Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Hnngh."

Changbin blows his nose in the tissue Chan offers, wiping tears from his eyes. He sniffles a few times, then heaves a big sigh of relief.

"Thanks, bro," he says. He looks better than he has in days. "I really needed to get that off my chest."

Chan claps him on the back. "No problem. You can find me anytime, yeah? I'm always here for you guys." 

Changbin nods. "We know. Thanks." He holds a hand out, which Chan grabs and they shake goodbye. "I'll see you at the dorm."

"Bye, Binnie."

As Changbin left the practice room, he was smiling for the first time in a long time. Chan should be happy, but for some reason, he felt... jealous. 

He shook his head. Snap out of it, he told himself, and get over yourself. You're the leader. Act like it.

He'd been feeling like this more and more lately, and it frustrated him. He had so much to deal with already-- music production, choreography, fan content, keeping his members happy and healthy-- and he really did not need his own issues to deal with on top of everything else. 

So he does what he always tells his kids not to do, and pushes the feelings away. 

He'd deal with them later.

"She's so hot," Hyunjin breathed. Soyeon's face filled the screen of the PC in the practice room, her cheeky wink making the boys gathered around the computer clutch at their chests in mock pain. 

Felix shrugged, disinterested. "She's no Woozi," he said, naming his favorite member of Seventeen. He liked small, cute boys. 

"Her thighs, Felix!" Hyunjin whined, pointing at the screen. "She could crush me with those and I would die happy."

"Uh, have you seen Woozi's thighs? They're so cute and tiny, but thick at the same time." He sighed dreamily. "He looks so good in dress pants..."

Chan ignored them all, focusing on his choreo in the mirror. This is fine. Woojin and Minho did the same.

"Hyung!" 

All three of them stopped and turned. Jisung was waving them over. "We need a tiebreaker. Soyeon or Woozi? Who's hotter?" 

"Soyeon," Minho said.

"Woozi," Woojin replied at the same time. 

Everyone turned to stare at Chan, waiting. 

Instantly, he felt his cheeks flush. His whole body felt hot and uncomfortable. It was just a simple question. He could easily deflect it in a hundred different ways, just as he's done all his life, just as he'll continue to do for-- how long? How long will I have to pretend?

"This is ridiculous," he snapped. "Stop wasting time and get back to practice. All of you!"

Their faces fell. He turned his back quickly, but the image of their fear and shock was already burned into his mind. 

Two hours later everyone filed out of the studio, sweaty and sore and on edge. The practice session had been terrible. Everyone was afraid of setting Chan off again, which made them self-conscious and they kept making mistake after mistake. Chan himself felt awful for his outburst, but didn't know how to make it up to everyone. So they all just suffered in miserable silence, air heavy with blame and resentment. 

"Hey."

Chan jumped. He thought everyone had already left. 

Woojin slid down to sit beside him on the floor. He shook his head and ran a hand through his damp hair. 

Chan didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. He knew Woojin was probably here to talk about his outburst earlier, and he still didn't know how he wanted to handle that. Somehow, he was beginning to think that the whole bury-and-ignore method was not really working that well. But if that wasn't working, then-- then--

"Wanna go get ice cream?"

"What?"

Bang Chan stared at the other boy. Those were not the words he was expecting to hear. At all.

"Do you want ice cream?" Woojin repeated again. "There's a new place that just opened up by the station." He looked sideways at Chan. "My treat," he added with a grin. 

There was something about Woojin's smile that always managed to reach the leader, no matter how down he was feeling. It was so damn infectious. Just seeing him there, sweaty and tired but still smiling as if he didn't have a care in the world-- it almost made Chan feel like everything was okay. Almost. 

"Yeah," Chan said. "Sure. Thanks." 

Woojin smiled even wider, and Chan was glad he said yes. 

The ice cream shop was cute. It was retro-themed, full of bright neon and shiny plastic. Against his better judgement Chan ordered something called a Galaxy Sundae-- it was black sesame ice cream mixed with a pink and purple swirl and covered in sparkly star-shaped sprinkles on top. Woojin got a plain cone with strawberry ice cream. 

They leaned against the train station railing as they ate. It was the middle of the day on Tuesday, so most of the people who would usually recognize them were either in school or at work, and they had a relatively peaceful time. It was hot, and pink ice cream melted down Woojin's hand. He licked it off with his tongue.

They ate mostly in silence. That was another thing Chan appreciated about the older boy. Some of the younger kids-- as much as he loved them-- never stopped running their mouths. It could get exhausting. Standing around in companionable silence like this was nice every once in awhile.

