Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s 11:53 a.m. on a Friday, and the popular nightclub Utopia is packed, filled with college students celebrating the end of the semester by, in true college student fashion, getting absolutely fucking wasted. An EDM song is being blasted from the speakers, and strobe lights are pulsing overhead, casting a neon glow on everything. There are strangers pressed against each other on the dance floor, hot and sticky and sweaty as they bounce and grind together to the music, drunk to the point where they’ll definitely regret this tomorrow. 

“I’m glad you decided to come today, Chan.”

Chan brushes his hair from his forehead and frowns, turning to his companion. “What do you mean? I always come when you call me out, Mark”

“I mean, yeah, lately you have, but there was a while there I thought I wouldn’t ever see you again.” Mark shrugs and takes a sip of his drink, some disgusting fruity concoction which, knowing Mark and his low tolerance for alcohol, is probably more syrup than it is alcohol. “You know, you haven’t really been yourself since…”

Since they left. Yeah, he knows all too well how much he’s changed since they left.

Chan lifts his own glass to his lips and downs the rest of his drink, shifting his focus to the burn he feels as the alcohol goes down his throat, and, yeah, okay. Chan knows that alcohol isn’t a good coping mechanism, knows that it doesn’t do anything other than make your problems worse. But it’s just one drink, how much damage can it really do?

Though, to be fair, that was the mindset he had when he first started trying to drown his issues in alcohol, and, well. He became a little too dependent on it, so maybe that philosophy isn’t the best. Chan places the empty glass down, the drink leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

“I’m sorry.” Chan looks over to see Mark watching him with apologetic eyes, and shit, Chan is a terrible best friend. Here they are, supposed to be celebrating the end of their exams, and all Chan can do is get angsty over the guys who disappeared from his life eleven fucking months ago and make Mark feel guilty for being worried.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Chan says, hoping the smile on his face is enough to reassure him. Mark doesn’t look convinced even as he nods, the doubt in his expression still present. Chan hates how familiar that look is. “If anything, I’m sorry. You’re right, I haven’t been myself for the last few months.”

“I miss the old you,” Mark admits, and Chan bites his tongue to keep himself from saying, yeah, I do too. Before Chan can figure out how to reply to that without making himself look even more pitiful, Mark’s eyes drift from his face and fix on something behind him. A grin breaks out across his face. “Oh, hey, look! It’s Lucas!”

Chan blinks before craning his neck to see where Mark is looking. Sure enough, he catches the familiar sight of perfectly-styled hair towering over the sea of people on the dance floor.

It’s almost as though Lucas senses Mark and Chan staring at him because he almost immediately turns towards their direction, and he must have caught sight of Mark, because he flashes a big smile, pearly whites and all, and waves them over to where he is.

“C’mon, let’s go say hi,” Mark says eagerly, already out of his chair. Chan nods, moving to follow him when his phone starts buzzing in his back pocket. He pauses and pulls it out, looking down at the screen. He frowns. It was an unknown number.

Mark turns back, and Chan gestures at him to keep going, absentmindedly tapping the Accept Call button.

“Hello?” Chan answers. The voice on the other end says something, but the music in the club’s too loud for Chan to comprehend what they’re saying. He presses a hand to his other ear, trying to block out the music and focus on whoever was calling. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Channie? ” Chan freezes. “Channie, baby, listen, I know this is crazy, but— ”

Chan pulls the phone away, blinking at the number. It was unfamiliar, an unknown caller, though the voice was definitely one he recognized. He brings the phone back to his ear slowly, his mind a jumble of thoughts and, somehow, simultaneously, completely blank.

“ —We need to see you. Hello, Chan? Baby, can you hear me? Channie, I’m sorry about everything, but listen—”

Chan yanks the phone away from his ear, his thumb hitting the End Call button. It takes him a moment to realize his hands are trembling. The screen lights up again, the same number flashing on the screen. Chan declines it, turns off his phone, and shoves it back into his pocket with a shaky breath.

“Chan?” Chan’s head jerks up, eyes wide. Mark is standing in front of him, arms crossed, and that look of concern back on his face. “What’s wrong? Who was on the phone?”

Chan blinks. Lucas is standing behind Mark, looking worried himself, and fucking hell, Chan is actually the worse. “Oh, uh, it was just…” Play it cool, Chan, just play it cool. Figure out an excuse, and get the fuck home already before you ruin Mark’s night even more. “Minsu-hyung.”

Mark stares at him. “Minsu-hyung?” he repeats, confusion leaking into his voice, and shit, Chan, he didn’t fucking know— “Who’s Minsu?”

“Minsu-hyung, he’s um, he’s…” Chan sighs, because at this point his brain is overflowing with so much he can’t find it in him to come up with anything other than: “He’s just a friend.”

“A friend, huh?” And it’s clear Mark knows — Mark is well aware Chan has no other close friends besides him, definitely none he would blow Mark off for. “That’s it?”

No, Chan wants to reply, he’s also this guy I’ve been sleeping with for the last three months to forget about the twelve guys who broke my heart. Is it working? No. But does it momentarily help? Yes, so I’m still doing it.

“That’s it.” Chan smiles. “Sorry, he asked if I wanted to go watch a movie with him, and I was getting a bit of a headache from all these lights, so I said yeah.” Chan pauses. “Is that all right?”

Mark nods. “Yeah, Channie. That’s cool.”

Lucas, who was watching the exchange quietly from behind Mark steps forward, holding up his phone. “Need me to call you a cab?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind, that would be great.” Chan directs his smile at Lucas, thanking whatever higher power is up there for not totally hating him. “Thanks, Lucas. Sorry we didn’t get to hang out much today.”

“No worries, dude.” Lucas waves him off, glancing up from his screen with a charming smile. “Next time, yeah?” While Lucas is busy on his phone, Mark moves closer to Chan, grabs an arm, and tugs on it sharply.

“Chan, seriously, who is this Minsu-hyung of yours?” Mark’s eyes scan Chan’s face. “I’ve never heard you mention him before, and now suddenly you’re going to go watch a movie with him?”

“Aw, don’t worry, Mark, no one could replace you,” Chan jokes, but Mark is still frowning.

“No, that’s not what I’m worried about. I feel like you’re keeping something from me.” Suddenly, his head snaps up. “Are you two fucking?”

Chan chokes on thin air, startled by the sudden question. “Huh?”

“Oh my god, you are!” Mark breaks into a grin. “How long? Is it serious? Is he hot? I mean, not that that matters, because looks fade and personality is what matters, but, like—”

“Oh, hey, the cab’s, like, super close,” Lucas interrupts, joining back in the conversation, and thank god for Lucas Wong, a literal godsend. Chan sends Mark a scratching look to shut him up. “Just around the corner. You sure you’ll be good on your way home, Chan?”

“Yeah, I don’t live that far anyway,” Chan replies. “Thanks, dude. I’ll catch you later, yeah?” He turns to Mark. “I’ll see you soon, okay, Mark?”

“We’re talking about this tomorrow ,” Mark says, and Chan isn’t even surprised, “alright? We’ll get coffee or boba or something and you have to tell me everything .”

“ Bye, Mark.” Chan gives Lucas one last wave before making his way towards the exit of the club, pushing his way past intoxicated strangers to get to the door.

The December air hits him the second he pushes open the door, the cold biting at his nose and cheeks and making him pull his jacket closer around him. Chan looks around and spots the cab, waving to get the driver’s attention. After telling the man behind the wheel his address, he sits back in the backseat and pulls out his phone.

The first thing he sees when he unlocks his phone is a message from none other than Minsu himself, asking him if he wants to come over. Part of Chan is tempted to convince himself that this means he at least didn’t totally lie to Mark, but another part of him shuts that thought down, because if Chan’s going to be a shitty friend he should at least acknowledge his own shitty attitude.

Chan is about to reply to the text when he notices the notification for the calls he’d missed, all from the same unknown number that he’d answered earlier.

The call from the club echoes in his mind. Hello, Chan? Baby, can you hear me? The familiarity of the voice sends goosebumps up his arms even now, and he feels his eyes begin to sting with the tears he didn’t even realize had appeared.

He looks down at his phone, and the screen lights up once again with the same number flashing. Chan shuts his phone off and puts it away, and he lets the rest of the tears roll down his cheeks in silence as the cab drives him home to his apartment. If the driver notices, he doesn’t say anything.

When they reach his apartment building, Chan hands the money to the cab driver and watches as the car drives away. The street is dead quiet, but that’s to be expected this late at night, around this time of the year. Everyone who lives in the complex is either out enjoying their Friday night or back in their hometowns visiting relatives for the holidays.

Sure, Chan misses home, and he was pretty bummed when his mother told him that she and his father were going to some distant uncle’s funeral and wouldn’t be able to see him, but he’s gotten to the point where he gets so lonely that he doesn't even feel alone anymore. He's been practicing, and he's very good at it. Loneliness, that it. Being alone. Even when physically he’s with someone, the loneliness is still there, like a dark cloud hanging over him.

(It’s not really on purpose, it never is. But when the twelve men you love most in the world up and leave your life without so much as a goodbye, well.

Let’s just say Chan had to learn to adapt.)

But, yeah, anyways. Chan’s doesn’t mind spending the winter in Seoul, because at least he has Mark to keep him company throughout it. Chan punches in the code for his building before making his way out of the freezing cold.

He takes a shower first, the warm water running down his shoulders and helping, at least momentarily, focus on something other than all the stuff that went down earlier in the night. He finishes showering and heads into his bedroom, ready to sleep.

Chan yawns, still-wet hair dripping down his forehead and onto his pajama shirt as he settles in for bed. He’s too tired to dry his hair, figures one night without drying it can’t be the worst thing he’s ever done to himself. Besides, the heater’s on, he’ll survive.

Chan crawls into bed, easing into the comfort and familiarity of his sheets and letting the worries that had piled up over the last few hours melt off his shoulders. His phone buzzes from his nightstand, and he figures it’s either Mark drunk-rambling to him about not telling him about Minsu or Minsu himself wondering why he didn’t text him back.

Chan ignores the notification, the exhaustion from the day dragging his eyelids shut. He’ll reply in the morning, come up with some excuse. He rolls over and tries to succumb to sleep.

And that’s when the window in his bedroom shatter.

Chan’s eyes snap open immediately, the sudden loud noise of glass breaking startling him into throwing himself off his bed and hiding behind it, trying to avoid getting cut by the fragments of glass that fly at him. He hit his arm on the nightstand on the way down, knocking his phone to the ground beside him.

Chan hears what sounds like a gunshot outside, and his eyes widen as he stares at the broken window, heart beating frantically and breaths uneven. Did someone just shoot at his window? Why the fuck would they do that? What the hell is going on?

Is he going to die?

“Chan! ” Chan hears a male voice call, just before his front door bursts open, and he freezes, suddenly unable to move from the spot on the ground beside his bed. There are footsteps rushing down the hall towards his bedroom, and his brain is screaming at him to move, to hide, to grab something sharp and dangerous and fight, to do literally anything . Before he can do any of these things, though, his bedroom doors burst open.

“Chan, are you in here?” And of-fucking-course Chan has to gasp at the sudden slamming noise, because he’s some sort of idiot with a deathwish, apparently. The man turns to him, and the first thing Chan registers is that he’s holding something in his hand and holy shit he’s holding a gun holy shit. The man rushes forwards towards Chan and Chan feels the blood drain from his face.

“Don’t hurt me,” he says, except it comes out as a whimper, his voice all shaky. The man crouches down in front of him just as another gunshot goes off outside, followed by swearing and yelling. Chan screws his eyes shut, heart beating so hard he’s sure the man can hear it. “P-please, don’t don’t hurt me.”

“Channie, baby, don’t worry…” A hand reaches out to stroke his cheek, and Chan’s eyes flutter open, widening in surprise at the voice.

No fucking way.

He stares as the man tugs his mask down, and in the dim moonlight spilling in from the window, Chan can just make out the familiar face of none other than Choi Seungcheol.

Chan opens his mouth to say something — what exactly, he’s not sure, considering his mind has gone completely blank — but before he can there’s a fourth gunshot heard outside, followed by more shattering glass.

“Shit!” Seungcheol jumps to his feet, pulling Chan up with him. “Your neighbors aren’t home, are they?” Chan shakes his head — his neighbors’ both went home for the holiday’s a few days earlier. “Good. Okay, I know this is confusing, but you need to listen to me: We need to get you out of here now, okay?”

“But—” 

“I’ll explain everything once we’re in the car, but for now I need you to hurry. Can you do that?” 

Chan nods, because what the fuck else can he do in this situation? Seungcheol grabs Chan’s hand immediately and pulls him out of the room, down the hall, and out of his apartment, not giving him a chance to even put his shoes or coat on. Chan lets Seungcheol drag him out of the building, barefoot and freezing, through some exit Chan, who’s lived here for two years, has never seen before.

He barely processes the movement, too caught up on the fact that Seungcheol is here, and if Seungcheol is here, does that mean the others are too?

He doesn’t have time to question how Seungcheol even knows that exit exists, because before he knows it they’re on the street and there’s a black van pulling up beside them suddenly, screeching to a halt.

“Channie, quick, in the van,” Seungcheol says, pulling his gun from his jacket pocket as he looks behind his shoulder. Chan freezes at the sight of the metal weapon. The van doors slide open, and Seungcheol turns back to Chan, ushering him in. Chan doesn’t have time to think about it before he finds himself in the van.

“Is Jihoon back?” Seungcheol asks, his question directed to whoever was in the front of the van, and Chan’s breath stops. Jihoon?

“Yeah, Cheol,” says a man from the driver’s seat before turning around, and Chan must be dreaming. He has to be dreaming, because that's the only logical explanation for why Yoon Jeonghan is right in front of him. “He knocked those assholes out, but who knows for how long. He went back with the others.”

 The others?

“We should get moving, head back to base.” What the fuck does he mean base? What the fuck is going on? “Let’s go.”

The van jolts forward, and suddenly they’re driving, down the street and away from his apartment. Chan looks down at his bare arms, and notices a jagged cut at his elbow, probably from a glass shard. He hadn’t even noticed it until now.

“Shit, you’re bleeding.” Seungcheol moves closer, first aid kit in hand, and Chan watched him as he works, disinfecting the cut and bandaging it up, in silence, scared that if he says something he’ll wake up and all of this will have been a dream, even though he’s, like, 60% sure it doesn’t work that way.

He doesn’t want to take the risk.

“Give him your jacket, Seungcheol,” Jeonghan says from the front of the van, and Chan glances over at him. Jeonghan is looking at him in the rearview mirror, his eyes softening as they make eye contact, and Chan feels his chest seize up . “He’ll catch a cold.”

“Fuck, you’re right.” Seungcheol pulls off his jacket. “Sorry I didn’t give you time to grab your coat. Oh, and your hair’s still wet, too, Channie, you know better than to sleep with it wet.” Seungcheol drapes his jacket over Chan before taking Chan’s hands in his own to warm them. “Is that better?”

Funnily enough, it’s the smell of the jacket, engulfing him in the overwhelmingly familiar scent of cologne, that does it for Chan. He feels his eyes begin to sting, and before he can stop himself the tears start rolling down his cheeks, hot against his freezing skin.

He leans forward, and Seungcheol pulls him close without a word, holding him tightly and letting Chan sob into his chest.

“Where have you all been?” Chan asks after a moment, pulling away and rubbing his eyes. “I thought you all left forever, why would you just disappear?”

“Chan, baby, I know you have a million questions,” Seungcheol says, his thumb swiping the tears that continued to roll down Chan’s cheeks, “but it’s late, and you should get some rest. We’ll talk about this when you wake up, alright? I promise.”

A sudden wave of sleep crashes over Chan, and he realizes that Seungcheol’s right — he does need to rest. Part of him wants to stay awake, wants to yell at Seungcheol and then Jeonghan about leaving him, wants them to know how hard the last eleven months have been for him, wants to bring up how the last time Seungcheol promised him something, he woke up to not only all twelve of them missing from his life, but twelve pieces of his heart missing, too. 

The adrenaline that had just been pumping through his blood suddenly washes away, and he feels the fatigue from everything that took place over the course of the night finally hit him. He leans into Seungcheol’s warmth and pulls the jacket tighter around him, nestling close.

He falls asleep just as the van turns onto the highway, the sound of Seungcheol’s steady breathing coaxing him into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

Chan wouldn’t describe himself as somebody who hates many things.

Yeah, sure, he dislikes things — plenty of things, even, like certain people or places or situations that he’s gotten himself into in the past. But to hate something?

He doesn’t use that word often to describe things, really, taught at a young age by his parents that ‘hatred’ is too intense of a feeling to be used to describe every little inconvenience in your life.

In fact, to be honest, there’s probably only one thing in the world that Chan truly hates, and that’s surprises.

Or, well. Not surprises, exactly, because sometimes surprises are great. Sometimes, surprises are a spontaneous trip with your favorite people in the world to the beach, or a friend bringing you takeout out of the blue when you’re having an off day.

And, other times, surprises are getting thrown a surprise birthday party when you’re ten years old and getting so surprised at the sudden yelling from the people crouched behind sofas and under tables that you end up slipping on a stray balloon and having to visit the emergency room for a broken ankle.

But that’s beside the point.

While his surprise-party trauma might play at least some sort of role in his hatred for surprises, it’s more so the ‘not-knowing’ aspect that makes him dislike it so much. He doesn’t like being out of the loop, of being thrown into situations with no prior knowledge of how he got there or what to do now that he is there. The anticipation makes his head spin and his chest tighten, because Chan always assumes the worst.

It’s one of the reasons he tried to stay far away from one-night stands. The sex itself, there’s nothing wrong with, but waking up the next morning in an unfamiliar room, in someone else’s bed, a stranger lying beside you — Chan’s disoriented enough in the morning, he doesn’t need to add additional factors to confuse him even more.

But, anyways, yeah. Surprises? Not his favorite. So when he wakes up to the sun streaming in through the window and blurring his vision, dressed in a sweatshirt that is not his and lying in a bed that is also not his, Chan almost immediately panics.

Chan sits bolt upright in his bed, which was a bad decision, because immediately the blood rushes to his head and makes him all dizzy. He winces, holding his head as he looks around the room, blinking the spots from his eyes and trying to figure out where he is.

It isn’t Minsu’s place, he’s been there too often to still be feeling that sense of ‘where am I?’ that is currently making the alarm bells in his head go off. Chan catches sight of a black leather jacket, draped over the back of the desk chair, and suddenly it all comes back to him.

Oh. Right.

Seungcheol was at his place last night.

So that wasn’t a dream.

Just as he makes this realization, he hears a voice outside the door, and his head snaps in the direction of the noise.

“Cheol-hyung!” Mingyu. “Why can’t any of us see him? I need to apologize to him—”

“Mingyu, we all need to apologize to him,” Seungcheol says, “but right now, he’s not exactly in the right state to talk to all twelve of us—”

“Wait, is he hurt?” Mingyu interrupts, what sounds like worry seeping into his voice, and no, Chan, don’t you dare cry again. “Hyung, if he’s hurt then I should definitely go help him! Why didn’t you say something? Was it a cut from the glass?”

Chan throws the covers off of himself and stands.

“Mingyu, calm down. He did get cut last, but it wasn’t deep, and I bandaged it and everything.” Chan makes his way to the door, reaching for the door handle and pausing as he hears Seungcheol continue. “He’s not physically hurt, but he is emotionally and mentally, and we can’t be too quick in forcing ourselves back in his life, not after we disappeared the way we did.”

Chan turns the doorknob and pulls the door open. Both Mingyu and Seungcheol’s heads turn to him in surprise. Chan just stares because, wow, holy shit, he did not take into account that, by opening the door, he was going to also have to look at them.

Which, Chan. You literal idiot, what the fuck?

Chan blinks, only glancing at Mingyu for a moment before focusing on Seungcheol because, despite the chest tightening, (which, with the way his life seems to be progressing, he figures is going to be a recurring feeling, for a while at least,) it’s easier to look at Seungcheol, who he saw last night, than at Mingyu, who he last saw around a year ago.

“Chan…” Mingyu’s voice is soft, and Chan’s hands are trembling again, the same way they did when he saw Seungcheol and Jeonghan last night. Seungcheol looks encouragingly at him, a dimpled smile and warm eyes.

Chan finally looks over, meeting Mingyu’s eyes, and, in a quiet voice, manages to say, “H-hey, Mingyu-hyung.”

Mingyu smiles shakily, lips curving up at the corners, and, God, did he miss that smile. “Hey, Chan.” He leans forward, looking like he wants to say something, but then stops, presumably thinking better of it. Instead, he takes a deep breath and asks, “Are you hungry? I can make you some breakfast — french toast?”

Mingyu mentioning his favorite breakfast, the one he’d make whenever either of them spent the night at each other, made Chan’s heart stutter. He mumbles a quiet, “Yes, please.”

“Mingyu, you start on that, I’m going to talk to Chan really quickly and then we can have breakfast together.”

“All of us?” Mingyu asks, and when Seungcheol nods, Chan's eyes widen.

He can’t fucking handle that. He’ll probably burst into tears— no, actually, he’ll definitely start sobbing if he has to look all twelve of them in the eyes.

“We all need to talk about last night,” Seungcheol continues, and Chan pauses. Oh, yeah. He almost died last night.

Wow, yesterday sure was eventful. Chan almost wants to laugh, but he doesn’t, because then that laughter will turn into tears and he should probably save for later.

“Is that okay with you, Chan?” Seungcheol asks, turning to look at Chan, and part of him wants to shake his head, because fuck feelings, but the logical part of his mind wants to know why the fuck there was someone shooting at his window last night. Chan nods, and of course then his stomach decides to growl. For fuck's sake, Chan, seriously?

Chan flushes pink as both Mingyu and Seungcheol crack a smile.

“I’ll go start breakfast and let the others know to come down,” Mingyu says before turning and making his way down the hall.

When he’s gone, Seungcheol gestures at the room Chan woke up in. “C’mon, let’s go sit down,” he says, and, oh, right, Seungcheol needs to talk to him. Fuck.

The two sit on the edge of the bed Chan woke up, and the first thing Seungcheol says is, to Chan’s surprise, “Your shirt got some blood on it from that cut, so I changed you out of it and put you in a sweater.” Chan turns to stare at him; Seungcheol is looking away from him, down at the carpet. “I’m sorry, I know I should’ve asked, but I didn’t want to bother your sleep. I did it as quickly as I could, though.”

Chan raises an eyebrow. “You’ve seen me naked before, Hyung,” he says, and watches as  Seungcheol’s ears turn pink at his blunt phrasing.

“Yeah, but, that was a year ago. Things aren’t exactly… the same, now, are they?” Seungcheol turns to look over at Chan, frowning.

“No, Hyung,” Chan looks down at his feet, now clad in striped socks, “they certainly aren’t.”

Seungcheol sighs. “Chan, I know us leaving so suddenly was unfair to you.” You could put it that way. “And I know nothing we say to defend ourselves will be enough.” No, it definitely won’t. “But I want you to know that it wasn’t an easy choice to make—”

  Chan’s head snaps up as the elder says that, and he feels a sudden burst of anger shoot through his veins. “Oh, was it a difficult decision to make, Hyung?” He spits the honorific with venom in his tone. “Was it hard, deciding to disappear from my life, without so much as a goodbye, without any calls or texts or notes, without anything? How terrible you must have felt! How hard it must’ve been, huh?”

Seungcheol is staring at him, eyes wide at the sudden outburst. “Chan, baby—”

“No, Hyung, you’re not allowed to call me that anymore!” Chan’s yelling now, the tears that were welling his eyes finally escaping down his cheeks. He swipes at them fiercely. “Don’t you get it? You can’t just show up after a year and apologize and expect everything to be fine! Life isn’t like that! Do you know much these last few months have hurt me?”

“Chan, it hurt us, too—”

“No! ” Seungcheol’s mouth snaps shut. Chan clenches his fist tightly, his nails digging into the flesh of his palm. “No, it didn’t hurt you, not like it hurt me. You still had each other, at least! I was all alone with no one! You all left so suddenly, with no warning, I thought…” Chan feels the anger drain from, replaced with a feeling of tiredness. God, he’s so tired. “I thought the worst. I went to the police station, because I thought you’d all died, because in my head that was the only reason any of you would just disappear like that—”

Chan meets Seungcheol’s eyes and stops, taking in the sight of the older boy’s glassy eyes and quivering lip. He feels a pang of guilt shoot through his heart. Too far, Chan. You went too far.

“S-sorry,” Chan says suddenly, and Seungcheol blinks, tears sliding down his cheeks as he looks over at Chan with this look, and fuck. “Sorry, Hyung, I... that was a lot, I didn’t mean—”

“No, Chan, you did,” Seungcheol says, voice trembling slightly, “and that’s alright. Don’t push your feelings aside, because you’re right, what we did was absolutely terrible, and no matter how sorry we are it’s not going to fix what we ruined.”

Chan stares at Seungcheol, breathing shaky. The last few months, Chan had blamed himself for the twelve of them leaving, convincing himself that it was his fault they disappeared. Mark tried to convince him it wasn’t, that them leaving was 100% their fault, but Chan never accepted that, never wanted to connect something so negative to people who he loved so much. It was easier for him to blame himself than to blame them.

“I want you to let us apologize and explain ourselves to you,” Seungcheol says, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, a nervous habit of his, Chan remembers. “You don’t need to accept the apologies — God knows that a ‘I’m sorry’ will do absolutely nothing — but, please, just hear us out. It won’t excuse any of our behavior, but it’ll let you understand where we were coming from a little more.”

Seungcheol looks at Chan, waiting for an answer, and Chan, after a reluctant pause, nods.

“Okay,” he says, and Seungcheol smiles, relieved. There’s a sudden knock on the door, startling both Chan and Seungcheol. The door is pushed open, and (surprise, surprise) Chan feels something in his chest tighten.

“Hyung, Mingyu’s calling. Breakfast’s done.” Jihoon’s eyes land on Chan and his expression softens. Chan wonders how long the other boy was standing outside. “The others are waiting.”

Seungcheol nods, moving to stand up, and Chan follows, the mention of breakfast reminding him just how hungry he really is. He passes Jihoon at the door but pauses when he feels a slight tap on his shoulder.

“Chan, I…” Jihoon looks Chan in the eye as he speaks, and Chan feels a pang in his chest. “I overheard you talking to Hyung, and I know this may not count for much in the grand scheme of everything we put you through, but I want you to know I really am sorry. We all are.”

Chan stares back at Jihoon with pursed lips, silent. Eventually, he speaks: “I know, Hyung,” he says, in a quiet voice. “I know.”

Jihoon nods, though he doesn’t look convinced, and Chan continues after Seungcheol, trying and failing to focus on something else. Despite his attempts to divert his attention, he can’t help but come back to them, and all the questions he had building up inside for them to answer.

Where have they been this last year? Seungcheol kept saying it was a hard decision to make, leaving him, and assuming that’s true, what exactly could’ve compelled them all to disappear so suddenly from his life? Why didn’t they tell him anything in the first place? What were they hiding from him?

He thinks back to the last day they were all together. Nothing had seemed out of place, and no one was acting all that strange at the time, so something must have suddenly come up.

But what? No matter what scenario Chan imagined, nothing was enough to excuse how the others seemingly dropped off the map.

Chan’s so lost in thought he doesn’t even notice Seungcheol stop abruptly at the bottom of the stairs, running straight into him. Chan stumbles back at the sudden impact, slipping on the polished wood, and braces himself for his head to be split open or something. Instead, he feels a strong pair of arms catch him from behind.

Jihoon helps him straighten up, and when Chan’s back on his feet he turns to glare at Seungcheol. Before he can, though, he hears faint voices coming from what he can only guess must be the kitchen.

Chan feels himself stiffen, and Seungcheol clearly takes notice and puts two and two together, because he says, “Sorry, Chan, but it just dawned on me that you might not… It might be overwhelming for you, seeing everyone all of a sudden, after... I didn’t really think that through earlier.” He bunches up the hem of his shirt before straightening it out again. “I asked before, but… Are you comfortable with this? Like, really? Or do you want me to tell them to go?”

Chan thinks about it, giving it deeper thought this time. On one hand, yeah, he feels his life is suddenly speedrunning pivotal stages that are required to ease himself back into a situation, but on the other hand, he has too many questions that his mind is juggling right now, and he needs all twelve of them there to answer them. Chan swallows his worries and nods.

“It’s okay,” he says, and he hates how his voice sounds so unsure. He tries again. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

Maybe saying it will make it come true. Manifestation is a thing, right? He follows Seungcheol into the kitchen and tries to calm himself down. It’ll be fine, Chan. Just breathe.

Seungcheol enters the kitchen first, and the chattering in the kitchen slows to a halt. Chan pauses, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that his hair isn’t brushed and he probably looks like a complete mess. And they’re all probably going to be staring at him when he walks in, too, holy shit he can’t do this—

Jihoon passes by Chan and gives him a reassuring look. “It’s fine, don’t worry,” he says, as if he can read Chan’s mind. Jihoon’s always been perceptive, picking up on little things that tend to go over others’ heads, so Chan’s not really all that surprised he can see right through him. “C’mon.”

To say Chan wasn’t ready to enter the kitchen would be an understatement. Every ounce of confidence he entered with (which, to begin with, was already not enough) seemed to melt away, and Chan drew to a stop, unable to move forward. Goosebumps sprang up along his arms, and he felt his stomach twist. He barely glanced at any of the others’ faces before he found his eyes glued to the tiled floor, unable to lookup. 

“Chan?” Jeonghan speaks up gently, breaking the silence in the kitchen. Chan’s head moves on command, the sound of his name being called by the older boy triggering him to look at him. He stares at Jeonghan, who smiles softly back at him. “Come and have a seat. You must be hungry, huh?”

Chan’s brain decides to finally stop malfunctioning and he gives a small nod, moving towards where Jeonghan is gesturing. He pulls out the chair and takes a seat at the head of the table, (it’s a big fucking table, by the way, to fit all thirteen of them, which. Now that he mentions it, this is a big fucking house. He’s going to definitely have to ask about that later, assuming this encounter doesn’t result in him exploding,) which is good, because he doesn’t have to sit next to anyone, but is also terrible, because when he looks up he’ll be able to see everyone.

The silence in the room is deafening and uncomfortable, settling like a weight on his shoulders. He hates it, hates this sudden awkward air he can’t help but feel around the people who he used to never be awkward around. He waits a moment for Soonyoung or Seokmin or Seungkwan to crack a joke, to lighten the mood the way they used to, but none of them speak. Finally, Chan takes a shaky breath and looks up.

“So,” he says, and tries not to wince as twelve pairs of eyes turn to him, “can we, like, start eating now, or what?”

And that seems to do the trick, because immediately the tension alleviates, and everyone moves to start filling up their plate. Chan sits back and watches the others as they pour each other mugs of coffee and glasses of juice, as they place toast and eggs and fruits in each other's plates, not once asking if that’s what the other wants but rather slipping into an obviously familiar routine. The scene is so familiar to him, yet at the same time so, so foreign.

“Chan?” Chan turns his head to face Junhui, who’s sitting closest on his left. The older boy’s voice is quiet as he speaks, and Chan looks down at what he’s offering to him: A bowl of green grapes. His favorite. “You need to eat something. Here.”

Chan accepts the bowl of grapes with a soft thank you, heart skipping a beat when Junhui smiles at him before turning away. Maybe the months he was alone didn’t change him completely.

It seems falling into old habits is pretty easy, after all.

Chan studies the other’s faces as they begin settling down into their seats, figuring that it’s better to get the initial shock out of the way before they have to have a serious conversation. He looks over at their different hair color, finding a strange sense of comfort in the fact they’re still just as addicted to bleach now as they were back then.

He takes in the subtle changes in their faces, the way their jaws are sharper and more defined, the way their hair is styled differently, and can’t help but think how mature they all look now, and, sure. It’s been a year, obviously they’ve changed, but. Seeing them all in front of him reminds Chan of all the time that’s passed since he last saw them.

“Chan, you haven’t touched any of the food,” Mingyu says from across the table, and Chan blinks, realizing he’s let his plate empty in favor of staring at the rest of them. He feels his face go pink and looks away, trying to find a nearby plate to grab food off of and put on his plate just to give him something to do.

“Here, let me,” Hansol pipes up from his right, reaching over and placing a few pieces of french toast on his plate with a smile. Chan finds himself having to tear his eyes away from Hansol, because all he can think about is how beautiful he looks with his black-dyed hair, so different from the silver that he last saw him with. 

“T-thanks,” he mumbles, looking down at his plate and popping a grape in his mouth to keep himself from saying something stupid. He sees Hansol’s smile widen from the corner of his eye and, holy shit, he’s going to implode.

“Okay,” Seungcheol says, voice taking on the slightly more commanding-tone it always did when he addressed all twelve of them at once about something important — again, something that hasn’t changed. “I know this might not be the best conversation to have over breakfast, but we need to talk about last night.”

