched him gag, and vomit and topple off the bed unconscious. Drug overdose.
You slam the book shut and march straight up the counter, putting both the books down to buy them. You came here hoping to buy one book for Ashley, and you were leaving with two, one which was recommended by Daniela… and the other… which was… also... had she meant for you to see this one?
The lady at the counter scans “10 Ways to Turn Your Boyfriend into Your Husband” and smiles at you, “Just $25 for that one dear.”
“Oh- what about-”
“This other one? I assumed that was yours. It’s not from our store, it won’t scan through.”
“But I-”
She pushes both of the books back towards you, eyeing the strange black one carefully, “It’s alright lovely. Don’t worry about the other one. Consider it a Christmas gift.” After you pay for Ashley’s book, you whip out your phone and type out a message to Chris.
-
(A/N: When dialogue is in script format it’s meant to represent text messages)
You: Chris you won’t believe what I just found at the bookstore
You: I don’t understand it’s insane
You: It’s a book about you
You: Not like a biography or anything
You: it’s about your condition
You: you know
You: like how you experience the suicides of Stays?
You: I’m so confused. It’s like a journal. But how?
-
When you get home, Chris still hasn’t replied to your messages. You figure out why when you peer into your bedroom - he’s asleep, head lolling to the side up against the headboard, headphones still snug around his ears, computer sliding off his lap slightly.
He stirs as you approach, apparently only half asleep, a soft smile melting onto his features as his eyes land on you.
“Hey baby…” he yawns, removing his headphones and shutting his laptop, “How’d you go? You find something for Ashley?”
You toss Ashley’s book at him with a scoff, and he catches it, his smile breaking into a grin at the title.
“Oh this is perfect. No honestly, you have no idea how perfect this is-” You bend down to remove your shoes, still clutching the second book tightly, and mutter, “Check your messages honey.”
He does as you say, and by the time you crawl onto the bed and settle between his legs, careful to move his headphones and computer out of the way, he’s frowning at the book in your hands.
“Is that a wolf?” He asks hesitantly, arms wrapping snugly around you, chin resting on your shoulder.
“It is. And look at the title.”
Chris audibly exhales next to your ear, and you know his brain has gone blank, just as yours did. You thumb through the journal until you find that page you were on previously. It’s about a quarter way through, and the book itself is relatively thin.
You read that same part out loud, and you can feel Chris’ heart beat intensifying on your back.
“That makes no sense-“ he breathes, “You’re the only one that knows- did you write this?”
You shake your head, “No of course not. I’ve never seen you die of drug overdose. I’ve only seen you drown.”
“But that’s- it’s written about-”
“I know, I’m just as confused.”
“Keep reading,” he urges, lifting a hand to flip the page.
The next entry is at a much later date.
I don’t know what to do. It’s getting worse. It happens more frequently. No amount of research that I’ve done has helped. The only thing I can think of is to turn to the multiverse for answers, but that takes time - and I don’t have that. I can see him fading. He’s more distant. He came home today and said that his company had put him on temporary hiatus, to recuperate.
“The multiverse?” Chris mumbles, but this is hardly the most concerning information.
“Okay so this isn’t you? You’ve never been put on hiatus.”
You read through page after page, skimming some parts that appear to just describe Chan’s worsening condition. There is one page that you struggle to read through, the writing fuelled with pain and emotions pouring out of the page.
You don’t realise that you’ve stopped reading out loud, and Chris nudges you slightly to let you know, “What is it?”
“You died. Chan died.”
“Like… actually?” He whispers, eyes trying to find the part that you got up to. You let him read it himself, heart crumbling as he retracts himself from you slightly to lean back on the headboard, his gaze distant.
“Jumped off a bridge and drowned,” you mumble, turning to look at Chris slightly.
Isn’t this… exactly how Daniela’s boyfriend had died? Isn’t this exactly how Chris almost tried to kill himself?
You turn back to the book and flip to the next page. The entry for this one, is from only a few days ago. You begin to read through it on your own, Chris silent and lost in thought behind you. But your eyes begin to sting painfully as you read. When you sniffle slightly, Chris pulls himself back up to you, hugging you tightly, “Hey… hey what’s wrong, what did you read?”
“Listen to this Chris…”
“I’m listening-” he croaks out, hesitant, and you go back to read it out loud.
Ever since Chan died, I’ve taken it upon myself to figure out what his condition was, what it meant. I did as I said I would - I turned to the multiverse. As I write this, I am more knowledgeable than I was before, and I write this with one goal in mind. Soon, I’ll be able to travel through the multiverse, experimentally of course, and I hope to provide at least one alternate verse with the answers I never had.
My universe is considerably more advanced than many others I have researched. The concept of the multiverse is not foreign, it is widely known here, and consistently used in all fields of research. In your universe, I think the multiverse is merely an idea.
Throughout the past few years, I have studied the different verses, focused particularly on people who share the same condition as Chan did. He is not the only one to experience this, sometimes there are other individuals who have, but I was not interested in them. In almost every universe I scoured, the Chan’s, the Bang Chan’s, the Christopher’s, however he was referred to, shared the same condition.
There are of course, a few where he lives normally. I studied these verse’s where Bang Chan suffered, to figure out why ; why does it happen? It was the only question I needed answered. Initially, my conclusion was that for some reason, Chan experienced these deaths, and they would cease once he found her. Found his partner, loved her and was loved in return. A little bit like a soulmate trope I suppose, where his significant other is the antidote to his poison.
This is not the case. I realised this because, to put it frankly, my Chan’s condition only worsened. I thought for a while, had I not loved him? Had he not loved me? We both loved each other, cared for each other. I never once denied him my love. I recalled there being some universe’s where Chan’s significant other broke up with him, succumbed to the pressures of being in a relationship with him.
In many cases, Chan did not chase her. He let her go. In some, he fought for her, travelled the globe for her, because if he didn’t have her, his condition returned, much worse. This only seemed to support my previous hypothesis… but again… it didn’t make sense. Why then, did my Chan get worse? It wasn’t until I stumbled across your universe that things began to clear. I watched your relationship from the beginning.
Everyone’s timeline’s are slightly different. I’m thankful that you managed to save your… Chris, as you call him, before he chose to end it all. I watched your relationship blossom, pitied the both of you as you fought during your breakup, but the answer I had so desperately been searching for still evaded me. Even when you returned to him, continued to love him, Chris still had the occasional nightmare, didn’t he? So my question then is, when will it stop? Why does it exist?
I’ve watched the both of you for a while now, and as you read this, I think you’ll realise that Chris hasn’t had a nightmare, or experienced the suicides for a long while. A year or so maybe… have you Chris?
--
You pause at this, mind numb, turning to look at Chris, waiting for his answer. The journal is directly addressing both of you now, and you have no idea how, it’s a lot to process.
“I haven’t. I’d almost forgotten about it… to be honest,” Chris whispers, his expression blank. You take a deep breath and continue reading.
--
Every once in a while, there is a human who cares far too much for others, who loves with reckless abandon. Their heart is far too pure, too giving. They carry the weight of the many on their shoulders, and carry the burdens of those closest even more. They are a beacon of hope for the thousands, a role model, a leader, a happiness… and yet they do not love themselves.
I had been approaching this phenomenon the wrong way. It was never about his significant other. It was about Chan. It was about Chris. If he loved to the point where he was shouldering the world, protecting the many, this condition would develop. It’s the universe’ strange way of saying, “You want to live like this? Okay then… you can fully live this life, now you’re a severe empath linked to dying Stays.”
It was never about a significant other. It’s about Chris learning to love himself. Only once he loved himself, just as much as he loved others, would the condition stop. As an ENFJ-T myself, I realised that learning to love himself of his own volition would be a next to impossible task. Out of the hundred’s of universes that I scoured, only about 4 of them contained a Chris where his condition ceased thanks to him learning to love himself on his own.
In the others? He learns to love himself through the people around him. Sometimes it is a significant other. Sometimes it was Stray Kids. Chris’ condition no longer exists, in your universe, because he has learned to love himself, through you. He has learned to appreciate his flaws, his imperfections, through loving you. That is how you are the antidote. That is why my Chan worsened, and eventually killed himself for it. Although he loved and was loved, he did not learn to love himself in time. I wasn't enough, to make him stay.
You however. You are everything.
--
You have to put the book down at this point, and lean back into Chris, your body weight sagging completely into him. Chris only hugs you tighter, and with a startle you realise he’s quietly sobbing; his tears soaking into your shirt, the side of your cheek. You retract one of your hands from the book, adjusting your grip on it, so you can reach a hand up to stroke the side of Chris' face comfortingly, fingers toying with his hair.
Finally, you continue at a whisper, reading the last paragraph amidst Chris’ crying.
--
I have my answer, and now I hope it helps you too. I know that my message will never reach the Bang Chan I wish I could say this to; he is out of my reach. I will say it here, nevertheless and hope your Chris understands my intention.
You fight, so hard. You work to your breaking point, testing your limits every second of the day. And you will never be satisfied with yourself. There is always room for improvement. In your life, I do not think you will ever sit back, and believe wholeheartedly that you are enough. You will more than likely always value the lives of those dearest to you, more than your own. You will wear your heart on your sleeve, believe it is your job to protect your family, your dream, your home, on your own. And I get it. I am like that too.
This was why my only wish to you, was that one day, you learn to love yourself. Whether this is through a significant other. Whether it’s through Stray Kids. Maybe your own kids. However you do it, I hope you learn to love yourself, because the weight of the world is heavy Chan, and you of all people deserve to love yourself, the way others love you.
I can continue with my life now, knowing that at least one Chan has fulfilled my wish, and that he will continue to do so in the future. - Dani
--
“Dani,” you breathe, and you flip to the last page, revealing a neatly penned name on the bottom edge of the book. Clearly the author: Daniela Crane.
“I met her- wait but she- she was the one- she was in the bookstore-“ You swivel in Chris’ grasp and press a tender kiss to his forehead, stroking his hair to help him ease his tears. When his breath steadies, you pull him into a strong hug and continue softly, “I met Dani… in the bookstore, I have her number, do you want to meet her?”
Chris heaves a shuddering gasp and nods into your chest. Careful to not remove yourself from his grasp, you fumble for your phone in your pocket and open up her contact.
-
You: Hey Dani! I never introduced myself earlier. My name’s Y/N. I met you in the bookstore. I read your… book. I was wondering if you’d like to meet up for a chat?
-
Not a second after you send the message, you receive one in return… but it’s the exact same as what you just sent.
-
You: Dani?
-
Again, your words are spat right back at you.
“What?” You murmur, pulling away from Chris to frown at your phone. He blinks at your phone screen, his eyes misty and shocks you with an accepting smile.
“It’s okay,” he whispers, taking your phone out of your hands and dumping it onto the bed, “She’s gone.” Chris pulls you into a tight embrace, burying his face into your neck, inhaling and exhaling steadily.
“But I don’t understand-”
“Honey… she’s you,” Chris whispers, kissing your neck lightly, “She’s you from an alternate universe.”
“But that’s- so in other universes- you’re dead. In other universe’s we might not know each other.”
“Yeah, that’s what Dani seems to hint at.”
“That’s… that’s so sad…”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes it does- Chris you died. You died in another- I guess this answer’s my what if….”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that here, right now. You’re in my arms. Right now, in this universe, I love you. And apparently… I love myself. Thanks to you.”
--
My only wish to you, is that one day, you learn to love yourself. Whether this is through a significant other. Whether it’s through Stray Kids. Maybe your own kids. However you do it, I hope you learn to love yourself, because the weight of the world is heavy Chan, and you of all people deserve to love yourself, the way others love you.
Stray kids everywhere all around the world, you make Stray Kids Stay
Notes:
A/N: Allow me to re-introduce myself. My real name is Daniela Crane. Previously known to you all as, Kaisowoo.
Until next read!
- Dani
Chapter 14: Merry Chris-mas! (Felix Never Bad)
Summary:
Merry Christmas!! With Skz, and their girlfriends, at your house. Most of the relationships may seem out of the blue, but I kind of just randomly threw names at the screen.
!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!
Notes:
Chapter Notes: Fluff, Suggestive, Established Relationships (Everywhere)
Chris + Reader
Minho + Jinhee
Jisung + Suhwa
Changbin + Kirsten
Hyunjin + Soraya
Seungmin + Yeonjoo
Jeongin + Ashley
Felix + N/A (Someone had to be single - dw he won't be a pringle for the rest of his life, I'm not that mean)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
--
Chris slid himself back under the covers, shivering slightly as the cold sheets embrace him, and wriggles himself up to snuggle in behind you, a ridiculous smile on his face. Slowly, he eases one of his warm hands across your body, wrapping it around you protectively, and places a fragile kiss between your shoulder blades. You shift slightly in his hug unconsciously, naturally moulding yourself to his body.
Chris sighs and rubs his nose adoringly into the back of your neck, inhaling the comfort that is your scent. You squirm again, and he can’t help but let a devilish smirk take over his lovesick expression. Tantalisingly, he begins his morning wake up routine, kissing the back of your head, neck and shoulder tenderly.
You groan, trying to pull yourself out of your sleepy state, and roll over onto your back. Chris doesn’t stop his kisses, working with the movement of your body to crawl on top of you, sitting up on his knees. With the ease of an adoring husband who’s done this many times over, he trails his kisses into the inside of your neck, caressing your body lovingly.
You yawn and instinctively knot a hand into his hair, massaging his scalp to let him know you’re properly awake. You can feel him smile against your skin, his warm breath tickling you.
“Merry Christmas baby…” he murmurs, shifting up to place a swift kiss on your nose, and then a longer one on your lips.