At first Chan was worried Woojin was just waiting for the right time to bring up the incident, and he remained tense and jittery. But after awhile, Chan relaxed. Then he started chatting himself-- about their new songs, about some of the JYP trainees, asking about Woojin's family. Normal stuff. Before he knew it, his ice cream was gone. 

"I'm stuffed," he groaned. 

"Really? 'Cause I was just about to go back for round two."

"You're joking."

Woojin burst out laughing. "Of course I'm joking. Our manager would kill me if he knew I had two ice cream cones in one day." He stretched his arms out to the sky. "Ready to head back?"

Chan tossed his empty sundae cup into the trash. "Yup." 

They walked side by side. It was cicada season. Chan had always liked the sound; like a calm, comforting hum that never stopped. He liked the way it rose and fell. A crescendo of cicadas. 

"Hey, Woojin."

"Yeah?"

"Why'd you ask me to come with you today?"

The other boy didn't answer immediately. They walked a few more steps, Woojin mindlessly kicking a pebble out of the way until it overshot into the street. Finally he paused. When he looked at Chan the sun was shining directly on him, so he squinted a little against the brightness. It highlighted the golden tones of his skin. "Don't be too hard on yourself, Chan." His tone was soft. "If you ever need to talk, I'm here, okay?" 

Suddenly a blush crept into the boy's cheeks, and he began fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "Uh, hey, I left something at the ice cream place. I'll catch up with you, okay? B-bye." And he hurried away, back down the street they came from, leaving Bang Chan standing alone in the sunlight. 

He didn't answer my question. But Chan understood anyway. He always understood what Woojin was trying to say, even when the other boy didn't come right out and say it. And when he thought about it, his chest felt warm. 

Woojin knew he wouldn't blow up at the others for no reason. He knew Chan was stressed. This was his way of being there for him. Quietly, calmly, and without expecting anything in return. He's a good friend. 

The blushing and running off was new, though. Chan didn't know what to think about that.

As he tried to sleep that night, he ran over the practice room incident in his mind. When he got home from ice cream everyone had been hanging out at the dorm, and silence fell as he opened the door. 

"Don't worry, I won't yell at you again," he joked. And just like that, everything was back to normal. They cosied up together, all sprawled out on the couch and the floor and the kitchen table, talking and shouting and falling over one another like nothing had ever happened. When Woojin came back a little later, he fell easily in to the fray as well. It was good. Normal. 

But Chan had to make sure it didn't happen again. He couldn't let his problems interfere with the team. So as he lay there, listening to Changbin breathe in the darkness, he thought. 

He's always been able to fake his way through those kinds of things. And not even fake, sometimes. He's been attracted to people. But apparently not in the way that everyone else around him is. And he's gotten so good at faking it-- he has to, really, he's an idol, he's literally selling the image of himself as a desirable person-- that he's earned a reputation as kind of a flirt. Which was nice, in the beginning, but now he just feels like he's dug himself into a deep, dark hole he doesn't know how to get out of.

Do I want out?

It never used to bother him before. He never really thought about it before. It was just who he was. 

But ever since their debut-- ever since things got real-- he's felt strangled. Like he's drowning. He's sure a lot of it probably has to do with the stress of fame. He should probably stop reading netizen comments. They get weird. Some of them make him feel like an object. 

A lot of it, though, came from living with the other members. It was different when he was just a trainee. Other trainees came and went and had their own separate schedules. But Stray Kids literally spent all their time together. Every day, he was faced with more and more signs of how different he was from them. Everything from that kind of incident today, to the other members always scrambling to find "alone" time (all the time), to the ridiculously frequent heart-to-hearts the kids always had about their fumbling, fleeting "firsts" experiences. Chan hated those the most, because he felt so left out. Not only because he'd never had a school fling, but also because he had no desire for what they seemed to want so badly-- he didn't want any stolen kisses in an empty classroom, or an awkward grope at a school dance. 

But he couldn't bring himself to tell them. What would he say? They didn't exactly have a lot of role models for anything different in Korea when it came to sexuality. So he just suffered, uncomfortable, through all of it, hiding who he was, alone-- 

By the time he fell asleep that night, his pillow was damp with tears.

He didn't find the answer he was looking for that night, or any of the long nights that followed. Some days he wanted to tell everyone, wanted to shout it out in the middle of practice so badly he thought his chest might burst. Other days he was so paranoid about anyone finding out, he was afraid to even speak to the members. Those days were the bad ones. 