The sweetness of the grapes in Chan’s mouth instantly turns bitter, and he swallows the fruits numbly at the mention of last night. He looks down at his hand, which is holding his fork, only to see it trembling, and he places the utensil down shakily.

“Five men were at Chan’s apartment last night,” Seungcheol starts, and Chan feels himself go cold all over. There were five people there? “They shot at his window, though whether their intention was to kidnap him or… or kill him, that’s unclear.”

Chan blinks. What the fuck? He looks at the others, who all look grave as they stare at their eggs, reluctant to eat. Grave, but not confused, not terrified, not shocked at the fact five people were potentially trying to kill him last night.

“I went up to get Chan while Hannie waited in the van, and Jihoonie and Gyu and Hao were taking care of the five assholes.” Taking care of? Chan suddenly feels light-headed. Why the fuck were they talking like they were in some sort of movie? And why the fuck was no one reacting to the fact that he almost fucking died? “Jihoon, did you find anything on them?”

“They didn’t have much on them,” Jihoon answers, pushing the scrambled eggs around on his plate with his fork. “They had a piece of paper, printed, with his address, so it’s obvious someone else was giving the orders, but nothing we can use to trace back to anyone.

“I’m sorry, but what the fuck? ”

Twelve pairs of eyes land on Chan once again, except this time he can’t find it in him to care. He narrows his eyes and continues, “Would anyone mind explaining to me what the actual fuck happened last night, and why none of you seem at all shocked at the fact that I could’ve fucking died last night?” From the corner of his eye he can see Joshua widen his eyes, and he remembers that Joshua never did like Chan swearing.

Well, Chan never did like being left out of the loop, so.

“I thought you were supposed to be clearing shit up, Hyung,” Chan says, glaring at Seungcheol, “not confusing me even further. What the fuck is going on?”

“Sorry, Chan, I didn’t...” Seungcheol sighs, pushing the hair from his forehead. There are circles under his eyes — he doesn’t appear to have slept much last night. “Sorry. Explaining it all is difficult, and I didn’t want to dump too much information on you, which, yeah, doesn’t seem to have benefitted me at all, so.”

Chan feels the anger settle again, and he starts to think maybe it’s a bit unfair taking all his anger out on Seungcheol. First the yelling upstairs, and now this. He takes a steadying breath and says, “No, it’s okay. I understand. I’m sorry for yelling.” He looks at the others, who are watching him with guilty expressions, and sighs again. “You know what? As overwhelming as it might be, we need to get everything sorted first and foremost. Start again, from the beginning this time.”

“The beginning?” Jeonghan echoes, and Chan nods.

“Yeah, the beginning.” He leans forward, placing his chin on the palm of his hand and bracing himself. “Tell me: what made you leave so suddenly?”

Chapter Text

Chan met them all one by one, over the course of his first week attending university in Seoul, and the encounters were silly and coincidental — very much happenstance, though not really happenstance at all because apparently they all fucking knew each other to begin with, even though they’re all so incredibly different.

He met Soonyoung first, on his first night in Seoul, at some party his best friend Mark, who’d arrived in the city a month earlier and hence was Chan’s guide to all things Seoul, insisted he come with him to.

“Don’t worry,” Mark had said to him, waving away his concerns as the two got ready that night, Chan borrowing Mark’s clothes because his own clothes were sitting in unopened boxes in his new apartment, “Johnny’s parties are pretty chill, for the most part. It’s like a big family gathering, only with a bunch of people you don’t know.”

There Chan was, standing awkwardly by himself at the edge of the party, ready to text Mark, who’d been whisked away from him literally the second they stepped through the door, that he should head home now. For some reason, though, he’d decided to hang around. Some feeling deep in his gut, maybe, a boredom or a will to live a little or a premonition that had kept him in place because, what the hell, why not stay for just a few more minutes?

That’s when Kwon Soonyoung stumbled into his life — quite literally, that is. He stumbled into Chan, spilled both his own and Chan’s drink over Mark’s sweatshirt that Chan had been wearing, and proceeded to freeze, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Chan pulled the sweater away from his chest, grimacing at the brown stain speeding into the white material. He looked up at the guy who’d just ran into him, glare on his face, ready to yell, when suddenly the complaint died on his tongue, because holy fuck, this boy is really cute. He blinked, forgetting momentarily what he was so upset for.

“I am so sorry!” The boy said suddenly, snapping both himself and Chan back to reality. “Shit, uh, fuck, my bad, let me—”

“Soonyoung!” All of a sudden there was a boy beside the first one, — Soonyoung, — smacking him on the back of the head. Chan turned to look at him, and, wow, is there something in the water in Seoul that makes everyone there so attractive? The boy turned to him, glare softening into an apologetic look, and he bowed quickly. “I’m so sorry, my friend here is an idiot who apparently forgets how to function when he’s drunk.”

“T-that’s okay,” Chan said, trying to snap out of the cute-boy-induced haze he was currently in. “Um, it’s fine—”

“Shit, your sweatshirt.” The boy frowns down at the stain on Chan’s sweater, then looks back up at Chan. “I’m really, really sorry—”

“We have a washing machine!” Soonyoung said suddenly, drawing both their attention to him. “You can come over, we can wash it for you!”

“Soonyoung, that’s—” The other boy paused. “Actually, yeah, he’s right. We live down the hall, you can totally come over if you want.”

Chan stared at the two, who watched him with earnest expressions. Nothing about the two screamed threatening, the ‘stranger-danger’ alarm bells in his head staying silent. He shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

Soonyoung shook his head. “No, no, it’s really okay. Let me make it up to you, please?”

With puppy-dog eyes like that, who was Chan to say no?

And that’s how Chan ended up across the hallway, sitting on the couch in Soonyoung’s too-big sweater while the other boy — Jihoon, he’d introduced himself as, after Soonyoung on their way of the party exclaimed “Oh shit, we don’t even know your name yet! Wait, you don’t even know our names! That’s not a good start!” — threw Mark’s sweatshirt in the washing machine.

He feels oddly calm, despite the fact he just went home with two strangers (granted, even if it is right across the hall from the party he was just at). Maybe it’s the fact that Soonyoung was so endearing the second Chan walked in, offering to make him coffee even though it was almost midnight at this point, which made him feel so welcomed. Maybe it was the fact that Jihoon was so considerate, smacking Soonyoung on the back of his head and offering to make them tea instead, if Chan wanted any.

“Wait, this is your first night in Seoul?” Soonyoung asked, tugging his legs under himself as he took a seat across from Chan. When Chan nodded, he frowned. “Oh no, and I spilled my whole drink all over you, too! I’m sorry, Channie.”

“Your drink and his drink,” Jihoon corrected, making his way into the living room now with a tray of mugs, steam rising over the tops. He offered a mug to Chan, who accepted it with a smile, and then one to Soonyoung, who accepted it with a pout.

“Hoonie, don’t be mean! At least we made it up to him!” Soonyoung turned to Chan, taking a sip of his tea and immediately wincing, nearly spilling the drink over him as he jerked away and said, “Ow, hot! Hot!”

“Obviously it’s hot, Soonyoung.” Jihoon rolled his eyes, taking a seat with his own mug, but there was no real venom in his tone as he spoke. In fact, he just looked fond as he said to Soonyoung, “Let it cool a bit, okay?”

The three talked for the next few hours, Chan telling them about his move from Iksan to attend college in Seoul. Soonyoung excitedly added that he’s also majoring in dance at the same university, and the two talked about that for a while before Jihoon mentioned he’s pursuing music, and Chan started asking him question after question about that. It was nearing 3:00 a.m. when Chan figured it was time for him to go back to his apartment.

Jihoon offered — insisted, really — on driving Chan back to his place. When the three pulled up in front of his apartment building, Chan got out of the car reluctantly, not wanting his night with these two to end.

“You guys are fun,” Chan said, taking Mark’s neatly folded sweater from Jihoon. (Soonyoung insisted he keep his sweater, saying “It gives us a reason to see you again!”) “I’m glad I got to meet you, even if the circumstances were kind of weird.”

“We’re glad we met you, too, Chan,” Jihoon said, sharing a look with Soonyoung, who sat in the passenger seat, before turning back to face Chan. “But listen, Chan, don’t go around following just anyone back to their place, okay?”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung said, smiling kindly at Chan. “We’re good people, don’t worry about us, but there are some nasty people in this city who would do and say anything to get their hands on a cutie like you.”

A cutie like you . Chan feels his face go slightly pink. He nods.

“Yeah,” Jihoon agreed, nodding himself, which just made Chan blush harder. He agrees . “So, yeah, just be wary, okay?”

‘Okay, Hyung,” Chan said, a smile on his face and his heart warm at how much they seemed to care about him despite literally meeting him a few hours ago.

“Also!” Soonyoung holds up his phone, which he made Chan enter his number into a while ago. “I’ll text you later about hanging out, okay? You better respond!”

Chan grinned. “Will do, Hyung.”

Chan watched as the two drove away with probably the goofiest smile he’s ever made on his face, his heart turning somersaults in chest.

Chan gushed about it to Mark the next day, who at first berated him for going off with a pair of strangers but then lightened up slightly when Chan told him how cool and sweet they were and how he was positive they wouldn’t do anything to him. He didn’t mention how he thought they were both really, really fucking hot, even though deep down he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“We’re meeting up Friday,” Chan said. “They’re having a small gathering, apparently, with some of their friends, and they invited me to hang out. Isn’t this great, dude?”

“Chan, just don’t forget, man — I’m still your best friend,” Mark had said, grinning. Chan scoffed.

“Um, duh, you think I could get rid of you?” Chan laughed. “You have way too much dirt on me.”

“True.” Mark’s expression softened for a moment, and he said, “Seriously, though, I’m glad you made new friends. I know it’s usually… you know, hard for you to open up.”

Chan shoved his shoulder. “Don’t get sappy on me, Mark!” He couldn’t hide the smile on his face though. “I’m glad, too, though.”

How lucky was he? He was worried about making even one genuine friend out in Seoul, and somehow he ended up with two on his first day? What were the odds?

(Apparently, and Chan will come to learn this two years later, sitting around a kitchen table having a conversation he doesn’t want to be having, but knows he needs to be having, that the odds seemed to be heavily stacked in his favor.

But at the time, yeah. All it seemed was awfully serendipitous.)

Soonyoung texted him later that day, and the two stayed up texting well into the night, sending memes back and forth until Soonyoung seemed to remember that the semester was starting literally tomorrow morning, and that he should probably be the responsible, older hyung and tell Chan to go to bed.

Of course, it was probably Jihoon who told Soonyoung to tell Chan that, but that just made Chan’s heart do about thirty more cartwheels.

The rest of the encounters that took place leading up to the party were less in-your-face, but just as memorable.

Chan struck up a conversation late one night just before the library closed with a boy who he found asleep in front of a pile of textbooks and a half-written sheet of notes. He woke up the boy, — Wonwoo, he later learned, — smiled at his repeated apologies and accepted his offer to buy Chan a drink from the vending machine because, hey, why not? The two talked for a while before parting ways, but not before exchanging contact information.

He met two other dance majors in the dance studio on campus while he was practicing, two boys named Minghao and Junhui, who complimented his dancing and then proceeded to blow him out of the water with their own. He left the studio that day later than usual because he’d spent so long getting to know them, two new contacts added to the growing list on his phone.

There was the one time, though, where Chan got his coffee knocked out of his hand by some guy — Seokmin, apparently, which he registered somewhere in the rushed blur of “Holy shit I’m sorry fuck I’m late um here wait this is my number uh I’m Seokmin by the way sorry text me I’ll get you a new coffee later okay seriously dude my bad I got to get to class sorry again bye!” The boy shoved a crumpled piece of paper with numbers scribbled in a purple ink before running off, leaving behind a very confused (and now energy-lacking) Chan.

So, yeah, in conclusion, he met a lot of people that week and made a lot of new friends, and, honestly, he was kinda impressed by himself. When the fuck did he learn to be so outgoing and friendly? Or was he just lucky that every person he bumped into in Seoul seemed to be the sweetest and kindest person ever ?

(In reality, of course, it’s neither of these reasons, but at the moment Chan really thought he was killing the game when it came to making friends. It’s almost funny, except not all, because thinking about it too much makes him want to cry, but. You know. Whatever)

On the day of the party itself, Chan knocked excitedly at Soonyoung and Jihoon door, tugging at his shirt and hoping he didn’t look like he tried too hard even though he was on a call with Mark the entire time trying to figure out the perfect outfit, which he didn’t do, by the way. Mark just teased him the whole entire time, but Chan saw that coming.

He stood in front of their apartment doors, Soonyoung’s borrowed sweatshirt, folded neatly and placed in a bag below several packs of tea, because he didn’t want to show up empty-handed, even if it wasn’t his first time coming over.

“Channie!” Soonyoung swung open the door and immediately engulfed Chan in a hug. Chan could smell the honey-scented shampoo, and it made his head feel light. At least, that’s what he told himself was making him so hazy. Soonyoung pulled back, smiling widely. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

“Hey, Hyung!” Chan held out the bag, smiling shyly as Soonyoung took it and peeked inside. “Um, I brought your sweater back, and, uh, some tea—”

“Channie, you didn’t need to do that. You coming is plenty enough.” Jihoon is suddenly at the door, smiling at Chan and making this feeling of warmth spread through his chest, the kind of feeling you feel when you drink a mug of hot cocoa when it’s cold out. Chan insisted that it was no problem, trying and probably failing at keeping his face from going pink.

Chan slipped his shoes off and placed them neatly beside what seemed like ten other pairs, all varying in style and size. Soonyoung and Jihoon’s friends must already be here. A wave of anxiety rolled over him at the thought of suddenly meeting so many new people. After all, he’d been on a roll that week with the whole making-friends thing, but who’s to say that’ll last?

“Don’t worry,” Jihoon said to him, and Chan’s head jerked to the side, caught off guard by the older boy’s sudden tap on the shoulder, “they’ll love you, I know it.”

(Even back then, Jihoon was able to read Chan’s mind, knew exactly what to tell him to help him calm down

Though, with what he knows now, that seems to make a lot more sense.)

Chan felt himself relax and nodded, and before he knew it Soonyoung had grabbed his hand and was leading him into the living room, gushing about his and Jihoon’s friends and wait a minute did he just say the name—

“Holy shit.” He turned into the living room and froze, taking in the people in the room. Soonyoung paused too, turning to see what had made Chan stop. The room seemed to go still, and ten pairs of eyes all turned to him. Chan let out a laugh, a smile spreading on his face. “You all know each other?”

Because what were the odds that this small little gathering of friends he’d gotten himself invited to by two people he just met earlier that week would consist of every person he bumped into that week.

Everyone in the room shared a look, hesitating for a split second, before Seungkwan stood up from his spot beside Minghao, the same friendly grin that he’d shared with him a few days ago when they’d first met on his face, and said, “Holy shit, Chan, you know Soonyoung and Jihoon? Small world, huh?”

Small world, indeed. 

Chapter Text

“All those encounters...” Seungcheol says, not meeting Chan’s eyes, and Chan feels the food in his stomach grow heavy, and an uneasy feeling settling on his shoulders. What about those encounters? “They were set up. They weren’t actually… real.”

When Chan was nine years old, he and Mark had decided to wage a prank war on each other, another one of their dumb ideas to get them through the winter vacations when they had nowhere to go. Three days in, Mark threw a bucket of ice-cold water all over Chan, soaking him to bone. He had to sit in a tub of hot water for over an hour to stop shivering.

The moment the words leave Seungcheol’s mouth, Chan feels like he’s nine again, and was just doused by freezing water. It felt like a slap to the face.

He goes cold all over. He can’t seem to stop shaking.

“What?” He manages to say, his voice coming out quiet, like a whisper. He looks at the others, waiting for one of them to tell him, no, they were real, that the meetings weren’t set up like Seungcheol was saying.

They all avoid his gaze.

“It wasn’t real ?” Chan repeats, voice still small, and Seungcheol nods, taking a shaky breath.

“We’re spies.” Chan’s eyes widen. “I — I know, it sounds completely nuts, but… it’s the truth. It’s a long story, how we ended up here, and, well, this already is a long enough story, but, um.” Seungcheol looks at the others for help, and Soonyoung nods.

“Seungcheol’s right, sort of,” Soonyoung says, “we are spies, technically, all twelve of us, but not like — not like, James-Bond-type secret agents, you know?” No, Chan doesn’t fucking know. “It’s… It’s a lifestyle we all happened to fall into, and it’s a hard career to shake.”

Chan stares at Soonyoung. “Are you telling me…” He feels his voice trembling in an attempt to reign in a range of different emotions, trying desperately to keep his voice steady and not yell, or cry, or both. “The day we met, that party—”

“We knew you’d be there,” Jihoon says, interrupting, and Chan stares at him, shocked. The same stable and calm voice that usually relaxes Chan down suddenly makes his blood boil. How the fuck is he so calm in a moment that is anything but? “There’s a group here, in Seoul — the Crimson Vipers. We tapped one of their lines, trying to find out some information, but rather we just heard a name come up, over and over — yours.”

“We got curious, wanted to know who on earth this ‘Lee Chan’ was that had the Crimson Vipers talking about him,” Seungkwan says, and Chan turns to him, head spinning. “We found out you were just some college student, not even in Seoul. A little bit of digging and we found out you were on your way, about to be picked up by your best friend, Mark Lee.”

“At first we didn’t think much of it, but then your name kept coming up, and we grew worried. We wanted to know why you were so important to them.” Jeonghan’s speaking now, but Chan is finding it hard to focus. The words are blurring in his mind. “It wasn’t hard to find out Mark was friends with Johnny, who was throwing a party later that week. We figured Mark would take you there, and from that point on we just, well. You know.”

“It was set up,” Chan repeats. He turns back to Soonyoung. “You meant to spill your drink on me?”

Soonyoung flushes red in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I — I wasn’t sure how to get your attention, and that was the first thing that came to mind.”

“And at the dance studio that day? You two were there on purpose?” He turns from Minghao to Junhui, and the guilty expressions on their faces are enough of an answer. He looks to Wonwoo. “And at the library?” Wonwoo bites his lip and looks away. His gaze shifts to Seokmin, his questions picking up speed. “You spilled my coffee that day on purpose ?”

Seokmin opens his mouth to say something, but Chan was on a roll now. He looks over the rest of them, voice getting louder and louder. “And at the cafe that day, and in the cafeteria, and the park, and outside by building — you’re telling me all of those moments were fucking fake ?”

Seungcheol leans forward, his own face a mix of emotions. “Chan, listen—”

“No!” Chan slams his fists on the table. His plate and utensils clatter, and the room falls silent. “I still don’t get it, Hyung — you’re saying you’re all fucking spies and that some gang was mentioning me in their fucking phone calls and that apparently our entire relationship was a web of lies ?”

“That’s not it—” Seungcheol tries again, but Chan isn’t having any of that bullshit. He’s done — he’s had it up to here, with the excuses, with the lies, with the unkept promises.

“It’s not?” Chan repeats, incredulously. “Then tell me, Hyung, what the fuck is it? You keep saying all this shit and I don’t get any of it! A gang? What the fuck would a gang want from me? And how the fuck are you spies? What does that even mean?”

“We didn’t know what the gang wanted from you,” Vernon answers, voice gentle. “We wanted to figure it out, so we befriended you. We realized you weren’t a threat pretty early on, but by that point…”

“We’d gotten attached,” Seungcheol says quietly, and Chan blinks. “We knew you weren’t a danger, but we didn’t know if you were in danger, so we stayed to keep you safe and take care of you.”

“And what a great job you did,” Chan says sarcastically. “Stuck around for a year, made me fall in love with you, and then vanished without a trace. Fucking amazing. ”

“And we’re sorry about that, Chan,” Seungcheol continues, pushing past Chan’s comments. “We didn’t mean for it to be as abrupt as it was, but things came up, and we realized you were safer without us.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Chan asks. “If you wanted me to stay safe, you could've just let me know I was in danger!”

“It wasn’t that simple, Chan,” Jeonghan sighs. “We didn’t want you to grow paranoid, or for it to take away from your life in any way—”

“It did take away from my life!” Chan yells. “It took twelve of the people I cared for most out of my life, for fuck’s sake!” Chan takes a deep breath, steadying himself, and says, “Okay, whatever. You’re all spies, you fucking orchestrated our first meetings, some gang had a weird fascination with me, and you decided to vanish from my life because you thought it was what was best. Sure . Now tell me — why were there people at my apartment last night trying to kill me?”

Minghao raises a hand timidly. “We learned it through more tapped phone calls. It was just another routine check, but this time when we listened in, your name came up again. It’d been months since they’d mentioned you, so we looked into it more, because we needed to know if you were in danger or not. We found a bunch of shit, but most importantly that they were planning on going to your apartment. The details weren’t clear — how many people, what they wanted, all that — but the fact they’d be there was enough to make us worried.”

“We called,” Mingyu offers, “because we thought reappearing all of a sudden was a bit much, but then you hung up and went home and everything happened, and we realized that we had to intervene physically, so Cheol-hyung went in to get you while Hao and Jihoonie-hyung and I handled the guys outside, and… yeah.”

Chan feels like he’s in some Netflix show, standing in front of a large board with thumbtacks and red string, trying desperately to connect the dots. His mind is racing, trying to process everything. Every time one question seems answered, another pops up. “You said you learned shit, from the calls,” Chan says. “What was it? Why was I suddenly a target?”

Again, they all hesitate. “It’s… complicated,” Jeonghan answers, which makes Chan have to resist the urge to hit something. Complicated? Name one fucking part of this whole thing that isn’t complicated.

Before he can press further, though, the shrill sound of a cell phone ringing fills the room. Chan turns towards the noise, because wait a second, is that his phone?

“We put your phone on the charger,” Mingyu explains to him, before getting up and unplugging Chan’s phone. Shit, it’s probably Mark, right? Mark and him were supposed to meet up. He’s probably calling to ask where the fuck he is.

Unless, and it dawns on Chan suddenly, he heard about the shooting at his apartment — except Mark thinks he spent the night at Minsu’s, so it shouldn’t be a big deal.

“Is it Mark?” He asks as Mingyu hands him his phone. To Chan’s surprise, Mingyu shakes his head. “It’s not?”

Chan’s eyes land on the Caller ID, and his eyes widen. Oh. He answers the call, bringing the phone up to his ear.

“Hey, Minsu-hyung,” Chan answers, struggling to figure out where to look. Of course he’s found himself in a room full of the people he loved most, on the phone with the guy he regularly sleeps with. Of fucking course he has, because the Universe apparently hates him. “What’s, uh, going on?”

“Hey, Channie,” Minsu says, “I texted you last night, but you didn’t respond. I wanted to check-in on you, make sure everything’s fine. You’re okay, right? ”

Chan feels a heavy feeling of guilt settle on him. Shit, he didn’t text Minsu back last night. He looks up, and meets Joshua’s eyes first. Joshua’s staring at him with the very obvious unspoken question of ‘ Who is this Minsu-hyung? ’ In fact, looking around, all of them have similar questions written across their faces.

Good. Let them wonder. It’s not their business anyway. They left his life, he’s allowed to try and move on, make new friends and potentially something more.

Chan tries to sound as cheerful as he can in his reply. “Sorry about that, Hyung. I was with Mark last night, and I didn’t see your text until late. I’m fine though, there’s no reason to worry!”

“ Oh, okay, that’s good to hear!” Minsu laughs, and Chan glances back up again. Some of the others are starting to frown, and is it bad, how much the idea of them being jealous makes Chan feel giddy? “ I missed you last night, I wanted to see you before I headed home for the break. Are you free today? We could meet up later… ”

Chan pauses. “Sorry, Hyung, I can’t, I…” He bites his lip. “I’m meeting up with Mark today, and then going to see some, uh, other friends.”

“ Oh, man, what a bummer. ” Chan feels bad, lying to him, but the alternative is the truth, and he himself is barely able to get a full grasp on all of that shit. “ I’ll see you after I’m back then, I guess. Bye, Channie, stay safe. ”

“Bye, Hyung, you stay safe, too.” Chan pulls the phone away from his ear, ready to hit the End Call button, but before he can press it he hears the tinny sound of Minsu still speaking on the other end.

“Sorry, what?” He says, bringing the phone back up his ear.

“I was just saying,” Minsu says, and his voice is suddenly way loud, and oh fuck, Chan's accidentally put it on speaker, “should I drop your sweater off at your apartment before I head to the train station? I could leave it in your mailbox, or something. ”

Chan frowns, pausing before he can take his phone off speaker. “My sweater?”

“Yeah, you left it at my place the other week. I meant to give it back earlier, last time you came over, but, we, uh…” Chan can almost hear the grin in Minsu’s voice. “We got a little distracted. ”

Chan eyes widen, and he feels his face grow hot. Fuck. “O-oh, um, uh—”

“Aww, Channie, are you flustered~? ” Minsu laughs, and Chan wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole. “Anyway, should I drop off that hoodie? ”

“No!” Chan rushes to answer, eyes glued to the table. “No, no, Hyung, it’s okay, I’ll just — I’ll get it when you come back, no worries.”

“Okay, then, Channie, I’ll see you soon, okay? ”

“Okay, Hyung,” Chan says, breathlessly. “Bye.”

“ Bye .” The line beeps, and Chan places his phone down on the table, avoiding eye contact. The table is quiet for a moment, then— 

“Minsu, huh?” It’s Hansol that speaks first, and when Chan looks up to meet his eyes he’s met with a look he’s never seen on Hansol before. He wouldn’t call it jealousy, though there might be hints of that somewhere.

No, it’s more like disappointment, or hurt, maybe. Chan looks at the others. They’re all looking at him with similar expressions. 

Oh, fuck them.

“Yeah, Minsu-hyung,” Chan replies, as nonchalantly as he can. Wonwoo shifts in his spot, and Chan turns to him.

“Are you two fucking?” He asks bluntly, and Chan feels his face go red again.

“H-Huh?” Chan stumbles over his words, caught off guard. “W-What the fuck, Hyung, you can’t just ask that!”

“So, it’s true?” Jeonghan asks, and oh, shit, there’s some sort of possessive glean in Jeonghan’s eyes that sends chills down Chan’s spine. Still, though—

“I don’t see why that matters to any of you,” Chan says firmly, “so, please, can we stop talking about this?”

It takes the others a moment to agree, all of them reluctantly nodding, but it’s clear this isn’t the last time they’re going to bring up Minsu. Chan finds that annoying — they’re going to disappear from his life for a year and expect him to be fine with being lonely? Sure, he’s grown used to it, but that doesn’t mean he likes being alone.

“Okay,” Chan says, “so you were saying it was complicated, the reason I suddenly became a target. Please, elaborate.”

“We think it has something to do with a relative of yours,” Seungcheol answers. “They might’ve gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd, done some runs or hits for the hang or whatever they needed them to do, and then either tried to leave or ended up crossing the gang.”

Chan narrows his eyes. “Please, in civilian terms.”

“Someone in your family seems to be on the run,” Jihoon says shortly, “and, somehow, you’ve gotten mixed into this equation.”

“Do you have any uncles, aunts, cousins, anyone you think might have somewhat of an involvement in something like this?” Seokmin asks. Chan shakes his head.

“Not that I know of,” he says, frowning. “Maybe some distant—” Chan stops, and a thought pops into his head. Wait a minute…”

“What is it, Channie?” Seungkwan asks, leaning forward in his chair. He pauses, then, “Um, sorry. I meant Chan. What is it?”

Chan tries not to let show how Seungkwan's correction felt like a blow in the chest. He yelled at Seungcheol about it earlier, but hearing them not call him Channie or baby or any of the usual names they used to call him was starting to hurt a bit. Instead, he focuses on the task at hand. Now’s not the time to become emotional, we’ve already had plenty of that in the last hour.

“My parents told me they were going to some uncle’s funeral, so I couldn’t go back home for the break,” Chan tells them, scrunching up his face as he tries to recall the memory that had seemed so insignificant at the time. “I didn’t recognize the name, and they said it was a distant uncle anyway, the husband of my mom’s cousin or something, so I didn’t think much of it.”

“You think it could be him?” Soonyoung questions, and Chan shrugs.

“I’m not sure, but the amount of family I’m close to is pretty limited, and it’s not like it could be my grandma .” Chan pauses. His grandma is pretty badass, though — she could probably stab a person with those gardening shears she uses. “Yeah, no, I can’t think of anyone in my family who could do something like that.” His grandma’s days are pretty packed, anyway, there’s no way she had time to double-cross a hang in between tending to her garden and gossiping with the other elderly folks in the neighborhood.

“Then your uncle seems to be our best bet.” Joshua turns to Minghao, who nods before he even says anything. “Hao, get a profile on him, yeah? What’s his name again, Chan?”

“Um, I’m not sure,” Chan admits. “I can ask my parents though, if you need me to.”

“That’d be great, ba—” Joshua stops. “Chan.”

Chan blinks. Fuck, why does that hurt so much? He reaches for his phone to text his parents, but just as he unlocks it the screen lights up with an incoming call.

“Is it Minsu again?” Wonwoo asks, venom is his voice as he says the other boy's name, and, wow, okay, Chan didn’t expect Wonwoo to be the possessive type, but he has to admit, it’s kind of hot—

Chan, what the fuck, dude, no, stop thinking like that. He gives Wonwoo a flat look before turning back to his phone and reading the Caller ID. He grimaces at the name on the phone.

Oh, fuck, seriously? Right now?

Sighing, he hits the Answer Call button and brings his phone up to his voice before saying, as put-together and relaxed as he can make himself sound:

“Hey, Mark... What’s going on?”

Chapter Text

“Chan, what the fuck? ”

Chan recoils from his phone, pulling it away from his ears as Mark yells at him through the call. Mark’s so loud his voice is heard almost clearly even when he’s not on speaker, and Chan reluctantly brings the phone back to his ear, keeping enough of a distance so that he doesn’t get hearing damage in his right ear.

“Why the fuck weren’t you answering last night? Where are you right now? ” Mark asks, the tension in his voice indicating exactly what Chan was worried about — Mark must’ve heard about the shooting. 

“Um, I’m, you know, around…” Chan looks up at the others to see Seungkwan facepalm at the answer, and, okay, wow. Yeah it wasn't the best answer, but he should try being in a situation like this, see if he can give an answer without a) giving away the details he himself doesn’t understand and b) sounding like he’s insane.

“Lee Chan, you tell me right this minute where the fuck you are or I will track you down myself, ” Mark demands, a mixture of worry and anger evident in his voice, and, woah. Holy fuck. Since when did calm, go with the flow Mark become so fucking aggressive?

Though, in Mark’s defense, Chan realizes, finding out your best friend’s apartment building was shot up and then being unable to reach said best friend for a while will do that to you, huh?

Yeah, no, Chan’s a terrible best friend.

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Chan says. He looks at the others, who shake their heads. Don’t say anything, Soonyoung mouths, and Chan sighs. “Listen, there’s no need to worry. I’m fine. I was with… Minsu, last night, remember?”

“Yeah, last night, ” Mark says, “ And then this morning I hear on the news that your apartment got shot up? What? ”

“O-oh, yeah, um…” Chan looks again at the others, panic rising. Fuck fuck fuck, he hates lying, especially to Mark. “I didn’t go back home. I spent the night at Minsu’s, and then I found out this morning, actually, about the shooting.”

“Are you still with him? ” Mark asks. 

Chan hesitates. “Yeah, don’t worry.” He glances up quickly before lowering his gaze. “I’m as safe as I could be.”

Mark seems to relax, even if just slightly, and continues in a calmer tone, “ Speaking of this Minsu, you never showed our coffee date, bitch. We were supposed to talk about him. What exactly is going on between you two?”

“Me and Minsu?” Chan freezes the second the words leave his mouth. Fuck, Chan, why do you have to talk out loud? “We’re, um…”

“Fucking ?” Mark offers, and Chan groans, burying his face in his hands. He hears Mark laugh on the other end, and if his suffering means Mark will become less suspicious of him, then so be it.

“Yes,” he admits, quietly, even though he’s, like, 87% sure the others can’t hear Mark. Mark whoops on the other end of the phone, and, okay, well, they heard that.

“How long? ” Mark asks, and Chan hides even more.

“A few months…” he says, and Mark hollers again, and Chan winces, pulling the phone away from his face.

“Did he always yell that much?” Chan catches Minghao whispering to Joshua.

“You fucking what? ” Mark yells, and Chan’s starting to wonder where Mark is right now, because knowing him he’d be yelling this loudly if he was in his own home or at a random cafe. Chan really hopes he’s at least not in public. “Months? That’s crazy… And you didn’t tell me? ”

“It’s not that serious,” Chan mumbles, which clearly catches the others' attention, because they all look up almost simultaneously, like meerkats in a fucking nature documentary. He tries not to show on his face how cute he finds them, and instead continues, “It’s just kinda, you know… happened.”