“Merry Christmas sunshine,” you grin back, linking your arms around his neck and pulling him down to crush you in a soft hug. His amused laugh at your greeting is just one of the many things about him that make your heart swell.
“Sunshine? Me? Other way around today?” He giggles, effectively burrowing himself into you. You hum quietly and kiss the top of his head, relishing in the way his curls brush your face, “If there’s anything more beautiful than the sunrise to wake up to, it’s you.”
Chris inhales sharply and squeezes you tightly, “You’re so cheesy.” At this, you laugh and push him off you, eager to get out of bed and start the day, “I wonder where I got it from.”
Chris rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning like an idiot, and follows you to the bathroom. Predicting his movements accurately, you snatch at one of his hoodies on the way, swivel around and press it to his chest just as he moves to snag you in a back hug.
He takes it from you, a little surprised as you nonchalantly disappear into the bathroom. When he follows, you shake your head as he holds up the hoodie questioningly and puts it down on a shelf.
“What’s the hoodie for?” He mumbles, pressing himself close behind you, going in for that hug you had just recently dodged. You stare at your reflections in the mirror, smiling softly as he plants his head on your shoulder and sways slightly with the particles of the sun filtering through the window.
“The hoodie is for you to wear Mr Bahng,” you huff as you put toothpaste on your toothbrush and run the tap.
“You’re not wearing a shirt,” he whines, his hands fiddling with the lining of your bra.
“It was hot last night. I sleep with a human heater wrapped around me too,” you mumble with your mouth full of toothpaste bubbles.
“Yeah and guess what that did to my brain…” he grins, kissing your shoulder teasingly, his eyes locked to yours through the reflection.
“Your brain or your-”
“Oh shut up,” he laughs, forehead clashing with your shoulder, “I can’t defeat you in anything anymore.”
You spit out your toothpaste, Chris refusing to remove himself from you and henceforth making it slightly difficult. Then with a waddle and a shimmy, you snatch his abandoned hoodie from the shelf, “If you aren’t going to put this on then I will.”
He nods in acceptance and pulls away to leave you be, turning to brush his own teeth.
“What do you feel like for breakfast?” You yell from over by your bed; you’re busying yourself with neatening the bedsheets.
“You’re not making me breakfast, honey,” he sighs exasperatedly, emerging from the bathroom. He’s managed to run a comb through his hair, but he’s still naked from the waist up.
“Why not?” You frown, throwing a pillow into its place indignantly. He raises his eyebrows and steps towards the bedroom door, his hand resting on the doorknob.
“What day is it today, hm?” He asks instead, and you pull a face at him.
“It’s Christmas, but that doesn’t mean I can’t-”
Chris flings the door open and gestures for you to come closer with a flick of his head. Puzzled, you trudge over to him, eyeing his soft smirk.
“Merry Christmas!!”
You flinch in surprise as a dozen or so people yell at you from in the living room, bouncing around and hugging each other happily, decked out in Christmas gear and accessories. Your mouth falls open at the sight of their grinning faces, head whipping from your husband to the band of chaotic people.
Ashley scampers over and snatches at your wrist, tugging you over to join everyone by the couch.
“What are you doing in my house?!” You yell, but your words are contradictory to the way you pull each of them into an excited hug. The Stray Kids members are all here, clutching presents, or girlfriends, or food, or all three.
Jeongin drifts over to stand at Ashley’s shoulder, and with his dimpled smile, hands you a present.
“Awh thank you Innie,” you grin, turning away to put it under the Christmas tree. This begins the procession of trading Christmas gifts, everyone swarming the tree to put them down amidst joyous chatter over the top of one another. There are conversations flying everywhere.
“How have you been?”
“Feels like I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“Where’d you get the dress from? It’s so pretty.”
“Hyunjin bought it for me.”
“Ashley and Jeongin made breakfast!!”
“It smells so good, waffles and pancakes?”
“Always a classic.”
“How’s Minho~?”
“What do you mean- ask him yourself, he’s right here.”
“Yah! We’re both literally taken.”
“Oh true, but Suhwa and I believe in Minsung just as much as any other.”
“Hey, you fucking traitor come back here.”
“Changbin! Where’s Kirsten at?”
“She had something to take care of in town, but she’ll be here soon!”
“Good. The whole family is supposed to be here.”
“Seungmin… the whole family.”
“Yeah yeah I know.”
“When’re you going to introduce her? She could be here celebrating with us right now.”
“She wants to keep it under wraps for now, and so do I.”
“Why? You think we’ll scare her off?”
“No…”
“Oh you so do.”
“‘Lix what’re you doing in the kitchen?”
“Get out of my pantry and tell us about your latest date? Yay or nay?”
“Absolutely nay, to both. I’m staying in the pantry- where the fuck is your flour mate? I wanna bake some cookies.”
You sit back on your heels, admiring the smiley faces and obnoxious chatter from underneath the Christmas tree. Everyone’s catching up with each other, teasing and laughing. Skz had disbanded a while ago now, and as you search the crowd for Chris, your heart aches slightly with the realisation that this is the first Christmas you’ve spent with your husband properly.
No stress from music production, no schedule. Just freedom. You spot him still standing where you left him: leaning on the doorframe of your bedroom, his arms crossed over his woefully exposed chest, head tilted with the adoration of a father-figure watching his self-made family converse. Your smile mirrors his own, and when he finally locks eyes with you, it only widens. Chris offers you a wink and goes back to perusing the gathering.
“Oi, Hyunjin don’t just ignore your girl,” Chris calls with a reprimanding frown.
“What?!” The man in question yells back, looking around in confusion.
“Soraya’s trying to talk to you, turn around you goose,” Chris laughs, pushing himself off the doorframe to join the pandemonium.
“Raya babe, I am so sorry I didn’t hear you, I swear- I can’t hear my own thoughts.”
“Relax Jinnie, I just wanted you to drink some water, you said you were thirsty in the car earlier.”
“Mr Bahng would you put on a god damn shirt for once in your life.”
“Why does everyone keep calling me Mr Bahng, for fucks sake.”
“Because it’s your name, Mr Bahng.”
“Okay Mr Han, no breakfast for you.”
“WHERE’S YOUR SHIRT? Why are you half naked when there are women present.”
“I’m shirtless around you lot all the time. It means I’m comfortable. Are any women uncomfortable with the fact that I am shirtless?”
“Nah.”
“Nope.”
“It’s whatever.”
“I’ve seen better.”
You snort and try your best to keep your expression neutral at Ashley’s final comment, but Chris turns towards you, ever so fine tuned to listen out for you.
“Oh you think you’ve seen better too?” He asks playfully.
“No- Ashley’s basically just admitted to seeing Jeongin naked.”
“Hey hang on, we’re talking about your husband being shirtless right now, not naked. I admitted to seeing Innie without a shirt,” Ashley grimaces, but her face has gone pink.
“I mean- you have seen me naked before,” Jeongin pipes up, and he holds his hands up in defence as Ashley turns to whack him.
“Where’d you get your courage from?” She scowls but Jeongin merely pulls her into a rough hug, his grin immaculate.
At that moment, Kirsten, Changbin’s girlfriend bursts into the room, her car keys jangling in her hands.
“Jesus Christ,” is the first thing she says as she walks over and pecks Changbin on the cheek, “It’s not enough to have Bin shirtless at home all the time and now Chan's too comfortable?”
At this, Chris throws his hands up in the air and rolls his eyes, “Fine fine, jagiya… I want my hoodie back.”
“It’s too hot for you though,” you grin.
“Don’t make me take it off you,” he threatens, walking over and leaning over you with his hand outstretched.
“Is that a challenge?”
“Only if you turn it into one.”
“Oh then you’re on.”
--
This chaos died down after some time, with everyone settling in to eat breakfast on the couch, or at the dining table, still laughing and still chattering. Chris had, of course, quite forcefully wrangled his hoodie off you, peppering you with kisses as somewhat of an apology, and you had to swiftly retreat back to your room to find one of your own shirts.
This… was what the Skz Family was like. It wasn’t often that you all managed to gather in one place. Everyone had their own lives. Seungmin fell prey to the peer pressures of everyone around him, and eventually called Yeonjoo. She met you all later on in the day, and received nothing short of a raucous welcome. Much to Seungmin’s surprise, despite her quiet personality, she warmed up to everyone swiftly. How could you not?
Although Felix has yet to find a forever partner, he’s still as happy as ever. Besides, you don’t need to have a lover to live a fulfilling life, and the only reason he goes out on the dates (that the Skz Family have set up) is to satisfy everyone else. He wholeheartedly believes that he’ll find them when he finds them.
You and Chris are the only wedded couple as of now, so Felix wasn’t too far behind - not that it was a competition.
--
You’re in the middle of baking cookies with Felix, expression permanently caught in a smile at the sound of the loud singing in the lounge room. You could never escape a bit of karaoke. Felix slides over the bowl of cookie dough and talks you through the next step, before turning away to continue the pavlova he was making. You’re chatting with him happily about anything and everything, when he changes topic mid-sentence.
“Yeah anyways, I might have to purchase a better CPU- oop heads up,” he grins, his freckles shifting upwards with the movement of his mouth.
You jump a little as two arms snake around your waist, and laugh as Chris opens his mouth, silently asking for a chocolate chip. You were about to add some into the bowl to fold into the dough. You pour out a couple and feed them to him one by one, his eyes lighting up as the sweet melts on his tongue.
“And, what are you doing here mister? Felix and I are busy,” you chide. Chris snuggles further into you, his jaw digging into your shoulder slightly as he chews.
“Mine,” is all he utters and you turn back to your baking with a dry chuckle.
“That was established a long time ago Christopher.”
“YONGBOK! YOUR SONG IS UP NEXT!!” Jinhee, Minho’s girlfriend, shouts and Felix yells back, his eyes never leaving the mixture between his arms.
“Okay! Wanna continue this pavlova for me?”
“I will once Minho stops clinging to me like a cat! Give me a second!”
“Where are you going? Being a traitor again?”
The next ten minutes are spent with you trying to divide your attention between your baking and stopping your brat of a husband from eating all the cookie dough from the bowl. Even when Jinhee arrives to continue Felix’s pavlova, she can do absolutely nothing to stop the man from making your life difficult.
“Are you two married or what? I see no ‘married couple arguing’. Don’t tell me that’s just a myth. It looks more like lovey dovey vomit-inducing romance.”
“You think we aren’t married?” You ask, sliding the bowl away from Chris for the umpteenth time, “Christopher get your paws out of Felix’s baking.”
“He doesn’t mind.”
“I mind,” you finish, turning away for a second to turn the oven on, only to have to lunge back for the bowl because Chris has nicked it again.
“Jinhee~ help me please~” You whine, and she picks up the nearest wooden spoon and whacks his hand sharply.
“Okay, here’s the deal baby, you either let me eat some of this or I eat you out later,” Chris wolfishly demands, clutching the bowl close like a child and eyeing Jinhee with her dangerous spoon warily.
“Chris,” you sigh, as you fiddle with the oven, “Keep your unholy mind to yourself.” Jinhee’s dark chuckles do nothing to ease your embarrassment, “I think I know where Minho get’s his dirty talk from.”
“Sorry?!” You and Chris both turn to Jinhee in surprise. She shrugs, her eyes glimmering, “You could say like father like son.”
“I didn’t need to know any of that,” you groan, whacking your head on the bench from where you’re squatting.
“Revenge!” Jinhee gleefully yells, waving her wooden spoon dramatically in the air.
“First of all, I have not taught that man a damn thing about dirty talk. Second, what’s his go to? He’s probably smoother with it.”
“CHRISTOPHER!”
--
Finally, everyone’s gathered around the Christmas tree to open up the presents. Once news of Yeonjoo’s last minute arrival was confirmed, it was unanimously decided that they would wait for her to arrive. She had her own presents sitting under the tree too - even though she hadn’t been formally introduced, she had long since been considered a part of the family. You women had taken it into your own hands to ensure Yeonjoo didn’t just receive generic gifts, hassling Seungmin whenever you could for details and information.
Felix has his camera out and is taking happy snaps of everyone. He’s adamant on opening his presents last, preferring instead to take pictures of the family he’s fond of. There’s a whole manner of presents being opened; chocolates, clothes, gadgets, remote control devices, jewellery, vouchers, bags, beanies, even the occasional gag gift.
You’re a little nervous as Ashley picks up her gift from you, shifting anxiously in Chris’ lap. Immediately he grabs your waist and whispers breathily in your ear, “You better stop moving honey, before I kick everyone out of our house.”
You scoff and wriggle further into him, trying to get comfortable again, “You wouldn’t even kick them out.” With a playful kiss below your earlobe he breathes back, “Keep moving and we’ll find out.”
You press your finger to your lips to encourage him to shut up, and do your best to sit still, instead fidgeting with your hands.
“Yeobo,” Chris hums, reaching over to grab your hands, “It’s okay, the gift is just as perfect as you.”
“Real smooth. She’ll appreciate it regardless, I know. I technically didn’t pick it out for her though, so…”
Ashley finally rips open the packaging and reads out the book title in surprise, “10 Ways to Turn Your Boyfriend into Your Husband?” After a pause in which the entire room quietens, Ashley’s face breaks out into a grin, “Yang Jeongin~ I think you should be reading this, not me~” she sings, crawling over to him smacking him lightly over the head with it.
You can feel Chris tense around you, you’re not sure why though. The eyes of the Stray Kids members swivel over to you, and Chris laughs quietly.
“You bought this for Ashley?” Changbin asks, to which you slowly nod.
“Hyung, does your wifey know?” Hyunjin quizzes, pushing himself to his feet and putting his hands on his hips.