Why is this happening now?

He didn't understand. He didn't need this now, didn't need the stress, didn't need another fucking thing to worry about-- 

And then suddenly the ground was spiraling up towards him, and everything went black.

When the world came back, it was all movement and warmth and honey-scented skin. He knew that smell. 

Woojin. 

After a moment of disorientation, he realized he was being carried on Woojin's back. His head was slumped forward over Woojin's shoulder, face buried in the boy's neck. He shifted his weight around, lifting his head groggily. 

Woojin noticed and craned his neck around. "You up?" he asked softly. "Don't move too much. We're almost home."

"W.. what happened?" Chan mumbled. 

"Shhh," Woojin soothed. He hiked Chan up on his back. "I'll tell you when we get home. Just hang tight till then, okay?"

Chan nodded. Or tried to. He was feeling dizzy again. 

Then it seemed like he blinked, and the next moment Woojin was gently lowering Chan into bed, taking care not let him down too roughly. Chan (irrationally) felt momentarily embarrassed by his messy bed, with a pile of discarded clothing stuffed at the bottom and empty water bottles scattered on the floor, before realizing that Woojin lived with him and saw his room every day. 

The older boy crouched down beside the bed. He smoothed the damp hair away from Chan's forehead and pressed a cold water bottle into his hand. Chan realized he was parched. 

"What happened?" he asked again, struggling with the cap. For some reason his arms felt like jelly. 

Woojin took the bottle from him and twisted it open easily. He handed it back. "You passed out," he said. "During practice."

Chan paused, water bottle at the edge of his lips. He remembered feeling a little faint at practice. He remembered being angry at himself for feeling weak. That was it.

He drank. 

Woojin watched him guzzle down half the water bottle in seconds, a worried look on his face. Then he disappeared. When he returned moments later, he dumped an armful of snacks onto the bed. Protein bars, fruit, nuts, and even the chocolate biscuits that were Chan's guilty pleasure snack. 

"You didn't eat breakfast today," Woojin said. His voice wasn't harsh. Just... just something else. Chan didn't know what. "And you've been practicing through breaks lately."

Chan didn't think anyone had noticed. "How did you know?" he asked, his voice small and a little pouty. He couldn't help it. It had felt good, to misbehave against himself like that. Like he was punishing himself for being so out of control. 

Woojin reached out again. He had a damp cloth now, and he placed it against Chan's forehead. It felt good against his skin. "How could I not notice?" the boy answered, and this time Chan heard the sadness in his voice. "Something's been up with you lately." Woojin sat back on his heels, looking down at his hands as he mindlessly fiddled with a packet of dried fruit. "You won't let yourself take it out on us, so you're taking it out on yourself instead." He looked up, and Chan was shocked to see how much pain was written on his face. The older boy's fingers stretched out as if he wanted to take Chan's hand in his own, but he didn't. They just closed over empty air. 

"Chan, I don't know what you're dealing with. And you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. But... don't hurt yourself, okay?" For a second Woojin looked like he was going to cry, but he quickly sniffed and busied himself straightening up all the things around Chan's bed. When he spoke again, his voice was so quiet Chan could barely hear it. "Please stop hurting yourself." 

Some moments in life stand out. For Bang Chan, this was one of them. His room was hot and smelled faintly of sweat from the two boys. It was completely quiet except for the normal sounds of everyday life-- the ceiling fan overhead, the cicadas working at their endless symphony outside, and the rise-and-fall of the two of them breathing, slightly out of sync. The rustle of his sheets as Chan brought his hands to his face, first to rub at them stubbornly and then after that, helplessly, as the tears came. That's all. That's how it happened. Everything was normal, and the room was quiet, until it suddenly wasn't anymore.

And then Woojin was gathering him up in his arms, holding him close and rubbing his back and not caring that Chan was getting snot all over his shirt. 

"I'm sorry," the older boy whispered. "I'm sorry, Chan, I didn't mean to make you cry."

Chan shook his head. He couldn't speak. But he needed Woojin to know he didn't do anything wrong. He tried to get control of himself.

"D-don't say s-sorry," he managed to get out in between little hiccups. He pulled back, wiping at his eyes and his nose, and took a deep breath to calm himself. 

His first instinct was to berate himself. You idiot. How could he not see it before? But that was exactly what Woojin had just begged him not to do, and he was right. He needed to stop being so hard on himself. And this-- this was the first step. 