“Not serious? ” Mark repeats. “Okay, man, sure. Ugh, I hate talking over the phone. Can we meet up later today, like, you know, you promised to? ”

There’s no real menace in his voice, but Chan can’t help but feel guilty. He looks at the others. “Meet up?”

Seungcheol shakes his head, mouthing a quick, Sorry . Chan sighs.

“Sorry, Mark, but, uh, Minsu and I were going to spend the rest of the day… together,” Chan says, even though that literally contradicts what he was just saying about it not being all that serious. “He’s leaving to see his family tonight, so…”

“Oh~ ” Mark’s grin has returned to his face, it seems. Chan feels his face flush. Mark is clearly interpreting that in a very specific way, and Chan’s not sure whether he should clear things up or let Mark keep believing what he wants, so long as he really believes it. “Well, when he leaves, come to my place, alright? You can’t go back to your apartment, obviously, so just come over. ”

Chan can’t figure out any way to turn down the offer without making himself look even more suspicious, so he just decides to agree and figure it out later. “Alright, yeah. Sure.”

“And this time you’re going to actually tell me what the fuck is going on, because I still feel like I’m in the dark here, ” Mark says, and that makes two of them, because Chan is in the exact same boat here. “Okay, I’ll talk to you later, then, but first, real quick. I’m proud of you, Chan. ”

Chan stiffens. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, dude. I mean, okay, you and this Minsu aren’t serious, but still, it’s the first sign of you having had moved on since they left, ” Mark says, his voice warm, and Chan feels his stomach churn. “I’m glad you’re finally, you know, getting over them. ”

Chan forces a smile on his face. “Y-yeah, Mark. Thanks.”

“Of course, dude. Okay, well, I’ll leave you and Minsu to it, then. Bye, Channie .”

“Bye, Mark.” Chan pulls the phone away and hangs up, and he notices his hand is a little unsteady. 

Chan never expected Minsu to actually stick around as long as he did. Maybe it was from his experience with other hook-ups that made him assume Minsu would be just another one of those one-night-stands he’d grown so used to, the ones he was drawn to in the first place because of the slight trust issues he’d developed from the twelve of them leaving him so suddenly.

Chan wasn’t surprised when he woke up to an empty bed the morning after their first time, wasn’t surprised that Minsu’s clothes weren’t littered on the floor like they’d been last night, wasn’t surprised that Minsu was nowhere in sight. He got out of bed and moved to go to the kitchen, the same thing he always did because it just part of the routine at that point, but he’d stopped outside his room, because what the fuck who is making coffee right now?

And there was Minsu, standing in Chan’s tiny-ass kitchen pouring steaming coffee into Chan’s mismatched mugs and placing them beside bowls of cereal, because Chan was a broke college student who had yet to go grocery shopping that week. He’d smiled when he spotted Chan staring at him, and held the mug out to him with a cheerful, “Good morning! ”

After that, Minsu became an unexpected, but definitely welcome, constant in his life, the two just… clicking. In all honesty, Chan’s not quite sure why he didn’t start dating Minsu officially. Perhaps part of him was still hung up on the others, still convinced that one day, one day, they’d come back, armed with bouquets of his favorite flowers and overflowing with apologies that Chan would accept immediately because he loved them so much.

Instead, they decide to come back to his life armed with guns and overflowing with confusing information, but, hey. Maybe Chan was just born unlucky.

Chan finishes texting his mother about his uncle before turning to look back at the others.

“Can I go take a shower?” he asks, because he needs to get out of this fucking kitchen already.

“You didn’t eat anything, Chan,” Mingyu points out, gesturing at his still full plate. Chan looks back down at it, frowning. 

“I lost my appetite, Hyung.” Mingyu doesn’t question it, just looks down at the spread of food and sighs. He feels guilty, having basically asked Mingyu to make him food that he didn’t even touch. Still, though, the bitter taste in his mouth and the heaviness in his stomach make him feel sick, and he really doesn’t think he could eat a single thing right now. Instead, he reaches for a glass of water, downing it quickly. Talking so much (and yelling so much) seems to have made his throat dry.

“Soonie, hon, can you take Chan up to the bathroom?” Jeonghan asks, turning to Soonyoung, whose head jerks up. He’s already rising out of his chair, pushing it back a little too hard and stumbling a bit before straightening. Chan stands up wordlessly and follows Soonyoung out of the kitchen.

Chan observes the house as Soonyoung walks him back up the stairs, no longer too anxious to look around. It’s a big house, now that he looks at it. Not, like, mansion -big, but it’s clearly big enough to fit all twelve of them comfortably. In comparison to his shitty cheap apartment, it’s definitely impressive.

Chan glances at a framed photo on the wall. It’s the twelve of them, dressed to the tens in full three-piece suits, hair all styled and shirts all neatly pressed. They’re all posing goofily for the photo — which is a selfie, being taken by Mingyu because “he has the longest arms,” — silly faces and arms swung around each other. The way they look compared to how they’re acting is so utterly different that Chan can’t help but stop and take a closer look.

They all look so happy, and judging by the way they look and the colors of their hair (because that’s how Chan has come to separate periods in life, apparently) he can tell it was taken after they left, maybe a few months ago at most. As selfish and terrible as it sounds, Chan can’t help but feel hurt at the way they all look so cheerful.

Which is ridiculous, because just because Chan had a miserable year without them doesn’t mean they had to be miserable, too. In fact, part of him is glad they weren’t miserable, because despite the number of fucked-up feelings the others caused him to have over the last year, he can’t bear the thought of any of them being unhappy.

And he hates that, hates how willing he is to forgive them and move on, when he knows that he shouldn’t,  because what they did wasn’t okay. But he spent so long missing them and waiting for them to come back that now they did, and now that he knows why they left, he’s unsure of how to feel. 

“Chan?” Soonyoung at the top of the stairs, looking down at Chan with a concerned expression, and Chan realizes he’s just been standing there at the base of the stairs, staring at the photo. “You coming?”

“S-sorry, yeah.” He hurries after Soonyoung, who leads him back to the room he first woke up in, again, in silence. It’s strange, having Soonyoung, who typically has the most energy, besides Seokmin, be so fucking quiet. Soonyoung goes to the cupboard and begins digging around for clothes while Chan fixes the sheets he’d left crumpled up that morning.

“Is it okay if you wear one of my hoodies?” Soonyoung asks, breaking the heavy silence in the room. Chan blinks, and Soonyoung rushes to add, “Um, you don’t have to, though. I can grab someone else’s clothes if you want—”

“No, it’s alright,” Chan says, smoothing out the comforter before plopping down on the bed. I like your hoodies best, anyways.

“The shower’s in there,” Soonyoung says, gesturing in the direction of the bathroom before turning to the door. “You can come back downstairs when you’re done — or not, you don’t have to. You could stay here, too.”

Chan frowns. Soonyoung wasn't even looking at him, and all the bubbliness of the older boy that he’d grown so accustomed to was no longer there, like soda that had been left out overnight. Was that part of the act they had going on?

“Hyung?” Chan speaks softly, and Soonyoung turns.

Pushing his hair from his forehead, he replies with a simple, “Yeah?” and Chan feels his chest squeeze.

“You…” Chan’s frown deepens. “You seem… quiet. Are you alright?”

Soonyoung stares at him, and Chan feels this sense of anxiety begin to build up in him, the kind of feeling you get in school when you answer a question and immediately wonder if you were wrong.

Chan shouldn’t be asking Soonyoung this, not after he literally yelled at him and the others for the last twenty minutes about lying to him. No wonder he’s quiet, he probably doesn’t want Chan screaming at him again…

“I think I’m the one who should be asking you that,” Soonyoung says, and the corners of his lips tilt up — not quite a smile, but it’s better than nothing. Chan feels himself relax a little, the tightness in his chest loosening. God, why the fuck does he always get so worked up over things?

Soonyoung’s face changes a bit, getting a bit more serious, and he continues, “We let you down, Chan. We all made promises that we couldn’t keep, lied to you, and left, you because we assumed it was what was best, not really considering how it might take a toll on your life.”

“Well, we can’t change the past,” Chan says, almost as if on instinct, because he can’t stand holding grudges, can’t stand long-term confrontation, can’t stand arguing over things with others. He’s disliked it since he was a middle school, back when his mother signed him up for debate club on Tuesdays without asking him and effectively ruined his entire weeks as a result.

Soonyoung frowns at his response. “No, Chan,” he nods, slowly. “No, we can’t. But you shouldn’t be so quick to forgive us, okay?” Can blinks. Huh? “You have every right to be mad, yell at us, tell us off — hate us, even.”

He says the last part as if it’s something that’s actually possible, as if Chan could ever, ever hate any of them. 

“I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive us, but not now. We don’t deserve it now.” Soonyoung stares at Chan for a split second more before he turns back around and moves to the door. “I’ll get going, then.”

Chan showers in silence, skin turning pink from the scalding water. His head is racing, a million thoughts running through his mind, and the usual remedy of a hot shower to calm him down is refusing to work. He leaves the bathroom engulfed in the overwhelmingly nostalgic smell of honey-scented shampoo and changes into the clothes Soonyoung left laid out for him.

It’s this odd sense of deja vu, somehow. The number of nights he’d slept over at Jihoon and Soonyoung’s apartment, wearing one of Soonyoung’s hoodies yet still being wrapped in the scent of both honey and orange blossoms, because Jihoon also loved wearing Soonyoung’s hoodies.

He smiles fondly at the memory of waking up on the mornings after he’d spent the night, wrapped in the comforting warmth of two bodies against him. Soonyoung would sleepily pull Chan tighter if he tried to get, murmuring something about it being too early, and Jihoon would turn and nestle close to Chan’s nestle, an adorable habit that Jihoon absolutely refused to admit to.

The smile slips from his face. That wasn’t real, though — at least, their relationship didn’t start off honestly, not as honest as he’d believed it did. Chan sits down on the bed, drying his hair slowly. They made jokes about it a lot, meeting at a party through Soonyoung spilling his drink on Chan. Or, Chan made jokes about it a lot, saying it was a really fortunate series of events, seeing as he got to meet two great guys out of it. Had they laughed then? Or had they just looked guiltily away with a forced smile on their face?

Chan drapes the towel over the back of the desk chair and heads out into the hallway, hesitant when deciding which way to go. The other doors in the hall are all cracked open, soft voices floating out into the hall, but Chan can’t find it in himself to head into any of them. He feels oddly uncomfortable at the idea of walking into any of their rooms, which, considering all of the shit he learned about them earlier that morning, isn’t actually all that odd at all, Chan, stop thinking like that.

“Chan?” Chan jumps, whipping around at the sound of his name. Minghao is peaking his head out from the door, brown hair flopping over his eyes as he blinks at Chan. “I heard the door to your room open.”

“Oh, uh, I was…” Chan doesn’t know why he’s suddenly struggling to say anything. “I didn’t know where to go.”

“You wanna come in here?” Minghao offers, nodding into the room. “It’s just me and Junnie.”

Chan stares at the older boy, who smiles back at him calmly. There’s always been something incredibly soothing about Minghao, his presence having a relaxing effect on Chan. Chan can’t even count the number of times he’d gone to Minghao, mad about something or the other, and left feeling lighter, because Minghao just had that effect on him.

Chan nods, and Minghao gestures at him to come into his room. Sunlight filters in through the window, casting a warm glow over the cozy room, which is so unabashedly Minghao, with strings of twinkle lights draped around the room and empty wine bottles holding flowers positioned prettily on the cupboard. Artwork hangs on the wall, abstract paintings whose meanings only Minghao knows, and polaroid photos are pinned on the wall, a combination of pretty scenery and goofy selfies.

There are two beds in the room, and one looks at the neatly organized shelves and desk, as well as the perfectly made bed, tells Chan immediately that it must be Mingyu’s room, too, though the boy isn’t in there right now.

Junhui is sprawled on Minghao’s bed, laying on his stomach with his phone in front of him, scrolling absentmindedly. He looks up when Chan enters, and he straightens, locking his phone and dropping it beside him.

“Hey, Chan,” Junhui says, smiling, and Chan feels this sudden wave of warmth wash over him. Minghao takes a seat on his bed and taps the spot beside him for Chan to sit down on. Chan walks over awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

“My mom replied to my message,” is the only thing he can think of to tell them. “Uh, my uncle’s name is Ahn Youngmin, apparently.”

“Ahn?” Minghao repeats, and Chan nods.

“It’s my mom’s maiden name,” he explains, “so he’s related to us through her side of the family, but she didn’t elaborate on how, exactly, so that’s kind of all I have for your, um… your profile on him, or whatever you called it.”

Minghao smiles kindly at him. “Yeah, profile’s right. It’s basically just a collection of information, — name, birthday, birthplace, family, friends, work — stuff that can help us identify him, I guess.”

Chan raises an eyebrow. “If you don’t mind me asking, Hyung,” he starts, and Minghao nods at him to go on, “how exactly did you end up a, um, spy ?”

Minghao grins and turns to Junhui, who looks over at him with a mirrored smile. “It’s all thanks to Junnie, actually,” Minghao says. “Without him, I’d probably still be in China.”

“Really? But you—” Chan stops himself abruptly. Oh. Right. The story they told him when they first met wasn’t real. He keeps forgetting, and the realization continues to hit him hard no matter how many times he remembers. “N-Nevermind, go on.”

Minghao seems to notice the sudden shift in demeanor, and a ghost of a frown flickers on his face, but only momentarily, disappearing as soon as it has shown up, replaced with an excited smile. “Right, okay, uh, Junnie, do you want to start? Or should I tell it?”

When Chan looks over at Junhui, he sees the older boy watching him with a small frown on his face. Upon the pair turning to him, though, a smile spreads along his face, and he says, “Go ahead, Hao, you tell it best.”

“Okay!” Minghao takes a deep breath. “Alright, it started back in Shenzhen, China. I moved there when I was… 18, I think, to attend university, except the, like, first month there I got mixed up in some gang shit.”

“Don’t say it so casually, Hao,” Junhui sighs, “Chan doesn’t know how that type of life works, he’s gonna think you beat people up for a living.” God bless Junhui and his intuitive self, because that’s exactly what Chan was imagining — 18-year-old Minghao, beating up brutes in alleyways in the middle of the night.

Minghao laughs. “I was going to elaborate! Anyway, I got mixed up in gang shit, but not, like, drugs or beating up people or any of that. It was for intelligence. I was a computer science major, and apparently news of my amazing hacking skills got around somehow, and I ended up getting scouted by the biggest crime family in Shenzhen.”

“Scouted?” Chan repeats. “Like, the way they scout athletes or idol trainees?”

“Yeah, but like, for an illegal contract,” Minghao says, and it’s still way too casual for it to seem in any way relatable to Chan, but he nods like he understands, (he doesn't — not even close,) and Minghao continues. “Anyway, blah blah blah, I’m a hacker for this gang, because I need to pay my bills somehow, and then one day I get this mission from the Big Man himself.”

Junhui laughs, and Chan wonders who this Big Man is.

“It was to track down and bring back his son, who’d decided to run away,” Minghao told Chan, and Chan’s eyes widened. Shit, this was, like, some actual spy shit, huh? “He said his kid had run away to South Korea, and if I could find him and bring him back, I’d get promoted. So, obviously, I booked a ticket to Seoul after doing some digging — plane tickets, hotel rooms, credit card withdrawals, all of that.”

“Where does Jun-hyung come into this?” Chan asks, confused, and Minghao grins.

“That’s the thing,” he says, gesturing with his hands. “Junnie is the one I was tracking down!”

Chan blinks. “Huh?” He turns to Junhui with wide eyes. “You’re the son of a gang boss?”

Junhui turns red. “I’m pretty sure I’m disowned now, or, like, assumed dead, maybe? But, yeah. Technically.”

“What?” Chan breathes out. “That’s really cool, but also kind of terrifying.”

“Right?” Mignhao nods along happily, laughing. “Anyway, I managed to track Junnie down, who at this point was already part of Cheollie-hyung’s group, and I tried to get close to him without giving myself up. But, of fucking course, things didn’t go as planned.” Minghao sighs, but there’s a small smile on his face as he looks over at Junhui. “I didn’t know Junnie personally prior to this, since I was just some low-level hacker and he was considered royalty, but when I ended up getting to know him, I…”

“He couldn’t resist my charms,” Junhui interjects jokingly, laughing as he strikes a funny pose. Chan watches the pair as Junhui raises his eyebrows suggestively and Minghao giggles, cracking a smile itself. The conversation feels strangely comforting, despite the fact they’re discussing things Chan won’t even pretend to understand. That’s just the power Junhui and Minghao hold, though.

“He’s right,” Minghao says as the laughter dies down. “It was gradual, but I ended up falling for him hard, and I couldn’t bring it in me to take him back, not when I knew he was probably unhappy back home.” His voice softens. “One night, I ended up telling Junhui who I was and what I was there to do, and by some miracle, he didn’t leave me then and there, though he was, understandably, skeptical. Instead, we figured out a plan to help me disappear, too, which was easier said than done, but somehow we ended up ditching the gang back in Shenzhen and joined up with Cheol-hyung.”

“Wait.” Chan pauses, the gears in his head spinning rapidly. Did he say… “Y-you lied to Jun-hyung when you first met him?”

Junhui nods gently. “Chan, I… I know what I felt when Minghao told me he wasn’t who I thought he was is nothing like what you’re feeling now, with all twelve of us, but I want you to know I’ve also been through this. I was furious at Hao when he told me the last few months we’d been together it had all been some sort of charade, and I had trouble trusting him for a while. We don’t blame you for not forgiving us, Chan, we don’t serve to be forgiven, not yet.”

Chan’s mind flashes to what Soonyoung said earlier. You shouldn’t be so quick to forgive us, okay? You have every right to be mad, yell at us, tell us off — hate us, even.

Chan nods, a smile on his face. “Thanks for telling me that story, Hyungs.” Minghao and Junhui beam back at him before Minghao gets up and grabs his laptop from his desk.

“Alrighty then, let’s start with this profile. Here, Chan, want me to show you how I do my research?” Minghao takes a seat again and looks over Can eagerly, and just seeing the way the older boy’s face seems to light up, Chan can’t help but nod.

“Of course, Hyung,” he says, settling beside Minghao, who excitedly explains to him how to start gathering information on a person. It’s so comforting, the familiarity of the whole situation. Yeah, his whole world’s turned upside down, it seems, but the fact that the others are still acting the same way fills him with a feeling of hope.

Maybe they didn’t completely lie to him about everything. He nods along to Minghao’s chattering and laughs at Junhui’s jokes, and feels at peace.

Chapter Text

The first few months of them being friends, Chan tried really, really fucking hard to ignore his growing feelings for all twelve of the boys who had somehow stumbled into his life. It was easier at first, when they were still in that awkward state of yeah, we’re friends, but like I don’t want to be that new friend who loads all their personal baggage on you the first week we’re friends.

The feeling was definitely gradual, but goddamn if it wasn’t almost all he thought about once the idea was cemented. The moment he realized he was kind of, sort of, maybe just a little (a lot) infatuated with them all was different for each of the boys, each moment so unique and individual and just perfect.

And it was the little things that stood out to him, the small, insignificant moments that made his heart stutter and his cheeks flush a light pink and his brain to go, oh, fuck. 

The little things, like Soonyoung insisting he drop Chan off regardless of the time of night, and Jihoon having his favorite jasmine tea already steeping by the time Chan showed up to their apartment; Jeonghan’s affectionate pet names, everything from baby to honey to darling, and Seungkwan’s absentminded playing with his hair; Hansol going out of his way to buy Chan a box of strawberry pocky every time they’re supposed to meet up, because he knows it’s Chan’s favorite, and Seokmin memorizing his coffee order and bringing it to him every morning, making sure not to spill it this time; Wonwoo telling him about the latest book he read and how the main character reminded him of Chan, and Minghao doodling little portraits of Chan and shyly handing them to him; Joshua singing to him softly Mingyu cooking him homemade meals when he’s feeling extra homesick and Seungcheol texting him good morning every day without fail—

Oh, wow. By the time he realized he may be catching feelings for these boys, it was already too late — he was in too deep, and he was fucked.

Trying to ignore the feelings did him no good — once the thought entered his mind it refused to leave, and he became hyper-aware of his actions when the others were around, trying to keep himself from laughing too loud at one of Seungkwan’s jokes or turning his head whenever Jeonghan playfully winked at him in order to avoid the, quite frankly, unavoidable flushing of his cheeks.

He also started noticing more things about the others, and the way they treated each other. Sure, he knew they were all friends — how exactly they met was a bit hazy, which, about two years later, he’d come to know why that was so, — but he began picking up on moments where they all seemed like… more.

It was in the way they looked at each other, gazes softening and lips curving upwards into small smiles almost subconsciously, as if they themselves weren’t aware of the motion. It was in the way they touched each other, gentle hands that lingered for a second too long, a second that, to any onlooker would mean nothing, but to Chan, who was so intensely observing, had upwards of millions of meanings behind them.

It was in the way they spoke, to each other — early in the morning or late at night, in hushed tones softened with kindness and this other unrecognizable feeling, something smooth and warming and calm — and of each — with smiles on their faces and eyes sparkling when, nothing but kind words tumbling from their lips, apart from the occasional teasing, when the other wasn’t around, voices laced with honey and love.

It made him ache with want, because he wanted that so badly — he wanted them to talk about him like that, look at him like that. It was like a cold shower, what he felt when he first realized just how deep this infatuation ran. It was fucking terrifying, really, how much power they had over him.

They could do anything, and Chan would forgive them.

“Chan, I think Cheol-hyung’s back from running errands,” Minghao says, and Chan blinks. Minghao is standing up from the edge of the bed and sorting through the stack of papers that held information he’d somehow dug up on Chan’s mysterious uncle. Chan still didn’t quite understand where all that information came from, but he was, like, pretty sure at least some of it was from an illegal, so he figured maybe he shouldn’t pry too much. “He said we were going to have a meeting when he came back.”

A meeting. “Oh, yay,” Chan said dully, sliding off the bed. “Another talk.”

Junhui turns to him. “Don’t worry, Chan, we’ll try and be more understanding of your situation this time. No throwing big and confusing words around.”

“I’m not a baby, I can understand big words ,” Chan argues, crossing his arms. Minghao grins.

“Then why are you pouting, baby?” He teases, and Chan realizes his lip had been protruding a little. He flushes, in part because of the teasing and also because hearing Minghao call him baby has never failed to make him turn bright red.

Okay, yeah, Chan knows the circumstances are different, but still. Turning his head away from Minghao's defiant expression and Junhui’s soft smile, he barges towards the door, painfully aware of how the tips of his ears are betraying any sense of nonchalance, but determined to maintain at least a semblance of put-togetherness.

“Whatever, let’s go.”

One of the hardest moments of his life (in that very base-line, ‘ oh, my life sucks ’ kind of hard moment, because God knows he went through far worse moments) was trying to figure out whether the others were dating, and from there trying to distinguish which pairs were together, because, at the time, polyamory was something Chan only thought was applicable in his daydreams and his imagination.

It came down to the observation he made, because Chan always has been the kind to notice the small things.

Joshua and Jeonghan he was almost positive of. The two were inseparable, joined at the hip, somehow knowing exactly what the other was thinking at any time. There were times Chan would look at the two, look at the way Jeonghan leaned against Joshua’s shoulder when they sat side by side and the way Joshua ran his fingers through Jeonghan’s hair, and conclude the two were off-limits. There had to be something there, between them.

But then Seungcheol would sit down on Jeonghan’s other side, and Jeonghan’s head would settle against his chest, and when Joshua got up to go grab something, he’d ruffle Seokmin’s hair, who leaned into the touch.

And then Soonyoung would walk by, and Seokmin would beam at him, and he’d beam back, ruffling his hair as well before continuing forward and draping himself over Jihoon, whining about something or the other and acting the kind of disgustingly cute that you can’t help but find endearing, because it’s fucking Soonyoung acting that way. And Jihoon would roll his eyes and turn his head away, but he’d have a small smile on his face regardless.

And there were times Mingyu would tease Jihoon about his height, and Jihoon would feign annoyance, pulling a face and swiping at him with no real intention to hit him, because everyone knew Jihoon had a soft spot for Mingyu, the same way Wonwoo had a soft spot for Mingyu — soft, gentle Wonwoo, who was a total pacifist until Mingyu arrived at one of their get-togethers out of breath one night, saying someone was following him, and Wonwoo’s face changed as he rushed to his feet and barged out the front door, coming back a few minutes later slightly winded, with freshly-bruised knuckles and absolutely zero regrets.

But then Wonwoo would go with Minghao on weekly outings to museums, and art galleries, and libraries and thrift stores, hours spent together in mostly silence, but the content kind of silence you feel when you spend time with someone you love. Minghao would go to the dance studio with Junhui and choreograph beautiful performances, the two dancing together in perfect sync as if they were made to be together. And when Junhui got back home, tired from practice, he’d shower and lay his head on Seungkwan’s lap, relaxing while playing mobile games as Seungkwan sang lullabies to him softly, his sweet voice leaving a smile on Junhui’s lips.

And Seungkwan would spend most of the day with Hansol, sprawled on their apartment’s living room floor with textbooks and flashcards spread around them as they took turns preparing for upcoming tests together, cheering happily whenever the other got an answer correct and encouraging each other with kind words and praises. But then there were times Hansol would start talking to Joshua, and the two would speak in English, saying things Chan couldn’t directly understand but it was clearly something more, because facial expressions and body language transcend language barriers, and Chan knew exactly what the soft smiles and stolen glances and slight lip-biting meant.

And then Chan would return to his empty apartment, alone, and he’d lie in bed, and he’d think about everything, desperately trying to connect the dots of who’s dating who, and if anyone is even dating at all, and God, Chan, of fucking course you had to go ahead and develop a crush on twelve people who don’t give a fuck about you romantically. He’d slap the palms of his hands against his cheeks, the sharp pain bringing him back down to earth.

Get over it, Chan. Get over it, get over them, and do not do anything that’ll ruin this friendship.

But Chan always has been shit at following rules, and his own are, evidently, no exception.

“Cheol-hyung!” Minghao makes his way forward and grabs some of the grocery bags that Seungcheol had been holding, mirroring the smile on Seungcheol’s face as the older boy leans forward and presses a kiss to Minghao’s forehead. Junhui moved forward, too, and Seungcheol pressed his lips to his forehead, too. Chan watches them from the doorway to the kitchen, the ghost of a frown on his lips.

Chan wants a kiss, too.

Junhui starts putting away some other groceries, and Seungcheol’s head turns towards Chan, the same affectionate smile remaining on his face as he looks at him, and Chan feels himself melt, his mind malfunctioning and his cheeks flushing, because goddamn, Chan has always been a sucker for Seungcheol’s smile—

Snap the fuck out of it, Chan. Snap. The fuck. Out of it.

Chan turns away, trying to mask the wave of emotions making their way to his face, and from the corner of his eye he sees the smile flicker on Seungcheol’s face.

God, it’s been such a long day. Chan feels emotionally drained, and it’s only noon.

“Are the others waiting in the living room?” Seungcheol asks, and Minghao nods, shutting a cupboard door.

“Yeah, they’re all waiting for you,” Junhui says, and Seungcheol nods.

“Right, okay, let’s go join them. We have a lot of things to talk about.”

Chan follows the three into the living room, chest tight at the thought of whatever other shit they’re about to unleash on him.

Chan’s mind drifts to the last time all thirteen of them had had a talk like this, one that was serious enough to keep even Soonyoung and Seokmin in a somber mood. It had been the night of his nineteenth birthday, and they were celebrating at Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s apartment, a small gathering of just them because Chan insisted he didn’t need a whole lot of people there.

Mark had just left, heading back to his apartment to get some sleep before he had to wake up early and head to the train station. He was heading home for the holidays, back to Canada to spend time with his parents, but he’d insisted despite the early flight that he wanted to be there with Chan to celebrate his best friend’s birthday, even if it was for a little amount of time.

They finished cleaning up the apartment pretty quickly, because having twelve and a half pairs of helping hands (half because while Chan insisted he didn’t mind helping, the others continuously grabbed the garbage from his hands and told him to sit down, because "it’s your fucking birthday, Channie, relax,” so he ended up just sitting his ass on the couch and watching) is pretty damn efficient. Eventually, the living room looked neat again, and they all came and took a seat on the couches, piling on top of each other and in each other's laps despite there being plenty of space.

“Thanks, you guys,” Chan said, once they were all seated, his voice sticky from the amount of sappiness that is oozing from his words. The others laughed, rolling their eyes or shaking their heads, but Chan continued regardless. “No, seriously, thank you. This birthday was… perfect.”

Jeonghan gave him a look of disbelief, a laugh slipping from his mouth. “It was just us and Mark and you, Channie. Not much of a birthday party, you know?”

Chan shrugged, a small smile on his face. “Maybe not, but it was still super meaningful. All my favorite people were here.”

“Your mom won’t be pleased to hear that,” Seungkwan joked, and the other laughed, and Chan felt more comfortable than he ever had before, more at home than he felt even back in Iksan.

The laughter died down slowly, grins softening into small smiles, and Seungcheol suddenly leaned forward in his seat.

“Channie, we wanted to talk to you.” It was sudden, and the mood shifted slightly. Chan blinked, taking in the sudden change in the room, and he felt himself hesitate, smile still on his face but wavering.

“Yeah?” Chan tried for a light laugh, but it didn't come out, more so just an expulsion of air. His eyes scanned the others before landing on Seungcheol. “What’s up?”

Seungcheol bit his lip, hands fiddling with his yellow sweatshirt. He looked over at Joshua beside him and tilted his head a bit, and Joshua nodded, as if that one second of shared eye-contact was enough.

Chan felt himself grow nervous, though why he had no idea. Did he do something wrong? Literally a minute ago they were all laughing, what the fuck happened?

“Okay, so, Channie, we’ve been… friends, now, for over a year, right?” Seungcheol said, and Chan blinks again, a heavy feeling settling in his stomach. Fuck, do they know he likes them? Is that why he said friends like that? Fuck fuck fuck they know they know and they don’t like him like that and they’re never going to talk to him again—

“Y-yeah,” he said, answering for some fucking reason, voice shaking slightly, and holy fucking shit get the fuck out of there right now —

“Right, and over the last few months especially I’d say we’ve all grown closer to you, wouldn’t you agree?” Seungcheol’s words are coming out slow and methodical, as if this was planned and prepared, and Chan nods again, biting his tongue to keep himself from saying something further and having his voice fucking crack or something to show how uneasy he felt. “Right, we’ve all gotten very close.. That being said…”

We don’t like you like you like us. We don’t like you like you like us. We don’t like you like you like us. The words keep repeating in Chan’s mind, and he waits for them to come out of Seungcheol’s mouth.

“We haven’t been completely honest with you about a few things,” Seungcheol says, in that same slow and careful voice, and Chan’s fist is clenched so tightly that he was almost positive he was leaving marks on the inside of his palm. He didn’t seem to care though — the pain in his hand took his attention away from the pain in his chest.

“Oh, yeah?” Chan asked, and somehow, by some fucking miracle, he managed to keep his voice steady. “Why’s that?”

Seungcheol looked over to Jeonghan, as if passing the fucking bad-news-baton, and Chan turned his head, too. Jeonghan was smiling kindly at Chan, and it both comforted him and stressed him out, because, on one hand, Jeonghan’s smile always calms him down, but on the other that smile could just be to soften the hard blow of rejection.

“This may not make much sense,” Jeonghan began, fingers drumming against his knee, “and the kind of confusing nature of it is what made us keep it for so long, as well as the worry that you might not… get it, you know.”

And now Chan was just confused, but he nodded like he understood because there wasn’t much else he could do.

“Right, so, uh…” Jeonghan suddenly looks nervous, which is a first for Chan. The older boy had always been so confident in what he was doing, it was strange seeing him like that. Wonwoo, who was sitting beside Jeonghan, squeezed his hand reassuringly, and Jeonghan took a deep breath before saying, in one breath, “We’re dating.”

Chan blinked, once, then twice, then once more. “Huh?”

Jeonghan’s face had turned a pale pink, and when he spoke again his voice was slightly quieter. “We, uh, we’re dating. All of us, that is. Like, we’re together. Romantically.”

Chan stared as Jeonghan rambled, a flurry of thoughts whipping around his mind as if they had all been caught in a fucking tornado. He looked around at the others, as if for confirmation, and the way they either avoided his eyes or were slightly red in the face was definitely confirmation enough.

“Oh.” When Chan spoke, they all turned to him, as if waiting for him to speak further. He took a deep breath and forced a smile to his face. “That’s awesome.”

Jeonghan blinked. “Really?”

Chan nodded. “Yeah, of course. I’m super happy for you guys, and I’m… I’m glad you felt comfortable telling me.”