“Awh nah. What’s spoken between the men stay within the men,” Chris states calmly, his hands absently rubbing circles on yours.
Jeongin chuckles a little nervously, and Seungmin elbows him not so subtly. All the women of the house are looking at their respective partners with curiosity, the news that the men had secrets kept to themselves startling them.
“No way…” you breathe quietly, so only Chris can hear. You think… you know what’s... about to go down.
“Jeongin… I think now’s your chance,” Chris smiles encouragingly, and after a deep breath Jeongin pushes himself up onto one knee, and extricates a ring box from the depths of his cargo pants.
The squeals from all the women almost makes your eardrums explode, but you can’t frown on them - you’re probably the loudest.
“Yes,” Ashley declares, even before Jeongin has uttered a word.
“Hang on,” Minho growls, and Jisung finishes his statement, “Let the man speak.”
The man is sporting a shy grin and a delicate blush, and after another little chuckle, looks Ashley in the eye and says, “Do me the honour of sharing my last name?”
Ashley’s laugh is half scream, half giggle. She quietly whispers yes again, before she launches herself at Jeongin, toppling the both of them to the ground. Finally, the Skz Members cheer in celebration, shuffling over to pat Jeongin on the back and ruffle his hair once the recently engaged sit up again.
“Jeongin didn’t know how he was going to propose,” Chris speaks, dragging your attention to him, “So he came to us.”
“Wait everyone shut up, I want to hear this,” Suhwa (Jisung’s gf) yells. She had been sitting on the couch next to you, sipping an Iced Americano while she video-recorded the entire Christmas present opening session.
The crowd turns towards you and Chris, and you sink further into his lap so they can all see him.
“He’s had that ring on him for like a week. I was the one who suggested he keep it with him.”
“I didn’t want to risk another Y/N happening, so it was a good idea,” Jeongin bashfully smiles, and you scoff in disbelief.
“What, didn’t want Ashley to nick the ring and propose to you herself?” Jinhee chortles from her position sitting on one of Minho’s knees.
“But I did like how Chan hyung kind of proposed out of the blue. It sounded more natural,” Jeongin rebuked.
“So… all he had to do was wait for the right opportunity, and Y/N gave it to him,” Felix smiled, snapping another picture of Ash and Innie.
“See? I told you the gift was as perfect as you,” Chris whispers, kissing the top of your head proudly.
You… gave him the opportunity? Or… did someone else…? (A/N: If you know, you know)
--
You’re all sitting back around the Christmas tree again. The difference this time is that all the men are shirtless (not just Chris this time), and most of the women are. Sounds concerning, no?
Most of your shirt’s had been drenched from the impromptu water fight held in your backyard. The hose was brought out, sponges, buckets of water, water guns. And who was to blame? Bahng Christopher Chahn naturally.
He went out to water some plants before he forgot to do it and a few of his Kids’ followed. Eventually, the girlfriend’s followed, wanting to check out the flowers and plants you had growing… and then everyone was outside. Poor Felix was the first to be sprayed, much to his shock and Chris’ gasped laughter.
And that’s that.
You had dragged out all the blankets and towels you could find, wrapping each and every person as tightly as you could. Everyone had mostly dried out by now, but some were still sporting dripping wet hair and cold shorts/skirts/pants. You and Chris had broken into your Café’s supply of hot chocolate, coffee’s and tea’s and started up the coffee machine to make everyone drinks together, trying to warm up the shivering souls. Now, the sun was beginning to set.
“Me or Stray Kids?” Chris hums, prodding you with his knee on the couch. You look up from the book Kirsten (Changbin’s gf) had bought you to frown at your husband.
“You or Stray Kids?”
“Yeah - I ran out of storage and was trying to clear my camera roll and found that meme,” Chris nonchalantly shrugs.
“Then you know what my answer is,” you reply just as calmly, and turn back to your book.
“So your answer is Stray Kids because I am Stray Kids?” Chris presses, raising a dark eyebrow. When you don’t respond, he frowns and shimmies over to you, shoving his face right up to yours and staring at you with wide eyes, “That’s your answer? Really?”
“Yeah,” you deadpan, giving in to the temptation to kiss his forehead. He put his face there, what else were you supposed to do?
“I have a confession then,” Chris murmurs, dragging himself away from you, but still remaining at your shoulder.
“Do you now?” You murmur back in the same tone, eyes skimming to find where you were up to in your book.
“I’m in love with someone,” Chris continues, eyeing your book haughtily, as though annoyed it had your current attention.
“Really?” You gasp, turning to him with surprise written all over your expression.
“I’m- I’m in love with you-” Chris stutters, his eyes wide. Somewhere to your left, you can hear someone smack their palm on their forehead, and someone else curse, and someone else groan.
You shake your head at Chris and sigh, “We have been married for three years Chris. Three years.” Then with a dramatic whip of your head, turn to the Skz Family scattered on the floor, “Ladies, don’t marry your man unless you’re prepared to deal with his bullshit for the rest of your life.”
Chris laughs and grabs your neck, pulling your head to rest comfortably in his lap.
“Me or Stray Kids?” He asks again, but this time you don’t even have to say anything, because your girls have got your back.
“STRAY KIDS!!!!”
Chris scowls at the smirk on your face, and although he’s gently brushing your hair out of your face, he mutters, “You’re infuriating.”
“Only for you~” you casually throw back, rolling slightly to press a kiss to his bare stomach.
“You know what, you’re both infuriating. There is only so much PDA I can handle,” Jinhee grumbles.
“As if you haven’t just left hickies all over Minho,” Jisung scoffs.
“Of course you’d notice Ji,” Soraya laughs, pausing her braiding of Hyunjin’s hair just to raise her eyebrows at Jisung.
“It’s so fucking obvious-”
“I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry!”
“Exactly, so what’s for dinner?”
“Take out because Y/N has enough dishes to wash already.”
“I’ll help clean up!”
“Me too!”
“It’s okay I have Chris for that.”
“Man do I miss those days we used to argue about doing chores. I proposed because you wouldn’t let me feed Minho’s cats.”
“Breaking news! Bang Chan of Stray Kids proposed because he thought he wouldn’t have to do chores anymore!!”
“Breaking news! Hyunjin needs to learn how to do more chores!!”
“What? I do chores - I do everything you don’t want to do.”
“At least you don’t live with Felix.”
“And what is that supposed to mean? I live by myself I have to do chores.”
“You find a place to put all your hats?”
“My hats aren’t all over the place, it’s not that bad.”
“Hey! Hey here’s an idea! Next group gathering we go to Felix’s!!”
“That is a terrible idea. We are not doing that.”
“Agreed!”
“Sounds like a plan!”
“I’m in!”
“No- no wait do I not get I say in this, this is my house we’re talking about”
“Nope.”
You and Chris have fallen silent, watching from your higher positions on the couch as the banter continues, and poor Felix’s protests are ignored.
“I think I’m going to need a bigger house,” you mumble off handedly.
“Why?” Chris looks down at you, his forehead crinkling.
“It was manageable when you only had seven Kids’. Now there’s what… thirteen of them? Fourteen if Felix adopts one?”
“They’re your Kids’ too. If you’re my wife, then you’re also their mother.”
“Alright, it was manageable when we only had seven Kids’. I don’t think this house can handle any more…”
--
Your train of thought, isn’t entirely inspired due to the chaos of Stray Kids and their partners. There was something else you hadn’t told anyone yet. Just a few days ago, you had discovered something.
And you were definitely going to need a bigger house… regardless of whether the extended Stray Kids family decided to randomly rock up to celebrate Christmas. You had one extra bedroom… but you had a feeling that in the future, it wouldn’t be enough.
Notes:
A/N: One more official one to go!!
Until next read!
- Kaisowoo
Chapter 15: I Already Have Seven...
Summary:
The end of Stay Series. It's been a journey guys. I'm gonna cry.
!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!
Notes:
Chapter Notes: Fluff, FLUFF, FLUFFFFFFF + CHILDREN, Established Relationships (Everywhere)
Chris + Reader
Minho + Jinhee
Jisung + Suhwa
Changbin + Kirsten
Hyunjin + Soraya
Seungmin + Yeonjoo
Jeongin + Ashley
Felix + Hailey
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
--
It’s been about a month since Christmas, and true to everyone’s agreement, the next family gathering was to be at Felix’s place. Despite his protests and attempts to change the location of the monthly meeting, the plan went ahead. At varying times around 10.00am the Skz Family pulled up in their cars, carrying food and entertainment such as board games and other bits and bobs.
Felix’s face disappeared from his window and he sprinted to his front door, flinging it wide open with a dashing grin to welcome Changbin and Kirsten inside.
“Hey Yongbok! How’s your girl?” Changbin teased and Felix slammed the door in his face. There was none of course. No one yet.
“You can stay outside till everyone else gets here now,” Felix huffs, locking the door swiftly.
“Yah! Yongbok!” Changbin yelled, knocking rapidly on the door. Kirsten grabbed his arm and shook her head, “It’s your own fault Bin.”
Eventually, the rest of the Skz Family had pooled around outside, mingling and laughing with each other per usual, trying to wring details out of Ashley and Jeongin for their wedding; “no spoilers.”
Much to everyone’s surprise, you and Chris were the last to arrive, laden with an unnecessary load of Tim Tams.
“Look if we’re going to be at Felix’s place, then Tim Tam’s are a must,” Chris jokes, chucking a packet to Hyunjin.
“You have no idea how dead set he was on getting these - such a pain in the ass,” you grumble as Chris abandons you to greet his boys.
“Do they even sell them here?” Suhwa (Jisung’s gf) asks, ripping open a packet in curiosity and taking an experimental nibble, “Ooh, these aren’t bad.”
“What do you mean, ‘aren’t bad’? Tim Tam’s are my religion,” Ashley giggles, taking a packet for herself.
Yeonjoo (Seungmin’s), pipes up from beside your shoulder, “Did you get them from that one international store?”
“You bet. Christopher bought every last one.”
“Ooh, that place is great, I go there all the time,” she smiles, gratefully accepting the packet you hand over to her.
Normally, you would have argued with Chris that buying every single packet was excessive, but for one thing, he probably missed the sweet treat, and two… maybe you were craving them as well.
Finally, Felix opens the door again, this time with an oven mitt on his hand. Clearly he’s been baking something.
“Everyone here? Good, because my apple pies have just finished baking and they taste better when they’re hot.”
“You got ice cream in your freezer?”
“Probably.”
“Probably? How do you not-”
“I might have eaten it all.”
“How has Felix not snagged a women yet? All this baking is enough to win anyone over.”
“You don’t snag women.”
“That’s not my point! Can you not smell the pies?”
“Smells like heaven.”
“You’re heaven.”
“No, I’m hell.”
“Jinhee’s hell, not you.”
“And what, Minho’s Satan?”
“Was that sexual innuendo intentional or is my mind just fucked?”
“Your mind is fucked.”
“Nice to know.”
“You’re welcome.”
Chris has already slipped into the house, pulling Felix into a one armed hug before standing by the doorway to help usher people in.
“Oh shoot,” you whisper, just as you’re about to follow the train line spilling into Felix’s humble abode, “Soraya, tell everyone I’ll be with you all in a second; I left my phone in the car.” She nods and without another word, you swivel on your heel and march back along the path to your car.
Since you were the last couple to arrive, naturally your parking was a little further away. In hindsight, this trip back to your car was absolutely worth it, because the next moments were to be the happiest of your life to date.
--
Chris performs a headcount as the Skz Family filtered through, his smile wide as he greets everyone he hadn’t gotten around to yet.
“Thirteen… fourteen…” he murmurs, as Hyunjin and Soraya walk in together. You haven’t walked in yet, and he frowns as he pokes his head around the door, searching for you.
“She left her phone in the car,” Soraya grins, grabbing onto Hyunjin’s shoulders so he could drag her along.
“Were you counting us?” Hyunjin laughs, placing his hands on top of Soraya’s happily.
“You didn’t know he did that? There’s so many of us, I’d be more surprised if he didn’t,” Felix interjects, bemused, his voice as deep and resonating as usual.
“Yongbok! Are you cutting these pies up or am I?” Jisung yells, and from the way there’s an explosion of chatter from the kitchen, Chris can tell everyone is just as eager to try some.
Felix shakes his head and disappears down his hallway, serenaded by obnoxious cheers and chanting of his name as he joins the others.
“So… technically, there’s sixteen members of the Skz Family now?” Hyunjin asks, continuing his conversation even after Felix has left.
Chris and Soraya both frown, mentally trying to count everyone.
“There’s only fifteen of us. Sixteen when Felix finds someone,” Soraya points out, but her eyes dramatically widen in realisation.
“No there’s sixteen,” Hyunjin insists, “Technically.” Soraya pinches his shoulder then, causing the man to yelp in surprise, “I’m right though!”
“Hyunjin, I’ve been counting heads ever since we debuted, I’m pretty sure there’s only fifteen of us. There’s just Y/N left,” Chris chuckles, swinging the door shut slightly out of polite habit. He would open it for you once he saw you nearby.
“That’s why it’s technically because she counts for two,” Hyunjin elaborates and at this, Soraya yanks on his pony tail slightly.
“Shush Hyunjin- he doesn’t know yet-” she hisses, kneeing him in the ass and encouraging him to move onwards quickly.
“Why wouldn’t he know? Isn’t he the first person she’d tell?” Hyunjin rambles, his hands flailing about in a panic.
“Did you listen to a word I said yesterday?”
“If you were telling me this while I was trying to paint you gardening then I was most definitely not listening.”
“I told you during dinner, idiot.”
“You said to not congratulate him yet- not that- oh.”
