Chapter Text
“Hold up—“
“Seungmin…”
“Let me get this straight,” Seungmin pauses, before looking up so Changbin can see that mischievous smirk and signature glint in his eye that is ever present when it’s his goal to annoy and or tease him. “Or, in this case, let me get this gay.”
“Minnie, I swear,” Changbin wishes to slap his arm. “You’re worse than Jeongin…”
“I’m telling him you said that, but alright, alright,” he laughs, before reverting back to seriousness. “You and Chan argued?”
“Argument isn’t right, we just—“
“Argued. That’s what you did. Squabbled. Fought. Quarrelled. Bickered. Feuded. You argued.”
“You know, you can be really frustrating when you try.”
“It’s one of my best qualities… You love it.”
Days had passed, and Changbin had yearned for repair. Every text was unanswered, every call was ignored, and every olive branch was butchered. He wanted more than anything to go back in time: with a level head and a stable heart. Not lash out in built up emotion or choke on caustic words. He was convinced this was beyond help. Even Minho didn’t know what to do.
If there was any road left where they could return to normalcy, Changbin had convinced himself he’d destroyed it.
Even if he wanted to pause time and existence to mend that which was broken, life moved on. With or without him. Not wanting to lose his status as an idol, Changbin forced himself to move along with it. That's why he was here today. The apartment of a Fendi higher-up based in Seoul, a woman with headphones floating around the room with pins and needles between her fingers and teeth. Headphones blocked out their conversation, and Changbin was grateful.
To Changbin, “apartment” was putting it lightly. This was a penthouse.
Thunder, lightning, and raining felt harsher when amid the sky, overlooking the city below. Changbin could have sworn the building was shaking at one point, but it didn’t seem to deter the woman at work. She continued concentrating on tweaking the outfits to fit his body.
Tables surrounded the small podium Changbin was positioned on, in the room that had been transformed into a workshop with large glass panel windows in replacement of walls. Each table was dedicated to fabrics, jewellery, tailoring tools eerily reminiscent of his school days. Changbin had seen setups like this before, for every stage outfit ever crafted for him. Nothing this professional, nothing this luxurious.
It had also taken some convincing to let Seungmin join him.
Since the day at the studio, Changbin hadn’t left the dorm or the company of Hyunjin. He wouldn’t call it avoiding, but Seungmin definitely called it that. After a message from Felix wishing him good luck with the fitting, Seungmin had immediately overtaken their manager's duty in driving by getting there before him. He wasn’t who the Fendi team were expecting, and it had taken some vouching from Changbin for him to stay.
Seungmin was told to stay out of the way, and he complied— unmoving from the small couch five feet away from the modelling podium.
“How does it feel so far?”
“I don’t really know,” Changbin shrugs, maintaining the pose with his arms stretched out as the woman intended. “She isn’t done, but… I like the blazer. It’s warm.”
“The Burberry jackets were warm too.”
”I don’t really know if I’m the best fit for this, Minnie. They only replaced Soobin with me because of you know what.”
“Maybe so, maybe not. You’re handsome, hyung, and you can use your legs, so… I’d say walking down a runway is nothing you can’t handle. Don’t break your ankle before then.”
“Ugh... Hey, wait a minute. Aren’t you in London when we go to Milan?”
“I am,” Seungmin nods. “You’re not actually in Milan, are you? Felix said the venue is near the sea.”
“Genoa, I think? We fly into Milan… I want to tell you, I’ve been considering a hiatus after the show.”
“Oh?
Changbin watches how Seungmin stares up at him, contemplating something. Whether his words or something else entirely. Whatever it is, Changbin is dissatisfied when Seungmin doesn’t bite. The puppy diverts his gaze towards the woman who returns with measuring tape, stretching it out from crotch to ankle. Changbin finds himself holding his breath every time she’s near. He doesn’t miss Seungmin’s smirk.
Standing in his underwear isn’t as awkward as Changbin finds it. It wasn’t anything Seungmin hadn’t seen before, and the woman seemed dedicated to her work. Uncaring of the model and state of dress.
“I see you’re still rocking the Chrome Hearts… Pink. Very cute, hyung.”
“Shut up.”
Seungmin tilts his head.
“So… Are you going to tell me about your argument with Chan?”