The stinging of nails against his palm is no longer enough to take away from the pain in his chest, but that doesn’t stop him from digging harder. He tried to hold it in, figured he’d have all the time in the world to be pitiful once he went back to his own apartment. Alone. 

“You don’t… find it strange?” Seokmin asked quietly, and Chan turned to him.

“Of course not,” he said, looking into Seokmin’s doe-eyes and desperately trying and failing at ignoring the way it made his heart pang in his chest. “I don’t think I could find anything you guys do strange.”

“There’s, um.” Seungcheol spoke up, and Chan turned back to him, eyes widening slightly. There’s more?  “There’s something else, we, uh, wanted to talk about.”

“Yeah?” Chan stole himself for what he’d been expecting: We don’t like you like you like us. We don’t like you like you like us. We don’t like you like you like us.

“We wanted to ask you if, um…” Seungcheol looked up from his feet and right into Chan’s eyes, and Chan can’t help but think just how beautiful Seungcheol is. “If…”

“Wewantedtoaskifyouwoulddateustoo!” Soonyoung said suddenly, leaning forward in his own seat and knocking Jihoon’s head off his shoulder. Soonyoung whipped to his side, rubbing the side of Jihoon’s head where his elbow had whacked him. “Oh, sorry, babe.” Babe. “My bad.”

“Soonyoung, what the fuck?” Jihoon said, rubbing the side of his head.

Soonyoung frowned. “I said sorry—”

“No, not that!” Jihoon frowned, turning from him to face Chan. “You dumbass, we planned this out for a fucking reason.”

Soonyoung pouted. “I just got excited, Hoonie! I’m sorry.” Soonyoung turned towards Chan, who was staring at him and Jihoon, eyes wide and mouth hanging open slightly. 

“Could you…” Chan’s voice came out small, barely there, almost a whisper. “Could you repeat that, p-please?”

“We wanted to ask you if you wanted to date us.” Soonyoung’s grin wavered slightly at the lack of response. “Oh, unless, um, you... d-do you not… like us, like that?”

“Are you…” Chan looked around, taking in the way everyone was staring at him. “You all are serious?”

“One hundred percent,” Seungcheol said, and the honesty in his voice almost made Chan shiver. “Unless you’re not interested, in which case…”

“No!” Chan slapped a hand over his mouth, taken aback by himself. The others jumped, heads snapping towards him. He sheepishly lowered his hand. “Um, uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to, um yell… I’m… interested.”

Seungcheol stared at him for a moment, and he stared back, a look halfway between a smile and a frown on his face. The others all stared as well, none of them moving, none of them breathing. The living room was dead silent.

And then Soonyoung broke into a grin and launched himself forward and landed on top of Chan, crushing him in a hug. And what followed was chaos, all of the others moving forward and piling on top of Chan and smothering him with hugs and laughing and Chan felt the tears he was holding in slip down his cheeks but now they were good tears because what are the fucking chances?

Eventually, they all pulled back, broad grins on their faces, and Chan sighed a sigh of relief, a smile on his own face.

“I was fucking terrified, guys, oh my goodness,” Chan said, bringing a hand to his chest. His heart is beating a mile a minute. “That was such a dramatic way to confess, God.”

Mingyu laughed beside him. “Sorry, but we were all so nervous, worried we were, I don’t know, reading the signs the wrong way.”

“I can’t believe you all are dating,” Chan said, then paused. “I mean, I can, obviously. I mean, I figured, but hearing you all confirm it is crazy.”

“You knew?” Junhui asked, incredulously, and Chan laughed.

“Of course, with the way you’re always all over each other?” Chan shook his head, laughing. “Hard not to see it.”

“Hmm, okay, Mr. Observant,” Wonwoo said, poking Chan’s cheek. “Now we get to be all over you, too.”

Chan’s cheeks colored at that, and a thought popped into his head, sudden and random and enough to make him flush a deeper red.

“Can I ask you guys something?” Chan said, and they all turned to him, and part of him suddenly felt overwhelmed, but the good kind of overwhelmed, like when you first arrive at a carnival are overwhelmed with the number of things to do but are excited at the prospect of doing so much.

Joshua nodded. “Of course, Channie, you can always ask us anything.”

Chan's face really wasn't getting a break today, huh? He looked down at his feet, suddenly shy. “Oh, uh, can I…” He spoke in a small voice. “Can I kiss you guys?”

Someone to Chan’s right made a small noise, and he turned to see Hansol smiling widely at him. “Holy fuck, you’re so cute, Channie.”

Chan opened his mouth to argue, then closed it, because wow, he really doesn’t mind when Hansol calls him cute. In fact, it makes him feel all fluttery and light inside.

“Of course you can kiss us,” Minghao said, shaking his head with a small laugh. “You know, actually, it’s tradition to kiss Cheollie-hyung first when someone joins us.”

“Stop, Hao, that makes it sound like a fucking cult or something,” Seungcheol said, playfully shoving the younger boy. He turned back to Chan and smiled slowly, and holy fuck he is so hot. “But, I mean, Channi, I’d love to kiss you first.”

“No fair, I wanna kiss him first!” Soonyoung complained, to which he received a smack from Jihoon and a, “Shut up, Soonie, there’s plenty of time for you to kiss him, we’re not going anywhere.”

And just hearing those words come out of Jihoon’s mouth made his heart swell, because it gave him the (false) hope of forever, as strange and dangerous of a concept that is to imagine. Chan turned to Seungcheol and said timidly, “Can you kiss me, Hyung?”

Seungcheol paused for a second, staring at Chan with this unreadable expression, before grinning and nodding, leaning forward. He was careful about it in every sense of the action, taking Chan’s hands into his own and rubbing his thumb soothingly over the indent he’d made in his palm. His knee landed between Chan’s legs (not that he was complaining) and their lips touched, and Chan felt himself combust.

He felt what seemed to be millions of fireworks burst in his chest, sizzling and fizzing and swooping here and there as Seungcheol kissed him. He felt alive, and when Seungcheol pulled away he couldn’t help but move his body to follow, no longer even aware of his movement.

Seungcheol giggled — fucking giggled — and smiled wide, gums showing, and Chan felt round two of the fireworks start up.

“My turn!” Soonyoung pushed his way forward, grinning. He paused in front of Chan and leaned forward, smile softening. “May I, Channie?”

Chan nodded at a speed that was probably way too eager, but at the moment that was the least of his worries. Soonyoung leaned forward, swinging his legs onto either side of Chan and straddling his lap before leaning forward and cradling Chan’s face in his hands.

Kissing Soonyoung, like kissing Seungcheol, set off a whole chemical reaction inside of him, like fizzy sparkling champagne bubbling and bubbling, on the brink of bursting.

(Then Soonyoung slipped his tongue into Chan’s mouth, and the champagne burst with a loud pop! )

“Oh my God, Soonie-hyung, don’t devour him!” At Mingyu’s pouting, Soonyoung pulled away, a big grin on his face. Chan felt light-headed, a dopey smile plastered on his own face.

“You’re right, you’re right,” Soonyoung said, getting up. He shot Chan a wink as he said, “There’s plenty of time for that later, anyways.”

Even in his delirious post-makeout state, Chan could feel his whole face go hot at the implication and the thought of that. Chan couldn’t wait for later.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with kisses, a range of heavy ones (like Soonyoung’s) to tender ones (like Seungcheol’s) to ones where Chan couldn’t stop giggling (those were from Seokmin; every time he kissed Chan, he’d end up breaking into a wide grin, and it never failed to make Chan giggle). Eventually, when Chan told them he should head home, he was faced with twelve pouting faces and requests to spend the night, which is how all thirteen of them ended up sleeping over at Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s, in a last-minute pillow-fort-esque contraption that Joshua, Seungkwan, Minghao, and Soonyoung built in the living room, cuddling close together.

Chan finds himself smiling at the memory, one that he’d always cherished so much.

“What’re you smiling about?” Hansol asks from his left, and Chan turns, smile slipping from his face.

“Nothing,” Chan replies before turning away, and, okay, that was kinda cold, Chan, maybe apologize for that? Chan turns to say something but Hansol’s already looked the other way, a slight frown on his face, and great, Chan, now you’re the dick who's not making an effort.

“Okay!” Seungcheol claps his hands together like he’s an elementary school teacher trying to get his student’s attention. “Now that we’re all here, let’s get down to business. First thing’s first: Chan, did you find anything on this uncle of yours?”

Chan leans forward, resting his elbow on his knee and cradling his chin in his palm. “Well, his name is Ahn Youngmin. We’re related through my mother’s side, which explains why I don’t know much about him. We only really keep in touch with my grandmother on my maternal side, and she remarried a few times, so a mysterious uncle makes sense.” He pauses. “Um, that’s kind of all I know, to be honest. Minghao-hyung made one of those profile-things on him, so that probably has more information than I can give you, but. Yeah.” 

Seungcheol smiles at him. “No worries, Chan, any information you can give us is useful.” Seungcheol turns to Minghao, who wordlessly holds out the file he’d compiled on Chan’s uncle. “Thanks, Hao, you’re the best.”

“I know,” Minghao says through an exaggerated yawn, smirking, and Seungcheol rolls his eyes, smiles on his face as he shakes his head at the younger. Seungcheol starts flipping through the file, eyes scanning the pages of information Minghao had obtained, every from his birthday to his education to his past jobs to his childhood best friend.

Wonwoo leans over to peer at the file himself, eyes scanning over the information. Suddenly, his eyes widen, and he says, in a surprised tone, “Oh.”

“Oh?” Jihoon repeats, frowning. “Oh, what?”

Wonwoo leans back, a frown settling on his own lips. “It’s just… it says here he was working a regular job up until a few years back, and suddenly, he just… stopped. There’s no recording of any jobs he’s had after that, Hao?”

Minghao shook his head. “No, why, Hyung?”

“Well, he’s worked at a string of pharmaceutical companies,” Wonwoo continues, and looks of realization begin to dawn on the faces of the others. Chan looks around, his own face blank. Huh? “The last one he worked at was WuSon Co.”

“So?” Chan asks, because at this point he’s done caring about sounding like the one out of the loop, because for fuck’s sake he is the one out of the loop.

“WuSon Co. was recently busted for drug trafficking — illegally manufacturing and distributing drugs.” Oh. Chan remembers watching that story on the news, and not really giving it much thought. His uncle was working there? “That was a few months back, and the date seems to match up with the time your uncle stopped working there.”

“Couldn’t he have just been, I don’t know, innocent in this situation?” Chan asks, grasping at straws. “Maybe he ended up losing his job because of the bust, not because he was part of it.”

Seungkwan nods. “I mean, that’s plausible, but it’s a little suspicious.”

“And we dug into that a bit, remember?” Hansol brings up, sitting up from his slouched position. “There was a pretty big group behind that drug trafficking ring, and most of the employees, we found out, were just part of the gang, and not actually qualified to be working there.”

“So what does that mean?” Chan pushes.

“Like we said earlier,” Seungcheol says, “your uncle could’ve gotten mixed up with the wrong people. Illegal as it may be, drugs bring in a lot of money, and that alone is enough to sway good people into doing shitty things.”

“But how is that related to the guys at my apartment?” Chan frowns, scrunching his face up as he tries to put one and one together and ends up with, like, fucking negative seven. 

“We’re guessing your uncle did something to anger a group of pretty powerful people,” Jihoon answers. “They might’ve gone after you for leverage, maybe?”

“But I don’t know my uncle, why would they think I mattered?” You guys didn’t even think I mattered. “Also, I think you’re forgetting he’s dead. If he did get ‘ mixed up with the wrong people, ’ then I’m pretty sure they, y-you know… got rid of him already.”

“But people in this business are smarter than that,” Soonyoung interjects. “He could have disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” Chan’s head is spinning. “Like, dropped off the grid, vanished? Presumed dead?” Like what you guys did. “That kind of disappeared?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s definitely difficult, but not impossible.” A look crosses Soonyoung's face, a brief flash of guilt, and his eyes dart away from Chan’s, probably as he processes what he just said. Chan tries to ignore it. He fails. “But, uh, maybe that’s what happened.”

“So he’s not… dead?” Chan’s frown deepens as he refocuses his mind. “Then this funeral—”

“Is it an open casket?” Junhui asks.

Chan shrugs. “I’m not really sure. If it is, though, then he can’t have disappeared, right?”

“Not necessarily,” Jihoon says. Chan pulls a face.

“Where do you find a body to act as your replacement?” He questions.

“You know—” Jihoon opens his mouth to answer, then shuts it. “Um, I’m not sure.”

Chan stares at him. What the fuck? What was that supposed to mean, huh? It reminds him, oh, shit, right, you were supposed to ask what exactly they did. Sure, they were spies, but what the fuck exactly did that entail? 

“Isn’t this just you guys jumping to conclusions?” Chan presses. “All of this is really just assumptions and speculations.”

Hansol says from beside him, “Chan, in this business as secretive as this you learn pretty fast that speculation and assumption is really the most we have. No one keeps information like this public—”

All of a sudden, Minghao’s laptop starts pinging, startling everyone in the room.

“Did you find anything?” Seungcheol asks, eyes suddenly alert. Chan’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. Huh?

As Minghao opens up his laptop and starts typing, fingers basically flying over the keys as he types in his hacker-esque aggressive fashion, Joshua leans over and says, “Minghao sets these, like, alerts on his laptop whenever there’s new information on someone he’s looking into. That must be the case right now.”

Chan nods his understanding, shooting Joshua a small, thankful smile.

“Holy shit !” It’s Mingyu who exclaims this, loud and wide-eyed as he reads over Minghao’s shoulder. “Oh my God, you guys—”

“What?” Seungcheol leans forward in his seat, and even Chan finds his chin slipping where it’s resting on his palm in an effort to get closer. The others are looking at Mingyu and Minghao expectantly. Minghao flips the laptop screen to face them, his face a mixture of excitement and confusion.

“Ahn Youngmin’s phone just pinged,” Minghao says, almost breathlessly.

There's a silence that falls over the room, almost deafening, before—

“Huh?”

Chapter Text

“Huh?” This time, it’s not just Chan who speaks, but everyone in the room, uncertainty pooling into a collective confusion. 

“What do you mean, his phone pinged?” Seungkwan asks, incredulously. 

“I mean, his phone was used and its radio frequencies were received by a nearby cell tower and my alerts picked it up,” Minghao explains, words rushed jumbled. He spins the laptop back to face himself and resumes typing.

“No, I know that—”

“So he’s not dead?” Wonwoo interrupts, as if asking for confirmation. 

“Apparently not,” Minghao says, “unless someone else is using his phone, but the chances of that…”

“How unprofessional,” Seokmin says jokingly from his spot behind Chan, leaning against the back of his couch. He rolls his eyes playfully at Chan. “Trying to disappear and then using your cell phone? What the heck?”

“Yeah,” Chan mumbles. “If you wanna disappear, you should at least do it right, huh, Hyung?”

Seokmin’s moth falls shut, a small frown replacing his teasing smile, and. What the fuck, Chan. Stop being such a fucking dick, you idiot.

“Sorry,” he says, and Seokmin shakes his head.

“No, you’re right—”

“Okay, I got the call!” Minghao’s voice breaks the awkward silence that had fallen between Chan and Seokmin and, by extension, Joshua and Hansol, who sat on either of their sides.

“Wow, Hyung, you’re kind of cool,” Seungkwan says to Minghao, all coy smile and fluttering lashes and just 100% unapologetically Seungkwan. Minghao rolls his eyes. “Kwannie, I’ve done this a million times.”

“It’s still as hot now as it was the first time,” Junhui jokes, and Minghao laughs, kicking his leg out and missing Junhui, who giggles as he dodges. Chan’s heart aches. 

He remembers what that was like.

He wants that back again.

“Who was he talking to? What about?” Jeonghan asks, and Minghao focuses back on his laptop, pulling the headphones snuggly over his ears.

“Okay, I wasn’t able to figure out who he was talking to,” Minghao says, with a slight frown. “There was some sort of wall I couldn’t bypass locking me from seeing that. But on his side, he talked about a party of some sorts.”

“A party?” Joshua repeats, skeptical.

“Yeah, some sort of dinner party.” Minghao squints his eyes as he tries to listen to the recording. “On a… a cruise ship?”

“A cruise ship?” 

“Oh!” Minghao’s eyes widen. “Oh, oh, shit, he, uh, he’s talking about deals and shit!”

“What kinds of deals?” Jihoon asks, frowning. Chan feels himself frown, too. Deals?

“Ugh, the connection isn’t the best.” Minghao pulls a face, which is replaced within, like, two seconds with surprise. It really puts Chan’s own feelings into perspective — his feelings have been fluctuating about ten times what Minghao’s are right now, and that’s saying something.

“What, what?” Mingyu asks, leaning towards Minghao.

Minghao pulls the headphones off his head, a broad grin on his face. “We’ve got the time and address!” He looks over at Seungcheol. “About a week from now, I believe. They’re meeting in Busan, by the harbor.”

“That makes sense, to meet in Busan,” Seungcheol says, almost to himself. “It is less suspicious than meeting in Seoul.”

“We need to go,” Soonyoung says, and it’s not spoken as a question, or even a command — no, Soonyoung says it likes it’s obvious, like there’s no other option. Chan wonders how often they travel around the country on a whim like this. 

“Of course,” Jeonghan says, and the rest nod, again, as if it’s no big deal.

“W-wait,” Chan says, finally speaking up. He can’t seriously be the only one finding this ridiculous. “Okay, I get you all are spies, or whatever, and that you’re up for anything, but this is a pretty far stretch. Maybe my uncle faked his death after maybe striking up a deal with some gang and then maybe double-crossing them and maybe it has something to do with the people at my place last night — there’s a shit load too many maybe’s there, Hyungs! You can’t just… go to Busan on a whim like that.” he frowns at the others. “There’s no reason to do that.”

“Chan,” Wonwoo says, eyebrows drawing together, “those ‘people at your place last night’ are reason enough.”

“But they didn’t do anything!” Chan argues. Wonwoo gives him a look, and he backtracks. “Okay, I mean, yeah, they… Okay, yeah, they did something, but you guys took care of them. It’s probably a one-time thing — busted the wrong apartment building or something.”

“Chan,” Seungcheol says, speaking once in that slow and almost condescending voice, “I don’t think you understand how much danger you’re in. Don’t you remember, there were people out there who were looking for you once, there’s a possibility it’s them again. And besides, those guys weren’t messing around —”

Shit, Chan had forgotten about that. The reason they found him in the first place, the reason everything fell into place the way it had, the reason they left him. He swallows in an attempt to save face. “No, I know that, but—”

They didn’t break into your apartment because they had nothing better to do on a Friday night,” Seungcheol pushes on, ignoring Chan, and his voice is getting a little sharper, a little harder, “they clearly wanted something from you. You — you’re not safe! Why don’t you get that?”

“But what did they want?” Chan asks, trying to push down the sudden rush of inferiority he felt rush up as Seungcheol spoke to him. “No one’s fucking telling me anything! How do you expect me to understand how much danger I’m in if you can’t even put it into fucking perspective—”

“Because, Chan, we don’t fucking know!” Seungcheol snaps, getting to his feet, and Chan jerks back, eyes widening in surprise. “We don’t fucking know who those people were, or why they were there, or what the fucking want from you, alright? If we knew, don’t you think we’d have taken care of them by now? You think we want you to remain in danger? Fuck all the maybe’s, Chan, this is our only lead, we either follow it, or ignore it, and end up right back on square- fucking -one—”

“ Seungcheol.” It’s Jeonghan who cuts Seungcheol off, his voice cold, piercing through Seungcheol’s sudden burst of anger like a knife. Seungcheol blinks, faltering mid-sentence, before turning to look at Jeonghan. “Stop it. You’re scaring him.”

Seungcheol blinks again, before looking over at Chan. Chan’s hands, clenched in tight fists, are shaking, because it’s one thing seeing Seungcheol all angry, but it’s a whole other experience having that anger directed at you. Seeing almost that same level of anger targeted at him suddenly made Chan’s face go white and his blood run cold. 

Could you fucking blame him, though, for suddenly growing scared?

Chan’s rarely ever seen Seungcheol get mad. Sometimes he’d get annoyed with them, if they weren’t caring for themselves properly, like when Chan spent too much time in the dance studio trying to get down a choreo perfectly, or when Jihoon would forget to eat in between working in the studio, or when Seungkwan pulled all-nighters in order to be prepared for his test the next day. He’d scold them, yeah, but he never, ever, got angry at them.

The last time he’d seen Seungcheol this mad was when someone tried hitting on Hansol at a bar they’d gone to together. The scumbag (because that’s what he was — a fucking scumbag) had tried to lead Joshua outside, not bothering to listen to Joshua repeated refusal. Seungcheol noticed Joshua had disappeared, and when he stepped out to see if he was outside, he saw Joshua pushing the guy away from him.

(Needless to say, Seungcheol’s split lip and bruised fist was nothing compared to what the other guy looked like when Seungcheol was done. It made Chan realize just how scary Seungcheol could be if he wanted to.)

“I…” The anger slips off of Seungcheol’s face almost as quickly as it has shown up, and the fiery eyes he’d had just comments ago were suddenly filled with guilt. “Fuck, Channie, I’m so sorry—” 

He moves forward, and Chan, almost involuntarily, flinches, moving back. Seungcheol freezes, hurt flashing across his face, and Chan knows, okay. He knows Seungcheol would never do anything to hurt him, at least not intentionally, but he can’t help but react the way he does.

The tears that had suddenly sprung up in his eyes are starting to sting, but he refuses to let them fall, doesn’t want them to think he’s being a baby over nothing. He can feel his lip trembling and he bites his lip to make it stop.

“Chan…” Seungcheol’s voice is calmer now, more even, and Chan reluctantly meets his eyes. He sniffs and immediately regrets it, because it seems like every head in the room snaps in his direction at the sound. Jeonghan’s glaring daggers at Seungcheol’s back. “Chan, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. Please, let me try that again, this time without the shouting.”

“You won’t get mad?’ Chan asks, and his voice comes out small, and he hates it, fucking hates being so vulnerable and childish and weak, but at this point his body and brain are no longer on a cooperative functioning level, and they’re both just doing things on their own accord.

Seungcheol shakes his head. “No, I won’t get mad. I… I promise.”

Chan nods slowly.“Go ahead, then. You were saying, about you guys not fucking knowing —” Seungcheol winces at that, and Chan feels a sting of guilt himself. God, him and the petty comments today, huh? He really has no filter anymore. “Sorry, sorry, I… I’ll try and stop doing that. You were saying?”

“We…” Seungcheol sighs, taking a seat again. “We just want to protect you, Chan.”

Chan blinks. That was not what he was expecting to hear.

“And I know,” Seungcheol adds quickly, probably anticipating one of Chan’s excessively snarky comments, “that that sounds stupid, or even like a cop-out, especially considering everything we did you to over the last year, but we… it’s the reason we left in the first place: to keep you safe, to make sure whoever it was that wanted something from you would never get to lay their hands on you. And the people who broke into your apartment, there has to be some link.” Seungcheol looks at him with a determined gaze. “It’s a maybe, sure, but it’s a maybe that we’re willing to risk.”

“Okay,” Chan says, in a small voice. He doesn’t know what else to say.

“Okay?” Seungcheol repeats, and Chan sighs. Fuck, guess he’ll have to put his feelings into words. Fun.

“I think I should apologize,” Chan says, and the others all stare at him, confused. All of them are either frowning, shaking their head, or both. Seungcheol’s mouth is already opening, most likely to protest, but Chan cuts him off before he gets the chance. “No, no, please, hear me out first.”

Reluctantly, Seungcheol closes his mouth and sits back, nodding. The others look at him, and Chan feels this overwhelming feeling take over his chest. The fact that he’s been absolutely shit to them over the last few hours and they still don’t think he has a reason to apologize is insane to him.

“I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting,” Chan says, “and I know it might come across as justified, considering… you know… but it’s really not. I took it a bit far with the yelling, and the nasty comments, and the hurtful words that I sent your way, and I… I’m sorry about that.”

“Chan, it’s alright—” Hansol begins, but Chan shakes his head.

“No, Nonnie, it’s not,” Chan says, only registering the nickname he’d used after he sees the light dust of pink across Hansol's cheeks. “I’ve been acting totally shitty all day, disagreeing with everything you guys said and starting arguments over nothing and acting all childish and immature, just because, in my head, all I could think about was you leaving me.” Chan looks down. “I figured if you did it once, it meant you could do it again, and I thought I had… nothing to lose.”

“Chan, we wouldn’t…” Jeonghan trails off as Chan turns to him. Chan doesn’t need to say it, the sentence goes unspoken between the two: How was Chan supposed to be sure of that?

“You told me earlier that you left because there were people after me,” Chan says, and Seungcheol nods. “And you also told me earlier that when you first met me, those meetings were all planned and that you, again, were there because people were after me.” Seungcheol nods again, slower this time, and with more guilt in his expression. “I… at first I was hurt, at the idea that our relationship might not have been… real—”

“But it was!” Seokmin interjects. “It… it was real, Chan. We really did — do, love you.”

Chan feels his heart skip a beat at that. It was reassuring and warm, hearing him say it, because all day it had been implied, but to hear Seokmin say it was another level of heart-stuttering. Chan nods, eyes softening.

“Right, and I…” Chan hesitates. Why can’t he say it back? “I get that now, after hearing your side of the story. You left because I was in danger, and while I don’t think the way you handled that was the best, I understand, or at least I’m starting to understand, why you thought it was necessary. I think I’ve been holding on to all this hurt for so long, the chance to unload it all on you guys was too good to pass up, but I realize now that that’s unfair to you all.” 

“Chan, you don’t have to forgive us—” Soonyoung starts, and Chan cuts him off with a nod and a smile.

“I know, Hyung, don’t worry. I don’t want you to think me forgiving you guys is because I feel some sort of obligation to, or that I feel pressure to do so. I might be easily manipulated, but I’m not that easy.” He laughs halfheartedly, and then trails off after catching the sad looks the others give him. Okay, tough crowd. Mark never laughed at those jokes either. He coughs. “Right, anyways. I’m not forgiving you guys — or, starting to forgive you, because I don’t think I should slip that switch that fast — for any reason other than because I want to. I… I missed you guys, and despite all the time I spent trying to convince myself I was better without you all and all the time I spent trying to forget you guys, you all left too big of an impression on my life for me to just forget.”

Chan looks around at the others. Their faces are hard to read, and Chan was never as good at figuring out what the others were hiding, not as good as Jihoon or Seungcheol or Soonyoung. But he smiles at them, what he hopes conveys the reassuring feeling he wants it to, and one by one they smile back, and the masks fall away, replaced with smiles of relief and hope.

“I want us to do better this time around,” Chan says. “Not forget the past, but rather learn from it. Those who ignore history just end up repeating it, anyway. I… I’ll make an effort, if you guys are willing to as well.”

“Of course!” Surprisingly, it’s Jihoon who says it, rushed and excited. He looks around and settles back, as if surprised by himself. “Uh, um, of course we’re willing to, Chan. Like Seokminnie said, we still love you, and we’ll do anything we can to make amends after what we did.”

“Really?” He asks, and feels an overwhelming rush of emotions as twelve heads all nod their affirmations. “That’s… thank you, Hyungs.”

“No, Channie,” Mingyu says, smiling softly, and Chan feels the fluttering in his chest at the nickname. He doesn’t feel the urge to correct him, and he’s grateful for that. “Thank you.”

Chan smiles probably the brightest he has all day, and says, “Okay, I hate to ruin the mood potentially, but Mark called me earlier and told me to meet up with him around this time. Is that… is that fine?”

The others all exchange looks.

“Of course, Channie,” Joshua says. “You’re not a prisoner here, you’re free to do whatever you want.”

“I… I know,” Chan says, cheeks flushing, “but I didn’t want to get, like, kidnapped, or some shit, the second I stepped out alone, so I figured I should ask, or, uh, let you guys know beforehand.”

“Alright, Channie,” Junhui says. “Does Mark know you’re with us?”

“N-no, he thinks I’m with, um, someone else right now.” Oh, fuck, his lie about being with Minsu.

“Minsu?” Wonwoo asks, and Chan nods after a pause. Wonwoo nods slowly in understandably, and there’s this flash of something in his eyes, and fuck, that shouldn’t be as hot as it is. “Okay.”

The others look like they want to ask about Minsu, but after everything they just talked about Chan figures they don’t want to bring it up. He definitely wants to put that conversation off for as long as possible, so instead he says, “Can any of you… drive me? To Mark’s?”

At this, all their heads peek up.

“I’m doing it,” Jeonghan says, already standing. Soonyoung pouts.

“Hannie-hyung, I wanna do it!" Soonyoung complains, and Jeonghan laughs at the way he tries to act cute at the end.

“Sorry, Soonie-baby, but you need to stay here and help Cheollie plan out this whole trip to Busan,” he says. “Besides, I want to talk to Chan about some things.”

Chan blinks, and Jeonghan turns to him. “Nothing bad, baby, don’t worry, hopefully we’re past the bad.”

Baby. Baby. Baby. The word echoes in his head and makes his brain turn to jelly.

“Alright, Channie, you can go to Mark’s, but be careful, alright?” Seungcheol says, and the familiarity of it all makes Chan dizzy. He nods, and Seungcheol smiles. “We’ll work on the Busan-stuff while you’re out.”

“I’m gonna go, too, right?” Chan asks, and the others pause.

“Are… Are you sure you want to?” Minghao asks. “It might end up getting dangerous, we don’t know.”

“I want to go,” Chan says, trying to say it confidently and not as if the idea of any violence scared the shit out of him. “Besides, I have you Hyungs’ to protect me.”

This seems to soften them up, because Seungcheol nods. “Yeah, you coming along would be best. You might be in more trouble if you were left here alone. Alright, you’re coming with us.”

Chan grins and pumps his fist, and the others laugh, and Chan, for the first time in months, feels at home.

Jeonghan and Chan end up leaving about an hour later, after Jeonghan has changed and Chan has dawned less-suspicious clothes that won’t leave Mark curious, donning one of Hansol’s hoodies and pulling one of Mingyu’s jackets on top of that. They wave goodbye to the others, who are already huddled around the living room coffee table, chattering about booking tickets and reservations, before heading out the door.

While Jeonghan goes to start the car, Chan stares up at the house, eyes wide. It was an impressive house, or at least impressive for the group of college students he knew to be living in. With this group of spies, though, maybe the big house made sense.

“It’s from Joshua’s inheritance money,” Jeonghan says, and Chan turns. Jeonghan gestures at the car. “C’mon, we can go now.”

“Shua-hyung’s inheritance money?” Chan repeats, following Jeonghan to the car. Jeonghan nods.

“You know that his parents passed when he was younger?” Jeonghan asks, and Chan nods. Joshua had told him some time after they’d met, how he went to live abroad with his aunt’s family after his parents passed in a car accident. “When he turned 18, he inherited all the money they left him, as well as met me and Cheollie. One thing led to another, and we ended up getting the house after a while.”

“That’s cool,” Chan says, because he doesn’t really know what else to say. “How did you and Cheollie-hyung and Shua-hyung meet?”

Jeonghan laughs, all soft and like tinkling bells. “It’s not that riveting of a tale, to be honest, hon.”

“We’ve got time to pass,” Chan says, and Jeonghan smiles.

“Well, alright then.” He pulls out of the driveway and the two set off down the road. “We met when we were eighteen. I was on campus one day, searching for this book, and I came across this boy, also a freshman at the time, staring at his notes on one of the tables and looking completely lost. I recognized the textbook and realized it was this kid who sat in front of me in my microeconomics class. Not to mention, this kid was really cute.” Jeonghan giggles. “I figured, go on, it can’t hurt to help him out, so I pulled out a chair and offered him some help. And from there, we just… grew closer. With Joshua, it was a similar story, kind of. Shua was my dorm neighbor, and one day he came over to ask if we had any eggs at, like, 6 in the morning. On a weekend.” Jeonghan scoffs and rolls his eyes, but the words just come out laced with affection. “He invited me over for coffee, and the rest is history.”

Chan finds himself smiling at the details of the story, imagining eighteen-year-old Jeonghan finding eighteen-year-old Seungcheol in the library and eighteen-year-old Joshua knocking on Jeonghan’s door at six in the morning asking for eggs. The image makes his smile widen. His mind wanders to the story Minghao and Junhui told him of how they met — this story is less thrilling and more domestic, but that makes sense. Minghao and Junhui were already part of a gang prior to them meeting, while Jeonghan and Seungcheol...

“How did you get involved with…” Chan hesitates, unsure of how to word it. 

“With the spy-life?” Jeonghan offers, and Chan nods. Jeonghan sighs, eyes glued to the road ahead. “It’s… complicated. And not really my story to tell, at least not alone, because it involves Cheollie and Shua both.” Jeonghan pauses. “I’ll tell you one of these days, Channie, when Shua and Cheol are with me, because I don’t think one of us can articulate it perfectly without the other two there to add on their own experience.”