Chris’ heart has stopped working. He can feel his chest constrict tightly, and his breath cease to exist. You count… for two? In a daze, Chris’ hand disappears from the door knob, leaving the door still slightly open, and he drifts down the hallway.
When he appears in the kitchen, Felix is still busy dishing out the apple pie, and Soraya is whisper-yelling at Hyunjin for his stupidity. In a rare moment of silence since everyone’s mouths are full of food, Chris doesn’t struggle to have his question heard.
“Do you mean to tell me… that my wife is pregnant?” He croaks, standing with his hands stiff to his sides. All at once, heads whip around to stare in shock at Chris, and it doesn’t take a genius to confirm this statement. Their expressions melt from surprise, to panic in seconds.
“And you all knew…?” Chris finishes, his eyes wide with disbelief.
“Okay so who the fuck couldn’t keep their mouth shut?”
“In my defence- I didn’t know he didn’t know-”
“I told you. Loud and clear!”
“Hyunjin!! You’re really asking for a slipper to your head.”
“I get why he was part of Paboracha now.”
“What do you mean was he still is.”
This was what you walked into as you let yourself inside Felix’s house, peering out from behind your husband and frowning at the noise.
“What’s going on here? You left the front door open.”
The silence after your statement is profound, and you take in the guilty expressions of the Skz Family, and then finally the stiff posture of Chris with his back turned to you.
You tap him on the shoulder and he swivels slowly to face you, staring hard, his mouth a thin line.
“Are they lying to me?” He asks, and your mouth slowly opens in understanding, a breathy chuckle escaping your lips. Someone’s let it slip.
“That would be quite the elaborate lie,” you grin, casually strolling past Chris and picking up a plate of apple pie.
“Yeobo,” Chris groans, rubbing his face in his hands and trailing after you, “I want a proper answer.”
You can feel the excited tension in the room, fizzling from one person to the next as you munch on Felix’s apple pie, eyeing your husband from head to toe. It’s all you can do to stop yourself from grinning like there’s no tomorrow.
“Y/N are you fucking pregnant or-” Chris begins, and with a cheeky giggle, you interrupt him.
“Yes Christopher. I am carrying your child.”
If he wasn’t frozen before, he certainly is now. His hand is stuck in his hair, mid-way through brushing it in frustration, his eyes are wide and shimmering, and his mouth is parted in a permanent ‘oh’. Finally, he breathes out two whispered words, “Holy fuck.”
The rampant yells make you flinch, and you almost drop your delicious plate of apple pie. You’d think they were celebrating the world being saved from an impending doom with how loud and celebratory the Skz Family was being. You watch in amusement as they dance around each other, shaking you and congratulating Chris obnoxiously.
“Holy fuck,” Chris repeats, suddenly moving and pacing around in a state of shock, both his hands in his hair, “Holy- Jesus fuck.” Chris turns back to stare at you, and at your grin, it’s like the life is breathed back into him.
“You’re pregnant?!” He yells and when you laugh and nod, he disappears into another room, but you can still hear him yell in disbelief, “You’re fucking pregnant? Since when were you pregnant? Holy shit.”
Chris returns in view, and his pace is suddenly more frantic.
“Are you serious?” He grins, from over by the couch, but you don’t even get a chance to respond. The delirious joy that has broken onto his face is a sight to behold as he sits down onto the coffee table, squishing the sides of his face.
“This isn’t a dream, yeah? I’m awake right?” He asks, standing back up in seconds and dashing over to you. "You’re pregnant? You’re carrying a child. You’re carrying our child,” he asks, clutching your face and kissing you roughly.
“Yes, honey. I am carrying our child,” you laugh, pulling yourself away from him so you can breathe. And he’s gone again, disappeared back out into the hallway, yelling to himself. You watch in a complete state of bliss as he reappears and scoops you into a joyous hug, twirling you around. Thankfully you had put your plate down, your intuition telling you that it would be dangerous to keep it on you with him in this state.
“You’re gonna be a Mum!” Chris laughs, kissing you with your face between his hands again, “We’re having a kid- you’re gonna be a Mum- I’m gonna be a Dad-“ he breathes, his voice dying in his throat with his forehead pressed to yours.
“I’m gonna be a Dad,” he repeats, his eyes wide as they drill into your own. Chris suddenly sinks to the floor, his hands trailing the shape of your body as if you’re guiding him down. “I’m gonna be… a Dad,” this time, when he repeats it, it’s like the realisation has properly sunk in.
You drag your fingers soothingly through his hair to try and shake him out of it, but he merely continues to stare at your feet. “You okay?” You ask him, bobbing down to meet his eye level.
“Fuck if that isn’t the scariest thing I’ve ever said in my entire life,” Chris whispers, and you’re startled to see his eyes shimmering with tears, “I’m gonna be a Dad.”
“You already are a Dad.”
“Yeah you raised us!”
“Best Leader! Best Leader!”
“Best Dad! Wait that doesn’t have the same ring to it…”
“Best Father?”
“Hey that works!”
“Best Father! Best Father! Best Father!”
Chris lets his tears trickle down his cheek, and he reaches for you blindly, pulling you into a hug on the floor as he cries his tears of joy into your neck.
“Thank you,” he whispers, kissing you wherever he can, “Thank you so fucking much.”
“Why are you thanking me? You put this kid here,” you grin, hugging him tightly. Chris pulls away in disbelief, his arms still snug around you, his eyes crinkled with an undeniable joy.
“Thank you for loving me.”
--
Your reason for telling the Skz Family and not your husband first? Because for the rest of the day, Chris refused to let you lift a finger; because for the next few weeks, he’d refuse to let you cook a single thing; because for the next few months Chris would consistently pout and try his hardest to make your defences cave when you tried to do chores. That was on him. He was doing those. Please let me do the dishes? Please?
“I’ll actually get on my knees and beg.”
“Chris - I am not fragile, I can still do chores.”
“Please?”
“Christopher.”
“You should be resting~ Are you drinking enough water? Craving anything? Please let me do the dishes. Please, honey?”
“I never thought I’d say this, but stop saying please.”
--
You’re woken abruptly from your peaceful slumber, arms wrapped around Chris’ chest, by a heavy weight crash landing into you. Immediately your brain kickstarts itself into defence mode, burying yourself under the covers and inadvertently suffocating Chris too. You sense two of them, two little munchkins bouncing on the bed.
“Aughhhh,” Chris wheezes, clutching his stomach and poking his head out of the duvet, “You hurt Dad.” Someone wriggles under the blankets between you, and you kiss his forehead affectionately with a smile.
“Good morning Cameron… how was your sleep?” You ask him, his big brown eyes wide under the covers.
“Fantastic! Now get up!” He nips, pressing his face to yours impatiently.
“Juni- Juniper- sweetie, I can’t breathe,” Chris coughs, his arms jolting out of the blankets to hoist the youngest off his stomach. The little one had been having some fun using her Dad as a mini trampoline.
“Dad~ let’s go~ I want to play with Uncle Fewix!” She giggles, slinging her arms around Chris’ neck as he tumbles out of bed, carrying her.
Cameron kicks the covers off the pair of you, nodding his head excitedly, “Yeah, Uncle Felix is down at the beach already! And Minsung Uncle’s are cooking breakfast on the barbecue!!”
“Juni… where’d you put your hat?” You ask, crawling out of bed and rummaging through the drawer full of her clothes.
“I’ve got it. Here.” Someone’s arm waves briefly at the doorframe, showcasing the hat before it disappears again.
“Alex, have you seen my sunnies?” Chris yells to the eldest son, the one who had only bothered to show his arm. This time, he pokes his head around and points towards the window which overlooks the beach.
“If you squint hard enough, you’ll notice that Uncle Minho is borrowing them,” he grins, flashing his dimples. Mr Steal Your Girl 2.0.
Chris quite literally throws Juniper onto the bed, making her scream in delight, and tackles Cameron with a brief tickle at his ribs before turning away to find a pair of board shorts. You’ve managed to change into a bikini already, fastening your pace at the insistence of your younger son.
“Where’s my-”
“If you’re looking for your beach dress it’s on the couch!” Alex yells suddenly, and you smile in disbelief. That kid.
--
You’re braiding your hair in the bathroom when Chris bursts in and slams the door. You look at him surprise, but he only places a gentle finger to his lips and winks.
“Where’s Dad? CamCam~ did you see Dad?” Juniper pouts, talking on the other side of the door with her slightly older brother.
“No? Where is he? Have you seen Mum? They’re taking too long.”
Chris’ grin is manic as he flings open the bathroom door and roars, his hands poised in the air like a lion, scaring the absolute shit out of the two kids. Juniper screams and dives for the bed, but little Cameron, after getting over his initial fright, raises his fists and glares at his Dad.
“You wanna fight me old man? Come on,” he boldly declares, and Chris pretends to crack his neck.
“Did you become Seungmin’s student? You’re on you little ratbag,” he laughs, raising his own fists and bouncing around playfully, “Go on, show me what you’ve got.”
You watch as the two dance around each other, Chris feinting punches and Cameron landing actual ones, to which your husband fakes serious injury. Juniper emerges after a while and helps with her tiny little kicks.
“Hey- hang on-” Chris dramatically gasps, “I can’t take two of you!!”
Alex walks into the room then, already shirtless and in board shorts. He swoops in and hoists his little sister onto his shoulders, smiling at her giggles. “Want me to get Dad?” He asks, his mischievous smirk emerging, and Chris holds his hands up in defence.
“Nahnahnahnah- foul play-” Chris yells, as the Alex-Juniper formation chases Chris out of the bedroom, Cameron hot on their heels, laughing his little head off.
It doesn’t take too long for Chris to return to the bathroom, having sent the kids down to the beach on their own to meet up with the Skz Family.
“Morning beautiful!” He smiles cheerfully, dragging a hand through his already sweaty hair before planting a firm kiss on the top of your head.
“And good morning to you too,” you smile, sighing into his familiar embrace with his head on your shoulder, “You going for a swim?”
--
It’s currently Summer break, which meant the Skz Family had hauled away their suitcases and children to the vacation house collectively bought by them all. It’s quite literally like a getaway mansion, with more rooms than you can count, a swimming pool, theatre room, massive kitchen, outside kitchen, games room etc.
The best part however, is easily the fact that it’s backed straight onto the beach; walk out the front door and journey down the patio stairs and you’ve got sand between your toes. As you step out into the sun, Chris at your shoulder, also just as exposed as his eldest son, you smile at the wondrous sight before you.
Multiple families, which are basically just one big family, playing around and lounging under umbrellas by the water. Chris is watching your gaze, and he nudges you out of your reverie.
“We made it, hey?” He smiles, nonchalantly wrapping an arm around your shoulders.
“Mhm,” you hum, eyes sparkling as you wrap your own arm around his waist, “We did.”
All the Skz Members are married now. Even Felix. To everyone’s surprise, he was the 4th out of the group to marry, falling head over heels for Hailey and even producing their own daughter before anyone could blink. All had their own kids too, and plenty of pets.
The dogs were having fun at the waters edge, gleefully fighting each other for the toys that a few of the kids were tossing into the water. The cats were lounging back under the patio, unwilling to go anywhere near the sand; most of them where Minho’s and Jinhee’s, well… mostly their daughter’s cats.
Seungmin and Ashley were both reading a book on some beach chair’s, Yeonjoo right beside Seungmin munching on a slice of watermelon. Jeongin was sat on the sand in front of them, helping his youngest daughter Freya build a sandcastle, while Katy was searching for shells to decorate it.
Felix has a whole hoard of children, young and older, chasing him with water guns up and down the beach. Meanwhile Jisung and Minho have managed to drag the barbecue down by the water and are busying themselves with breakfast. There are kids and adults swimming in the water, wives sunbathing. Two human’s are paddle boarding, some kayaking.
You think you can see Changbin out on the jet-ski, towing some kids behind him on sea biscuits, their screams of joy… or terror, audible from where you’re standing. A little to the side, it looks like Hyunjin’s got an impromptu audience, as kids wander over (and adults, let’s be honest) to check up on his progression as he paints the ocean, his twin daughters trying to ‘photobomb’ the picture.
It’s chaos, but it’s home.
--
It’s indescribable, this joy, this happiness. Something that, unfortunately, very few actually experience; the complete satisfaction and contentment of knowing that if you died today, you’d have no regrets.
What about your kids? Oh, of course it would be tragic to leave them behind, but as you look around at Alex, who’s strumming his guitar and singing dutifully to a gaggle of kids who are practically his cousins; as you smile at Cameron, who’s racing a bunch of other kids in a makeshift hundred metre sprint along the sand; as your heart melts at Chris and Juniper, playing in the ocean… you know that even if you were to disappear, they’d be okay.
Your gaze focuses on Chris and your daughter, watching as he holds her below her armpits and spins her around in the water.
“You ready to go under?” He asks playfully, wriggling her like a worm, “I’m gonna count okay?”
“You go with me!” She yells, kicking wildly as Chris pulls her completely out of the water, as high as he can toss her before catching her again.
“Alrighty, let’s go!” He exclaims, “Three! Two! ONE!!” - and they both disappear from sight, vanishing into the depths of the water. Juni resurfaces first, her Dad’s arms holding her up high, but Chris is still lost below the waves.
“Daaaaaad! Don’t drown!!” She squeals, kicking her little legs again. Chris bursts out with a gasp and hoists his daughter onto his shoulders, walking both of them over to you, “Have some watermelon with your Mum and Auntie Yeonjoo, yeah? Dad’s gonna go for a quick swim by himself, is that okay?” He laughs, while Juni tugs at his hair, pretending to direct his actions.
You hold your arms out for her and pop her onto your knee, accepting the offered watermelon from Yeonjoo and holding it up for Juniper to eat.