“It wasn’t an argument. I—I sort of, just, yelled at him, I mean,” Changbin sees Seungmin raise an eyebrow, motioning for him to continue. He bites his bottom lip. “Minho was making us speak, and I got so frustrated because he hadn’t spoken to Hyunjin either. Then, he went quiet on me. I was sad, and angry. I wanted to tell him I missed him but I sort of, lost it in my mind.”
“Why has he not spoken to Hyunjin?” Seungmin asks.
Changbin shakes his head, shrugging. “I don’t know, but that’s what upset me. Hyunjin shouldn’t have to lose him because of me.”
Seungmin loses himself staring out the window, reflecting on what Changbin said even though Changbin himself didn’t know that. The woman returns with a scarf she was tweaking on with fur pelts. She was a regular artisan, Changbin found. She continues to measure how the scarf rests on Changbin’s body against the blazer, marking at the raw fabric with a marker for the ideal crop length she’d like for him.
Changbin isn’t sure of anything she was doing, but he sees how in her element she is. It makes him think of him, Chan, and Jisung anytime a new song was worked on. That working ebb and flow, and allowing each other to relish in the areas they excel in. Even if Jisung had to mediate their temporary tiffs.
But, she’s alone. Concentration was ever present, but Changbin could see her.
Eye bags join dead eyes. She wasn’t working alone before, however long ago that was. The woman was tired. Even in her element, he could see this had become a mindless task that she was talented at. The enjoyment had evaporated, sucked out with the disappearance of whoever danced around with her.
Changbin feared that change.
He forced himself to stay away from that thought.
“I spoke to my mama recently,” Changbin says, abruptly.
Seungmin blinks. “Okay… How did that go?”
Changbin doesn’t respond right away. Speaking to his parents didn’t go badly, but it wasn’t what he was expecting either. He expected something that wasn’t reassurance, and getting it proved vexing. Hearing them coo over the phone: telling him not to avoid them again, telling him they loved the bones of him. It was everything Changbin ever wanted, so he had no idea why he felt the urge to reject it.
Unworthy? No. Maybe?
“They told me they love me. Then, they chastised me for not calling them sooner, since I’d spoken to my sister already,” Changbin explains, separating his legs as the woman instructs. “They were worried about me, and I felt really bad, but… I laughed a lot with them. Eomma told me to make sure I court a nice boy. She wants me to be a gentleman, so I can bring him home.”
Seungmin smirks.
“I don’t think you could fail at that even if you tried, hyung.”
It’s unusually solemn for Seungmin, and it almost surprises Changbin. If it shows on his face, the younger man doesn’t mention it. Changbin’s own smile is small, but it’s painfully bright.
“Thank you, Minnie.”
“Yeah.”
The woman returns to her workbench, and Changbin hates how he notices her struggle with editing the pants of the outfit. The urge to suck in his belly despite being reprimanded the first time he did so by her is strong. He feels silly, even though he’s aware that if Minho was here, he’d be slapping his arm till he bruises black and blue for it.
Seungmin noticed, and glared. He didn’t push, but Changbin could see how it lingered with him.
The woman makes an unintentional noise of relief amid her music-driven work, and Changbin looksr over to see her place the pants aside. They join the finished pieces and Changbin sighs his own breath of relief. The last task to complete is simple, and Changbin raises his foot when she returns with a brannock device. Done.
It isn’t until they’re in the elevator heading to the lobby that Seungmin speaks again.
“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think you or Hyunjin will lose him.”
Changbin pauses, looking over. “Huh?”
“What you told me earlier,” Seungmin clarifies, meeting his eyes. “None of us will lose him. Don’t forget that he chose us. Stray Kids is his baby… We all are, really.”
The elevator beeps as the numbers stop flashing, opening the door before them. Changbin doesn’t know what to say, so he nods, albeit with flustered cheeks. He follows Seungmin through the lobby towards his car parked across the street in the rain, mindlessly scrolling through the unanswered text messages sent to Chan. He didn’t expect a response after what felt like the hundredth time, but Changbin continued to text again anyway.
CHAN + CHANGBIN
[binnie]: i want to see you before our milan flight, text me back
[binnie]: please
Changbin feels a harsh grip against his wrist, and hisses. It isn’t until he looks up that he sees Seungmin pulling him away from the road. Changbin looks back at the traffic, and Seungmin swears under his breath.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed, hyung?”
“Sorry! I was in my own world.”