“Oh.” Chan glances out the car window, watches as the buildings and other cars blur past them. “Alright.” He tries to change the subject, wanting to avoid any potential awkward-silence filling the car. “What was the thing you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Hmm?” Jeonghan frowns, as if confused, before realization dawns on his face. “Oh! Oh, right. Nothing, really.”

Chan blinks. “Huh? Why’d you insist on driving me?”

Jeonghan shrugs, smiles on his face. “Just because. I missed you, Channie, and I wanted to spend some alone time with you, even if it was just to drive you over to a friend’s house.”

Chan shakes his head, but he finds the grin returning to his face. “Alright, Hyung, whatever.”

“Seriously, though, Channie,” Jeonghan says, and despite the smile there’s a tinge of seriousness that seeps into his voice, “I know we’ve addressed this, like, seventy times each at this point, but I don’t think any of us will ever be able to stop apologizing for what we put you through over the last year.”

“It’s alright, Hyung—” Chan stops himself. “Or, well. Not alright. But I understand why you felt it was necessary. If I was in that situation, I probably would’ve done the same. You don’t need to keep apologizing, yeah?” Chan smiles over at Jeonghan. “I know you all are sorry, I just want you guys to show me you won’t do it again.”

“Okay, Channie, “Jeonghan replies, shaking his head with a small smile on his face. “Gosh, we don’t deserve you.”

It takes them around ten minutes to get to Mark’s apartment building, during which Jeonghan insists that Chan fill him on the things he’s done over the last year — everything from the dance showcases he performed to the time he went on a trip to Jeju Island with Mark and some other friends. Chan told him everything in as much detail as he could in ten minutes, leaving out some of the more upsetting details, like how he had to return the twelve tickets to his showcase that he’d booked prior to them leaving and how for a majority of the trip to Jeju all Chan could think about was Seungkwan and how the other boy had always promised him that one day, he’d take him back to his hometown.

He figured that wasn’t the most productive thing he could be doing to help further him on this journey of forgiving them, and, besides, Jeonghan didn’t need to know that.

Jeonghan parks in front of Mark’s apartment building, and Chan moves to open the door.

“What time should I pick you up?” Jeonghan asks, and Chan glances down at his phone to check the time.

“I’m not sure, me and Mark can end up taking anywhere from thirty minutes to three or more hours,” Chan says, laughing. “I’ll call you to let you know, okay, Hyung?”

“Alright.” Jeonghan looks over at him. “You have my number, right?”

“Yeah, of course—” Chan pauses, glancing down at his phone again, only this time to avoid eye contact. “Or, um. No. I might’ve… deleted it.”

Jeonghan doesn’t seem to mind, though, simply unlocking his own phone and typing in Chan’s number. Chan’s phone screen lights up.

“Don’t worry, now you have it again.” Jeonghan smiles brightly at him, and Chan can’t help but smile back. “Call me when you wanna head back, alright? Have fun, baby.”

“Thanks for the ride, Hyung.” Chan unlocks the door and climbs out of the passenger seat. Before he closes the door, though, he pauses again. “What do I, uh, say to him if he asks who I’m staying with? He obviously won’t want me going back to my apartment, and I don’t know how well he’d take the truth.”

“Maybe tell him you’re going to Busan for the funeral? Even though it’s not there, I don’t think he’ll ask too many questions about a funeral, and it’ll give a reason to why you might not be able to meet him when we do actually go to Busan.” Jeonghan gives him a sad smile. “Sorry, darling, I know you hate lying, especially to Mark.”

“No, no, Hyung, it’s fine, I understand.” Chan takes a step back, moving to close the passenger side door. “Okay, I’ll get going then. Bye, Hyung.”

Jeonghan smiles at him and waves. “Bye, Channie.”

Chan watches as Jeonghan drives away, then looks down at his phone and sends Mark a quick message: pls tell me you’re home rn.

It takes a few seconds before Chan’s phone lights up with an incoming call from Mark.

“Suspicious text, Chan, what’s up? ” Mark says the second Chan answers, and Chan rolls his eyes.

“I’m outside your apartment, tell me you’re home right now,” he replies. 

“Oh, shit, seriously? Yeah, I’m home, come on up.”

“Okay, I’ll see you in a minute.” Chan hangs up and makes his way to Mark’s apartment, feeling suddenly as if he’d last seen Mark weeks ago and not literally last night, which. Goes to show just how eventful the past day has been for Chan, huh?

Chan rings the doorbell to Mark’s apartment and the door opens a second later, with an excited looking Mark on the other side.

“Ahh, Channie, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” Mark says, and Chan nods, making his way into the apartment and relishing in the familiarity. Mark closes the door behind him and locks it before turning to Chan. 

“Okay,” he says, grinning brightly. “Now tell me everything.”

Chapter Text

“Thanks, Mark,” Chan accepts the steaming cup of tea with a smile, and Mark takes a seat across from him on the old but comfortable couch in his living room, blowing on his own mug gently.

“It’s no problem,” Mark replies, waving away the thank you. He leans closer to Chan with anticipation on his face. “Okay, c’mon, Chan, you’ve stalled enough.”

“Have I?” Chan asks, and Mark gives him a dull look. “Okay, okay, sorry.”

“Well?” Mark gestures at Chan with one hand while holding on to his mug with the other, and it’s almost surprising how the hot tea doesn’t spill onto his lap. “We’ve got a lot to cover here, Chan. You can start where you want.”

“God, this feels like I’m being interviewed,” Chan muses, sipping his tea gingerly and wincing as the liquid burns his tongue. He’s always been too eager when it comes to drinking hot drinks, forgetting at the moment that they have the ability to hurt him. He mumbles, “Or interrogated.”

“Okay, here,” Mark places his cup down on the coffee table before turning to Chan again, “let’s start with this Minsu character, alright? Tell me about him.”

Chan feels his face go pink, and a grin spreads across Mark’s face.

“Okay, but don’t, like, interrupt me, or I won’t continue,” Chan threatens, like he’s twelve-years-old, and Mark nods, miming zipping his mouth shut, as if he’s also twelve-years-old, and Chan sighs. Okay, deep breath. Here we go. “Minsu-hyung, he… I met him a few months ago. You know, when I was kind of…” sleeping around.

Chan wasn’t exactly proud of that part of his life. Going home with a different stranger every week isn’t exactly moving on, but it was the coping mechanism Chan turned to when drinking only seemed to make the pain worse. It worked for a while, but in the morning when that one-night stand was either gone or packing up their things, Chan would lay in bed and feel all the weight he’d let go off the night before crash back onto his shoulders.

“...you know.” Mark nods, understandingly, not pushing or prying in any way, and Chan thanks God for giving him such a wonderful best friend. “Um, I was at a bar one night, and Minsu-hyung came up to me, and one thing led to another, and we went back to my place. It was pretty… routine, I guess? I woke up the next morning expecting him to be gone, but instead, I went into the kitchen and saw he’d made us breakfast.”

Mark brings a hand up to his mouth. “ Holy shit, that’s so cute,” he whispers, and Chan feels his ears go pink.

“Shut up,” he says, without any venom in his words, before taking a sip of his tea. The warmth of it seeps through his chest and relaxes him. “After that, we kinda just… kept hanging out.”

Mark grins teasingly, giving him a look. “And by hanging out, you mean…” 

Chan flushes. “Mark!” he says, flustered. “S-shut up, I mean hanging out, Jesus.” Among other things, but they did mostly just hang out.

“Okay, Channie, whatever you say.” Mark holds his hands up, as if to back off, but the shit-eating grin doesn’t leave his face. 

Chan pouts at him. “You’re annoying.”

Mark just scrunches his nose up, smiling. “You love me.” Chan pulls a face, and Mark laughs, reaching over to grab his own mug of tea. “Okay, question: earlier you said over the phone that you two weren’t serious. Why’s that?”

“I don’t know,” Chan shrugs. “No reason, I guess?”

Well, actually, Chan could think of twelve reasons, but he couldn’t exactly mention them to Mark, now could he?

Mark frowns. “Did he not want to date you?”

“No, he…” Chan sighs. “Minsu-hyung asked me to be his boyfriend maybe, like, a month ago? A little over that, maybe?” Mark opens his mouth, and Chan says, before he can speak, “I said no.”

“What?” Mark drums his fingers against his mug. “Why’s that, Channie?”

“I don’t know,” Chan repeats. Mark rolls his eyes at him, and Chan shrugs. “I mean, the circumstances we met under weren’t exactly ideal, and I wanted to focus on school—”

“Bullshit, Chan,” Mark interrupts, and fuck, he can see right through him. “I’m gonna ask you a question, and you have to answer honestly, alright?”

Chan nods hesitantly. Oh, God, don’t let it be—

“You’re still kind of hung up over those guys, aren’t you?” Mark says, and Chan freezes.

Of course he’d ask that.

“No, Mark—” Chan starts.

“Yes, you are Chan!” Mark argues, interrupting him again. He’s frowning down at his cup. “Chan, I know what went down with them was rough, and in no way am I trying to unacknowledge the pain you went through, but listen. It’s been a year now. You can’t base your decisions off of them, or else you’ll never move on.”

“Mark, I know.” Chan pauses, trying to find a way to say what he wants to without giving away the fact that he literally was just with them. “I… I get where you’re coming from, but if I’d agreed to date Minsu, I think ultimately both of us would’ve just ended up hurting, you know?”

Mark hesitates. “Yeah, alright.” He sits back, taking a sip of his tea again. “Well, I mean, the fact that you, you know, hung out with Minsu for longer than a night shows that you’re at least somewhat over them, right?”

Chan nods, because what the fuck else can he do right now. “Yeah, I’d say so. We’re… getting there.”

“Baby steps,” Mark says, grinning, and Chan nods.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Baby steps.”

“Okay, well,” Mark stops, blinking. “Holy shit!”

Chan jumps, tea rocking dangerously in his hand. “W-what?”

“You’re fucking house got, like, broken into!” Mark says, and Chan stares at him. “What the fuck, I almost forgot. What happened there?”

Chan blinks. “Oh.”

“ Oh?” Mark repeats, confused. “What do you mean, oh? Your house got shot up, Chan.”

“No, no, I know,” Chan says. “I wasn’t… home, though, so there wasn’t any real harm done. Not to me, at least.”

“But someone shot at your apartment, ” Mark repeats, slower this time as if the 0.5 speed he was speaking at before was too fast for Chan to comprehend. “Who was it? What did they want?”

Mark, that’s a question no one seems to have the answer to.

“I don’t know,” Chan answers honestly. “I mean, the — the police,” he amends himself before he can say the others and welcome a whole new barrage of questions from Mark, “told me that there weren’t any traces left. They’re not sure why my apartment got targeted, but I’m pretty sure it was, like, a mistake or something.”

“They accidentally shot at your window,” Mark deadpans, and Chan rolls his eyes. Mark was making lying to him very difficult. “Why are you calling it a mistake, Chan, what’s going on?”

“Mark, no one got hurt, and that’s what's important, right?” Chan looks at Mark, and the other boys nod, sighing. “The neighbors weren’t home either, so the window took the brunt of the damage.”

“Where are you gonna stay, then?” Mark asks. “I mean, Minsu left today, right? And your apartment is wrecked.” Mark gasps excitedly. “You could stay with me!”

Chan frowns. “First of all, please stop emphasizing his name like that, it made sense when you didn’t know who he was but now that I’ve told you about him it’s just unnecessary.” The story Jeonghan had told him to tell earlier pops into his head. “Also, thanks for the offer, dude, but I’m leaving for Busan tonight to go to my uncle’s funeral, so there’s no need.”

“Wait, the funeral your parents were going to?” Mark asks, and fuck, of course Mark would remember that. “I thought they were going without you?”

“Uh, they were, but then my, um, grandma insisted that it’d been too long since I’d come to visit, so I ended up getting tickets at the last minute to go.”

“Oh, alright. Dude, I miss your grandma, she’s so badass,” Mark grins, and Chan brings his mug up to hide the relief that clouds his face. Thank God he bought that.

“My tea’s done,” Mark says, standing up. “Here, give me your mug, let me go wash these real quick.”

“Wow, willingly doing the dishes?” Chan teases, downing the rest of his tea before holding the mug out to Mark. “They grow up so fast.”

“Bitch.” Mark laughs before heading into the kitchen. Chan hears the tap turn on as chan busies himself with the dishes, and he stands himself, stretching his legs out. He glances out at the window, watches as the sun starts to set behind the apartment building opposite Mark’s. Man, it’s been a long day.

His eyes trail down to the street, and he pauses, taking a step closer to the window, a frown forming on his face.

There was a black van parked on the otherwise empty street. Chan recognizes the van as the same one that pulled up almost at the same time he and Jeonghan had arrived. He squints his eyes at the van. It was turned off, but he could still make out a slight shadow behind the tinted passenger side window.

Suddenly, the door on the driver’s side opens, and Chan blinks, stepping back slightly. A man gets out, tall with dark hair and sunglasses despite the fact it was starting to get dark out. Chan watched the man stand up fully and straighten out his coat before the man turned and looked up, straight at Mark’s window.

Chan stumbled back quickly, eyes widening.

He recognized that face.

“Chan, why are you up?” Mark’s voice startles Chan, making him jump and whip around. Mark holds up his hands, the smell of lemon dish soap wafting through the air. “Woah! What’s going on, are you okay?”

“I—” Chan’s voice comes out rough. Mark’s staring at him with concern, and the only thing he can think to say is, “I’ve got to go to the bathroom!”

“Okay?” Mark stares at him, confused. “You know where it is? Go ahead.”

“I’ll be right back!” Chan hurries down the hall to where the bathroom is, his heart and his mind feeling as though they were competing in a marathon they were racing so fast.

That man outside — Chan had seen him before, last night. It had been for a moment, nothing more than a mere glance where he’d caught sight of the guy as Seungcheol ushered him into the car. He’d been sitting in that same black van, blending in, almost, with the shadows on the street cast by the trees.

Everything had been rushing so fast last night, Chan didn’t have to process the man, because the next thing he knew they were driving off into the night.

But he was sure it was him.

Chan locks the door to the bathroom behind him with one trembling hand as the other reaches for his phone. He hits the call button as fast as he can, breathing shaky.

“Hey, Channie,” Jeonghan answers, “what’s up—”

“Hyung!” Chan suddenly feels like crying, and he doesn’t really understand why, but the tears prick sharply in his eyes and leave them stinging. “Hyung, Hyung, oh my God, help, there’s — someone’s outside — they’re here — Mark—”

“Channie, Channie,” Jeonghan’s voice comes through, sounding calm and steady yet still firm, “I’m going to need you to calm down and tell me what’s going. Slowly.”

“T-there are people outside of Mark’s building,” Chan says, voice shaking, and he feels the tears start to slip down his cheeks. “A-and at first I thought it was just some people, but then h-he got out and Hannie-hyung, he’s here and what if he tries to hurt Mark—”

“ Chan.” Chan stops, breathes uneven and his face warm. “ Chan, who is he? Do you know who he is, or no? ”

“I d-don’t know who he is exactly,” Chan replies, trying his best to stay composed and relay the information in a way that Jeonghan will understand, but all he can think about is how they’re outside and Mark isn’t safe, “b-but I’m pretty sure I saw him last night.”

“You did? ” The alarm in Jeonghan’s voice raises, and Chan feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. When Jeonghan speaks next, though, his voice is back to the steady tone it was before. “Okay, darling, do you know how many people are in the van?"

“At l-least two, but I’m not sure if there are more,” Chan says. The thought that there are more than two people out there makes his chest tighten. “H-Hyung, please, I don’t know what to do,” Chan says, his voice cracking slightly. “Hyung— ”

“Channie, are you okay?” Mark asks from the other side of the bathroom door, knocking on it lightly, and Chan's head whips towards the door. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Don’t worry, baby, deep breaths, all right? ” Jeonghan says over the phone, and Chan closes his eyes, trying to even out his breathing. “ I’m not far from Mark’s apartment, I’m on my way as we speak, okay?"

“Channie?” Mark knocks again.

“Hyung, hurry,” Chan whispers, panic rising in his voice again. “Please, I’m scared.”

“No, no, baby, don’t be, alright?” Despite the situation, Jeonghan somehow is still maintaining a calm tone of voice. “ Hyung’s coming, alright? You grab Mark and both of you find a way to a back exit. Stay away from the side of the building that they’re on, okay? Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Y-yes, Hyung,” Chan says, even though his brain is screaming, no, you can’t.

“Okay, Channie, I’m going to hang-up now, alright? I’m almost there, meet me on the street behind the apartment building,” Jeonghan says. "Okay, sweetheart? ”

“Okay, Hyung.” The line cuts, and Chan hears Mark knock again on the door, this time with more force.

“Chan, what the fuck is going on, who are you talking to in there?” Mark asks. “What is going on—”

Chan unlocks the bathroom door and rushes out, grabbing Mark by the elbow and pulling him towards the front door. Mark almost drops his phone, he’s so startled, but Chan doesn’t care, just continues to pull him forward.

“Do you know a way for us to get to the backstreet without using the front entrance?” Chan asks, and Mark blinks at him.

“Huh?” Mark squints at him. “Chan, dude, what the fuck?”

“Mark, I really don’t have time to explain.” Chan starts tugging on his shoes, a pair of sneakers he’d borrowed from Jihoon. He tosses Mark’s shoes at him. “Quick, put these on!”

“What the fuck?” Mark repeats, but he does as Chan tells him, slipping them on as quick as he can. “Chan, what is—”

“Listen, I can’t explain this to you right now, mostly because I barely understand it myself,” Chan says, getting to his feet and grabbing the keys Mark left hanging on the key hooks by the door, “but if we don’t get the fuck out of your apartment right now, we could be in a lot of danger. Now, hurry!”

Mark opens his mouth to say something, then closes it and nods. Chan unlocks the door and rushes out, Mark following quickly. They lock the door behind them in what is probably a record time somewhere before Chan turns to Mark and says, again, “How do we get to the backstreet without leaving through the front entrance?”

“Uh, there’s…” Mark scrunches up his face as he tries to remember before his face lights up. “Right! There’s a fire escape that leads to the back!”

“Okay, hurry, let’s go—” Just as Mark turns to go, there’s a loud bang followed by a crash from inside Mark’s apartment, a series of sounds that send familiar chills up Chan’s spine.

“Did my window just shatter?” Mark asks, voice hollow, and Chan tries to control his shaking.

“Go, go, Mark, hurry!” Mark snaps to attention and leads Chan down the hallway, reaching a window that he pries open.

“Okay, through here, quick!” Chan tells Mark, and Mark shimmies out first, Chan following quickly behind him. From where they are, Chan sees Jeonghan’s car come zooming down the street, and he gestures at it. “There, Mark, get down and get in that car!”

Mark just nods, and the two climb down as fast as they can, gripping the rusty old handrail and trying not to slip on the wet stairs. Jeonghan’s car comes to a stop as they reach the bottom, and Chan grabs Mark’s arm and books it for the car, Mark rushing after him.

“Wait, who’s car—” Mark asks, just as Chan throws the door open and pushes him in, accidentally hitting his head against the other side’s door, before climbing in quickly after. There’s another gunshot, and Chan slams the door shut just as Jeonghan hits the gas and they speed off down the road, away from the apartment building.

“W-what the fuck, Chan?” Mark asks, rubbing his head where it had collided with the door, and Chan winces.

“Sorry about that, Mark,” Chan apologizes, and Mark shakes his head, eyes still trained on Chan’s face.

“No, not that, what the fuck is going on? Was that a — a gunshot?” Mark barks out a laugh, as if he was trying to convince himself all of this was a prank. “It couldn’t have been, right? I’m imagining things?”

Chan says nothing, and Mark’s face falls.

“I’m so confused—” Mark turns to look at the driver’s seat, and he freezes, eyes widening and jaw-dropping open, and fuck, here we go—

“Jeonghan-hyung?” Mark's eyes are wide, looking as if he’s just seen a ghost, which really isn’t far off.

As far as Mark was concerned, Jeonghan is, along with the rest of them all, dead to him.

“Chan, what the fuck?” Mark turns to Chan, who blinks back at him. Shit, what is he supposed to say? He looks over at the front and catches Jeonghan’s eyes in the rearview mirror. 

“Hey, Mark,” Jeonghan says, eyes drifting back to the road. “I get that this might be a bit of a shock—”

“Chan?” Mark doesn’t even look at Jeonghan, instead of continuing to address Chan. “Chan, you have literally ten seconds to explain to me why we are in a car with that asshole,” Chan catches Jeonghan wince at that, “and why you aren’t reacting like this isn’t as big of a deal as it is, because, holy shit, Chan — this is a big fucking deal.” 

Chan takes in the look on Mark’s face — he’s trying to look composed, but Chan can tell he’s pissed. Whether at him, Jeonghan, or both, though, he’s not quite sure.

During those months after the others had left, when all Chan felt was betrayal and broken trust and a lack of motivation to do anything, really, Mark had been there to help him through it. He’d come to his apartment every morning (that is, if he hadn’t been sleeping over already) and would drag him out of bed and insist that Chan couldn’t let a bunch of losers like them ruin his life. 

Chan knew that behind his you’re better without them front, his best friend was more pissed than even he was, and he also knew that, if he told him he could, Mark would go on a rampage around Seoul until he tracked down the twelve of them and had a bit more than a few words with them. But Chan had told him not to do that, back when he still blamed himself, and not them, for leaving, and figured whatever reason they had had to have made sense. Mark, begrudgingly, had promised to leave it alone, because as protective of a best friend Mark was, he was willing to push down that anger in order to make sure Chan would be alright.

Chan felt overwhelmed with guilt, the feeling manifesting in the form of his chest tightening.

“I, um, alright, so—” Chan pushes the hair from his forehead, sighing. “Last night—”

“When?” Mark demands, and so much for his ten seconds, huh? Chan blanches at the question.

“W-when?” He repeats, frowning. “At, um, my apartment—”

“But you said you weren’t at your apartment last night—”

“He lied, Mark,” Jeonghan says from the driver's seat, cutting him off. “Don’t blame him, though, it’s not his fault. We told Channie not to tell you—”

“Don’t call him Channie!” Mark snaps, whipping his head towards Jeonghan, and Chan jerks back in surprise, because woah. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Mark like this. “And I don’t blame him, of course I don’t — I blame you all.”

“Mark, please—” Chan tries to interrupt, but Mark shakes his head, not sparing him a glance.

“What bullshit have you fed him this time to make him think trusting you assholes again was going to be good for him, huh?” Mark asks, voice cold. Chan sighs. He should’ve seen this coming, but in the heat of the moment, the fact that Mark tends to be overly-protective seemed to slip his mind. “Because if I remember correctly, Hyung, you and the others fucking disappeared in the middle of the night from Channie’s life and never showed your faces again!”

“Mark, me and the others will explain everything once I get you two home safe, alright?” Jeonghan’s voice is a jolting contrast from Mark’s, calm and put-together where Mark’s is loud and volatile.

“Mark, I’ll explain later, alright,” Chan offers, because he can feel Mark getting ready to spit a retort back at Jeonghan. He tugs at Mark’s arm. “Please, just… just wait a little bit, okay?”

Mark hesitates, then heaves a sigh and sits back down, hands clenched into fists. He turns to Chan, and the guilty feeling only worsens upon seeing the look in his eyes.

“Chan, what is going on?” He asks quietly, and Chan has a feeling Mark isn’t referring to gunshots and the harrowing escape from his apartment they just went through. “You… why are you trusting them again, after everything they did to you?”

Chan sighs. “I don’t know, Mark. I… I’m not sure.”

“They broke your heart, Chan,” Mark says, in the same quiet tone, and Chan catches Jeonghan’s eyes in the rearview mirror again, just a brief glimpse before the older boy is turning away. 

Chan pauses. “I know, Mark. But… 

Mark stares at him before turning away and looking out the tinted window, a frown on his face. Chan opens his mouth to say something before closing it and letting out a small sigh.

Great. How much more could fucking go wrong for one person in the span of twenty-four hours? Chan was beginning to think all the karma he’d piled up over the last twenty years was finally coming back to kick him in the ass.

The three rode back to the house in silence, Mark’s gaze not swaying from the window for even a moment. Chan himself sat in a pool of anxiety, shooting glances at Mark every few seconds in hopes that his best friend would sense them and turn towards him.

No luck.

Chan wasn’t surprised.

When they finally arrived, after what felt like centuries and centuries of painful silent torture, Chan swings the door open and steps out. Almost immediately, he hears the front door open, and sees Seokmin come running out in a frantic hurry.

“Channie, oh my God, we were so worried!” He yelled, moving towards him. “Hyung called and told us what was going on, are you okay?”

Chan nods, smiling at the older boy. “Yes, Hyung, I’m fine, no need to worry.”

“Oh, thank God!” Seokmin opens his arms wide, moving in for a hug, just as Mark steps out from the car. Seokmin looks over, freezes, and his arms drop in a matter of milliseconds.

“H-hey, Mark,” he says, trying to force a smile on his face. Mark just stares back at him, expressionless and cold. “R-right,” Seokmin pushes on, awkward laugh trying to break the tension that suddenly sprung up between them, “well, it’s cold, let’s get you all inside.”

Jeonghan made his way over to Seokmin and the two began to speak quietly, making their way inside. Chan looked over at Mark, who seemed to be glued to his spot, taking in his surroundings.

“Nice house,” he comments when Chan makes his way over. Chan nods.

“Yeah, it is.” Chan watches Mark closely, and finally, Mark turns to him. “Come on, Mark, it’s freezing out, let’s head inside.”

Mark blinks, looking down as if just remembering that, in their rush to get outside, both had forgone their coats. He looks back up and nods, and Chan smiles softly and grabs his hand, leading him inside, to the living room where the others are all waiting.

“Channie, we’re so glad you’re alright!” Soonyoung shouts the second he sees Chan, and he looks as though he’s ready to jump up if not for the deathly-looking grip Jihoon has on his arm. Judging by the others’ restrained looks, he’s guessing they’re all being cautious now that Mark is here.

Mark stops in the doorway, and Chan can feel his best friend tense up beside him. He sees Mark’s hand close into a fist from the corner of his eye and pulls him forward, squeezing his hand in what he hopes is a reassuring manner.

The amount of fights Mark has gotten into on Chan’s behalf is a little ridiculous, everything from playground bullies pushing five-year-old off of the swing set to homophobic assholes teasing fifteen-year-old Chan and Mark for ‘dating’.

Chan never did like violence, never had been one to solve things with his fists. Mark wasn’t either, to be honest — the second he turned around and walked away from whatever fight he’d started, he’d have tears stinging his eyes, and he’d make sure the other person was long gone before he cradled his fist in his hand and winced at the bruises forming on his knuckles. Still, though, no matter how many times Chan told him it really wasn’t worth it, between pressing ice to his knuckles and applying bandages to his scrapes, Mark would shake his head.

“Chan, of course it’s worth it,” he’d insist every time, defiantly. “I’m your best friend. I’ve got your back no matter what.”

“Mark.” Seungcheol is the first to speak after Chan and Mark take a seat. “Are you alright? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“Cut the crap,” Mark replies, giving Seungcheol a dull look, and even Seungcheol looks surprised at the bluntness. “I’m fine, or, you know, as fine as one can be after their apartment gets fucking shot up, but I’m guessing this isn’t your first rodeo, huh?”

“U-um,” Seungcheol blinks, looking unsure as to how to respond to that.

“Yeah, alright.” Mark looks at the others, taking them in one by one. “Nice to see all of you are doing good. Seems the last year treated you well, huh?” He asks, voice laced with passive-aggression. 

“Mark, please.” Mark turns to look at Chan, who’s frowning over at him. “Just… let them explain, alright?”

Mark blinks, cold expression softening for a moment, before he turns back. “Alright, sure. Whatever. Go ahead, then, Hyungs, fill me in on this story.” He leans back in his seat, arms crossed. “This had better be good.”

Chapter Text

It doesn’t take the others long to relay the story — they knew which points to hit by now, having gone through the process of telling Chan earlier in the day. At several points throughout the story, Mark opens his mouth to say something, looking to be at varying levels of pissed and confused, and Chan would just shake his head at his best friend and mouth the word, wait, at him.

“—and then we heard Chan’s name pop up again on one of the tapped lines, and we figured something was going on, so we went to make sure he stayed safe.” Seungcheol pauses. “Then everything went down at his apartment, we intercepted, and we brought him back here. And now we’re here.”

Mark takes that as a cue that the story is finished, and he looks over at Chan, disbelief clouding his face. “And you trust these assholes because…?”

Chan blinks, and looks at the others for a moment before his gaze shifts back to Mark. “I just do, Mark. They made their mistakes, yeah, but I can kind of see why they did that—”

“No, Chan!” Mark’s voice grows louder in an instant. “Chan, you spent months hung up over these guys, blaming yourself for them leaving no matter how many times I’d try to convince you it wasn’t. It’s barely been a day at this point — you can’t just decide they’re worth even considering to forgive just because you, what, missed them?”

Chan narrows his eyes at Mark. “Mark, I’m not doing this because I missed them, okay? I’m trusting them because I recognize that the way they went about this wasn’t the best, but at the time it was what the considered necessary —”

“But they’re putting you in danger, Chan!” Mark argues, and Chan freezes.

“What? They’re protecting me—”

“Chan, they met you because they were curious about you, right?” Mark says, voice calming slightly. “They wanted to know why your name came up on their tapped lines or whatever, right? Why did they stick around? If they figured you weren’t a threat, and your name stopped coming up on the lines, why did the stick around?”

“Mark, we admit it, we got attached to Chan—” Minghao starts, but Mark cuts him off just as quickly.

“Yeah, you got attached to Chan, and then his name popped back up on the lines. What a fucking coincidence, huh?” Mark turns to Chan, who’s staring at him with confusion. What is he trying to say? “If they’re trying to take care of you, why would they disappear? Why would they leave you again, just as you seem to be back in danger, huh, Chan? And how did they disappear? I get they’re spies, but twelve people don’t just vanish without a trace. They’re clearly not telling you something—” 

“ Mark!” Mark jerks at Chan’s outburst, and even Chan pauses, taken aback by his own raised voice. He takes a deep breath, trying to even his thoughts into a coherent stream. “I get you’re worried, alright? In fact, I love that you are, thank you, you are such a good friend, Mark, but please — trust that I know what I’m doing, alright?”

Mark stares at him. “But, Chan—”

“Mark.” Chan smiles softly at his best friend, cutting him off. “It’s okay. I know that they’ve fucked up, believe me. I’m not forgiving them, and they know that. I’m just… opening myself up to the idea? Like, I’m trying to understand where they were coming from.”

“Yeah, Chan, but isn’t this really quick—”

“Mark, trust me.” Chan feels bad, cutting off Mark repeatedly, but he wants to get his own two cents across. “This entire morning, I was reacting the exact same way you are right now. I was pissed, I kept arguing with them all, and.. It wasn’t fair, you know? I mean, I deserve to be mad, I know that, and the Hyungs’ even said, like, you should be pissed at us, but I figured I should at least make some sort of effort.”

The room’s grown quiet, and Chan shifts, suddenly aware of how thirteen pairs of eyes are glued to him. He’d almost forgotten about the other twelve, and the sudden recollection that they, too, were in the room as he and Mark literally argued about them made Chan’s cheeks flame. He opens his mouth to say something, but Mark speaks up before him.

“Okay.” Chan blinks, partially shocked. Mark’s one of the most stubborn people he’s ever met — seeing him give in so easily is not something Chan is at all used to. “I… I get it. If you trust them, then I… I’ll try and accept it. It’s your life, after all.”

Chan smiles. “Thanks, Mark, you’re the best.”

“Yeah, fucking of course I am,” Mark scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he’s grinning, too. Chan shoves him, laughing. Mark moves to say something, but Chan catches Mark looking over at the couch across from them, and he turns to see Mark holding eye-contact with Seungcheol. “I still don’t trust you guys.”

Seungcheol blinks, surprised, before nodding. “We understand that, Mark.” He smiles, and Chan wonders how anyone could resist a smile like that. He pauses. Wow, alright. No wonder Mark thought he was being influenced by something other than his own morals. “We’ll do whatever we need to get you to trust us again, though, you can count on that.”

“Hmm.” Mark gives him and the others a look before shrugging, face expressionless but eyes hard and steely. “I sure hope so.”

“Okay!” Chan says, clapping his hands together, intervening before Mark can make another passive-aggressive threat towards them. “Let’s move on.”

“Alright.” Jihoon moves forward, drawing the attention of them all to him. Thank God for Jihoon. “Well, now that Mark seems to be a target as well, I think we have no choice but to take him to Busan with us.”