“Anyone up for a race?” Chris calls, and Hyunjin throws his head back with a laugh, “A race? You know no one is going to beat you, Poseidon.”
“Oh well shame, you’re all getting into the water,” he grins back, diving for Minho and hoisting him over his shoulder. Minho’s face is of utter disappointment, accepting his sad fate of being dumped into the salty sea. Chris doesn’t have to drag the rest of the boys down. They follow, and Changbin pulls the jet ski to an abrupt stop close by, abandoning ship and leaving the kids he was towing to scream and yell in outrage at being left stranded.
They’re the older ones. They’ll survive.
You women gossip with each other while the men fool around in the sea, and as you watch them, it’s almost like the rest of the world doesn’t exist to them. It’s just them, the original family, enjoying their time together.
Chris is the last one to leave the water, the others eventually needing to retreat for a drink. He’s drifting with his back to the beach, the waves idly swaying him backwards and forwards. He’s lost in thought, you know this much, gaze consumed by the distant horizon and never-ending blue of the world. Juniper hops off your lap, having finished her slice of watermelon, and skips away to join her friends by the sandcastle Jeongin had made.
You take this rare opportunity to join Chris and disturb his time alone, slipping into the water and welcoming how refreshing it is against your skin.
--
Lauren, Felix’s eldest, plops herself down on the sand next to Alex, humming along to the tune he’s busying himself with on his guitar. The gathering he had earlier, dispersed, the little one’s getting bored and deciding it was time to annoy the aunt’s snoozing on some towels.
“I bet you my share of my Mum’s cake for dessert tonight that your Mum is about to attempt to drown your Dad,” she prods, nodding her head towards you and Chris.
“Aunt Hailey made cake?” Alex asks, pausing his song to stare at his parents, “Sure - but if Mum sprints away and Dad chases after her, I get your share of tomorrow’s dessert too.” Lauren shrugs and begins to a dig a hole between her legs in the sand, “It’s a deal.”
Sure enough, you do just as Lauren predicted, using your element of surprise to quite literally jump onto Chris’ back and topple him face first into the water. Alex, as your own son, wins this bet though. In seconds you’ve sprinted away, diving into the water as fast as you can as Chris emerges, spluttering.
Hyunjin is absolutely right. You can’t out-swim Poseidon.
Lauren sighs and fills her hole back in with sand, resting her chin on her hand, “How do we live up to that?”
“Hm?” Alex questions, turning to look from his parents to the girl next to him.
“Your parents, I mean. They’ve been together for how long, and they’re still so playful?”
Alex frowns and looks around for Felix and Hailey, Lauren’s parents.
“Mate, have you seen your parents?” He laughs, strumming a random chord on his guitar.
Lauren’s nose scrunches in disdain, “They’re just cuddly 24/7. I want what your parents have.”
“You’re twelve, calm down,” Alex snorts with a raise of his eyebrows.
“And you’re fourteen, your point?” She scoffs, kicking sand onto his feet.
“You have plenty of time. You think my parents got to where they are just like magic?” He elaborates, putting his guitar down carefully onto his lap.
“Who knows?” Lauren shrugs, then changes the topic abruptly, “Are you training to become an idol?”
Alex nods, “I have an audition soon.”
“How come none of us know? I only guessed because I see you practicing all the time,” Lauren asks, gesturing to borrow his guitar. After a second, she quietly begins to strum her own tune.
“The adults know… but, I didn’t want to make the younger one’s sad.”
“And me? You weren’t planning on telling me? I’m basically your sister.”
Alex shrugs, his eyes hawk-like as he watches her play, already analysing her technique for feedback, “You proved yourself that I didn’t need to. You figured it out eventually.”
“You’ve got some big shoes to fill,” Lauren smiles, turning back to watch you and Chris. Who knows since when, but you’re now sitting on his shoulders, wrestling with Suhwa sitting atop Jisung.
“As if your Dad isn’t the Lee Felix.”
“I’m not trying to be an idol,” Lauren recoils, nose scrunching, “There’s eight of them here already and you’re about to become another.”
“Eight retired idols.”
Both of them lapse into silence, staring out at the large pack of family members in thought.
“Dad was worried about me wanting to be an idol, actually. He’s supportive, but he doesn’t want me to feel like I’m stuck in his shadow.”
“He has every right to be worried. For one thing, he’s your Dad. For another, just as my Dad is Lee Felix, your Dad is Bahng Christopher Chahn.”
“Yeah but I’m Bahng Alexander Korain, and I can forge my own path.”
Lauren smiles at him then, and it’s this moment perhaps, that sets them both off on a journey to stardom.
“And I’m Lee Lauren Seolhee, and maybe… I’ll forge my own path alongside you... if you convince me.”
--
There are many kids, and therefore there are many stories. As the author, I have complete creative liberty with them. Some may grow to be academic genius’, some to be athletic gods. Some might start up their own business. Some simply look to add to the Skz Family. What I chose to write about to finish this series however, is the beginning of the next journey.
This is simply because, as all proposed circle of life’s are, happiness comes and goes. It is spread, universally from one person to the other. And in this universe, where you and Chris have successfully achieved the peak happiness, and accomplished your dreams, the circle of life continues. Now it is the turn of Alex and Lauren, and all other kids of this generation to extend their happiness to others, to give just as Chris did, to love just as Skz did.
Alex and Lauren will eventually debut in the same experimental group. A combination of male and female idols in one overarching group. This group will co-produce songs and episodes, participate in promotions and schedules together, but also complete separate productions as sub-unit male and female groups.
Alex, debuting as A.K-Rain (forever undecided on A.K or Rain or K-Rain for short), will go on as the maknae and lead dancer of the male sub-unit, while Lauren, debuting as Seolhee, takes up the role as leader of the female sub-unit. The whole Skz Family will attend their first concert.
And as you look at Chris’ shining face, proud to the max, you’ll come to the conclusion, that you’d do it all over again - relive your relationship right from the beginning, just to see this very expression again on his face, in this moment.
You’ve done it. You made it. You both… made it.
--
And that my fellow readers, brings Stay Series to an official close.
Below is the full list of children I quite literally randomly generated (I lied I thought hard about them on a walk with my dog). I am aware, that most of them probably wouldn’t have an English name, but I am not Korean and my head was spinning with the effort of trying to figure it all out (who would and wouldn’t have an English name) and incorporate it into the writing - so I just gave everyone everything.
It’s not too important to be honest, but it felt necessary to invent them all. Felt complete. Please, just as a reminder, this does not represent Skz, I can’t predict the future idfk if they’ll have kids or not.
*ages during this particular fic
CHRIS + READER
Bahng Alexander (Alex) Korain - Male, 14
Bahng Cameron (Cam) Daeshim - Male, 8
Bahng Juniper (Juni) Yeji - Female, 4
MINHO + JINHEE
Lee Amelia Soo - Female, 11
FELIX + HAILEY
Lee Lauren Seolhee - Female, 12
Lee Benjamin (Ben/Benji) Kunwoo - Male, 10
JISUNG + SUHWA
Han Imogen (Immy) Hyerim - Female, 8
Han Jasper Joontae - Male, 5
CHANGBIN + KIRSTEN
Seo Luis Beomsoo - Male, 9
Seo Nicole (Nicki) Yumi - Female, 6
HYUNJIN + SORAYA
Twins!!
Hwang Samara Yewon - Female, 11
Hwang Sophia (Soph) Yeonhee - Female, 11
SEUNGMIN + YEONJOO
Kim Ethan Minjae - Male, 7
JEONGIN + ASHLEY
Yang Katy Miyeon - Female, 10
Yang Freya Eunju - Female, 4
Notes:
A/N: No more official updates :'), just four bonuses left now.
- Kaisowoo
Chapter 16: Bonus #1 - Parallels
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
PART 1 - Just Stay.
I would briefly like to point out the title, as there are two others with similar titles. There’s also “Please Stay.” And “You Stayed.” And I believe those titles on their own speak volumes.
-
The studio door clicks open, and his head snaps to the sound. Immediately, he attempts to steady his breath, and pulls his expression into his signature straight smile :] as Jisung enters the room, a plastic bag filled with takeaway containers in his hand.
This actually happened one time. Chan mentioned however that it was on his birthday, and Jisung visited him with food in the middle of the night while he was working.
-
He pulled a face, his eyes wide, and waved his arms a little, “Thanks. Almost lost my balance there.”
I also directly took inspiration for this little ‘suicide’ after watching a video of Chan actually losing his balance in the middle of an interview.
-
Stay. Just stay. Stay’s. It’s you. You’re not staying.
I don’t know if you all understand how significant it is that this is called Stay Series. It’s probably obvious but I mean, we’re Stays.
-
“Just because you have a lot of stress, it doesn’t mean that you have to relieve it by hurting yourself.”
“If you think about the future… it’s best to just keep away from that and find different ways of relieving stress.”
“You never know what’s going to happen in the future. Something might go wrong, then there might be a turning point and then- from then on you feel really, really regretful,”
“If you really, really can’t help it or if you really just don’t know what to do or you’re really- really lost, as I’ve always said,” he smiles, eyes shimmering, “come here; look for me, ask me, talk with me.”
“I’ll try my best to relieve your stress,”
Actual advice from Bang Chan in a Chan’s Room episode.
-
You give him a once over, genuinely considering him, “I can’t shut down my only source of income for a day.”
“Even for-”
“Especially not for you.”
“The whole-? Library and everything?” you inquire, as you refill the jar of chai powder.
“Mhm,” he hums, nodding to a regular as they float by, “Staff want us to film a Skz-Code Episode while we’re here, and they left it up to us to decide where.”
“Oh. Sure. What do you need, for me to close up for the day?”
I found it funny that for James you were like “I can’t shut down my only source of income for a day,” but then for Chan you’re like “Oh. Sure.”
-
Go kill yourself. ‘Heh… funny.’
We all know this happened in reality.
-
The music playing in your earphones becomes too much, so you tug them out of your ears, your phone lighting up on the paused song of “Silent Cry”, by Stray Kids.
From Part 12 - You Stayed.:
He sighs dramatically and whispers, more to himself than anything, “Worth a shot,” then proceeds to hum to a slowed tune of one of Stray Kids’ songs, “Silent Cry”.
Initially it was Silent Cry because ‘listen out for Chris’ silent cry, he’s crying rn and about to try kill himself. And then later on it gets turned into a lullaby, and idk it’s kind of painful to me.
-
He sounds so broken, crying his heart out as though he were a lost little child who dropped his ice cream.
From Part 12 - You Stayed.:
You scamper further from the bed as he scrambles closer, like a child longing for a bite of your ice cream.
I don’t know why I chose to do this, but the child w/ ice cream reference was important. Again, it’s a sign of the evolution of your relationship.
-
Every drink that is, except for the special one you made for him – it was actually your Mum’s recipe.
From Part 12 - You Stayed.:
“Not your favourite dish; the one my Mum makes. We’ve never shown you how to make that,” he giggles, before he picks you up bridal style, causing you to yell and dangerously wave around the knife.
Okay so Chris doesn’t know how to make that hot chocolate, and you don’t know how to make that dish. Perfect.
-
Perhaps your coping mechanism is to simply scream. Shut the doors. Close your blinds. Block your ears. Scream. Dry your eyes. Breathe…
Scream.
Perhaps your coping mechanism is to simply scream. Shut the doors. Close your blinds. Block your ears. Scream. Dry your eyes. Breathe…
Chris: “Are you awake?”
No one would have noticed this, but this is the end of the introduction describing grief. I used the same paragraph at the end, but removed only one word, “Scream.” From the end and replaced it instead with a conversation between you and Chris. It’s the little things.
-
Part 2 - Hey…
In case you haven’t noticed, all of my titles tend to be spoilers, or framing devices for the fics - which is what… titles are meant for… This one is because “Hey… how you doin’?”
-
You: “You’re actually annoying”
Chris: “Only for you~”
And here marks the beginning of Chris using this line on you.
-
“All good. I’ll just need some other info… just the names of the cats, when you’d like them to stay… your name and a phone number, if possible?” you’re sitting there, anticipating his answer, but the other end has gone radio silent.
“Are… you still there…?” you cautiously probe, not wanting to be annoying.
“Soonie, Doongie and Dori.”
This is the reason why I centralised the eventual proposal around “Soonie, Doongie and Dori.” It started with them, and in a way, it ended with them - it’s full circle. They are used as a way to get Chris to ask you out on a date, and again also present when he proposes- I mean you propose.
-
“What are you doing here?” you breathe out, as Chris sidles up beside you to start the next order.
“I’m here for you. I told you I’d be back didn’t I?” Chris presses the button to start the coffee on his end, placing his cup neatly underneath the spouts.
From Part 6 - Heartbeat:
“What the fuck are you doing here?” you seethe, sliding the door shut behind you forcefully.
“I’m here for you,” Chris croaks out, and your jaw clenches.
THIS HURT ME SO MUCH. I’M NOT EVEN GOING TO EXPLAIN BECAUSE IT SHOULD BE SELF-EXPLANATORY, BUT OUCH.
-
“It’s called a fucking date. Chan will pay for you,” Ashley snaps, and Chris nods vigorously, “Took the words right out of my mouth.”
From Part 3 - It’s a Sign:
“It’s called a fucking date. I pay for you.” You roll your eyes and shove him gently, “Ashley is such a bad influence on you.”
“Nahnah, remember she took the words right out of my mouth.” Chris grins, winking cheekily at you.
Just this cute little first date reference, that some of my readers might have been confused about.