"Something is wrong," he finally managed to say. The second he admitted that-- even though it wasn't even his actual secret, just acknowledging the fact that he was struggling-- it lifted an enormous weight off his chest, and for the first time in weeks, he felt like he could finally breathe again. "And I-- I want to tell you. I think. But... I need some time." 

Relief washed over Woojin's face, and his whole body seemed to relax. He smiled. "That's okay," he said. "If you want to tell me, I'll be here." He looked like he wanted to say something else, but he hesitated. 

"What is it it?" Chan asked.

"Is there... is there anything I can do to help? In the meantime? You don't have to tell me anything now, but if there's anything I can do to make things easier for you, I will. I want to."

Chan's whole body felt warm and soft. He'd always loved the other members of his team; always cared for them like they were his family. But for some reason he'd only seen it as a one-way street. He took care of them, not the other way around. That was his job.

He couldn't believe it had taken him this long to realize that they were here for him, too.

"I..." he started, not sure exactly how to phrase what he wanted to say. "Can we not talk about sex?" he mumbled. "You guys are always talking about your flings and crushes and exes and stuff. Can you just... not? Around me?"

Woojin didn't wait even a second before answering. "Yeah," he said. There was no judgement in his voice. "Yeah, of course." He didn't ask any questions, and Chan was grateful. 

The older boy stood up, brushing dust from the knees of his sweats. "I should get back to practice and let the others know you're okay."

Panic gripped Chan. Without thinking, his hand darted out and clutched at the boy's shirt. "Woojin, w-will you-- will you stay with me?"

He half expected his teammate to be irritated. Chan himself didn't know what made him reach out like that. He still felt unsteady and lightheaded from not eating, and he just... he wanted Woojin to stay. Here, with him. 

But Woojin just settled himself back down next to the bed. "Sure," he said easily. "Let me just text Minho and let him know." His fingers flew over the screen, and when he was done, he slipped his phone into his pocket. "You should eat," he suggested. 

Chan made a face, but he picked through the pile of snacks and settled on a banana. His stomach protested at first, but as soon as the first bite was in his mouth he realized he was ravenous and he devoured the entire thing, followed by a pack of nuts and two chocolate biscuits. When he finished, Woojin tried to hide his laughter as he cleaned up the trash.

"What?" Chan whined, feeling a little like his playful self again. "Chris was hungry."

"I know," laughed Woojin. "I'm glad." 

As he settled back in bed, a wave of exhaustion swept over him. Probably all of the extra practice sessions and lack of sleep. And the fainting. Suddenly he was shocked that he let himself get to this point. Passing out... that was serious.

"I'm sorry for worrying you," Chan whispered. "I'll take better care of myself. I promise."

"It's okay. You're doing your best. We all are."

Chan was staring at the ceiling. He felt like he might start crying if he looked at Woojin again. But he wanted to feel him there. So he snaked his hand out from under the sheets, reaching blindly into the air. Hoping. 

And of course, Woojin's hand grasped his.

"You should get some rest," the other boy said.

Chan's eyelids were already fluttering. "Promise me you won't leave?"

"I promise."

He fell asleep. 

Over the next few weeks, Chan kept his promise to Woojin. He stopped skipping meals, and made sure to rest when he told everyone else to take a break. 

Woojin did his part, too. Whenever the conversation turned to sex, Woojin skillfully redirected the kids to a different topic. If he couldn't (they could be persistent sometimes), he would find an excuse to talk to Chan alone. He was such an easy going person that nobody ever thought anything of it, and Chan was grateful. 

Woojin never mentioned their conversation. Chan was grateful for that, too. He was still thinking things out. It was easier, though, with someone on his side. What he figured out what something he'd known all along-- it had just gotten lost and buried under all the pressure and confusion. 

Chan liked who he was. 

He was different from the rest of the members. But that didn't bother him. Or at least, it didn't used to. And he believed that if the others knew-- if they just stopped trying to drag him into conversations he didn't want to be a part of, and he stopped trying to pretend to be something he wasn't-- then he could be okay with himself again. So, he reached a decision. 

He wanted to tell the others. 

Inside, he knew he should be worried. Felix wouldn't bat an eyelash-- he'd grown up overseas. This was tame compared to some of the things he'd been exposed to. But for the others-- especially Jeongin, who'd grown up in the countryside, or Changbin, who'd lived in Korea all his life as the sheltered son of a rich family-- they just didn't have any experience with anything outside of what they considered "normal." But Chan wasn't worried. He believed in them. He had to. They were his team-- his family. 