“Oh, shit, right.” Mingyu scratches the back of his neck. “I forgot about that. God, was that today?”

Chan has never felt more connected to a sentence.

“Wait, what?” Mark frowns. “Busan?”

Chan takes him through the whole uncle-potentially-not-being-dead discovery they’d made a few hours ago, and Mark nods along with him, confusion barely hidden behind the mask of faux understanding that Chan recognizes all too well, having been in the same position just hours ago as he pretended to comprehend what the others told him about their lives.

“Um, obviously I’m going with you?” Mark says when Chan finishes, saying it like the opposite was completely out of question. “Like I’m fucking letting you go through this alone, Chan.”

“He won’t be alone,” Seungkwan points out, pouting. “We’ll be there with him.”

Mark gives him a look, then turns back to Chan. “I’m definitely going.”

Chan rolls his eyes, then looks at the others. “Can he come?” He asks, and Seungcheol nods, sharing a look with the others before turning back.

“Leaving him in Seoul would just put him in more danger — taking him with us is probably our best bet.” He offers Mark a smile. “Besides, I have a feeling Mark won’t really accept us saying no.”

Mark raises his eyebrows back at him. “Damn right, Hyung.” 

“I’ll book his ticket, then,” Minghao says, pulling out his laptop. 

“Chan, can I talk to you for a moment?” Wonwoo asks, and Chan blinks. “Um, in the hall?”

“Oh, yeah, uh, sure.” Wonwoo stands up and makes his way out of the living room, and Chan moves to stand, but Mark grabs his hand before he leaves.

“We’re going to have a very long talk later in private, alright, Chan?” He says, and Chan nods.

“Okay, Mark.” He looks back at the hallway, then at Mark. “Thanks, though, dude. For, you know, understanding.”

Mark’s face softens at this. “Of course, Chan.” He glances over his shoulder at the hallway himself, before turning back with a pointed look. “Okay, I get you’re trusting them again, or whatever, but don’t go and do something stupid—”

“ Mark!” Chan feels his face flush, because the look on Mark’s face is enough to tell him exactly what he was suggesting by something stupid. “Oh my God, shut up—”

“I didn’t even say anything!” Mark argues, grinning. “Whatever it is that just flashed through your head, though, don’t do that—”

“ Mark!” Chan hisses again, reaching out to swipe at Mark, who dodges easily. Chan catches Seokmin and Hansol watching him from the corner of his eye, muffling their own giggles, and he pouts. “You’re so embarrassing, I hate you.”

“I love you, too,” Mark says, rolling his eyes with his signature shit-eating grin on his face. “Okay, now go, go!”

Chan turns towards the hallway, glancing at Hansol and Seokmin as he leaves. They both have smiles on their face, and upon seeing them looking, Seokmin cracks a wide grin while Hansol winks at him playfully. 

Chan turns pink, and the two crack up, only stopping when Mark raises an eyebrow at them, which. Yeah, okay, Chan’ll try and handle that later.

“Hyung?” Chan steps into the hallway, and sees Wonwoo standing by the stairs, staring down at his feet. The elder looks up when Chan walks in, smiling at Chan sweetly, and Chan feels his heart flutter at the sight. “What did you want to talk about.”

“Right, I, uh…” Wonwoo fiddles with his fingers as Chan makes his way towards him. “I wanted to ask if you remembered the guys at your apartment. Hannie-hyung mentioned that you had said you recognized one of them?”

Chan winces at the memory. “Y-yeah, I’m pretty sure one of them was at my apartment last night. I… I think I saw him in a van as we drove away, maybe?”

Wonwoo nods. “Could you, maybe… describe him?”

Chan hesitates. “I, um, yeah, I think I can. He was wearing sunglasses, today and yesterday, actually, even though it was nearing sunset today and, yesterday, it was late at night, so I don’t know why he was wearing them—”

“Did he have dark hair?” Wonwoo asks, and Chan blinks, slightly taken aback, before nodding. “Hmm, alright. I have a feeling I know who you’re talking about?”

“Just from that?” Chan asks, incredulously, and Wonwoo nods.

“There’s only so many people who wear sunglasses when it’s dark out who could potentially be involved with this,” Wonwoo tells him.

“This guy, is he… How dangerous is he, Hyung?” Chan asks, and Wonwoo looks at him, quiet for a moment before he shakes his head, a soft smile on his face.

“Don’t you worry about it, Channie,” he says, voice deep and calm, “we’ll take care of it, alright?”

Chan nods, an odd but warm sense of reassurance washing over him. “Alright, Hyung.” Chan pauses. “Why didn’t you just ask me this with the others around?”

Wonwoo flushes at this. “I, uh…” He sighs. “I wanted to make sure you were alright, too, Channie.”

Chan tilts his head. “What do you mean, Hyung?”

“I mean, you’ve gone through a shitload of events in the last twenty-four hours,” Wonwoo says, “and each one has probably been more jarring than the last. And now your best friend’s been dragged into this — it’s been a lot, and I don’t think even you’ve gotten a second to stop and reflect on your own state of being, so I just wanted to make sure you were… okay.”

Chan tries, and fails, to keep his heart from combusting. “Hyung, I really appreciate that. And you’re right, it definitely has been… a lot. But I feel like stopping and kind of fixating on one thing for too long will lead to a whole rabbit hole that I frankly don’t want to delve into.” Chan hesitates. 

Was that unhealthy, to say that he would rather push his problems away than face them head-on for the fear that it might reveal something he doesn’t want to know?

(Well, actually. When he puts it that way, yeah, it does sound unhealthy.

Let’s not put it that way.)

“Also.” Chan looks up, Wonwoo’s voice drawing him out from his thoughts. “I wanted to… apologize.” 

“For?” Chan gears himself up for an(other) apology about leaving him those months ago—

“I’m sorry about the way I was acting when you brought up... Minsu.” Chan blinks. Okay. He… wasn’t expecting that. Wonwoo bites his lip, looking away. “I acted all… protective, I guess, and jealous, because I was — I was jealous that you’d moved on, and I know I have no right to have felt, or feel, that way, because we left you, and we brought this upon ourselves.” Ah. There’s the apology for leaving. It seems unavoidable no matter what they talk about. “I just… he makes you happy, right, Channie? Because you deserve someone who makes you happy, because you deserve to be happy.”

Chan takes a deep breath, nodding his head slowly. “Minsu-hyung, he… he makes me happy. Yeah, he… he does.”

“Yeah?” 

“Y-yeah.” Chan sighs. “Hyung, me and him, we’re… it’s complicated.”

And it is, to Chan at least. He met Minsu at a time where his life was still completely upside down after the others had left him, when he was sleeping around with everyone and anyone not because he wanted to, exactly, but more so because he wanted to take his mind off of them.

But then Minsu happened, and his life took a turn. Dreary mornings that bled into dreary afternoons and nights started to shine a little brighter for Chan. Chan wants to tell Wonwoo, no, Minsu and him weren’t that serious, that the entire time he still thought of them, and while it’s partially true, it’s not the full truth.

To say he doesn’t still have feelings for Minsu would be a lie, but, God, how he wants to say it.

Quick, say something. “But thank you, Hyung,” Chan says, smiling at Wonwoo, who offers him a small smile back. “I appreciate your concerns. It’s actually really cute how much you care.”

“Of course I care for you, Channie,” Wonwoo says, softly. “We all do. More than I think any of us could put into words.”

Chan feels all warm and fluttery. “I care for you all, too, Hyung. So, so much.” And then he hesitates for a moment, unsure if what he wants to do is even allowed after the conversation they just had.

Fuck it, he might as well. 

Chan leans forward and presses a small kiss to Wonwoo’s cheek, going up on his tiptoes a little in order to reach the elder’s cheek. He pulls back and sees Wonwoo’s cheeks flaming, and he can feel his own ears have gone red, but he just smiles. Wonwoo smiles back at him, and Chan almost forgets that the last year even occurred, because the familiarity of it all hits him hard.

“Channie.” Chan jumps, whipping around, eyes wide, to see Mark standing there, leaning against the living room entrance, an unreadable expression on his face. Shit, how much of that did he see? Hopefully he’d missed the kiss, or Chan would never hear the end of it. “Seungcheol-hyung said you and I could stay in the same room.”

“Oh, right, we can go there now. That is—'' Chan turns to Wonwoo, who also looks slightly shaken at Mark’s sudden appearance. “We’re good, right, Hyung?”

Wonwoo turns and meets his eyes, gaze softening. “Yeah, Channie, we’re good.”

“Great.” Chan grins at Wonwoo brightly, lingering in front of the older boy for a moment before gesturing at Mark to follow him. “Come on, let’s go, we can talk upstairs.”

Chan makes his way up the stairs, turning only when he reaches the top to see Mark still at the base, saying something to Wonwoo. Wonwoo’s nodding, and Mark’s glaring at him, and, okay, alright, so Mark clearly heard and saw things he didn’t need to see. Chan clears his throat, and Mark looks up, looks back at Wonwoo, says one final thing, then continues after Chan, who’s frowning at him.

“What the fuck did you say to him?” Chan asks, and Mark shrugs.

“That’s between us, Channie,” Mark says, and Chan rolls his eyes. 

“You’re infuriating, you know that?” Chan opens the door to the room he’d been in earlier, and Mark follows him in, looking around the room. “Here, let’s sit on the carpet, I don’t want to dirty the bedspread.”

That’s how they end up on the floor, on the fluffy maroon carpet, Mark cross-legged and Chan on his stomach, propped up by his elbows. It’s very reminiscent of their childhood, late nights spent in either Mark or Chan’s bedrooms, talking about everything from crushes to school to the future in hushed voices as the clock neared midnight.

“What did he want to talk to you about?” Mark asks, and Chan shrugs, running his hand over the soft carpet.

“He was asking about the stuff at your apartment,” Chan answers, which is true. It’s not the whole truth, but it’s true, at least. “The people there — I recognized one of them, he was just trying to figure out if it was who he assumed it was.”

“That’s all?” Mark presses, and Chan hesitates. “What else did he say?”

“He just apologized, I don’t know…” Mark looks at him expectantly, and Chan sighs. “Okay, well, I got a call from Minsu earlier in the morning, right? It was when we had sat down for breakfast and were discussing, you know, everything, and my dumbass accidentally put the call on speaker-phone just as Minsu was mentioning I’d left my sweater at his place last time I’d gone over to—”

“—fuck—” Mark cuts in.

“— hang out.” Chan finishes, frowning. “Mark, please, what the fuck, dude?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Mark waves off, sounding everything but apologetic, “go on. Actually wait — of-fucking- course you’d put the phone on speaker-phone, Channie.” Mark grins, and Chan gives him a flat look. “Ok, now go.”

“Okay, well, anyways, the others overheard about Minsu and they got, like… jealous, kind of?” Chan feels awkward saying it. “Wonwoo-hyung especially, so he was just apologizing for that.”

“What the fuck?” Mark pulls a face. “They’re not exactly in the position to be jealous, now are they?”

“That’s what I thought!” Chan exclaims. “This was earlier in the day when I was still being, like, unreasonable, though, so I may have… said things. Like it’s none of their business.”

“Well, it isn’t,” Mark says, and Chan grimaces.

“Yeah, but…” Chan shakes his head, hands running through the carpet once more. “I don’t know, it’s weird and complicated.”

“That’s what you said about this Minsu,” Mark says, and here we go. “Speaking of, what’s actually going on between you two? We talked about it back at my apartment, but I don’t know if that was, like, the truth, or just another lie—” Chan winces, and Mark hurries to correct himself, “fuck, wait, that sounds like I’m being petty, I’m not, I don’t hold this against you. Like, at all. I’m just saying, like, a lot of what you told me back there was because you weren’t, like, fucking allowed or whatever to tell me, but now you are, so spill.”

Chan hesitates. “I mean, what I told you about Minsu-hyung was pretty much completely true. When I met him, it was when I was still sleeping around, but after him, I kind of… stopped? It was kind of like we were exclusive, but we weren’t dating, exactly. I don’t know, I know it started as a sort of coping mechanism, or something, to get over the others, but I do think over time it might’ve grown to be something more.” Chan sighs, burying his head in his hands. “And now the others are back, and I can’t help but feel the same way I did before they left, but it’s not like I can 100% say I don’t have feelings for Minsu…”

Mark’s staring at him, silently taking in everything. Chan tilts his head towards him. “I’m a mess, huh?”

“Oh, Channie, that’s without a doubt,” Mark teases, and Chan pouts, shoving at Mark. Mark giggles. “Okay, but seriously — does Minsu know about the others?”

Chan shakes his head. “He knows I had a bad breakup, but that’s about the extent of what I’ve told him.”

Mark pauses, thinking for a second, before replying, “Channie, it’s been a day. You have time to figure out your emotions — it’s not, like, an overnight process.”

Chan nods, shrugging. “You’re right, you’re right, I’m stressed over something that’ll honestly probably sort itself out, right?”

“Right,” Mark agrees, before adding, “also, you’ve got bigger things to focus on — this whole long-lost uncle is part of the mafia shit. What is up with that?”

Chan shakes his head, rolling over onto his back and stretching. “Honestly? I have no clue. The others are dead set that my allegedly deceased uncle actually faked his death and is planning to mingle with some hotshot crime lords on a cruise ship in Busan.” Mark blinks at him, and Chan lets out a laugh. “Yeah, I know, right? I mean, the others look like they know what they’re doing, so I’m trying to trust them, but it’s hard when it all just seems so… circumstantial? Base-less?”

Chan sits up and spins himself around to face Mark again. “You said, downstairs, that you think they’re hiding something from me?”

Mark nods. “Yeah?”

“I mean, I think you might be right.” Chan pauses. “Not, like, something super bad, but why else would they be so convinced of this Busan thing unless they had reason to believe it? I don’t know — again, I have faith in them. If they’re not telling me, I’m assuming it’s for good reason.”

Mark frowns. “What if this is just one big mistake? A wild goose chase, or a dead end, or a loose thread that doesn’t even relate to the shooting at your place and mine at all?”

Chan throws his hands up. “That’s what I’m saying! But the others are convinced… they said, earlier, something along the lines that it’s a maybe they can’t risk.” Chan shivers at the memory of the conversation, so fresh in his mind yet somehow simultaneously light-years away. He groans, flopping against Mark’s side. “It’s been such a long day, Markie. I feel like I’ve aged, like, three years in the last fifteen hours.”

“Don’t worry, dude, it’s almost over.” Chan’s stomach rumbles loudly, and Mark raises his eyebrows. “Have you not eaten, Chan?”

“I had, like, a grape for breakfast.” Chan closes his eyes, tired, “but then I lost my appetite after I yelled at the others for a solid few minutes. And then I had tea at your place, so. Yeah, no. I have not eaten all day.”

“Chan, that’s not okay, what the fuck—”

As if on cue, there’s a knock on the door, and upon Chan calling out for them to come in, Joshua peeks in and says, “We ordered chicken, I hope you two are hungry.”

“Oh my goodness, Shua-hyung, you are a literal angel,” Chan says, and Joshua smiles sheepishly at him.

“Sorry, Channie, I know you haven’t eaten much all day,” he says apologetically. “We ordered from your favorite place.”

“It’s okay, Hyung,” Chan says, sitting up, “I honestly forgot, too. Thank you!”

Joshua’s smile softens. “Of course, Channie.” He glances between the two of them before saying, “The food should be here in a while, but you two can come down whenever, alright?”

Mark and Chan nod, and with that Joshua closes the door again, leaving the two alone.

“God, you’re so whipped for all of them, it’s almost disgusting to watch,” Mark says, fake gagging, and Chan laughs, laying back down against him.

“Yeah, yeah.’ Chan doesn’t try to dispute it, because there isn’t really anything for him to dispute.

“Wait, you said you yelled at them?” Mark turns to Chan suddenly, as if that piece of information had suddenly stood out to him. Chan nods, laughing awkwardly.

“Yeah, the morning was spent with me just kind of… yelling, at them.” Chan makes a face. “Kind of therapeutic, if I’m being honest, but definitely not healthy.”

“Wow, confrontation-hating Channie arguing at someone…” Mark grins. “They grow up so fast.”

“Yeah, well, I learned from the best.”

“Damn right, I was the best in the debate club.”

Chan smiles as Mark continues to chatter, responding when prompted to but otherwise just letting his best friend talk.

“You’re not asleep, are you?” Mark asks a few moments later, and Chan shook his head, eyes still closed. “Why aren’t you saying anything, then?”

“Just ‘cause.” Chan smiles. “I missed you, Mark.”

“It hadn’t even been a day since we’d last seen each other, Chan,” Mark replies.

“No, no, I know, it’s just…” Chan doesn’t know how to put it into words. The events of last year left him in a fragile state, and by extension Mark had to now tread on eggshells when he spoke, not wanting to risk saying something that would potentially upset Chan.

The last day has been a fucking rollercoaster, but at least it’s letting them say the things they want to say without that fear. It feels like it’s been too long since this Mark and Chan talked about random shit, tossing playful insults back and forth in-between digressions that lasted anywhere from thirty seconds to twenty minutes.

“I missed this.”

And Mark seems to understand, because when Chan opens to look over at Mark, Mark’s smiling at him softly.

“I missed you, too, Chan,” Mark says, and Chan feels suddenly lighter. He smiles back.

“Mark! Channie!” Joshua calls up the stairs, and Mark and Chan both turn towards the door. “ Food’s here, c’mon down!”

“Fuck yeah, I’m starving,” Chan groans, pulling himself to his feet before tugging Mark up behind him. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

“I’m right behind you,” Mark says, and Chan can’t help the smile that spreads across his face and stays there as the two make their way downstairs for dinner.

Chapter Text

“So, wait, we’re crashing a party on a cruise ship?” Mark asks, sitting with his legs crossed on the carpet in Minghao and Mingyu’s room. Mingyu nods, eyes trained carefully on the measuring ribbon in his hands as he wraps it around Chan’s waist.

“Yeah,” he says simply, eyes squinting as he tries to get the exact measurement.

“Why are a bunch of rich evil dudes on a cruise ship in Busan?” Mark asks, frowning. “This feels like a comic or something.”

“Well, people wouldn’t expect a bunch of crime lords to meet in Busan, not when so many are based in Seoul,” Minghao explains, “so meeting there makes sense. The cruise ship, though, I’m not sure about.”

“Maybe they just want to feel powerful and fancy,” Chan offers, and Mingyu giggles, looking up at Chan with a smile on his face that makes Chan’s heart skip, like, fifteen beats.

“Yeah, maybe.” Mingyu pinches the measuring tape with one hand while he uses the other to jot down the measurement before rising to his feet, stretching. “Okay, I have the measurements, here Hao.”

Minghao takes the sheet of paper Mingyu offers him and pulls his phone out, snapping a picture before his fingers start moving in a flurry.

“I don’t get why we can’t just, like, rent some tuxes, or something, Hyung,” Chan says, taking a seat beside Minghao. “Isn’t getting them made going to take too long?”

“No, no, don’t worry, Channie,” Minghao says, pressing send and dropping his phone onto his lap. “We know a guy.”

“Ominous,” Mark mutters from the carpet, and Chan shoots him a look.

“Besides,” Minghao continues, either not hearing or choosing to ignore Mark, “we can’t have you wearing rented tuxes. Most of the time it wouldn’t matter, but we’re going to an event with high-profile people. We need to do everything we can to blend in.”

“Okay, Hyung.” Chan looks up at the door as Seokmin walks in, warm smile and bright eyes that land on Chan.

“Channie, Shua-hyung asked me to come grab you,” Seokmin says, before looking over at Mark, smile faltering, and adding, almost sheepishly, “just for, um, a minute. Or two.”

Mark nods, slowly, as if he’s actually thinking about it and not putting up a show, and Chan rolls his eyes. He stands and follows Seokmin out of the room, stopping for a second at the door to frown over at Mark.

“Cut the shit, Mark,” he says dryly, and in return he gets a raised eyebrow. Mingyu and Minghao share a look and crack matching smiles.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mark says, and wow, faux-innocence is not a good look on him. Chan rolls his eyes again.

“Channie!” Seokmin calls, and Chan turns his head towards Seokmin, who is standing at the staircase waiting for him. He nods hurriedly before turning back to Mark.

“Yeah, okay, whatever you say, dude, just…” He waves his hand in Mark’s direction. “Stop it.”

Chan makes his way over to Seokmin, who smiles so brightly at him that Chan can’t help but grin back, and the two make their way down the staircase towards the living room.

“You know, you don’t need to be so scared of Mark,” Chan tells him, to which Seokmin hesitates. “No, seriously. What did he say to get you all so cautious of him?”

Seokmin shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know, just… Stuff.”

Chan frowns, stopping, and Seokmin pauses too, turning to look at him. “What stuff?” Chan pushes, and Seokmin sighs.

“He just told us that leaving hurt you a lot,” Seokmin explains, eyes on the ground between them, “and that even if you were beginning to trust us again, he didn’t want us to get too comfortable with you.”

Chan thinks about that. It all sounds reasonably like something Mark would say, but Chan has a feeling there’s more to it that Seokmin isn’t saying. In the end, he nods.

“Hmm, well, no need to be overly cautious when he’s not around, alright?” Chan says, and Seokmin looks up. “And don’t worry about it too much, Hyung — Mark’s just like that. Overly-protective and stuff. It’s annoying sometimes, but I know he means well.”

Seokmin nods, then, almost hesitantly, says, “I… I’m sorry, Channie. I know everyone’s been saying it for the last few days, but I don’t think any of us will ever be able to stop apologizing for leaving you the way we did.”

Chan smiles softly. “That’s alright, Hyung. I’ll just keep responding the way I have been — I understand. It was shitty, yes, and I’m glad you all acknowledge just how shitty of you guys it was to do that to me, but we’re moving on, and we’re going to grow from this, right?”

Seokmin nods, smiling back at Chan. “Right, Channie.”

“And, I’m sorry, too, Hyung.” Seokmin blinks, confused. “About the way I acted a few days ago. I was out of line and really angry and all this built-up anger kind of just came pouring out in the least helpful way, so. Yeah.”

Seokmin frowns. “You don’t have to apologize for that—”

“No, no, I do.” Chan shrugs. “You guys are making your apology rounds, I might as well make mine, too. So I’m sorry, Hyung, for snapping at you like I did. I didn’t mean to.”

Seokmin brings a hand up to Chan’s face and cups Chan’s cheek, and the action itself is so warm and gentle it almost makes Chan swoon. Seokmin rubs his thumb against the skin of Chan’s cheek and smiles.

“Channie, God, I missed you so much,” he says, voice almost in a whisper, and Chan swallows, leaning into his touch. “We all did, missed you so fucking bad.”

“Hyung,” he says, and his own voice comes out quieter than he expected it too, almost choked up. “Hyungie, I missed you guys, too. So, so much.”

“Seokminnie, are you coming!” Seungcheol calls from downstairs, and Seokmin glances down the stairs, blinking as if just remembering that the two were standing awkwardly in the middle of the staircase. Seokmin brushes his thumb over Chan’s cheek once more.

“Coming, coming, Hyung!” Seokmin calls back, taking a step away from Chan and, almost hesitantly, drawing his hand back. Chan reaches forward, grabbing hold of Seokmin’s retreating hand and lacing their fingers together, the way they used to, when Seokmin walked Chan to class or when they went out on dates together. Seokmin stares at him, eyes widening slightly in surprise at the sudden quick motion, and Chan stares back into his eyes, holding his hand. “Y-yeah, Channie?”

Chan leans forward, his body moving quicker than his mind can, and presses his lips to Seokmin’s cheek. He feels that giddy rush he’d felt a few days ago, when he’d kissed Wonwoo in the blur of his momentary “fuck it” attitude. 

He draws back and his lips graze just barely over Seokmin’s as he moves away, and the older boy tightens his grip slightly, looking at him with this look that makes Chan shiver. Chan stares at Seokmin as the older boy’s eyes flit over his face, gaze lingering a second too long on his lips for it to pass as a quick glance.

There’s something about the way Seokmin’s looking at him that makes Chan forget where they are, what they’re doing and where they’re supposed to be going. It takes everything Mark told him over the past few days, during their several late-night chats where his best friend drilled into his mind that being open to forgiveness isn’t the same thing as forgiving them and that he shouldn’t be so quick to go back to the things were, and pushes them into a far corner of his mind that doesn’t care about any of that, because right now Seokmin is right in front of him, and Chan wants nothing more than to kiss him—

“Seokminnie—” Seungcheol’s voice sounds far away and distant to Chan, but Seokmin turns immediately, eyes widening in surprise. Chan’s head tilts slower as if his mind is engulfed in some sort of honey that’s slowing him down. He blinks at Seungcheol, who's staring up at the pair with a frown.

His eyes aren’t trained on either of their faces, and Chan realizes belatedly that he's looking at their clasped hands. Seokmin seems to recognize that too, because at the same time they unlatch their hands and let them drop back to their sides. 

Seungcheol stares at them for a moment longer, an unreadable expression on his face, before saying, “Shua’s waiting.”

Seokmin nods, a look of guilt on his face and he murmurs an apology as he starts now the stairs, and Chan follows, trying to clear his mind of the haze that had built up so suddenly.

Was this wrong of him? The thought hits Chan suddenly, and he frowns to himself. Yeah, they used to date, a year ago, before everything went down and they left. But it seems clear that they still have feelings for him (at least, Chan hopes he’s not reading that wrong, but he doubts he is) and he clearly still has feelings for them, no matter how many times he tries to convince himself he doesn’t. 

But is getting back together with the direction in which this all is going?

To say he hasn’t thought about it would be a lie — he and Mark have discussed it numerous times over the last few days, during their several late-night chats, in between Mark telling him he’s being too easy on them and that he shouldn’t be so quick to forgive and forget. They’ve talked about it, talked about how, yeah, Chan and the others could get back together, but should they?

“You can’t just discount the fact they left you,” Mark said last night, and Chan’s starting to think his best friend has a bigger grudge about this than Chan does, and trust him — Chan’s still pretty pissed about that, don’t get it twisted. It makes sense though — Mark lost as much of his time worrying about Chan's wellbeing and Chan did worrying about the others’. “That, or the fact that your whole friendship, at the start at least, was set up.”

Chan had hesitated at that, because fuck, Mark had a really good point, ( as always — screw Mark and his unbeatable reasoning). “I mean,” he’d said, frowning up at the ceiling, “...yeah, but… I’d like to believe that further down the line, when they did eventually ask me out, it was because they, you know, actually did care about me.” 

“No, definitely,” Mark had agreed, “but think about it: after everything that’s happened, all these lies and secrets that have been kept from you, do you really want to risk going back to them? I mean, you know about their secret now, so there’s that, but who’s to say it won’t put you in danger again?”

Chan thought about it. Was there some sort of ‘ I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you’ rule with spies in real life, or is that something perpetuated by movie stereotypes? Would he really be in danger if he decided to get back together with them? Wouldn’t they be able to protect him?

Was all of this pointless to even consider, because maybe they don’t even want to get back together with him, and rather helped him out of a sense of responsibility rather than out of a sense of wanting to get back with him?

“Channie!” Joshua smiles at Chan when he enters the kitchen from where he’s seated at the kitchen table, laptop opened in front of him. “Hey. Sorry to drag you away, I just needed to ask a few things.”

Chan nods, moving forward to take a seat beside Joshua, who pulls the chair out for him. Seungcheol and Seokmin take a seat across from them.

“Wonwoo told me about what you said to him a few days ago,” Joshua says, and Chan pauses. What did he say a few days ago? The last few days have been strange, a blur of emotions and memories and actions that have started to meld together. Joshua must sense the confusion, because he adds, “about the man who was at your and Mark’s apartments.”

Realization dawns on Chan’s face. “Oh,” he says, “yeah. What about him?”

“Well, Wonwoo figured he knew who the person was based on the way you described him.” Joshua starts clicking through files on his laptop, and Chan frowns. That was weird, wasn’t it? The way Chan had said three adjectives to describe the man and Wonwoo had somehow already pinpointed who he was speaking of?

Well, they are spies after all. Who knows what kind of people they’ve come across in their… spy-errands, or whatever the fuck they did as spies.

“I just needed to confirm whether this was the guy you saw,” Joshua continues, turning the computer back to him, “because we don’t want to go into this suspecting the wrong guy doing something like this.”

Chan looks at the image as it loads, not expecting much. Okay, even if they are spies, Chan mentioning a guy with sunglasses shouldn’t be enough to—

Oh.

The image was grainy, a screencap from what looked like footage caught of the outside of a bar Chan recognized to be one of the most expensive in Seoul, which. Expensive in Seoul is no joke. There was a man walking up to the entrance, surrounded by bodyguards. He looked like he owned the place, making his way past a line of waiting patrons.

He was grinning, and over his eyes, despite the fact it seemed to be late at night in the photo, he had on a pair of sunglasses.

Chan blinks, then looks away from the picture.

“Wow, yeah, that’s…” He meets Joshua’s eyes, trying and failing at masking the shock in his voice. “That’s him.”

“Alright.” Joshua turns to the photo himself, a small frown on his face as he studies the photo himself. “Okay.”

Chan frowns at that. That was a strange reaction, wasn’t it? “Who… Who is that, Hyung?”

Joshua pauses, eyes flitting up to Seungcheol, and Chan turns to look at the eldest too, frown deepening.

“Come on, tell me,” he says, eyebrows drawing together. “You can’t keep keeping secrets, what’s the point in that? Besides, this dude was at my place, and my best friend’s place — I think I deserve to know who he is.”

Seungcheol sighs and nods. “You’re right, you’re right. Sorry, Channie.” He gestures at Joshua, and Chan focuses his attention on the boy beside him.

“This is Jung Minho,” Joshua says, pointing at the image on the laptop. “He’s… kind of a big deal, you could say.”

“A big deal?” Chan frowns. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that name, though…?”

Joshua shrugs. “Well, Channie, you’re not part of the crime world.” He seems to realize what he’s said, because his eyes widen slightly and he sits up straighter. “Not that — not that we are, either! We’re… not, we just… know about it?”

“That made us sound so suspicious, Hyung,” Seokmin says, and Joshua pouts at him.

“Channie knows what I meant, though, right Channie?” Joshua turns to Chan, and Chan pauses.

“Y-yeah,” he says, a beat too late, but can you blame him? He still doesn’t quite understand the concept of spies, is still picturing the twelve of them with a multitude of cool spy gadgets and in-ears as they steal a 50 million won diamond or something equally Hollywood blockbuster movie of them.

Joshua seems to catch his hesitance, but he pushes past it, continuing. “Well, Jung Minho is infamous in not only the Seoul crime scene, but the South Korean crime scene. He’s involved in mostly drug trafficking, but there’s way more to his resume.”

“Like shooting up college students’ apartments,” Chan deadpans, and Joshua laughs dryly.

“I guess so.”

“Okay, wait, so if he’s so infamous, why is he just… roaming the streets? Going to clubs? How hasn’t he been arrested yet?”

“Connections,” Seungcheol says, and there’s a hint of bitterness in his voice as he says. “He’s got connections in every part of Seoul, including the police department. Not much you can’t get away with when you have connections like this guy.”

“Hmm.” Chan frowns. “What does a guy like him want with me? He sounds prolific enough that he could have just sent his henchmen or whatever to get me — why did he show up himself?”

“We…” And Chan swears he catches Joshua glancing at Seungcheol then, a look that lasts for all of one millisecond before Joshua’s eyes are returning to Chan’s and Chan’s are moving to see where Joshua’s eyes had just flitted to. “We’re not sure, Chan. It could honestly be anything.”

“Well, that’s unsettling.” Chan leans back in his chair, and Joshua lays a gentle hand on his knee.

“Don’t worry, Channie,” he says, voice like hot chocolate, it's so warm and soothing. “We won’t let anything happen to you, okay?”

Chan meets Joshua’s eyes, soft and kind, and he pauses for a moment. There’s a voice in his head telling him to keep his mouth shut, to not say what he’s about to—

“Do you guys want to date me again?”

Chapter Text

Joshua freezes, and across the table, Chan sees from the corner of his eyes that Seungcheol and Seokmin have seized up, too. The kitchen is silent, nothing but that fucking clock on the wall filling the room with it’s incessant tick-tocking.

“C-come again?” Joshua asks, looking taken aback by the question, and. Yeah, alright. Maybe that wasn’t the most tactful way to bring it up, but Chan was curious, okay? And this was the only time he’s gotten in days to actually talk to any of them about anything other than the damn trip to Busan, because Mark was always over his shoulder glaring every time Chan tried to say something to them.

“D-do you guys want to date me again?” Chan repeats, only this time his voice is a little shakier because oh, fuck, was this not the right time to bring it up? It really  is too soon, Mark was right, because Mark’s always right—

“Channie?” Seungcheol speaks up, and Chan turns a little too quickly, head jerking up and in his direction. The eldest looks worried, which confuses Chan. “Why are you asking us that?”