-
Then, yelling over the top of one another, dragged Chris all the way down to the water where you still stood. He was laughing, putting up a bit of a fight but not really; he’d always be gentle with them. Once the members had managed to group everyone together, Jisung started chanting “Kiss! Kiss!” and the rest of the members joined in. Chris was hiding his face in his hands, making distressed noises, his ears burning bright red.
You shook your head in disbelief at the members around you, and instead pulled Chris into a hug, which he reciprocated, burying his embarrassed face into your neck. There were whoops and cheers (and Jisung’s disappointed “awhhhhh”), and then you forcefully pushed Chris down into the water, a stupid grin on your face. He came up spluttering, shocked, and then dove for your ankles. You squealed and sprinted away, crash landing into Felix, who caught you, but stumbled and fell into the water too – and then suddenly, everyone was getting dragged under.
From Part 11 - Soonie, Doongie and Dori:
As soon as the official ceremony was over, the Stray Kids members swooped in… grabbed you by your wrists and ankles… and sprinted you all the way over to the water, Chris being roughly tousled over too. You laugh at the familiarity of the situation, squealing slightly as the cold water drenches you.
Everyone surrounds the pair of you, Chris getting shoved into you as you try to stand, and you cling to him desperately. Jisung starts up the chant, and you grin at your husband, knowing you’re both thinking the same thing. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
You do. This time you do. Chris pulls you into a searing kiss, tasting slightly of salt water, one hand cupping your face, the other clinging tightly to your hip. When you separate, his forehead remains on yours, and he whispers, “What do you say we dunk Jisung first, hey?”
You laugh and nod, then kiss him swiftly one more time before you both turn with mischievous grins towards Jisung. His raucous cheering ceases, and he morphs right back into a quokka, trying to hide behind Minho as you and Chris race towards him.
I HAD BETTER NOT HAVE NEEDED TO EXPLAIN THIS - I MADE IT SO ACHINGLY OBVIOUS . I would also like to happily point out that your first date was at a beach, and you got married at a beach. Oh look, this author seems to like full circle events, doesn’t she?
-
Part 3 - It’s a Sign
I thought it was obvious, but apparently my friend didn’t make the connection until I told her. It’s called “It’s a Sign” because you mf run into a god damn sign right before your first kiss. Get it? It’s a sign? No? Ah….
-
Chris: “babe, I’m sorry I can’t pick you up”
You: “it’s okay!”
Chris: “I’m really sorry, you know that right?”
You: “Chris it’s okay, I know you are”
I just wanted to point this out because later on, in Part 8 - You Helping, or What? Chris actually does go pick you up at the airport, and it’s just a significant representation of how your relationship as evolved over time.
-
Part 4 - Sunshine to the Moon
Obviously it’s called sunshine to the moon because those are the names of endearment used in here, and also because technically speaking, I’m also saying that ‘you are Chris’ sunshine’.
-
Somehow you’ve managed to crawl on top of him, straddling his bare chest. Chris grabs your shoulders and pushes you up, grinning at you from below, “Since when were you this affectionate?” he coos, hands sliding over to cup your face and squish your cheeks. You roll your eyes at him and press on his chest lightly, again, feigning annoyance.
From Part 12 - You Stayed.:
At this point, the only way you can think to overpower him is by tickling, and eventually you manage to reposition yourself on top of him, straddling his chest (amidst his cursing and begging you to play fair – which was inconsiderate, considering he literally never did). You yank the pillow out from underneath his head and pretend to suffocate him with it. His mocking screams for help eventually satisfy you, and you chuck the pillow to the side.
Again like… when you were sitting on top of him earlier on in the relationship, all you did to show your annoyance was press on his chest lightly. This time you suffocated him with a pillow. #RelationshipGoals
-
Part 5 - The Date of All Dates
There’s virtually nothing I could remember or pick on up on in this one either - but it’s called the Date of All Dates cause that is quite literally what it is. The date that ends all dates. LOL.
-
Part 6 - Heartbeat
Titled this because it was inspired by the song ‘Heartbeat’ by BTS. Also because Chris’ heart is most certainly not beating, or beating too fast, in this entire fic, with absolute pain.
-
You: “… Me or Skz???” You: “Ji?”
From Part 14 - Merry Chris-mas (Felix Never Bad)
“Me or Stray Kids?” Chris hums, prodding you with his knee on the couch.
Yeah so yeah. Full circle. First you asked this question seriously, and later on in life Chris asks this question jokingly.
-
Immediately, you notice the pineapple juice and untouched croissant on the coffee table (A/N: And this parallel, the croissant guys), but your parents are nowhere to be seen.
Okay so this little detail is important because first of all, this means that you have told your parents absolutely everything about Chris, because they know he doesn’t drink coffee and that his favourite drink is pineapple juice - and that speaks volumes to me because like it means you still love him so much. Also the hazelnut croissant, is the same as the one’s you first gave Chris when you invited him to your Café, so naturally him seeing them while he’s trying to get you back to him is hurtful.
-
Part 7 - Sweet
Sweet because there is a lot of sugar involved in this: cake, pocky. And also cause Chris says “Hmmmm… sweet” after tasting mf cake directly from your mouth.
-
Nothing much in this one apparently.
-
Part 8 - You Helping, or What?
That is the question I was asking the entire time I wrote this thing. Chris is not helping. Chris is being a pain in the ass.
-
Hm. Void of other references. Welp.
-
Part 9 - First for Everything
Guys there’s nothing here for me to mention other than, I wonder why I called it ‘First for Everything’?
-
Part 10 - Please Stay.
Title has since been explained.
-
“You want me to get on my knee and propose right here right now? Cause I will,” he grins, “I gladly will, but… I’d rather I get the chance to do it properly.”
From Part 11 - Soonie, Doongie and Dori:
“Look I know- I know I’m not on one knee like I said I would be- I was meant to propose properly like an hour ago during our date- but I- I lost the ring, I can’t for the life of me find it, and I’m so- I’m so sorry- but I mean- I just want so badly to be your husband- and even though there’s no ring-”
I just love how his initial plan completely backfired on him. Anyways.
-
“Shut up and fuck me, woman.”
“Say please?”
“Wow. You did not just-”
“Say please.”
“Are you really going to-”
“Say. Please.”
“I’m a bad influence.”
“And I’m waiting.”
From Part 11 - Soonie, Doongie and Dori:
“Will you marry me?”
“Wait- wait no this is insane, this is not-”
“Will… you… marry… meeeeeeeeee?”
“I’m so stupid.”
“And I’m waiting.”
Hehehehehe just you being a cheeky shit. It’s important because the first time you say “And I’m waiting” is just after he’s recently admitted to wanting to genuinely marry you. The second time, is when he, well you have finally proposed.
-
Part 11 - Soonie, Doongie and Dori
I’ve already explained the significance of this title.
-
“I love you, you’re adorable. You’re so- you did this all yourself?” You ask, breathing heavily into his shirt.
“Mhm…” he mumbles, kissing the top of your head affectionately, and then one more time for good measure, “Only for you…”
This is here because I would like to point out that this is the first time he’s genuinely said “Only for you…” without any cheek. Usually it’s “Only for you~” with that ~~~~ you know like ugh, but this time his tone is different.
-
“I’ll look after Minho’s cats, and I’ll look after you too, just like you look after everyone else.” Finally, you look up at him, and immediately you know he hasn’t heard a word.
“You’re not listening are you?” You chuckle, smiling at his dazed expression.
“You’re not listening are you?” Chris pauses, smiling softly and brushing your hair out of your face. You blink and turn away slightly, trying to wake yourself up.
“Yeah sorry- I am so sorry- you’re just- hoo you’re hot in a suit I swear to god.”
Like- c’monnnnn, surely this was spotted by someone.
-
Part 12 - You Stayed.
All the parallels for this one are basically connected to Part 1 - Just Stay. lmao
-
Part 13 - To Live the Life of Bang Chan
Obviously because this is what Daniela titled the book. I don’t believe there will be much to explain in this fic, since the entire fic is kind of an explanation itself.
I would however like to say that Dani here, feels so familiar to you because not only is she you from an alternate universe, she’s also picked up on the habits of her Chan. The grin, the expressions - which is why it’s very surreal when you meet her.
-
I know that my message will never reach the Bang Chan I wish I could say this to; he is out of my reach. I will say it here, nevertheless and hope your Chris understands my intention.
My only wish to you, is that one day, you learn to love yourself. Whether this is through a significant other. Whether it’s through Stray Kids. Maybe your own kids. However you do it, I hope you learn to love yourself, because the weight of the world is heavy Chan, and you of all people deserve to love yourself, the way others love you.
Stray kids everywhere all around the world, you make Stray Kids Stay
I included my own persona into this series because this is quite literally the message I wish I could say to Bang Chan. He is the happiness for many, just as he is for me. He’s my role model, not in that he’s an idol, but also because we share the same personality as ENFJ-Ts. Through loving him, I learn to love myself, because I can see snippets of myself when I watch him.
I have this motto that I associate with him - “if only I can live to be half the person you are, then maybe one day I will be satisfied”. I’m trying to be more like him, use him as an example to live with a heart of kindness. I don’t want to be be him, or impersonate him dear lord not that far, just as a person to look up to.
-
For the last two fics, Part 14 - Merry Chris-mas (Felix Never Bad) and Part 15 - I Already Have Seven… there isn’t much to say except focus on their titles.
Chris-mas because haha you’re funny. Felix Never Bad because he’s the only one without a gf at the time and like yk. Also, in Part 7 - Sweet, there's this which makes it super ironic:
The Kids’ don’t pay him much attention, especially not since Felix and Hyunjin are arguing with each other, “I’ll be first.” “Hyunjin mate, I have more followers than you.” “That’d make it harder for you to find a genuine person though.”
“I Already Have Seven…” is naturally a reference to that one moment on Insta Live where Chris did a 2023 prediction I think and it said he’d have a kid.
And in that fic. He ends up with 3 kids.
-
There's probably more that I've missed, but that's okay. I hope you've all enjoyed... hang tight for the smut.........................
Notes:
Thank you to those who supported the writing of this fic.
You’re all amazing, and I hope the time you spent reading this series was worthwhile.
- Kaisowoo
Chapter 17: Bonus#2 - Sugar or Spice
Summary:
Chris comes home after work! Pretend Skz all lives together in like an apartment complex kind of thing, and you can easily just visit everyone’s rooms.
This is kind of random and not relevant to Stay Series, but I wrote it and then went, eh might as well throw it in...
!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!
Notes:
Chapter Notes: Whiny!Chan, Blindfold, Restraints (Using a Tie), Smut-ish, Slight Exhibitionism? (not really, just an interruption and then a door slammed), Safe Word Exists (not used)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
--
You sit back down on the bed and watch as Chris shuts the door quietly, the late-night moon filtering in through the window, barely illuminating his figure.
“You scared the shit out of me Christopher. You’re finished earlier than usual,” you sigh, levelling out your breathing to slow your heart rate. You'd been idly scrolling on your phone, and his sudden entrance had jolted you out of your comfort.
Chris doesn’t answer. Instead he turns around elegantly and slowly slips his arms out from the sleeves of his suit, dropping it to the ground in a straggled heap of black. Your eyebrows knit together at his actions. He's not usually the type to just... dump his clothes on the floor.
His remaining attire is merely a formal white button up with a black tie, and black dress pants of course.
Your eyes dart up to meet his, and your heart rate skyrockets again when you find him staring straight back at you, dark eyes piercing your own, a curious smirk planted on his face.
He walks towards you and bites at the glove on his left hand, slowly removing it with his teeth, a cheeky grin on his face, and your mouth parts slightly, watching in stunned stupor as he advances.
“So… how do you want me?” Chris mutters through gritted teeth – he's moved on to removing the glove on his right hand, which joins the other glove on the ground.
Carefully, he presses a hand to your chest to pushes you backwards onto the bed and crawls on top of you, his arms on either side of your head, pinning you into place.
“What?” You breathe heavily, licking your lips in anticipation. Chris buries his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling slowly.
“You heard me… how do you want me?” He whispers, his warm breath causing you to shiver, goose bumps erupting everywhere.
He begins to kiss a trail along your neck, occasionally pausing to nibble and suck on the areas he knows are your sensitive spots.
“What… where…” you gasp, wriggling, “Where is this coming from?”
Chris pauses and plants a delicate kiss on your forehead.
“Just tell me honey… how do you want me… romantic…? Rough…? I can be the sugar… or I can be the spice… the choice is yours baby…” he whispers, then kisses you slowly on the lips.
You respond instinctively, reciprocating eagerly. Chris, however, has other plans and pulls away unexpectedly. He chuckles tauntingly and proceeds to stare straight into your soul, his face deadpan, waiting for an answer. He knows what he's doing.
Your breath catches in your throat; who the fuck is this beautiful man and how the fuck did you manage to pull him out of everyone in the world? You can’t deal with his stalling anymore and snatch at his tie, pulling him back down so your lips crash together again.
Chris groans and his tongue slips into your mouth, re-exploring every corner without hesitation. Your own tongue fights for dominance, but as soon as he sharply bites it, you hiss in minor discomfort and allow him to reign superior.
Only for that moment.
You push Chris off you and roll on top of him, reversing the roles as you run a hand through his hair almost dotingly. Chris scoffs dangerously, and it takes him no effort to flip you around again, knotting his hands into your hair, preventing you from moving again. Softly, he whispers, “Nuh-uh… you stay right here…”
“Give me- a second… please,” you huff, trying to steady your breath.
“I don’t think I will,” he grins, leaning in once more, but you’re prepared this time and dodge the kiss.
Using as much strength as you can muster, and with the assistance of your legs, you kick him off you, causing him to yelp and fall off the bed slightly. Oops, you didn’t think you were that strong.