“Clearly,” Seungmin tuts, refusing to let go of Changbin. “Come on, there’s an open spot to walk.”
Changbin isn’t allowed to argue, as Seungmin drags him through spaces between the now parked traffic. Changbin tries to let the feeling of embarrassment die as they head to the car, but then he’s quickly moves his focus to getting out of the rain and getting warm. Seungmin starts up the car, joining the busy street.
“Where are we heading now?”
Changbin raises an eyebrow. “Home?
“Really?” Seungmin’s hands land in his lap, frowning. “You didn’t have anything planned after this? Just going back to avoiding the world again?”
Changbin scowls. “Hey! Rude.”
“It’s true!”
“Whatever.”
Changbin’s phone buzzes amid Seungmin’s pouting session. With widened eyes and a rapid heartbeat, he re-reads the message five times before accepting it was real. He tries to look as nonchalant as possible for Seungmin, casually snatching the closed umbrella in the backseat that he could see through the rear view mirror.
“What are you doi—?”
Changbin’s is already unbuckled and halfway outside before Seungmin asks. “I think I’ll walk it. Clear my mind. Thanks for the ride, Minnie, talk to you later!”
He doesn’t stick around for long enough to hear Seungmin’s perplexed blubbering and questioning.
CHAN + CHANGBIN
[chan]: Hi. You’re right, I’m sorry. Come to our dorm, Innie is with friends.
Heart in his throat and a stomach haunted by butterflies, Changbin had been staring at the keypad to Chan’s dorm for five minutes. Unmoving, outside blinking eyes. He felt tension in the air, mixing itself with his own disbelief. Odd, Changbin thought, as he hadn’t even built up the confidence to enter yet.
Interrupting his inertia was a text message from Seungmin, asking Changbin if he’d arrived at home.
With a quick reply confirming, even if it was a lie, Changbin finally entered the door code and let himself in. Any other day, this would be a warm afternoon with Changbin relishing Chan's cooking. Being nurtured, simply because that’s who Chan was. Is.
Chan and Jeongin’s dorm was just as decorated as Changbin and Hyunjin’s. Jeongin didn’t care for how their surroundings looked, considering how much of a rarity it was for him to be at his own dorm anyway according to Chan. But, to Chan, it was different. He’d transformed a basic setting into something warm and cozy. It was soothing to Changbin, in a weird way, how much he cared. Their place was built for comfort first and foremost, a true home.
From his position on the couch, Chan could see Changbin from the corner of his eye removing his shoes.
“Hey,” he greets, quietly, but anything is a start. Chan rests the laptop in his lap on the coffee table; his headphones with it. “Do you… Want something to eat, or drink?”
Even if it ends up proving temporary, Changbin allows himself to be cared for again. “Yes, please.”
It sparks something inside of Chan. Weariness clears, being replaced with a radiant smile. He’s positively beaming at Changbin, and it causes Changbin to feel funny. Nevertheless, he sits at the couch that Chan gestures towards as the older man heads into the kitchen. He pauses, before looking back.
“Are you in the mood for anything in particular, or?”
“Not really,” Changbin shrugs. “Surprise me, hyung.”
Chan returns to his self-imposed hectic searching throughout cabinets and drawers. He’s pulling out his phone and clumsily resting it against the countertop, rapidly searching for one of his many saved recipes. The act makes Changbin smirk, before looking away so Chan can’t see his lips.
Changbin pulls his legs to his chest, ignoring the incessant buzzing of his phone. Seungmin had caught his lie, and Hyunjin was trying to reach him too. He places the phone to the side.
It was time for just him and Chan. Time where Changbin wouldn’t get upset and lash out.
Or, so he hoped.
“You had your fitting today? Right?” Chan asks, hesitantly. Awkwardly. Changbin could tell he was attempting to fill the silence until one of them bit the bullet, so he decided to play along. “How did that go?”
“It was okay. Long. Boring. You know how it is,” Changbin responds, resting his head on his knees, at an angle where he could still see Chan. “I was with Seungmin, so that made it bearable.”
Chan nods, intentionally choosing his next words very carefully.
“That’s good. I’m glad Seungmin was with you.”
Stillness overtakes the room. Changbin rests his eyes, listening to Chan’s movement. It reminds him of the times he and Jisung would get sleepy, sharing the couch and dozing off to the sound of Chan’s breathing and computer clicking. All he needs is his blanket and Sungie invading his shoulder.