“I…” Chan shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, that wasn’t—”

“No, no, Channie,” Seokmin says, cutting him off. “What did I say about apologizing? You’ve done nothing wrong, so why apologize?”

“I…” Chan looks down at his lap, thoughts muddlings into a mess in his mind. “I don’t know.”

“Channie, baby,” Seungcheol says, voice so soft and gentle and warm it makes Chan’s heart melt, “why are you asking us that?”

And it’s clear they’re not going to take ‘I don’t know,’ as an actual excuse here, so Chan sighs and says, “Because I’m confused, Hyungs.”

“Why?” Joshua asks. “Confused about what, hon?”

“That,” Chan says, gesturing at Joshua. “The baby’s, and the darling’s, and the hon’s, you know, the pet names.”

“Do you… do you want us to stop calling you by pet names?”

“No!” Chan says, the syllables coming out too fast once again. He blinks. “N-no, I… I don’t. But it’s not just that, it’s also the way you guys are acting. It’s so…”

“Different?” Seungcheol finished, and Chan shakes his head.

“No, that’s the thing.” He moves his hands helplessly. “It’s not different, at least not that much. Like, yeah, you guys are being more open, whether it’s openly honest or openly secretive,” the others wince at that, “but it’s, for the most part, the same way you guys acted with me a year ago, before you all left. When we were still… together.”

“And that’s confusing?” Seokmin asks, and Chan nods.

“Kind of.” He sighs again. “Here, listen. I don’t know exactly what you want from me here, why you decided now to come back into my life. I mean, I understand it partly, the guys and this Jung Minho character and me being in danger for whatever reason, but why you’re keeping me around, offering so much help, that I don’t get. Is it out of guilt? Do you feel some moral obligation to help me after breaking my heart, or is it for a different reason?”

The three are quiet, staring at Chan with frowns on their face. Finally, Seungcheol says, “Well. There are a few reasons, Channie. I’d be lying if I said guilt for what we did to you wasn’t one of the factors that contributed to us coming back to help you, but, again, that was just one of many factors.”

Seungcheol looks nervous as he says this, and Chan wonders, again, for maybe the fiftieth time in the last fifteen seconds, if bringing this up now with only three of the twelve others involved in this was a good idea.

“We felt bad and wanted to make sure you were safe, yes, but we wanted to make amends with you, too,” Seungcheol continues, “because, — and, I know I speak for all of us, even the guys who aren’t here, when I say this — yes, Chan, we want to be with you again.”

Chan blinks. He already knew that, sort of, with the way the guys had been treating him and the things they said and did around him, but hearing Seungcheol admit in aloud sends a smattering of butterflies fluttering around his stomach. 

“But,” Seungcheol says, and Chan feels the smile that was starting to spread on his face disappear in an instant, “we don’t want you to feel obligated to comply with what we want.”

Oh. Chan feels himself relax, and the butterflies start up again in his stomach, swooping and diving and doing whole synchronized performances in his stomach, because, wow. Chan is so in love it’s starting to hurt.

“We didn’t want to rush you, or make you think we were only here again because we wanted to date you again and not because we cared for your safety and well-being, because we do .” Seungcheol glances at Seokmin as he says the next part: “ Some of us didn’t quite get the memo, it seems…”

Seokmin flushes. “I’m sorry,” he says, pouting, and Seungcheol fights the smile threatening to spread on his face and loses, weak to Seokmin’s pout the way  everyone is weak to Seokmin’s pout. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” Seungcheol says softly, brushing the hair from Seokmin’s eyes, and Chan’s chest aches with want. Seungcheol turns back to Chan. “Anyway, like I was saying, Channie, we all want you back more than anything, but we don’t want to rush you, especially considering how fast everything has been moving over the last few days.”

Chan nods, not quite knowing what to say. He feels strange, a weird and uncomfortable combination of relieved and anxious. The confirmation that they want him back only shoehorns the question of what now? Chan doesn’t even know if he’s even fully forgiven them yet, though it’s clear that’s the direction they’re moving in.

(And then there’s the question of Minsu, which.

Chan’s been trying awfully hard to ignore all thoughts of Minsu, which has become increasingly more difficult, because with all this going on between him and the others and this sudden revival of emotions which were apparently just buried and never quite left him completely, how does he not think of Minsu?)

“Well,” Joshua says, drawing Chan from his thoughts, “you can go back to Gyu and Hao and Mark upstairs, Channie, if you want. We just wanted to make sure it really was Jung Minho you saw the other day.”

Channie blinks before nodding. “Right, alright.” He moves to rise, chair legs scraping against the kitchen tiles as he pushes it back to stand. “And, uh — thanks, Hyungs, for, um, you know.”

The three smile, and Chan feels his heart turn cartwheels in his chest upon registering that those smiles are for him. He’s flooded with the same wave of emotions that seem to keep engulfing him whenever any of the twelve of them do something that brings back memories of their relationship before.

“Of course, Channie,” Seungcheol says reassuringly, and Chan smiles back, steadied by the elder’s unwavering smile. He makes his way to the door, but before he exits Seungcheol adds, “Oh, and, Chan: please, promise you’ll take the proper time to consider our relationship, and us getting back together.”

Chan turns, hesitating.

“The last thing we want would be to feel like we pressured you into dating us again before you were ready,” Seungcheol continues, and Seokmin and Joshua both nod, “or that we were moving too fast in any way whatsoever.”

Chan nods. “Alright, Hyung. I’ll… think about it.”

“Thank you, Channie,” Seungcheol says, faint dimples marking his cheeks as he smiles.

“Take your time,” Seokmin adds, eyes crinkling as he speaks, “as much as you need.”

“We’ll wait,” Joshua finishes, voice sweet, “as long as you need us to.”

Chan can’t do much but nod once again before exiting the kitchen with a quick wave, for no reason other than to save himself from his heart melting into a total puddle and going completely red in the face.

The relief and anxiety mixture of emotions is still there, but the anxiety-part seems to have calmed down, letting the warm feeling of knowing for sure that they like him back wrap around him. He feels more at peace in that moment than he’s felt at any other point in the last three days, and while Chan has a slight hunch (read: has no doubt) that the anxiety will be back in full swing as time passes, he can’t find it in him to care in that moment, relishing in the feeling of contentedness that’s washed over him.

The next few days pass in just as quick of a blur as the first three, spent in a similar manner of preparing for the trip to Busan, which, as the day they leave inches closer and closer, has consumed more and more of Chan’s life.

Their accommodation was booked, train tickets bought and they all did as much digging as they could do on the people who would be attending. Chan was going to be sharing a cabin on the train with the eldest three, which he was excited for, because maybe he could finally find out the mysterious backstory Jeonghan had hinted to when he’d driven Chan to Mark’s apartment.

Mark, on the other hand, was not pleased by this seating chart, and made sure to be very vocal about it.

“I’m riding with you, Channie, I don’t care what you say,” he said. “I don’t trust them to be left alone with you. Actually, I don’t trust you, either, for that matter — who’s to say you won’t be in there making out with them or something?”

“Mark, oh my God, shut the fuck up!” Chan’s face had been ablaze as he threw his pillow across the room, the thunk! of the pillow colliding with Mark’s face giving him some level of satisfaction. “Ugh, why would you say that—”

“Can you blame me, everytime I leave you alone you end up sucking face with one of them—”

“I kissed two of them on the cheek, Mark!” Chan groaned, and then yelped as the pillow collided with the side of his head. 

“It’s been three days, Chan,” Mark replied, “like, slow down!”

“It’s a kiss on the cheek —”

“You think it’s going to stop there?” Mark pushed, to which Chan spluttered indignantly.

So, yeah, Mark was a bit pissed at him for asking them about the dating thing.

But he understood, at least to the extent that Chan himself is trying to understand why they left — he didn’t accept it as right, but he accepted it as something he couldn’t really change. Plus, Chan pointed out he’s an adult and can make his own decisions, which. Most of the time, he can make his own decisions, a fact Mark did not hesitate to bring up, but, whatever.

Mark eventually accepted that Chan wasn’t willing to negotiate this thing, and begrudgingly agreed to ride in the train cabin next to theirs, with Soonyoung, Hansol, Minghao, and Mingyu.

Minghao, as promised, gets Mark and Chan’s suits tailored and back to them within just a few days of sending the measurements to his mysterious connection, and they fit perfectly, Mark’s a plaid blazer layered over a white button-up and a dark turtleneck, and Chan’s a navy pinstripe with an olive collared button-up beneath it.

“Won’t this…” Chan looks at himself in the mirror after putting it on, frowning slightly. “I don’t know, draw too much attention?”

“Everyone at these types of parties tends to dress in fancier clothes, Channie,” Seungkwan says, fixing Chan’s collar. His hands brush his cheeks, and he smiles teasingly. “Besides, you’d draw attention no matter what you wore.”

And, okay. That’s one thing that changed over the last few days.

After Seungcheol, Joshua and Seokmin told the others about the impromptu confessional Chan had with them the other day, the twelve of them started to act differently around him, but in a good way. Less reserved, more like how they did a year ago, before everything happened. 

They’re still wary around Mark, but that can’t be helped, seeing as he barely left Chan alone after he found out about the two cheek kisses. Still, though, whenever his best friend isn’t around, the others act differently, sweeter and more loving in the way they look, speak, and act with him. More open with the flirting, with the pet names and the suggestive jokes and the physical aspect, too, hugs and hand-holding and all of that.

It feels oddly like the time two years ago when they started dating, after they got over the overly cautious phase where they all treated Chan like he was some sort of fragile doll. Chan hasn’t liked the way they were suddenly all different back then, and made a point to tell them that just because they were dating now didn’t mean they couldn’t act the way they did when they were only friends, because that was the part of them he’d fallen in love within the first place. 

They’d relaxed after that, and grown more comfortable around him, the way they’d been before. Chan feels the nostalgia hit him hard, seeing them all act this way again, even though the circumstances were almost completely different.

“D-don’t say that, Hyung,” Chan says, turning pink at the compliment, and Seungkwan just grins.

“Why?” He asks, brushing Chan’s hair from his face and smiling, “It’s true, isn’t it?”

Before Chan can say anything, the door opens, and Seungkwan springs away from Chan in surprise.

“Oh, sorry!” Mingyu peaks his head in, looking at Seungkwan’s stricken face apologetically. “My bad, I should've knocked, huh?”

“God, Hyung, I thought you were Mark!” Seungkwan says, before glancing at Chan and adding, “N-not that that’s, uh, bad—”

“No, no, don’t worry, Kwannie-hyung,” Chan says, shaking his head, “I get what you mean. I’m sorry about the way he’s been acting, by the way. It’s… he’s going kind of overboard…”

“Nah, Channie, don’t worry about it,” Mingyu says, closing the door behind him before moving forward. “He cares about you, it’s nothing to apologize for.”

“Hmm, I guess you’re right.” Chan frowns at the mirror again, pulling at the blazer. “Hyung, are you sure this is the right thing to wear?”

“Channie,” Mingyu says, coming closer, “you look amazing. So handsome, though you’d look handsome in, like, a trash bag, too.”

“You’d look good in a trash bag, too, Hyung,” Seungkwan says, grinning, and Mingyu rolls his eyes.

“Of course I would, Kwannie, black is a great color on me.”

“Hyung, you’d also look great in a trash bag,” Chan jokes, and Seungkwan pulls a face.

“Is this how we’re rating looks, now?” He asks, laughing. “Whether or not one can pull off a trash bag?”

“I mean, it sounds legit to me,” Mingyu shrugs, and the three burst into giggles.

When they calm down, Mingyu turns to Chan again and says, “Anyways, Channie, honey, you look amazing. I came up to make sure everything fit right, and that seems to be the case.”

“Thanks, Hyung,” Chan says, smiling softly, and Mingyu smiles back before the door opens once more and Mark comes in, grinning widely.

“Dude, check out my outfit, how fucking fire do I look?” Mark freezes when he sees Seungkwan and Mingyu standing beside Chan, and Chan sees the way both Mingyu and Seungkwan are instantly filled with a Mark-induced panic. “Am I interrupting something?”

Mingyu moves to step back but Chan pulls him back, and, rolling his eyes, says pointedly, “No, Markie, you’re not.”

Mark stares for a moment longer before shrugging. “Okay then.” He gestures back down at his outfit. “What do you think?”

Seungkwan and Mingyu share a look of confusion, and while Chan himself is a little miffed as to why Mark didn’t say anything, he pushes it aside and replies, “You look great, Mark.”

Mark grins. “Thanks, Channie, you too.” He looks from Chan to Mingyu to Seungkwan for a moment before he sighs. “Okay, fine, I’ll leave.”

“You don’t have to—” Seungkwan starts, but Mark cuts him off.

“No, no, seriously, it’s cool, I’ll…” he meets Chan’s eyes for a moment, before finishing, “You guys are fine, I’ll go.”

“Thanks, Mark,” Chan says, and Mark shoots him a look.

“Yeah, whatever, just don’t, you know…” Mark raises his eyebrows, and Chan rolls his eyes.

“Get the fuck out, Mark.”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Mark closes the door, and the three stand there in silence more a moment, before—

“What was that about?”

“I don’t know,” Chan admits, shrugging. “Maybe he’s finally accepted that I’m an adult who can make his own decisions.”

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow. “Channie, you are a baby.”

“You are a year older than me, Hyung!” Chan complains, and Seungkwan grins.

“Well—”

Suddenly, Chan’s phone rings, and the three turn in unison to see who the caller is.

“Oh.” Chan stares at his phone, a little taken aback by the name on the Caller ID. The phone rings once, twice.

“Are you gonna answer?” Mingyu asks, and his voice seems stiff. The phone rings a third time, and Chan moves to hit the Answer Call button.

“Hey, Channie, it’s been a while, huh? ” 

“Y-yeah…” Chan feels his face flush slightly pink at the familiar voice, and he avoids looking at either Seungkwan or Mingyu. “It has, Minsu-hyung.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been so preoccupied meeting up with my family and all that, ” Minsu says over the line, laughing. “ I’ve been missing you, though. ”

“I miss you too, Hyung,” Chan says softly.

“What’ve you been doing the last few days?” Minsu asks. “Hanging out with Mark?”

“Yeah, you know, just…” Chan pauses. He felt a pang of guilt at the fact that Minsu knew of Mark but Mark had no clue of Minsu. “Hanging out with Mark mostly, yeah.”

“He’s not going back home to visit family?”

“No, he couldn’t get a flight in time, I think,” Chan says, and part of him feels bad for Mark having been unable to see his family, because if Mark had left he’d a) get to see his family, and b) wouldn’t have had to deal with the shit show that occurred because of Chan and the others, but a more selfish part of him is thankful his best friend stayed in Seoul with him, because at this point the only thing keeping him grounded was having Mark around.

“Oh, well at least you two can be together—” There’s a voice that cuts Minsu off, someone who sounds like an older man saying something to him. “Oh, uh, sorry, my father’s calling me, I’ve got to go.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Hyung,” Chan replies, thankful for the excuse to hang up.

“Sorry again, Channie, I really wanted to talk to you more.” Chan’s heart pangs. Shit. “ I’ll call you soon, alright? ”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you soon.” He sighs. “Stay safe, Hyung.”

Minsu seems to hesitate for a moment, before saying, “You too, babe.”

Chan hangs up, and looks up, almost reluctantly. The silence in the room is heavy as Seungkwan and Mingyu stare at him, looking a strange combination of two emotions that Chan can’t quite pinpoint. 

“I’m going to go start dinner,” Mingyu says after a moment of hesitation, moving towards the door, and Seungkwan follows.

“I’ll help, Hyung.” Seungkwan stops at the door, turning and waiting for a moment as he meets Chan’s eyes. “Chan, um, meet us downstairs after changing, yeah?”

“A-alright, Hyung.” Seungkwan closes the door behind him, and Chan sighs, throwing his phone onto the bed. 

Fuck.

He feels terrible. What the fuck is going on? How did his life even get to this point?

It’s confusing, this whole ordeal. It’s not exactly a position Chan’s even been in before, having a kind-of-but-not-really boyfriend who he’s been sleeping with for months on one hand, and twelve ex-boyfriends’ who left him, turned out to be spies, but turn out to still care about him, on the other hand.

He feels like an asshole, like he’s playing thirteen people all at once because of the confusing nature of it all.

It’s not fair to Minsu, who doesn’t even know that Chan used to date twelve people nor that Chan is now with those twelve people, but, at the same time, Minsu and him aren’t even dating, so it’s not like there’s some sort of exclusivity to their relationship.

And then with the twelve of them… he feels incredibly guilty towards them, which is ironic, because they left him, and now he’s the one feeling guilty about moving on. It’s not like he’s dating them either, so technically he shouldn’t feel that way, the way he shouldn’t feel guilty about Minsu.

Right?

Chan groans, pulling the blazer off and laying it on the bed. The material alone felt expensive, and he wonders again how much it costs to be made, especially on such a tight timeframe. How do they even have all this money? What the fuck does being a spy entail that they have the money to afford this, require the ability to hack and code, and somehow know about the South Korean crime scene? 

He can almost hear Mark in his head, telling him to “ igure you’re shit out, Chan,” and he sighs again. Mark-in-his-head isn’t wrong.

He really needs to figure his shit out, huh?

Chapter Text

They were planning on leaving late at night, around 11:30, on the last train to Busan. Seungcheol had said that typically the fewest people rode at that time, so it was their safest bet, and Chan wasn’t quite sure who they were safe from, but he figured it better not to say anything.

Things have been awkward, slightly, since the phone call from Minsu a few days ago. It’s not like Mingyu and Seungkwan had actually heard what they talked about, nor is what Chan and Minsu talked about even all that terrible, but it was probably enough to remind them what a fucking mess Chan’s love life is.

It’s like the barrier they’d knocked down by the talk of dating again had been rebuilt over the course of a few hours, and by the time he woke up the next morning, they were all back to the way they’d been a few days prior, distant and weary around him once again.

Chan hates it, the lack of affection — and then hates himself for being so needy that even going without the smallest amount of affection from the others is getting to him.

“Are you all ready to go, Chan?”Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Seungkwan peeks his head into the bedroom, newly dyed blonde hair flopping over his eyes. Chan winces.

Chan. Not Channie, or baby, or any of those pet names he’d grown used to. Chan.

“Yeah, Hyung, I’m ready.” Chan grabs his bag, tugging his mask over his mouth before getting up. He catches sight of himself in the mirror and pauses. He’d gotten his hair dyed a sort-of purple, a jarring contrast from the brownish-blonde it had been before. It had been Minghao’s idea to dye some of their hairs’ a different color, mostly because it would help them blend in.

(How purple is going to help Chan blend in, he’s not quite sure, but Minghao had insisted, saying that Jung Minho and his gang who were apparently targeting Channie knew him to have blonde hair, not purple, and also that they’d be able to get away with an ashier purple.

He’d also mentioned how Chan would look cute with purple hair, an off-hand comment that was really the deciding factor for Chan, but he doesn’t really want to think about that.)

“This feels weird,” Seungkwan says as he and Chan make their way down the staircase to the living room, where Chan can faintly hear Seungcheol making sure everyone has everything they need.

“What about it?” Chan asks.

Seungkwan shrugs. “Everything? I don’t know, having you come with us on what is, you know, essentially a mission, is kind of strange.”

Chan pauses. He still knew only the bare minimum of what exactly they did as spies, and it was driving him crazy never getting a straight answer from any of them. “How often do you guys go on missions?”

Did you go on them when we were together? he wants to ask, but he can’t quite bring himself to say the words.

(Nor does he honestly want to know.)

Seungkwan shrugs, brushing the hair from his forehead. “We haven’t been on one in a while, not since…” He trails off, glancing over at Chan with a small frown on his face. “Um…”

“Since what?” Chan pushes, stopping on the staircase, and Seungkwan draws to a halt, too, glancing down the stairs as if to check if anyone was there before turning back to Chan. Chan tugs his mask down around his chin. “What exactly do you even mean by missions, Hyung?”

“It’s complicated, Chan—”

“Everything’s complicated, Hyung,” Chan interrupts, frustrated. Of course, his questions were going to go nowhere, just like they'd been going nowhere the last few days. He groans and starts making his way back down the staircase. “Nevermind, c’mon—”

“We stopped after we met you, you know.” Chan freezes, head whipping around. Seungkwan is looking down at him from a few steps above him, blonde bangs once again in his eyes. He’s frowning as he says, “And we haven’t gone on a mission for a few months now.”

Chan stares at him, not knowing what to say. So they hadn’t been living completely double-lives during their time together. 

“Cheollie-hyung told us it was better not to mention the mission shit to you,” Seungkwan says, shrugging. “Not because we wanted to keep secrets from you, but because we genuinely figured it was better for you to not know what we did on those missions.”

A lot of the shit that gets them to this point seems to be a product of the others figuring it was better to keep things from Chan rather than tell him. 

“What do you mean, what you did on those missions ?” Chan asks, confused at the way Seungkwan had worded it. “What do you do on those missions?”

Seungkwan hesitates, for a split second, and every single possibility of what the older boy might reply floods into Chan’s mind. Seungkwan must notice the way Chan looks at him, because he raises his hands defensively, waving them widely.

“Wait, no, no!” Seungkwan rushes, and Chan stares as Seungkwan almost panics as he speaks. “We — it’s nothing bad! Or, well… What we did wasn’t completely terrible,” Seungkwan says, and Chan can’t help but feel as though he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself rather than Chan. “But after a while, we figured it was, you know… time to stop.”

Chan takes in Seungkwan’s face. He looks nervous speaking about it, and Chan wonders what he’s hiding. What the fuck did they do on these missions that warrant this much secrecy? Does Chan even want to know?

“So you’ve stopped?” Chan asks, and Seungkwan nods. “Why?”

“It wasn’t a lifestyle we particularly enjoyed living, Chan,” Seungkwan says, fiddling with the string of his hoodie. “It was… dangerous, obviously, and every day just started feeling more and more uncertain, you know…”

“Why’d you start living that way, then?” Chan asks, and Seungkwan’s frown deepens. 

“We didn’t realize it would be like that going in—”

Chan interrupts before he can finish. “Then why didn’t you just leave ?”

“We didn’t exactly have that option, Chan,” Seungkwan says, and his voice comes out a little sharper, and Chan blinks, taken aback. Shit, maybe he’d pushed too far too fast. “None of us are proud of this life choice either, but when we joined it was, for most of us, the only option at the time, alright?”

Chan hesitates, and Seungkwan seems to realize the tone of his voice, because he opens his mouth to say something, apology already forming on his tongue.

“Alright, Hyung.” Chan cuts him off before he can begin. “I… I get it. Or, well. I don’t, but. I’m sorry for prying.” Chan starts his way down the stairs. “C’mon, the others sound like they’re ready to leave.”

Chan hears the sound of Seungkwan’s footsteps following behind him a beat later, and the two make their way to the living room in silence.

“What took so long?” Hansol asks the second the two enter through the door, and Seungkwan shrugs.

“Oh, Kwannie, Chan, you two are here!” Joshua smiles. “Great, we’re all set to go. Everyone packed?”

There’s a chorus of yes’s and yup’s from the boys and Seungcheol gestures at the door.

“Let’s get moving then.”

They ride in three cars in total, going with those who they’d be sharing a train cabin with. That is, except for Mark, who insisted on riding with Chan, Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua. Chan didn’t really have it in him to say no, and the others obviously didn’t dare, which is how they ended up riding the way they did, Jeonghan in the front, Joshua in the passenger, and Mark sitting in the back seat between Seungcheol and Chan.

“What exactly is the point of you all going to this party?” Mark asks, which. Thank God for Mark and his tendency to ask millions of questions. “Or, us all, I guess. You’re trying to find, what, Chan’s uncle?”

Seungcheol hesitates. “Yeah, well. That’s the plan. We know he’ll be there, and we know he has some sort of connection to a gang, so Chan could potentially be targeted because of that.”

“Is he connected to this Jung guy?” Mark asks, frowning. Joshua turned back from the front seat to look at them.

“We suspect he is.” Joshua shrugs. “I mean, Jung Minho has connections everywhere, so to suggest that wouldn’t be the most outlandish conclusion we’ve ever come to.”

Mark sits back in his seat and turns to Chan, who, for the whole car ride so far hadn’t said more than a few words, his eyes trained outside the slightly tinted windows. His view of the passing buildings and cars was blurred by the drops of water that slid down the glass.

It’s raining out, the typically inky night sky now a dull gray.

How oddly fitting.

“Channie,” Mark says, voice quiet so that only Chan can hear it. Chan leans his head over.

“Yeah?”

“Are you alright?” Mark’s frowning at him, worry etched in his face. “You’re being really… quiet.”

“I’m fine,” Chan says, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that, despite him and Mark speaking in hushed tones, the others in the car are dead silent, and can probably make out what they’re saying. He shifts uncomfortably. “I’m just, you know… I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

He can’t stop thinking about what Seungkwan had said earlier, on the staircase. The only option. What did he mean by that? What had compelled the others to start this life of Chan could only assume, what with the way they all spoke of it, was at least somewhat related to crime.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to ride with you?” Mark asks, and Chan smiles softly. Mark, despite the big fuss and numerous suggestive comments he made about Chan being alone with the three eldest on their way to Busan, was really just worried about Chan himself. Chan shakes his head.

“I’ll be fine, Mark, don’t worry.” He shrugs. “I’ll get some sleep, or something. It’s only two hours.”

Mark nods, looking only slightly reassured. Chan turns back to the window, and gets lost in his thoughts once again. It takes them about twenty minutes to arrive at the train station, which, like the others had predicted, had only a few people milling about, bored-looking staff punching tickets and hiding yawns behind their hands, and exhausted passengers either on their way somewhere or just having gotten off the train.

Seungcheol rallies all the boys, making sure once again that everyone has all their belongings and tickets. Chan can’t help but be reminded of the trip they took to Jeju Island two years ago, shortly after they’d all started dating.

All thirteen of them saved up money to go on that trip, and they’d spent a week during summer holidays in an Airbnb they had rented that was right on the beach. They were out and about all morning, Seungkwan being their local tour guide showing them all the less-touristy sights and wonders of Jeju, and at night they’d set up a bonfire on the beach and have a barbeque. 

Chan feels nostalgic for that time when everything seemed so much simpler and a trip with the twelve people he cared for most was nothing more than a week-long getaway, not a mysterious spy mission that he still didn’t quite understand the point of.

Mark gives Chan’s hand a quick squeeze, and Chan blinks, realizing that everyone was setting off to their train cabins. Mark smiles at him and says, “Call me if you need anything, Chan, alright?” Chan nods, and Mark gives his hand one last squeeze before following Soonyoung, Hansol, Minghao, and Mingyu to their cabin. Seungcheol is deep in conversation with Jihoon, who’s sharing a cabin with Junhui, Wonwoo, Seokmin, and Seungkwan. Jeonghan and Joshua wait by Chan while Seungcheol finishes up talking to Jihoon.

“Channie, are you alright?” Joshua asks, and Chan turns to him, blinking in surprise.

“Yeah?” Chan nods. “Why… wouldn’t I be?”

“You seem off,” Jeonghan says, frowning. “What’s going on?”

Chan gives them both a look. “I’m just confused,” he replies, honestly, and even without specifying what he’s confused about, Joshua and Jeonghan share knowing looks, as if they can read his mind from just those three words.

“Channie,” Joshua says, and maybe it’s just Chan’s imagination, but he swears he hears just the slightest hint of guilt in the elder’s voice, “we promise, the second we can tell you everything, we will.”

And Chan wants to yell ‘When will that be? ’ because he’s tired of waiting. Fucking hell, he’s been waiting for over a year now to know the truth, to understand what actually made them leave, what’s been making them act the way they have been and the way they are, still, even after everything that’s happened.

He wants to ask why they didn’t tell him anything — really, why they didn’t tell him anything, because the “ we wanted to keep you safe ’ bullshit spiel he’s been hearing doesn’t seem to be cutting it for him. Mark pointed it out a few nights ago, as the two laid with their heads together on the carpeted floors of the room they were in, that if they’d wanted to keep him safe, the smarter option would have been to leave far earlier than they did. Yeah, they’d argued they’d gotten attached, but if they’d left before that, before even Chan figured out his confusing feelings for them, then all of this would've been avoided.

(The thoughts are conflicting in his mind. On one hand, them leaving from his life at the point they did fucked with him in more ways than one, and left him a complete mess for months — not to mention the shit it’s gotten him into now.

But on the other hand… would living a life where he wasn’t with the other twelve really be a life he’d enjoy? It’s easy to say he’d miss it now, but if he’d never experienced it in the first place, would he truly be in a better place?)

Chan doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he nods, eyes flickering to the floor, and from the corner of his eyes he sees Joshua deflate slightly, lips fixed in a frown and eyes downcast and sad as they look at him.

“Sorry, I had to go over some things with Hoonie,” Seungcheol says, having returned from what Chan can’t help but assume was another secretive meeting with Jihoon, because clearly they loved their secrets. Seungcheol gestures at the train doors. “C’mon, let’s get to our cabin.”

Chan grabs his bag from the ground while Jeonghan grins and hurries into the cart, leaving his bag for one of the others to pick up and bring along. Seungcheol and Joshua make eye-contact for a split second before Joshua sticks his tongue out at the eldest and rushes after Jeonghan, leaving Chan and Seungcheol with both of their bags.

Chan watches them go, hears the faint laughter travel through the train as they make their way to their cabin, and the duality of it all hits him like the bullet train they’re about to ride. This was the Jeonghan and Joshua he was used to, with their matching impish grins and a mischievous glint in their eyes and their teasing nature, playing pranks on Seungcheol because they knew he wouldn’t do anything about it.

It was jolting, almost, to see them that way after the week they’d just had, like he’s watching a movie on TV rather than seeing it with his own two eyes in person. It’s been a year now since he’s seen them like this, because it’s been a year now since he’s seen them, and they haven’t changed at all, still the same kind, loving, mischievous boys they were back then.

Chan feels himself frown. Now that he thinks about it, none of them have changed not as drastically as he’d expected them to have. A few days ago, when he’d sat down in their kitchen, (for what will forever remain in his top three of most awkward discussions he’s had to have in his life, nestled right in between explaining to his parents that he was bisexual and them feeling the need to give him the birds and bees not once, but twice, to cover both sexes with women and men, which left him unable to look them in the eyes for days,) he’d been quick to make the assumption that the twelve of them could not possibly have remained the same, that they had to have changed in some ways over the twelve months they’d been apart.

That, or he’d started to suspect, after hearing out their whole backstory, that the personalities they’d showcased in the first place, the mannerisms and habits and quirks he’d fallen in love with, weren’t genuine to begin with, and rather something they’d manufactured for their mission.

But seeing the way they’ve been acting, it’s become apparent they haven’t changed at all. Even with all the secrets, they’d kept from him, the parts of them he’d fallen in love with were the same now as they were back then, which. It made him wonder.

Was he the one who’d changed?

“Chan?” Chan’s head whips to the side, taking in the worried expression on Seungcheol’s face and realizing that in the midst of his inner-reflection or whatever the fuck he was just doing, he’s completely ignored Seungcheol and the fact he’d said something.

“S-sorry, what?” Chan asks, blinking, and Seungcheol frowns.

“Are you alright?” He asks, and Chan sighs. He had to have changed in some way or the other if the guys kept asking him that, right? 

“No, no, I’m… I’m fine, just tired, I guess.” He glances down at Joshua and Jeonghan’s bags. “Here, let me—”

Seungcheol reaches out and stops his hand, smiling at him softly when Chan meets his eyes. “Don’t worry about it, let Hyung take care of the bags. You head on in.”

Chan hesitates before nodding, making his way into the train while Seungcheol leans down and grabs the handles of the bags, lifting both his and the other two’s with ease. He gestures at chan to continue, and the two make their way to their train compartment, where Seungcheol pulls a face at Joshua and Jeonghan before dumping their bags at their feet. The two just laugh in response, Joshua apologizing in between giggles and Jeonghan just blowing kisses at Seungcheol.

It takes about ten minutes for the train to start moving, during which Jeonghan and Joshua chatter quietly to each other while Seungcheol pulls his phone out and starts to text someone, murmuring something about needing to rent some cars. Chan sits there in silence, trying not to make it obvious the way he’s studying the other three.

“Can I ask you guys something?”

Jeonghan and Joshua look up at the same time, smiles still on their faces, and Seungcheol glances up from his phone, peering over at Chan from behind his glasses.

“Of course, Channie,” Seungcheol said, dropping his phone in his lap. Joshua straightens, and Jeonghan nods, leaning into Joshua and resting his cheek cozily against the other boy’s shoulder.

Chan’s eyes wandered from one of them to the other, mind rushing a mile a minute as he tried to form the endless void of questions he had into one, concise question.