“I said give me a second, Christopher. I need to get something,” you frown, and you can clearly see his adorable little pout as he crawls back up. You scramble away before he can snatch you and disappear into your wardrobe. You had a blindfold somewhere… one that you used for your Halloween costume last year.
By the time you return, Chris is sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows propped up on his legs, aggressively mansplaining (A/N: I really hate that description but it is what it is.) His impatience is evident in his glare, his chin resting on his clasped hands.
“Wanna try something new?” You innocently ask, the blindfold hidden behind your back. Chris freezes before his posture straightens, his shock apparent in his expression.
“New?” He chokes out, as you wander over to him and loosen his tie (with one hand because you’re just that good).
Swiftly, you place the blindfold behind him, so he doesn’t see it, under the guise of reaching around to lift up his collar. He doesn’t seem to be breathing as you slide his tie from his neck, and you can feel his eyes drilling into the top of your scalp as you squat down to his wrists. Before you can grab them however, he jerks his hands away, realising what you’re up to.
“No,” he whines, “Baby come on that’s not fair.”
“Please Chris? Just trust me, yeah?” You pout up at him, offering your widest possible gaze, hoping to see his resolve crumble.
He clenches his jaw almost angrily and swears under his breath, but allows you to wrap his tie around his wrists, tightening it carefully. You stand up and stretch lazily, taking your time, before you crawl onto the bed behind him and retrieve the blindfold.
“Where are you going?” Chris murmurs, trying to swivel his body around to follow you, but you place a firm hand on his head and swivel him back around.
“Trust meee,” you plead, to which he sighs.
You know the next task at hand will be difficult, because the moment you place the blindfold over his eyes and try to tie it at the back of his head, he resists.
“Nahnahnahnahnah-” he yells, swerving his head and scrambling away from you. You lunge after him, and eventually manage to pin him down onto the bed, straddling his chest firmly, his tied hands up above his head.
“Please baby. Don’t do this. I can’t do this if I can’t see you, this isn’t fair,” he whines, eyes shining so desperately that you falter for a second, but he hasn’t actually said the safe word, so you continue. Finally, the blindfold is snug around his eyes, and he squirms in discomfort.
“Fuck this is unfair,” he huffs, trying to wrangle his hands free from his bonds. You bite your lip, deciding what to do next. Truthfully, you’ve gotten this far based on pure instinct and now have no idea what you’re doing.
“It’s okay. You’ll be okay,” you hum, a small smile playing on your lips. He looks too good, lying underneath you, his curly hair frazzled, lips parted in anticipation, chest already heaving.
“No I fucking will not be okay. I can't see you, I can't touch you I can't fucking do anything, you think I'll be okay?” He continues to ramble nonsense, but you ignore him and reach out for the buttons of his dress shirt, “What’re you- babe stop. Stop,” he whispers, pleading.
You simply finish unbuttoning his shirt tauntingly and place a hand on his defined chest. He gasps at the contact, your cold hand causing him to visibly shiver. Delicately, you trace lines all over his exposed chest, watching with curious eyes as he groans and writhes at your touch, his body jolting underneath you.
“Ah! Love- please. Don’t do this to me,” he moans, his voice a low rumble. You lean down and place a kiss on his lips, giggling when instinctively he kisses you back, but then abruptly turns his head away defiantly. This man is really refusing to give in.
You continue to trace lines on his abs and mutter softly to him, “I made my choice Christopher. I think the real question is... do you want to make this difficult, or will you just relax for me?” Then with a small smirk, you utter his own words back at him, nibbling his earlobe gently, “I can be the sugar… or I can be the spice… the choice is yours baby."
You take his continued fight with his bonds as a ‘fuck-you-I’m-going-to-make-this-difficult’ and begin to place soft kisses all over his chest. He squirms, and your stomach flips as he whimpers and curses a slew of profanities.
“Fuck. No- f-huck you- fucking untie me,” he commands, as you travel even lower, your hands thoroughly exploring every centimetre of skin available to you.
“No," is your simple response.
“Ugh… f-fucking… let… ah… shit…” his breathing grows ragged, and you pause to try and compose yourself. You inflate your cheeks with air and sit there, on top of him, for a full 10 seconds, your eyes closed. It was difficult enough for you to do this without him being an unravelled mess underneath you. You gulp as you watch his chest rise and fall erratically, and seriously consider what in the world possessed you into doing this. Oh well.
“Release me. Right. Fucking. Now,” he growls, but you kiss him to shut him up, then return to your exploration, travelling lower and lower by the second.
“You little shit. You fucking little sh- ah! Ah! HhhAH!” His insult comes to a staggering halt when you nip at his skin, causing him to flinch.
“I’m not a little shit… but I am planning on fucking,” you laugh teasingly, your hands gripping the band of his pants.
You lean down to kiss a line above his waistline and Chris hisses, the air disappearing from his stomach. You begin to shift his pants lower, tantalisingly.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” He yells as your tongue briefly joins the exploration.
That must have done it for him, because suddenly he’s ripped his hands out of his tie through brute force (or maybe you just can’t tie a tie and he was humouring you, although… his wrists are awfully red…). He tears the blindfold off his eyes and swiftly snatches at your shirt, pulling you up and away from his lower body. His lips crash into yours hungrily and, lost in the intensity of his desperation, you barely register your own movements as you crawl into his lap.
Chris dumps you onto the bed, his eyes blazing, mouth a thin line. You reach up to brush some of his curls off his sweaty forehead, but he grabs your wrist and glares at you.
“You never…” he says, beginning in a whisper, “fucking- listen,” he finishes with a growl. Then he’s kissing you again with a ferocity that leaves you completely stunned, your mind empty.
You gasp for air as his hands fight with your shirt, hurriedly pulling it over your head so he can leave a pattern of red marks all over your upper chest. There’s a knock at the door, and you’re trying to get your words out through your gasps and moans, “Chris- Chrischrischrishcisrhihsiehraoiehapogghpsdfri” (A/N: I actually can’t, like legitimately), “Christopher someone’s-”
“I don’t care,” he mumbles, his hand sneakily slipping underneath your waistband. Suddenly, the door is flung open and Jisung barges into the room. You both freeze and stare at him.
“Chan hyung! Changbin’s messing with your so-oH MY-” he slams the door in a panic and his muffled apology is repeated in a chant.
Chris groans and his head collapses onto your shoulder once Jisung appears to leave properly, hiding his embarrassment from the world. You’re still staring at the door, struggling to process.
“I did… I did tell you…” you eventually laugh, and Chris pinches your stomach sharply, warning you.
“I know you did. I just didn’t think he’d barge in.”
“Chris he’s one of your boys, of course he’s going to-”
“I wish he didn’t.”
“Well- he did. And unless you want Binnie to accidentally delete your tracks you better go sort him out.”
“He wouldn't do that... probably just made some changes that Jisung didn't agree on. Wait for me, yeah?”
“Hm… nah. I’ll be in the shower.”
"You ever heard of shower sex before, hm?"
"You ever heard of 'I-want-to-shower-in-peace-and-it's-not-my-fault-you're-horny?' Hm?"
“You’re so mean.”
Notes:
HAHAHAHAHAHAH SO IT DOESN’T ACTUALLY GO ANYWHERE. I was just experimenting at the time. This is old writing and it wasn't originally with these two characters, I just swapped them out with Chris and Reader for funsies. Anyways. The last two are... hahahhhahahhhahahahahahah.
Until next read!
- Kaisowoo
Chapter 18: Bonus #3 - A Fan of the Fiction
Summary:
Let’s just say… ‘I don’t want to go to sleep now, I’ll be making a masterpiece now”… by which I mean the creation of Bahng Alexander Korain.
Uh. You read smth unholy for the first time in a while, and holy guacamole you can actually fulfil this fic because your husband is legit Chris? Haha…
!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!
Notes:
Chapter Notes: SMUT, Thigh Grinding, Multiple Orgasms, p in v - dear lord (don’t be an idiot, wrap it ffs), breeding (with results obviously T-T), Choking, Bulge… kink?, Degradation…? Dom-Sub-Switch-Who-What-When-Where-Why, Oral (F Receiving), Traffic Light System, Fluff?
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
--
You drop your phone down onto your chest, breathing heavily, your mind whizzing with sin. Tentatively, you sneak a hand into your pants and tap at your underwear, retracting it immediately with a groan when you realise how soaked you are.
You shouldn’t have read that fic. You shouldn’t have at all. All it did was place dirty thoughts in your mind because, you realise, you could recreate that scene right here, right now.
Chris is currently sitting on your bed in another room, working away on a song. You had just finished cleaning up the kitchen after he cooked dinner, and upon seeing him busy at work, decided to lie down on the couch and give him some peace.
Somehow, you had wandered onto Tumblr for the first time in years and you had forgotten just how atrocious your feed was. With a nervous bite of your lip, and a check to make sure that Chris was still in your room, you thread your hands back below your waistband and rub a slow line up your folds.
“Fuck,” you whisper, as you pulse around nothing, “Shit okay, am I doing this? Am I going to?” You say this even as you get off the couch and wander over to your room, where the only things illuminating the place is Chris’ computer, reflected eerily onto his face, and his bedside lamp.
“Chris…?” You squeak, words beginning to fail you already, “How busy are you honey?”
Chris looks up and rubs his eyes, peering at your cowering figure over by the door.
“Relatively busy, why? You okay? Need me to do something?”
You swallow nervously and walk over, suffering even further at the sight of his dark eyes watching your every move.
“No… no it’s okay, you just… stay there,” you breathe, hesitantly stripping yourself of your shorts and crawling onto the bed.
“Yeobo…?” Chris asks, his voice dry.
“You can keep working babe, do you mind if I just… ride your thigh? Please?” You beg staring at him with wide eyes. Chris inhales sharply and his eyes flicker away from you. He blinks, in a daze, at his computer screen, and when he doesn’t reply you prompt him again. “Please baby? I need-”
He interrupts with a breathy “Yeah, yeah of course”, and shifts his computer to rest on one knee. Relief washes over you, and you crawl onto his lap, immediately beginning to grind into his thigh.
Chris breathes deeply and returns to his laptop, clicking here and there and apparently refocusing on his work. A sultry groan leaves your mouth as you slow the pace, but make your grinds longer, and Chris curses under his breath.
“I want more…” you moan and remove yourself from him to take off your underwear, “Keep working baby, please don’t let me distract you.”
Immediately, the friction of Chris’ jeans on your clit makes you whimper, and your pace quickens, your juices beginning to drench the fabric.
Chris’ thigh flexes underneath you, and you gasp at the action, your mind half wondering whether he’s doing it involuntarily or not, but too far gone already to properly consider it.
“Shit baby, how am I supposed to-” Chris chokes out, and you look down at him for the first time in a while. He’s not looking at his computer anymore but is fixating on your pussy grinding desperately on his thigh.
“How's it feel baby?” He whispers, glancing at you through his eyelashes. You whimper and grab his shoulders, his computer sliding off his knee sadly. Chris’ hands sneak around your waist, and as he helps to guide you and the slightly new angle works its wonders, you feel that knot beginning to pool tightly.
“Chris-” you groan, mouth hanging open in pleasure.
“You like it, huh? Look how easy it is for you to get off on my thigh, baby. Oh fuck, you’re so wet.”
Chris has purposefully slowed your movements, returning you back to the long hard grazes, and his irises have blown out with desire.
“Baby, Christopher, harder- please I need more-” you choke out, nails digging into his shoulders, and Chris’ head falls back in pure bliss.
“Jesus fuck. Are you gonna cum for me sweetheart? Cum all over my thigh?” You nod eagerly and he tilts his head questioningly, hands squeezing your hips sharply.
“Words baby. I need to hear you. Speak for me.”
“Yes Chris… yes I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum, I’ll cum for you baby.”
“Fff-huck,” he moans, pushing you down harder and flexing his thigh at random intervals. You lean down to kiss him, tongues immediately swirling, your pants mixing with his deepening breaths.
“Shit I’m gonna-”
“Come on baby. Come on. Ruin your pussy on my favourite jeans, hm?”
“Chris- Chris Chri-”
You convulse on his leg and your forehead crashes into his shoulder as your orgasm washes through you, cum leaking out everywhere and thoroughly soaking his jeans.
“God you’re so good for me.” Chris gently pushes you off him and stares in awe at the stain you’ve left, but his attention returns to you soon enough.
“You can handle more right?” He asks, sitting up on his knees so he can hastily remove his soaked jeans. You laugh and shift over to help him, smiling at his hasty actions and flushed face.
“Of course I can. Who do you think I am?”
“Mine,” he grins back, and at his words you push him back into a seated position, much to his surprise.
“Sure honey, but you’re also mine.” Steadily, you sink down onto him, eyes rolling to the back of your head at how quickly he fills you.
“Sh-shit. How’re you still so-” he stutters, hands flying to your waist again, “You’re still so fucking ti-ight.”
You groan and grind down onto him, and he hisses at the action. “Come on darling, don’t play. You either ride me, or I’ll fuck you into the bed.”
You take a shuddering breath and start the agonising journey towards heaven, or maybe it’s hell, watching in satisfaction as Chris unravels beneath you, his hips thrusting up to meet yours erratically, chest rising and falling unevenly.
“Just like that baby- god you’re al-always so tight for me. So perfect,” he groans, and you clench around him at his words, a string of profanities escaping his mouth.
“Shit. Love if you keep doing that I’m not going to- I'm not going to last long,” he groans. You lean down and tenderly brush the hair off his sweaty forehead so you can plant a kiss there, still unrelenting with your pace.
“It’s okay baby, come undone for me. I never said you had to last long.”
His head falls back and smacks against the headboard, but the impact apparently doesn’t bother him.