Seconds pass, and the idyllic daydream is interrupted by clattering against laminate flooring.
Changbin stands up when he can no longer see Chan, only to turn the corner of the kitchen island to see the man on his hands and knees rapidly picking up rigatoni shells from the floor. Changbin smirks.
“Do you need help, Chan?”
“Wha— Ah,” Chan almost hits his head against the counter in surprise, leading to Changbin’s eyes widening, and to hastily move in an attempt to block his head with his hands. “I ripped the bag too aggressively. It went everywhere.”
“I can see that… Here,” Changbin lowers to the ground. “Let me help.”
Chan doesn’t refuse, but makes no effort in moving. Seemingly stuck in place holding the pot the rigatoni was originally supposed to go in. Changbin takes over the job, finishing it much faster than Chan anticipated, as he watches him place the pot to the side. The rapper stands up, but Chan’s hand latches at his jeans to stop him.
Changbin looks down, smirking. “Don’t tell me you need help getting up, Chan? You’re not that old, yet.”
“Jisung was right,” Chan says, abruptly. “What you said last week. You were wrong, Jisung was right.”
Changbin stills at his words, absentmindedly blinking. He feels as if his brain is switching off. Of course, he knows what Chan is talking about. Anxiety bubbling into paranoia inside memories of the rooftop. It’s flooding back to him. Jisung telling him everything would be worse if he left. Telling him this isn’t doable without him. It’s blatant he and Chan spoke, for Chan to understand. But, that doesn’t matter now. Chan is affirming what Jisung said. Agreeing, and it’s freezing Changbin to the core.
Chan can see that Changbin isn’t going to respond, whether through shock or intention. Despite how dry his mouth feels, he continues speaking.
“I’m sorry. Really. I haven’t stopped thinking about what happened in the dance studio. I felt pathetic. I bet I looked it, too,” Chan bites his lip, standing up to face him, hand still on Changbin’s side. “But… I can look at you now. I can see you.”
“What changed?”
The words drip from Changbin’s lips like poison. Unintentional, but almost bitter. He’s not angry, and he refuses to get angry at Chan again. He wants this to be productive, despite the question confusing Chan.
Changbin is adamant about this. He wants to know. Convinced that he needs to know. It’s the only answer that can fix things. Fix them.
“What do you—?”
“What changed, Chan?” Changbin repeats, taking a step back and releasing himself from Chan’s grip. “You can’t do this. Ignore me, ignore the others. And. What? Just to say sorry. Tell me what changed to make you avoid me.”
Chan feels himself stammering. Confronting something he did not want to. Telling himself that an apology would wipe the slate clean, and let bygones be bygones. Changbin isn’t accepting that.
Changbin frowns. Pouting. So differently from what he usually does. As if his own question is going to break him.
“Was it me?”
“No, no, it’s not you. It’s me, not you. I—! It’s just,” Chan raises his arms, agitated, but not at Changbin. He’s agitated at himself. Changbin can see that. Changbin can see how heavily things are weighing on Chan, but he doesn’t know what or why. “I thought— I thought—“
“What? Tell me.”
Chan looks away. “I thought you didn’t want me.”
Oh.
Changbin realises every emotion he’d felt in the last few weeks has been shared. Chan was wasting away, believing one of his own didn’t want him around. Haunted by the idea that the family he’d handcrafted when he was barely an adult was falling apart. Seungmin’s words come back to him. Stray Kids is his baby, they all are. The love he felt was too strong, and under rejection it began to sting. Chanbin’s lip wobbles, and he’s falling into his own head— mentally cursing himself for this.
“I did... I did want you,” Changbin chokes, wiping at his cheeks. “I needed you. More than anything. You’re everything to me.”
The distance is broken, as Chan swiftly moves forward to hold Changbin against him. The face of the shorter man is muffled against the leader's shoulder, sobbing and sniffling and whining for his hyung. The arms that wrap around him are drawn tight. Not letting go. Not until he’s told to, and Changbin knows Chan. He’d be there forever if it meant the two wouldn’t be apart.
“It’s okay. It’s all okay, Binnie. Let it all out. I’m here now.”
That’s right. Changbin had been so blinded. He really does know Chan. Mind clouded and vision blurred. How could he miss this? What else was there?