“Jeonghan-hyung,” Chan says, and the boy blinks in surprise upon hearing his name, “you mentioned, the other day, how you met Seungcheol-hyung and Joshua-hyung.”

Joshua and Seungcheol glance over at Jeonghan, who nods. “Right…”

“I was wondering…” Chan’s eyes drop to the floor, because it’s always in moments like these where he finds the scuffs on his sneakers to be most interesting. “What… What made you become spies?”

The sentence sounds awkward on his tongue, and the silence that fills the train cabin settles like a heavyweight on Chan’s shoulders that he immediately upon speaking moves to rid. “Or, uh, sorry, nevermind actually—”

“No, no!” Seungcheol reaches out and lays a hand on Chan’s knee, gentle and reassuring and as if it was his first instinct, to move forward and do something to calm Chan down. “Chan. Don’t apologize. It’s fine, you’re fine, you’re allowed to want to know.”

Chan meets his eyes for a split second before turning to Joshua and Jeonghan, who are looking at him with unreadable expressions. “I — I thought you might not want to share that.”

“Why would you think that?” Seungcheol asks, and there’s an edge to his voice, the slightest hint of something, and Chan can’t bring himself to throw Seungkwan under the bus like that, not after he practically bullied the half-answer he got out of the older boy.

“I just figured,” he shrugged, frowning. “You guys have been so secretive about this shit, I didn’t know what you wanted me to know and what you’d rather keep from me forever.”

(The word feels weird in his mouth, he realizes upon hearing himself say it.

Forever.

It suggests that this — them all being together, in the literal sense at least — was going to last beyond this mission. It makes his mind wander to the one question he’s been avoiding thinking about for the last week:

What happens after all this?)

Joshua frowns sadly. “Chan, we’re sorry about the secrets. It’s… difficult, sharing this stuff with you after we’ve grown so used to keeping it to ourselves. You know, our natural instinct at this point is to avoid the subject, or change it if it hits too close to the truth. We’re still… adjusting.”

“But you don’t have to keep it a secret anymore,” Chan argues, pulling a face. “You guys can just tell me — I’m already in this shit, it’s not like knowing more can drag me out of it.”

“But it can pull you further in,” Jeonghan says, his voice steady. “We always thought that, if we told you, it would change the way you looked at things, the way you went about life. We don’t want this to be your life, Chan — you’ve got a future away from this, a future where you can live a normal life without the feeling of constantly having to look over your shoulder.” A future without us, he seems to say, and Chan feels his heart crumble. “Your view of the world shouldn’t change because of us and what we know.”

“It’s too late for that, Hyung,” Chan replies, and his words are starting to pick up pace, syllables slurring together as he tries to get the mess of thoughts in his head out into words. “My view of the world changed a year ago, after you all left. Life hasn’t been the same since, and it’s not going to be the same after all of this, I can tell you that for fucking sure.”

And Chan hates the way he sounds right now, annoying and whiny and repetitive, with the same argument he’s continued to bring to the table over the last few days, but it’s almost as if he can’t stop, like he’s stuck watching as a different side of him takes control of his body and twists his sentences.

“Chan, we know—” Seungcheol stops, lips pressing together in a way that Chan recognizes. It’s what Seungcheol does when he’s rethinking a sentence, piecing together the words in his mind before speaking. “Right, alright, okay. We should… we should tell the truth.”

Jeonghan seems to jerk his head up at Seungcheol — an act that does not go unnoticed by Chan — and he quickly plays it off like nothing when Joshua elbows him lightly in this stomach — again, not going unnoticed by Chan. 

“Yeah, the truth,” Chan says, looking at them one by one. “Why did you all become spies?”

Seungcheol pushes his hair back, sighing.

“It started with me, I guess.”

Chapter Text

“My family…” Seungcheol begins, hands drifting to the hem of his hoodie in an effort to busy himself with something as he retells what seems to be a familiar story. “My family is what one might call dysfunctional.”

Chan sits quietly as Seungcheol speaks, not wanting to interrupt. Even before all this, before they even dated, Seungcheol was typically very closed off when it came to his personal life. Chan knew the bare minimum about Seungcheol’s life before college, and he was never one to pry, so he’d never said anything.

“My mother, she passed away when I was very young,” Seungcheol continues. “Around… age four? Five? It’s a bit muddled, to be honest, but my father, well… he didn’t take it too well. Resorted to drinking, you know, took his anger and sadness out on his wallet and his liver. But what was once a coping mechanism became a habit, something that was now every day for him. There’s only so many times you can come home wasted before the drinking no longer numb the pain.”

Chan winces. He knows the feeling, of drowning out the sadness with alcohol, and while he was able to stop before it became too large of a problem, who knows who he might’ve become if he hadn’t stopped drinking away the pain.

“Once that stopped working, he took the pain out a different way.” Seungcheol’s voice turns bitter suddenly, and he scowls slightly down at his clenched fists. “He started… beating my brother and I.”

Chan’s eyes widen slightly, but he bites his tongue and keeps his mouth shut. Let's Seungcheol continue with his story.

“Seungmin-hyung was nine, and I was five. My father, he…” Seungcheol hesitates, and Jeonghan reaches his leg out, tapping Seungcheol’s boots with his sneakers. Seungcheol looks up, and Jeonghan gives him an encouraging smile. Seungcheol takes a deep breath, and says, “he had it out for me, because he said I reminded him of my mother. She passed away because of health problems that sprang up because of her giving birth to me.” Seungcheol breaths shakily. “So in my father’s eye, of course, that meant it was my fault.

“And Hyung, well, he was always overly protective. Far too much so, for his own good, because he insisted on trying to protect me. He’d… send me to our room and tell me to lock the door and try to sleep. Then he’d face my father, who’d stumbled home late after a night of drinking, and they’d… argue. And fight. And my brother would knock on the door softly, a few hours later, and I’d open it, not having slept for even a second because how could I, when my brother was getting beaten up by our father on my account outside?”

Chan felt tears spring up in his eyes, stinging sharply, but he tried not to let them fall, didn’t want to distract and bring the attention to him, not now.

“And that went on,” Seungcheol says, eyes back on the ground, “for a few years. Seungmin-hyung had to get a job early on during his high school years, always either working or studying or helping me study. He’d bring home money and he’d hide it from our father, use it to buy groceries and other things we needed, because God knows our father wasn’t doing any of that, was blowing all his money on alcohol and drugs and whatever the fuck else he could get his hands on for a moment of fucked up bliss.”

Seungcheol sighs again, heavy and tired sounding and laughs half-heartedly, more of a huff than anything else. “Ah, I’m making this too long, aren’t I?”

“Cheollie, baby,” Joshua says, and he has tears in his eyes too, despite it seeming like this isn’t the first time he’s heard the story. “You don’t have to—”

“No, no, Shua, hon, it’s fine.” Seungcheol looks up at Joshua, and Chan notices the tears that have slipped down his cheeks. It makes his heartache, and every sense is his body is telling him to move towards the eldest, to hug him, kiss him, wipe his tears away the way he always did for Chan and tell him he would be okay, that things would be okay.

Chan sat still.

“My brother, he…” Seungcheol wipes the tears from his face roughly, wiping the back of his hand against his eyes. “He got mixed up, with the wrong people. It was bound to happen, to him or to me, based solely on our upbringing. You grow up in an environment like ours and there’s little chance you won’t turn to things like drugs or alcohol, and Seungmin-hyung, he… he fell into them early. And then it was like… being four again.” Seungcheol tugs the hem of his hoodie. “The fighting only got worse now that both of them were fired up with one substance or the other, and I was left to fend for myself. I hated it, but there wasn’t much I could do.

“And then one day, Hyung left.” Seungcheol bites his lip. “He just… left. Packed his things, said he’d had enough, of my father, of… of me. Said he was going to live a life worth living, away from us, and then it was just… my father and I. You can imagine how that went. It took maybe a year for me to finally leave, and even then it was because the police came by and told us that… Seungmin-hyung had been found dead, overdosed and passed out and…” Seungcheol’s voice cracks a little, and he takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “S-sorry, I — it’s been a while since I’ve said this.”

Chan feels the tears start to slip down his own face, and he can’t even bring himself to wipe them away, frozen in place.

“I needed a way out, and so I joined a gang. It… it seemed logical to me, at the time. I’d formed a plan, you know, a way to map out my life from that point on so I wouldn’t end up like my father, wouldn’t end up like… like Seungmin-hyung. I just… it made sense to me. And then, through the gang, I ended up going to Seoul, where I met Hannie, and Shua, and the others, and then I left the gang, and we… we met you.” Seungcheol finally looks at Chan, and even with his own eyes red from crying and tears streaking down his cheeks, concern clouds his face and he says, “Oh, Chan, baby, don’t cry.”

And that makes Chan cry harder, eyes squeezing shut as a sob racks his body. Seungcheol moves forward, engulfing Chan in a hug, and Chan cries into his hoodie, choking on the sobs as he tries to keep them in and failing to do so with the way Seungcheol rubs comforting circles on his back.

“Baby, baby, it’s alright,” Seungcheol murmurs comfortingly, and Chan pulls back, wiping furiously at his cheeks and eyes, suddenly ashamed at the fact that Seungcheol was comforting him, when he’d been the one who’d experienced all of that.

“Hyung,” he says, voice shaky. “Hyung, I’m sorry, I’m such an asshole for making you share that, you didn’t have to, oh my God, I’m the fucking worst, I’m sorry—”

“Woah, woah, Channie.” Seungcheol’s hand moves to cradle Chan’s cheeks, thumbs swiping at the tears. “Darling, don’t worry, please. You deserve to know this, deserve to know how we got to this point. I’m sorry I never told you this.”

Jeonghan sniffs, and the two look over to see him silently crying, head still leaned on Joshua’s shoulder. 

“Hannie,” Seungcheol says softly, and Jeonghan lets out a shaky breath, wiping the tears away.

“Sorry, it’s just…” Jeonghan sits up straight, and Joshua lays a reassuring hand on his thigh.

Chan’s mind feels woozy, brain processing everything Seungcheol just told him and working overtime to try and fit it into the narrative he’d written already. It was hard to push past the sudden burst of emotions that had resulted from hearing the story though — of fucking course they’d wanted to keep it a secret, it was way too much emotional baggage for one person to continuously relive every time they retold the story.

“I guess that means it’s my turn?” Jeonghan says, and Chan shakes his head, suddenly not wanting to hear what he’d been so adamant on knowing just moments ago. “Why not, Channie?”

“Hyung, I don’t want to force you—”

“No, Channie, don’t think you’re forcing us.” Jeonghan smiles at him encouragingly, though the tears that still shine in his eyes are the biggest confidence-boosters. “You deserve to know.”

Jeonghan’s hand falls to his lap, and Joshua moves to take it, the two intertwining so easily it’s as if it was muscle memory at this point, and Jeonghan gives him a look, as if asking to continue. Chan nods, slowly, and Jeonghan takes a deep breath.

“I already mentioned I met Shua and Cheol to you earlier, Channie, but… I didn’t give all the details when I mentioned it to you.” Jeonghan pauses for a second. “I… I did see Seungcheol at the library that day, and he was in my microeconomics class, but… I met Cheol one night at a club, when, um, this guy tried to hit on me.” 

Chan notices the way Joshua’s hand tightens around Jeonghan’s, and he feels the way Seungcheol tenses beside him, frown fixing on his face. 

Jeonghan shakes his head, that same look on his face that he used to have when he was trying to use humor as a coping mechanism to not show too much emotion. Chan recognizes it from all those months ago and feels the same agitation now as he did back then whenever he saw it on Jeonghan’s face, the half-smile that seemed far too forced to be anything short of a cry for help. 

“He was being, like, so unnecessarily aggressive towards me, saying this really fucking rude shut to me.” Jeonghan barks out a laugh, voice coming out bitter and laced with so much hatred that Chan feels himself get angry just upon hearing this much of the story. “I told that asshole to fuck off, and he definitely didn’t like that.”

Chan watches Jeonghan with a frown on his lips, taking in the way Jeonghan tells the story in an almost uncaring way. He’s gesturing loosely with one hand, shrugging and pulling faces as he speaks, but Chan doesn’t miss the way he leans a little closer to Joshua, doesn’t miss the way he squeezes Joshua’s hand back, doesn’t miss the slight tremble in his voice, there for only a fleeting moment before he’s back to the same steady tone.

Jeonghan’s always put up quite a front when it comes to things like this, using humor as a shield almost. Seungkwan tended to do this too, masking his emotions with a practiced smile and a quick quip, making light of a situation by cracking a joke to lessen the tension and avert the attention. Jeonghan, though…

When Jeonghan made those jokes, each syllable felt like a punch to the gut, knife-like tongue slicing away with cold words and a bitter tone and an almost condescending laugh that made the person it was directed to want to shrink back. Chan has never been on the receiving end of those jokes, and to his knowledge, none of the others have ever been either, and he hopes the day would never come where he would have to be on the other side of Jeonghan’s lethal words.

“I… I don’t think I need to describe in detail what happened,” Jeonghan says, voice shaking again slightly, “I’m sure you get the gist. Long story short, the group I’m with has suddenly deserted me because the people I was friends with then were also complete fucking asses, and I’m all alone, half-drunk, with this nasty guy trying to convince me to let him fuck me.” Jeonghan pulls a face, and Chan feels his heartbreak. “The repeated refusals don’t seem to get through that thick skull of his, so eventually he just, like, huffed and grabbed my arm and tried to drag me out of the club.

“But at that point, Cheollie here had noticed, and he came over and tried to tell the guy to fuck off, and things escalated because that guy really was a piece of shit, and Seungcheol…” Jeonghan’s face seems to change at this point, a genuine smile playing at his lips. “Seungcheol punched him in the jaw, grabbed my hand, and we booked it.”

Chan cranes his neck slightly to look at Seungcheol, who’s smiling softly at Jeonghan with so much affection Chan’s heart feels itself glue back together.

“We got about three blocks away before I yanked my hand from him and demanded to know who the fuck he was,” Jeonghan says, and Chan can see the genuine smile slip back into his face, the tension leaving his body as a laugh escapes through his lips and, God, Chan thinks, Jeonghan is beautiful. “Cheol was all I’m just trying to help, and I mistook that as I’m trying to get in your pants, which, you know, I don’t think I was in the wrong to be thinking that, considering all the shit I’d just gone through, so I bolted past him and ran back my apartment. Imagine my surprise when I see him at the library a few days later, and, in my no-longer-tipsy state, recognize him to be the boy I met at the bar a few days ago.

“I went over and apologizes, and we hit it off, and eventually I found out about the gang shit Cheollie had been involved in and was still involved with.” Jeonghan looks up at Chan, eyes sparkling as he talks about the boy who Chan was pressed against. “Seungcheol told me about everything, and then he said that he’d understand if I wanted nothing to do with him after that. He seemed reluctant to say it, as if he truly didn’t want it to happen, didn’t want me to leave…”

Chan doesn’t blame him. There’s a selfishness he’s always felt with Jeonghan, with the others, something he didn’t realize until he started dating — he didn’t want to ever give them up, not for anything or anyone. It was a selfish thought, driven by his own wants rather than those of the others, but he couldn’t bring himself to even entertain the thought of letting any of them go.

“And, I mean, we weren’t dating, still in that awkward-phase of do I like him, does he like me, do we like each other? But the way he said it made me stay — there was just… something about the way Seungcheol spoke, his words telling me I could go but his eyes screaming to not leave him…”

Seungcheol leans his head against Chan’s, and Chan pushes himself closer to the eldest, finding comfort in the warmth that pricks up inside his chest upon Seungcheol pulling him against him and holding him close. Jeonghan beams at the two, and Joshua mirrors the smile, and Chan feels that overwhelming nostalgia again, the one that hits him like a train and leaves him reeling. 

“So I stayed, and while at first I tried to keep my distance from all the gang shit, eventually I just kinda… fell into it, maybe? It was hard not to become involved, you know.” Jeonghan shrugs. “I didn’t mind, and I still don’t mind, because I got to stay with Cheollie because of it.”

Joshua shifts, and the three pairs of eyes in the cabin all turn to him. “My turn,” he says, smiling. “Mine’s much simpler of a story, so it won’t take long… I met Hannie before I met Seungcheol,” Joshua starts, voice soft as he speaks. “I’m sure Hannie mentioned it, but we were next-door neighbors in college, living in the same shitty apartment complex that’s low rent was the only reason we kept up with every other terrible aspect of it. I went over to grab some eggs, he glared at me as I commented on his messy bedhead, we had breakfast together, and then we just became… inseparable.” Jeonghan leans into Joshua as he speaks, and Joshua does the same, and they’re so close Jeonghan’s leg is thrown over Joshua’s and yet he still inches closer, as if even the tiniest bit of space is too much.

Chan can’t blame him, not even for a second.

“Hannie was already dating Seungcheol at this point,” Joshua says, “so I met him early on in our friendship. I got to know the two of them better, and I also got to ignore the growing feelings I had for the two of them.” Joshua laughs. “The thought was so scary, to be not only crushing on my neighbor but my neighbor’s boyfriend as well. I second-guessed everything, figured the compliments and lingering touches were all just friendly gestures and nothing more than that.”

Chan smiles. He knows the feeling of being unsure of someone’s intentions, ( twelve someone’s, actually,) and it’s soothing hearing Joshua describe such familiar feelings as something he himself had gone through, as well. 

“And Jeonghan, he was getting more involved in the gang life around this time,” Joshua continues, “as in, the more… physical aspects, you could say? Mostly he was saving Cheol’s ask from getting beat up—”

“—I wasn’t getting beat up, babe,” Seungcheol scoffs, before looking down at Chan and saying, “I could have handled it.”

“Honey, no you couldn’t have,” Jeonghan says, laughing, and Seungcheol rolls his eyes but concedes, because arguments and Jeonghan had a special type of relationship where, if the latter was involved in them in any way, they always swung on his side.

“Well,” Joshua says, shaking his head in the most loving way at the other’s banter, “Hannie was starting to come back home with bruises and cuts on him, which, when I asked about them, he’d just brush off as minor accidents in the kitchen or a clumsy misstep or something, but there’s only so many times you can use the tripping-over-thin-air excuse, right? I started getting suspicious, and one day my suspicions were finally confirmed.

“Hannie knocked on my door in the middle of the night, sounding frantic and far too panicked for it to be considered any degree of okay at three in the morning. I opened the door, and I saw his shirt covered with splatters of blood and bruises lying fresh along his arms and I kind of just stood there as he asked me to come over next door because Seungcheol was in trouble.”

Chan feels his chest tighten, even though he knows how this story is going to end, because Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua are all right in front of him, but he can’t help the goosebumps that run up and down his arms at the thought of any of them being in this kind of danger.

“So I rush over, naturally, and I see Seungcheol lying on Jeonghan’s carpet on the brink of passing out, covered in bruises and…” Joshua winces as he looks up at Chan, whose grimace is only growing as the details continue. “Oh, sorry, Channie. I won’t go into detail, but I think you can guess that he was bleeding.”

Chan nods, ignoring the flutter in his chance that he feels upon Joshua remembering the fact he was squeamish about blood. Seungcheol squeezes his hand, and Chan melts into him further.

“So Seungcheol was… bleeding, and I, being a med student, rushed to help him, not really listening to Hannie’s half-assed excuses that he was throwing my way.” Joshua brings his voice up an octave and says, in what is clearly an attempt (albeit  a very poor one) of mimicking Jeonghan, “Oh, Shua, Cheol fell down the stairs and landed on a cactus—”

“I didn’t say that!” Jeonghan says, halfheartedly shoving at Joshua with a laugh, and Joshua just grins, shoving playfully back at him.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, maybe that’s a stretch, but it was along those lines of something equally dumb, Channie. I patched him up best I could — Cheol didn’t have any critical injuries, and the cuts weren’t too deep, so there was no need for, like, stitched or anything like that — and when everyone was sorted and in clean clothes, I sat them down and refused to leave until they told me what the fuck was going on.

“And they threw the typical bullshit “ oh, nothing, Shua, you know how it is,” when I very clearly did not know how it was, but eventually they gave in and told me everything, about the gangs and about the reason they were always bruised and beat up, about how...” Joshua blushes at this, red dusting his cheeks faintly, and says, “they had feelings for me…”

“Admittedly not the best timing,” Seungcheol says sheepishly, and Chan laughs at that. That’s something that hasn’t changed either, apparently, if the way Chan’s found out about thirty things from them within the span of three days is anything to go off of. 

“Yeah, well…” Joshua scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. “Cliche as it sounds, the rest was history? I stayed with them, obviously, and the three of us started dating, which was, yeah, a little hard, what with us all having to balance school and life, and, for these two and eventually me, too, gang work, but we managed to make it past that.”

Chan feels worn out just from listening to the stories, yet he still asks, “And the others?”

Jeonghan hesitates. “They come into the story a little later. I don’t think we should speak for them, because those are their own stories to share, but a lot of them have… slightly similar stories, you know…”

Seungkwan’s words echo in his mind. None of us are proud of this life choice either, but when we joined it was, for most of us, the only option at the time, alright? Chan finds his chest tightening at the thought of what the other boys had to go through, and makes a mental note to try and ask the others about it later.

“Last thing, Hyungs…” Chan pauses as he feels the three pairs of eyes land on him. He takes a deep breath and asks, “Are you guys… still involved in all of… that?”

And Chan knows Seungkwan said they weren’t, knows he’d said that they’d moved on, but he needs to hear it again, needs to hear it a million more times because right now something in him is refusing to believe them.

“No, Chan,” Seungcheol says, voice firm as he speaks, “we left that life behind when we started dating you. We… we’d already gone through the troubles, you know, of balancing that lifestyle with a relationship, and in the end we decided it wasn’t worth it, not when it…” Seungcheol trails off, mouth shutting, before he opens it again and says, “We didn’t want you to have to go any of that.”

Chan nods, brain trying to process that. So Seungkwan had been telling the truth, when he’d said they stopped because of him? Not that he thought Seungkwan was lying, but it did seem like he’d been leaving something out…

Even now, the overly suspicious part of him can’t help but think there’s still something more to the story, something they’re not telling him, but the louder part of his brain tells him to shut up, because there’s always something he's missing.

Chan yawns at that point, and it only then hits him that, oh, yeah, it’s around midnight right now. And he hasn’t slept all day, despite Junhui, Jihoon, and Joshua all telling him that he should get some rest before they depart for Busan. It was really coming to bite him in the ass now, because suddenly all the emotions he’s just had built up inside of him are starting to mix into a mess behind his sleep-blurred eyes.

“Are you tired, babe?” Seungcheol asks, and Chan nods sleepily, and of course his brain (which seems to be running on one tired brain cell that got the unlucky late shift) manages to take in the fact he called him babe, and shut the fuck up, Chan, where are your priorities at?

Seungcheol laughs and pulls him closer, and Chan presses his head against the elder’s chest, the gentle thrum of his heart and the steady pattern of his breathing lulling him deeper into a state of sleep. “Go ahead and rest a little, babe, we’ll wake you up when we get to Busan.” Seungcheol tells him, and Chan thinks he hears Joshua giggle and Jeonghan mutter, “cute,” but he just nods again and closes his eyes, letting the sleep engulf him.

When he wakes up, it’s only briefly, his eyes blinking open sleepily as he hears the compartment door open and feels Seungcheol move slightly under him. His squints up slightly, confused at the sight of Mark in the doorway.

“Is he alright?” He hears Mark ask, and Seungcheol replies with a nod. “You sure?”

“Yes, Mark,” Seungcheol says, and there’s a hint of almost annoyance in his voice as he talks to the younger boy. Chan’s vision is still hazy, but he can see the frown on Mark’s face as he looks at Chan and Seungcheol. Chan tries his hardest to pretend to still be fast asleep.

“Watch the tone, Hyung, ” Mark says, and woah, what the fuck?

“You watch the tone, kid,” says another voice — Joshua — and there’s an edge in his voice as he speaks. Mark moves to speak again, but Chan shifts, and Seungcheol’s hand comes up to steady him.

“Careful there,” Seungcheol says, softly, before saying to Mark, “get back to your cabin, Mark.”

Mark scoffs. “I don’t understand why he wants to get back together with you, I really don’t.” What the fuck? Chan feels his face start to flush, and tries his hardest to keep it from going red, but like. Mark? The fuck was that for? “I mean, after all the shit you pulled…”

“I think you forget we’re not the only ones keeping something from him,” Seungcheol says, and Mark goes silent at that.

Chan’s half-asleep state snaps completely, and his brain starts buzzing at that. Huh? Mark’s hiding something from him? How does Seungcheol know? And did Seungcheol just admit that there’s still shit Chan doesn’t know?

What the fuck?

Mark seems to leave after that, and Jeonghan and Joshua murmur something amongst themselves while Seungcheol’s hand moves in soothing circles on his leg. Chan tries to go back to sleep, tries to convince himself this was part of some dream, and he’s so tired he manages to fall back asleep.

When he wakes up next, it’s to Jeonghan smiling at him sweetly as he shakes him awake, gentle hands on his shoulder.”

“Channie,” Jeonghan says, voice soft and nothing like how it was with Mark, “wake up, honey, we’re here.”

Chan pulls away from Seungcheol, blinking the sleep from his eyes and moving his hands to fix his hair which is, no doubt, sticking in every which direction. Joshua smiles and reaches out to help flatten Chan’s hair while Jeonghan moves aside to wake up Seungcheol, who has fallen asleep with his head against the wall of the cabin.

“Oh, we’re here?” Seungcheol asks, voice small and sleepy, and be still, Chan’s beating heart, because fuck if that’s not the cutest shit Chan’s ever seen and/or heard. He smiles sleepily at Chan, and Chan melts into a fucking puddle.

Figuratively, of course. In reality, he just flushes bright red.

There’s a knock on the door, and suddenly Soonyoung’s at the door, peeking his head in.

“Everyone’s already outside, we’re just waiting on you.” He says, and he leans forward, grabbing Chan’s bag from where it sits on the floor. Chan moves to protest, but Soonyoung just shushes him with a quick smile and wink and says, “Don’t worry, babe, I got it,” before turning and heading out.

Joshua and Jeonghan share a look before sending Seungcheol matching smiles, and he rolls his eyes at them, standing and grabbing his own bag and gesturing at Chan to go ahead.

“No,” he says to them, “do it yourself. C’mon, Channie.”

Jeonghan groans and Joshua just smiles and shakes his head while Seungcheol and Chan exit the cabin, Chan with a grin on his face and Seungcheol with a smile he’s clearly trying to suppress. The others are all already standing outside, Hansol and Minghao both leaning half-awake on either side of Mingyu and Seokmin with his forehead pressed to Junhui’s back, probably already asleep. Mark makes his way over to Chan’s side the second Chan steps out of the train, and Chan can’t help but have his mind wander back to a few hours ago. 

Had that been real, or was it something he’d dreamed up? He looks over at Mark, and Mark smiles back, asking him if he’d slept and if the ride had been alright. Chan nods, and Mark asks what he and the others talked about.

“...a lot.” Chan answers quietly, his brain still not having quite taken in all of it. “I’ll tell you later, alright?”

Jeonghan and Joshua exit a minute later, Jeonghan with a proud look on his face as he walks out empty-handed while Joshua scowls at his back, struggling with both his bag and Jeonghan’s.

Jihoon makes his way over and offers to take one, and soon they’re all ready to go, once Seungcheol does a headcount and makes sure they’re not missing anyone. Seungcheol had already rented three cars for them to go in, and they all pile into the cars in the same groups they’d driven to the train station in after exchanging quick goodbyes. 

Joshua climbs into the driver’s seat, and this time Seungcheol takes the passenger side while Jeonghan slips into the back seat. Once again, Mark slots himself between Jeonghan and Chan, and Chan doesn’t have it in him to complain. He just rests his head against Mark’s chest and closes his eyes, too tired to handle the awkward silence of the car and/or the forced conversation that he just knows will take place if he stays awake.

“Chan,” Mark whispers, and Chan blinks, sitting up.

“Hmm?” He murmurs, eyes still closed.

“We’re here,” Mark tells him, and Chan nods, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and ignoring Mark when he tells him it’ll make his eyes all puffy. Jeonghan is already outside the car, holding the door open for the other two, and Joshua is pulling the key from the ignition while Seungcheol puts away his phone and unlocks his own door.

Chan steps out of the car and is immediately hit with the familiar smell of salty beach air. He looks over and his eyes widen, because oh, shit, they’re right by the beach.

Seokmin catches him staring out at it and walks over, nudging him slightly. “We could go down there after the party tomorrow night,” Seokmin says, and Chan turns to him, eyes wide.

“We can?” he asks, and Seokmin nods, smiling sweetly at him.

“My uncle said he left the key under the doormat,” Jihoon says, and Chan turns to see him already at the front door, bending to pull up the welcome rug. He holds up the key. “Okay, guys, c’mon, let’s get inside and get some rest before we have to head out.”

The fourteen of them file in, eyes wide as they take in the house. There’s a view of the beach from the floor to ceiling window that makes up one of the walls of the living room, and you can clearly see the Gwangandaegyo Bridge, lit up with twinkling lights.

“Shit, Hyung, since when does your uncle own a place like this and why have we never come here before?” Mingyu asks, admiring the kitchen, and Jihoon rolls his eyes.

“He bought it recently, and we never come to Busan for more than a day trip anyway,” he replies. “He told me it was fine if we stayed here for a few days, but try not to break anything. I’m looking at you, Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung pouts. “Hoonie, I didn’t even do anything yet!”

“And I’m stopping you before you do do something,” Jihoon says.

“Okay!” Seungcheol claps his hands together, getting the attention of all the boys. “I’m sure we’re all tired, so go and grab a room and get some rest. Doesn’t matter which bed you take, just be respectful of Jihoonie’s uncle’s things.”

They all disperse, dragging their bags and making their way to the bedrooms and bathrooms to clean up and get ready for bed.

Mark grabs Chan’s elbow and says, “You’re not sleeping in a room without me, dude.”

Chan rolls his eyes. “Mark, at this point I will gladly sleep on the floor if it means getting some shut-eye. C’mon.”

They end up sharing a room with Wonwoo and Hansol, both of whom are already showered and lying quietly in their bed, by the time Chan steps out of the shower, wearing a loose shirt and a pair of shorts. Mark is laying on the bed they’re sharing, scrolling through his phone, and he glances over at Chan upon hearing him enter the room.

“Hey,” Chan says, pulling up the covers and sliding in beside Mark. Mark smiles back, dropping his phone to his chest and rolling over a little to let Chan fit comfortably.

“Can I shut off the lights?” Wonwoo asks, folding his glasses and handing them to Hansol to place safely on the nightstand. Mark hums his affirmation, and Chan nods, sighing at the feeling of the cool sheets against his skin.

Mark rolls onto his side, facing the window, and Chan flips the other way, and immediately regrets choosing this side of the bed because even in the dimly lit room, illuminated only by the faint blue glow of the lights from the Gwangandaegyo Bridge and the light from the hall, he can just make out Wonwoo and Hansol, lying pressed against each other, with Wonwoo’s arms thrown over Hansol’s frame.

Chan frowns, shutting his eyes to avoid having to look at them and make himself feel worse, because God, he misses being hugged like that, misses falling asleep in their arms. All the guys he ended up hooking up with after never bothered with the after-sex cuddles, either flipped over and fell asleep, only to be gone in the morning, or left him on his own right then and there, leaving Chan alone to a cold bed. 

He opens his eyes and blinks in surprise upon seeing Hansol staring at him, small smile on his face. His eyes meet Chan’s and he reaches out, arms just long enough that they manage to reach his face.

Tender fingers brush the hair from Chan’s forehead, and Hansol says, in a soft whisper, “Goodnight, Channie,” before drawing his hand back and closing his eyes.

Chan watches him for a moment longer, chest tight and head feeling light, and finds himself smiling.

“Goodnight,” he whispers back, eyes falling shut.

Chapter Text

hey y'all, hope you guys are doing well.

okay, so i'm sure you all know what's going on with the mingyu situation, and have hopefully read up on the statement made by pledis. if not, deffo go do that because it clears up a lot of stuff and addresses a lot of stuff. we know more than we did we did a few days ago, but we still don't have all the details, obviously, so as someone in the comments said, there's nothing we can really do rn but wait and see what happens and comes out.

NOW, that being said... i still think i'm gonna be a bit hesitant of rolling back into this fic. i know that probably sucks to hear, and i swear i'm not giving up on this fic bc it is my baby and i love it to fucking death. still, though, i might be a bit uncomfy writing this for now, and also i have like a bunch of tests coming up and my mental health has gone 📉📉 like to absolute shit over the last few days so i might have to continue with this break, at least for a little bit longer.

i hope y'all understand, and i hope you hang in there during these hard times because gosh, do i know it's hard. stay safe out there, guys.

sending y'all all the hugs and kisses in the world mwah 💌

~ zai <33