“No- I need to- yeobo, I need to pull-”
“It’s okay, I want it in me.”
Chris’ hips stutter to a slow stop, and you whine, trying to continue, but his hands tighten around your waist, preventing you from doing anything.
“You what?” He breathes, staring with wide eyes.
“Fill me up. Please,” you beg, and his eyes cloud over.
“You want that huh? You want me to spill my seed in you? Soak your walls white? Does my baby want that? Does she want a fucking kid?” He growls, thrusting up into you harder, and you mewl at his sudden ferocity.
Eagerly, you try to reposition yourself so you can help him, and in a daze grapple at whatever you can to ground yourself. Your hand tightens around his throat so you can hoist yourself up better and Chris splutters as his cock twitches inside you, his hand flying to your wrist in a panic.
“Well fuck that’s new,” he rasps, after you remove your hand swiftly, scared.
“Sorry- I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-”
“I said that’s new baby, not that I didn’t like it,” he glares, and with a gentle assertion and raised eyebrows, he drags your hand back to curl around his throat, cock twitching again as you squeeze a little tighter.
“I didn’t know you-” you begin, as he picks up his pace again, matching with you.
“Yeah? Well neither did I-” he chokes out, knuckles white on your wrist, holding your hand in place, “Shit. Fuck. Ah you bastard. That’s my girl- shit cum with me baby,” he cries in between gasps for air, and the sight of him struggling to breathe thanks to you causes that building heat to snap.
You collapse forward and bite desperately at his shoulder, trying to instinctively muffle your ludicrous sounds of pleasure. You can feel Chris ejaculating thoroughly into you, his warm semen flooding your insides while you milk him through his high, your own juices coating him.
When you pull away, you rub at his shoulder where you bit him apologetically, thumb carefully stroking his neck too to make sure he’s okay, but his eyes are wild, and it’s only after you refocus on yourself do you realise that he’s still hard, nestled safely inside of you.
“Oh wow… no way…” you chuckle in amazement, as Chris pins you down onto the bed a little haphazardly.
“Don’t you ever- fucking silence yourself,” he growls, thrusting roughly into you. You gasp at the overstimulation, walls clenching despite your writhing. You absolutely know everything is a mess down there, his cum mixing with yours down your legs and his.
“Now unless your colour changes, I’m going to fuck you until I make you scream. I’ll fuck you into the next week, you won’t be able to walk for days you fucking slut. What’s your colour?” He demands, thrusting harshly into you again.
“Green- it’s-” your voice dies in your throat as Chris slams into you, again and again, the tip of his cock finding its way back to all those places that make your insides feel gooey. You’re trembling underneath him, and when he pushes your legs up for better access, a drawn-out whimper escapes you.
“You want more of my cum in you sweetheart?” He whispers harshly, and you mumble incoherently in agreement, “Oh… you don’t know what you’re getting into. ”
“I do. I do-”
Chris places hot kisses all down your leg, his adoring actions contradicting his relentless abuse of your cunt, his foul mouth.
“Do you really? Because I’m going to breed you baby. I’m going to pump you so full that you’ll be pregnant by the fucking end of this.”
You whimper and grip desperately at the sheets in response, and Chris pays it every bit of attention.
“You want that, huh? Want me to fuck you with my fingers as well? Make sure it stays in? Look at yourself, darling. Look at your stomach,” he commands, and with a gulp you look down to see his bulge disappearing in and out of your gut.
“Shit- Chris- you’re so- you’re so deep fuck- I’m gonna-”
“I didn’t say you could,” he growls, nipping slightly at your skin.
“Chris- but I- please.”
“Beg harder,” he demands and you break.
“You’re a fucking shit,” you snap.
“Only for you~” he coos, and it’s this that reminds you that he’s still the teasing Chris, still the same sweet man who wanted to learn how to make coffee with you all those years ago.
This version of Chris disappears in seconds though, his deepened voice returning, “I’m a shit because someone’s a brat,” he spits, reaching between your legs to grab your hand and place it on your stomach so you can feel how far his cock is plunging inside of you. This immediately destroys any remaining sense of self-preservation and dignity, and you resort to begging and pleading for your life, the effort of restraining your orgasm getting to your head.
“Okay slut. Cum for me,” he orders breathily, panting sporadically, his shirt soaked through with sweat. You groan in pleasure and finally allow yourself release, twitching and gasping underneath him. Your high makes you press down on your stomach unknowingly, and Chris’ breath hitches at the increased sudden pressure.
“I said- I said cum for me. Not make me cum,” he chokes out, his second orgasm of the night crashing into him unwillingly, his voice dying into an almost silent whimper. He releases your legs and they flop back around him, sore. Chris crawls up your body, trying to control his breathing, and rests himself gently onto you, peppering your neck lovingly with kisses and soothingly caressing your thighs.
“You okay honey?” he asks, eyes wide with worry at your silence. You smile at him and wrap your hands around his neck for a passionate kiss, mind blank at the feeling of him buried comfortingly inside you still.
“What happened to fucking me with your fingers afterwards?” You hum, knotting your hand into his sweaty hair.
“No way are you still up for that. Your colour hasn’t-”
“It’s green, love. I’m okay. I’ve only orgasmed three times.”
“Only three. Jesus Christ only three?”
“Your colour, Chris?” You ask, kissing him on the nose. He pauses, a little shocked at being asked the question.
“I’m- what- I mean- that system was meant for you-”
“What’s your colour baby? Just answer the question.”
“Green,” he eventually mumbles, slipping out of you and sliding back down your body to replace his dick with his mouth and fingers.
After about a minute of you squirming and moaning loudly for him, he stops, looking at you with concern.
“Yeobo, are you sure about this? You know how bad I am with self-restraint when I’m eating you,” he asks, licking his lips nervously.
“Then I’ll be just as bad when you’re buried in my throat too,” you grin, spreading your legs wider for him.
“Shit," he pauses, "I’m not going to need to go to the gym tomorrow, am I?” He groans, returning back to your folds and attacking your clit with renewed gusto, his tongue lapping eagerly, three fingers already pumping into you.
“What do you mean? You can still go-oHHhh!” Chris hums in acknowledgement (and you die just a bit) and extricates himself from you long enough to say, “This is a workout in itself,” before returning to his task at hand.
And this night, my friends, is the night that Bahng Alexander Korain was brought into this world.
Notes:
A/N: Shall we see just how bad his 'self-restraint' is in the next and final chapter?
Until next read!
- Kaisowoo
Chapter 19: Bonus #4 - Cookie Dough
Summary:
So does anyone remember this from PART 14?
“You think we aren’t married?” You ask, sliding the bowl away from Chris for the umpteenth time, “Christopher get your paws out of Felix’s baking.”
“He doesn’t mind.”
“I mind,” you finish, turning away for a second to turn the oven on, only to have to lunge back for the bowl because Chris has nicked it again.“Okay, here’s the deal baby, you either let me eat some of this or I eat you out later,” Chris wolfishly demands…
-
!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!
Notes:
Chapter Notes: SMUT, Overstimulation, Oral (F Receiving), Traffic Light System (Used), Fluff?
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
--
You were on your phone. You were on your phone, lying on your bed on your god damn stomach, completely at ease with the world.
"Yeobo~"
You had just showered, literally just showered, changed into pyjamas and were ready for bed.
"Can I have my dessert please, honey?"
You frown and roll over just enough so you can stare at Chris, standing at the bottom of the bed, his arms crossed over his chest.
"There's ice cream in the fridge... and Felix's cookies that we made today... why're you asking me for dessert?"
Chris tilts his head slightly, his eyes scanning you from head to toe mischievously, "Not what I meant..." he whispers.
--
How hungry for dessert was he, exactly? Because Jesus Chri-
“Please…” he whines, grabbing your hips and dragging you back down to him, “Please baby. I need more.”
You groan and try to wriggle out of his grip, thrashing against his strength.
“Baby- baby c’mon. Please. I need more. You taste so fucking- god- so fucking good,” he breathes, the warmth against your heat making you shudder. Before you can argue with him, he hoists your legs over his shoulders again, tongue immediately lapping at the slick of your folds.
You release a drawn out whine and shovel your fist into your mouth, struggling to cope with the relentless pace of his tongue. In no time you’re quivering underneath him, his expert tongue swiping the places he knows will make you lose all sense of reality.
“Chris-” you moan, hand flying to lock into his curly hair and tug desperately, writhing, “Too sensitive- s’too much fuck Chris- Christopher-”
He hums and sucks particularly hard at your clit, sending rockets of pleasure and pain shooting up your spine.
“Honey I know you can handle this. I know you can. You can do this for me, yeah? Please baby?” He begs, eyes drilling into your teary own, as two of his fingers sneakily slip into your aching hole. He groans at the sound of you whimpering, his other hand tightening on your thigh.
“Oh baby that’s it, moan for me. Let me hear you. I need more baby. I want more,” he continues, mouth falling open in loud pants as he pumps, his third finger sliding in with ease. You squirm and buck against him, trying desperately to muffle your moans instinctively, the precise opposite of what he’s asked.
He notices your attempts to silence yourself and growls, bringing his face down to suck in annoyance at your clit, “I said moan for me sweetheart," he demands against your heat and a pathetic groan escapes you.
“There we go. 'Atta girl~”
The combination of his fingers and his tongue is splitting every last remaining brain cell you possess into eighths, his praise and sounds of pure desire at your own pleasure making your heartbeat intensify, your legs shake intensely, incomprehensible words falling out of your mouth.
Eventually, he removes his face from your core so he can watch your expression again, his eyes wide with rapt attention, his mouth parted in awe. If even possible, his fingers speed up, and he licks the juices around his mouth attentively.
“I could listen to you moan like this all day darling. 24/7. Fuck you with my fingers all the time. Yeah? You like the sound of that, don’t you?”
This is not good. His dirty talk. This is not good for you.
“You’re so tight and it’s just my fingers baby. How many times have you cum already, hm?” You’re struggling to think, let alone answer him, and when you don’t, his eyes darken. In a slow, taunting gesture, he leans down to lick an excruciatingly teasing line up the folds of your pussy.
“How many?”
“Three three threehee-” you slur out, repeating the words over and over, in a daze.
“And why’s that?”
“Ughh- fuck- fuck Chris- fuck it’s cause you- you feel so good- s'good- so good-” your voice dies in your throat pathetically as he curls his fingers and pumps harder, leaning over slightly for a better angle.
“Hm? What was that?” He asks innocently, juxtaposed against his devilish grin.
“Your fucckahh fingers. Chris- I can’t- wait, please- sensitive-”
He ignores your last comments and places a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh, “I’ll spell it out for you love, since you can't seem to function like a normal human being."
If he wasn't currently digging you into your own grave, you might have found the willpower to glare at him for his snarky attitude. Unfortunately he seems to love exploring what he's long since discovered, and you could do nothing but squirm.
"You’ve cum twice because of my fingers. And you’ve cum on my tongue because you taste so fucking delicious. I can’t get enough of you, isn’t that right? This meal? It’s mine. All for me. Whenever I'm fucking hungry.”
Your breath intensifying and your walls clenching around his fingers in a spasm lets Chris know you’re about to snap - so what does he do? Pulls his fingers out, briefly edging you. (A/N: I wanna throttle this man - non-sexually - for real sometimes, and I wrote him :|, this Chris I mean.)
You whine in desperation and open your mouth to complain when his fingers are replaced with his tongue flicking rapidly at your hole, diving in as deep as he could reach, hitting that soft spot straight away.
“Fuck Chris! Chris- oh shit-” you scream, that white-hot pressure picking up right where it was left off, washing over you with such force that you swear you dip into darkness for a second. When it dies down and the world slams into you heavily, you realise Chris is still lapping at your juices, eagerly sucking and licking, slurping away at the liquid between your legs.
He’s like a vampire. For your cum. His groans are sinful, pleased at having made you cum for the 4th time using only his mouth and fingers. But the overstimulation is too much. You can already feel that pressure building in your lower abdomen, and you’re worried that you’re seriously going to break something if you let him continue.
So amidst your whining and gasps, you manage to stutter out, “Red- red- Chris- red.”
You didn’t have to repeat the word at all. As soon as it fell from your lips the first time Chris stops his actions, breathing heavily. He wipes the excess from his chin and crawls to lay on top of you, placing a tender kiss to your lips - and you can taste yourself slightly.
He snuggles into your neck, trying to control his breathing and simultaneously stroking the side of your face, taking the time to brush any stray strands of hair away and tuck it behind your ear.
“Thank you love. You did so well for me. I'm so proud of you, thank you. Are you okay?” He mumbles, placing adoring kiss after adoring kiss on your neck, “Does it hurt too much? I’ll go get you a drink, yeah? Pineapple juice? Water?”
He makes to roll off you and leave, but you grab his shirt and pull him back, “It’s fine Chris. I’m okay… just… just stay with me please?”
“I’m sorry,” he sighs, wrapping himself securely around you again, “I kind of lost myself there, you know what I'm like...”
“You don’t say…” you laugh, stroking the curls at the back of his head affectionately.
“Not my fault you taste better than that cookie dough,” he grumbles, and you sigh in defeat.
“You’re a man of your word, aren’t you?”
“I gave you the option. Let me eat the cookie dough or-”
“Okay okay- shush. Point taken.”
Point taken, indeed...
Notes:
And you've reached the complete end of 'Stay Series'!
I hope it's been enjoyable :DThank you, for reading right till the end, I appreciate you (unless you were one of those who skipped to the smut because you're positively delusional smh - read the whole story grr)
Until we meet again!
- Kaisowoo
Amaranthine_Siren on Chapter 8 Fri 26 Apr 2024 03:56PM UTC
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