“I know what you’re thinking. You’re blaming yourself. Don’t, Binnie. Please, don’t,” Chan says, delicately, as if Changbin would shatter at a higher volume. One hand caresses his hair, rubbing at the back of his head as softly as his voice spoke. “It’s not your fault. I want you to hear me. It’s not your fault.”
There’s a small part of Changbin that wishes to push Chan away. Shout at him for not mentioning anything earlier, so they could have avoided this whole debacle. It doesn’t win, beaten by the selfish and much larger part of Changbin that longs to be held.
They stay like that for a long while, until Changbin feels the dampness of Chan’s shirt shoulder from his tears. But, he didn’t care. Chan didn’t either.
Changbin could breathe again.
An intense sensation overtaking him. Relief. Consolation. Chan is in his life again. They still need to talk, but Changbin knows that can wait. For now, he’s overjoyed he hasn’t lost him.
“Chan…?”
“Yeah, Binnie?”
“I’m still hungry.”
“Mhm?” Chan hums, and Changbin can swear he feels a kiss amidst his messy hair. “When are you not?”
Changbin whines, a noise of complaint. He swiftly pushes Chan away, much to the leader's contempt, and returns to the couch before Chan can see his eyes. Regularity returns, as if his emotional outburst didn’t happen. As if things weren’t broken before.
Chan leaves the room to change his shirt. Much to Changbin’s chagrin, the man is smirking upon seeing his flustered cheeks. That was his fault, but Changbin isn’t going to apologise for that. He tells himself he can inconvenience Chan at least once now, as a treat.
Eventually, Chan returns to the couch. Two dishes of rich and creamy tomato pasta with parmesan. It’s not enough to make things up to him yet, but it’s a start.
“Do you want to watch something?” Chan asks, sliding in thigh to thigh with the rapper. “It’ll be good to have something on the television that isn’t one of Jeongin’s dramas.”
“Ah! Leave the maknae alone,” Changbin warns, although gaiety laced his words. “You decide.”
“I’ll put a movie on.”
Changbin shakes his head, mouth full of food. “We’re going to watch The Notebook, aren’t we?”
“… Yes, we’re going to watch The Notebook.”
“You’re such a chick flick nut.”
“Guilty.”
With full bellies and empty plates forgotten about on the coffee table, Chan and Changbin fall into silence as the film plays. Jeongin’s blanket is stolen to cover their legs, and the volume is increased to drown out the sound of rain. On the screen, Noah begins to feel forgotten about after writing to Allie who never responds, unbeknownst to him: she never receives any letters.
Changbin’s head finds a place on Chan’s shoulder, nestling in to rest. Chan’s arm wraps around him.
“Chan,” Changbin whispers, as Noah’s friend is killed in the Battle of the Bulge. He looks away, to Chan’s arm. The man doesn’t hear him. “Chan.”
Despite being slightly startled, he looks down at Changbin. “Hm?”
“Why did you think I didn’t want you?”
Unlike before, Chan doesn’t hesitate nor does he stammer. He knew this question would crop up on Changbin’s mind eventually, and ignoring it like he’d done before would prove futile. As uncomfortable as it was, he answers in earnest, with an arm squeezing at Changbin’s shoulder gently.
“I—I don’t know. I convinced myself, I guess,” Chan frowns, shifting in place so they could face one another. “I messed up the day after it happened. I should have played what happened at your own pace.”
Changbin contemplates his words, but Chan isn’t done.
“I thought I was doing what was best for you, but it wasn’t my problem to solve. I upset you, and Seungmin and Hyunjin too,” Chan sighs. His leg is bouncing underneath the blanket. “After that? You were so distraught. I was, too. You could rely on Jisung and Jeongin and everyone else…”
Changbin pouts. “But not you?”
“But not me. I thought it would be best if you didn’t see me, in case I… I don’t know… Messed up again. I thought staying away, even if for a while, was better than losing you permanently. The world was on your shoulders and I didn’t want to make it heavier.”
In Chan’s words rests a contradiction, but Changbin doesn’t bring it up. He places his hand on Chan’s knee to stop the bouncing, before resting his head against the leader's shoulder again.
“Don’t do it again. Please.”
“I won’t,” Chan stresses, nodding. Changbin can feel that presence in his hair again. Confusion follows him. “I promise.”
“Be honest with me next time, okay?”
“I will.”
Time passes, Changbin shuts his eyes, and Allie and Noah dance to I’ll Be Seeing You.