But maybe it would be easier to start small. So that was why, after practice one day, he asked Woojin to stay back. The other boys hooted and whistled. "Woojin's in trouble," they called merrily as they slipped out the door, happy it wasn't them. Woojin just waved them on, as unbothered as always.

"What's up?" he asked, flopping on to the couch next to Chan, wiping the sweat from his neck with a pink towel. 

Suddenly Chan was nervous again. He fiddled with his water bottle, staring at the floor. Why did I think this was a good idea? he thought to himself. 

And then he felt a hand on his shoulder, bringing the faint scent of warm honey skin. 

"Take your time," Woojin said. 

This was Woojin. His same-age friend. The boy who had carried him home on his back after he passed out. The person who stayed by his side as he slept, because Chan had asked him to. Chan took a deep, shaky breath. He looked up at the ceiling. 

"I'm asexual," he said. 

He thought he would feel better as soon as he said it, but when it was out, he found he was afraid to look at Woojin's face. He immediately dropped his eyes to his water bottle again. His hands were shaking, but he couldn't stop them. 

"Thanks for telling me," Woojin said softly. His hand was still on Chan's shoulder and he moved it to squeeze Chan in a side hug. Chan leaned into his touch, relieved. 

"You don't... think it's weird?" Chan asked. 

Woojin leaned his head back against the wall and thought about it for a moment. When he looked back at Chan, his expression was sheepish. "I'm not really sure what it means, to be honest," he admitted. "I mean, I've heard of it. And I kind of guessed it'd be something like that, since you asked me to stop the kids from talking about sex. But I don't really know a lot about it."

Chan was glad he was honest. It was better than trying to cover up, trying to glaze over something without really acknowledging it. He felt warm. He was glad he chose Woojin first. 

"You can ask me questions if you want," he said. 

For some reason, Woojin instantly blushed and looked away. He seemed nervous all of a sudden. What did I do? Chan wondered.  

"D-do you," Woojin stuttered, "um, do you still, like, date?"

Now it was Chan's turn to blush. "Oh," he said,  a little embarrassed. "I mean, I haven't. But... I want to, yeah."

Woojin's face was on fire. Trying to hide it, he coughed and ran a hand through his hair. "I see," he said in a weird, strangled voice. He cleared his throat again. "Do you think you'll tell the others?"

Chan thought about it. "Yeah," he said slowly. "I want to. What do you think?"

Woojin hummed. "You know them. They might not understand at first, but it won't change how they feel about you. You're our leader. We all love you, Chan."

Chan leaned into him again. "Thanks, Woojin."

Woojin gave his shoulder another squeeze before letting go. "It must have been stressful to have to hide that," he said. "Now I'm thinking back to all the times we dragged you into stupid conversations." He sighed. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Chan said. "You didn't know. And... it's not like I was always hiding. Not about everything, you know? I'm still just the same me."

Woojin opened his mouth like he was going to apologize again, but thought better of it. "You're right," he said. "The same Chan. Our leader."

When they left the practice room, they both had smiles on their faces.

He told the others that night. They reacted better than he imagined they would-- nobody made jokes, and they all gathered him up in a group hug. Hyunjin cried. 

They're growing up, Chan thought, smushed in the middle of the wriggling mass of boys. The thought made him proud, and honestly a little sad. I should have trusted them more. He dried Hyunjin's tears with his sleeve. 

Just like with Woojin, he let them ask him questions. 

"So is that why Woojin has been shutting down all of our horny talk recently?" Jisung blurted out, unbothered. 

Chan blushed. "Yeah, I asked him to." He shifted around, squeezing his arm from Jeongin's grasp only to be seized again by Seungmin. "I don't care if you guys talk about it around me, but I didn't like having to pretend when you would try and pull me in."

Their faces looked sheepish. Changbin looked downright distraught, and somehow Chan knew he was thinking of the night they wrote Wow together. Changbin had been a bit wild back then, at least in his imagination. Chan was still in the middle of an unending group hug, but he managed to reach out and lay his hand on Changbin's forearm. Their eyes met. Chan smiled, but Changbin still looked away. It stung. These things take time. 

"When did you know?" Jeongin asked. He was still hanging onto Chan's arm-- on top of where Seungmin held it-- and he looked so sincere and interested that Chan's heart swelled up. Jeongin was the sweetest person and Chan treasured him. 

"Actually, it took me a long time," Chan answered. "When I was a trainee my roommates were older than me. So I thought I just wasn't interested because I was younger. And in school my friends were always talking about that stuff, but they knew I was a trainee so they never asked me about girls because of the dating ban." He paused, lost in thought and memories. "I think it was when I went to L.A. for dance training in high school. A lot of people who do dance in the States are more... well, not just straight, you know? And one of the other kids was asexual. It was the first time I'd heard about it. It just clicked all of a sudden."

"It's good you met them," Jeongin said seriously. "What if you never found out?"

They all laughed. Chan ruffled the maknae's hair. "I'm sure I would have found out eventually. But you're right, they helped me out a lot."

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

Silence fell over the room. Everyone averted their gaze from the person who had spoken. 

Changbin.

A hundred different emotions ran through Chan all at once. Bang Chan was the leader of this group and he knew his members inside and out. So he knew why Changbin said it. He said it because he was hurt by Chan's secrecy, and more than that, he was angry at himself for, well, a lot of things probably. Not knowing. Not asking. And for all of the million little things he'd said, the comments that built up naturally over three years of friendship. He felt like a bad person, and when Changbin felt hurt, he lashed out. 

That didn't make his words hurt any less, though. 

"Binnie, I know it's hard to believe, but when I say I'm asexual I mean that this is literally a part of me that doesn't exist. It's like... you don't go around telling people that you're not interested in collecting stamps. Because you're not interested in it. I don't think I could spend less time thinking about sex if I tried." He sighed. "And... and I was scared, you know? I didn't want you guys to be weirded out, or treat me any differently. We've gotten so close, I didn't want to... mess anything up."

When he looked up again Changbin was barreling towards him, tears streaming down his face. The other kids shuffled out of the way and Changbin threw himself against Chan, tucking his face into Chan's chest. 

"I'm sorry," he wailed. "I'm an idiot, I didn't mean it." 

Chan put his arms around him and stroked his hair. "Shhh. Don't cry, Binnie," he soothed, except he was starting to cry too and he couldn't stop his breath from catching. "It's okay. I know you didn't mean it. I'm sorry I never told you."

Changbin shook his head back and forth against Chan's chest, still refusing to look up. "Don't say sorry," he mumbled. "You didn't do anything wrong."

And suddenly Bang Chan realized he'd never heard that before. About this, anyway. And it was weird, because if you'd asked him a minute ago if it was something he needed to hear he would have said no, of course not. Of course he didn't do anything wrong, why would he need someone to tell him so? But then he thought of the sleepless nights. The self-torment he'd put himself through. All because he was worried about this, about being accepted.

And now someone-- not just someone, but Changbin, one of his closest friends, his teammate-- was telling him that it was okay to be like he was. He didn't do anything wrong. And it was like a plug being pulled from somewhere inside of him that he didn't even know existed, and all of the stress from the past few weeks and the tension and other feelings, too-- doubt and fear and frustration and longing, things he thought he'd long gotten over-- it was like Changbin released them all like smoke into the air. Thick and choking and first but then gone. 

Then-- fuck-- he was crying, too, for real now, and he and Changbin clung to one another for a second before they were once again swarmed by a pile of bodies and Hyunjin was crying again and Felix too this time, which just set Jisung off and Woojin tried to put his arms around all of them at once. 

It took them a long time to calm down, and when they did the dorm was filled with an even warmer glow than usual. They lingered later than they would have normally, limbs all tangled together on the couch and the floor and in the chairs, connected by their hands on someone's thigh and an ankle brushing against a knee and the softness of sharing something heavy among friends. 

But it's amazing how much different life is when you can be yourself.

Nobody asked him which new trainee he wanted to get stuck in the equipment closet with. Nobody tried to show him the latest upskirt or ab flash photo from last night's music show. Changbin stopped texting him dirty lyrics and texted him love lyrics and aegyo joke lyrics instead. But other than that-- nothing else changed. 

They were still Stray Kids. He was still Bang Chan, their leader. They still loved him most of the time and only hated him a tiny bit of the time, like when he made them practice the choreography for a sixteenth time or told them to stop playing on their phone and go to bed. 

And he stopped being scared that the cloud would come back. Because even if it did, now he knew--

He didn't have to face it by himself. There were people who cared about him, and just like he meant it when he said he was there for them-- they meant it when they said it to him, too. He had people who would stay up with him until three in the morning, listening to his secrets and telling him they loved him anyway. They loved him because. He had someone in particular who would sit by his bed while he slept away a fever dream, knowing that if he went to sleep holding his hand he would wake up holding it, too.  

Bang Chan was still a keeper of secrets. But there was one secret he was no longer planning on keeping: his own.