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Being woken up at five in the morning on his rare day off is already bad enough but add on one of his junior cops telling him they’ve got Han Jisung currently locked up and under arrest, and Changbin’s just waiting for the shitstorm to hit.
If he doesn’t know yet, he definitely will soon and Seoul is going to be lucky if they make it out the other side when he does.
Changbin uses every last shred of his patience to not start yelling down the phone—Wooyoung is new and generally a good kid, but did he really have to go and lock up this guy of all people? Why did nobody stop him?
“I’m on my way,” he manages to bite out through gritted teeth, hanging up to throw on his uniform and make it out to his car as quickly as he can. He needs to fix this, and fast. So be it if he breaks a couple speeding limits on the way. He’s a cop. He’s earned it.
As soon as he arrives at the station, it becomes very clear that no one has realised how much shit they’re about to have on their hands. Everyone seems to be going about their early morning shift as normal, heads hung over lukewarm coffee and reports lying unfinished on desks. Changbin honestly feels ready to strangle someone.
“Wooyoung,” he barks out. It’s not even amusing when everyone in the precinct jerks up to stare at him. “I need you to give me the rundown on what went down. Now.”
“Sir, I–”
“Wooyoung.” It’s a warning.
“Y–yes sir. We, uh, Jongho and I were out on patrol when we got a call about a disturbance. They said it could have been a streetrace.” He looks so nervous that Changbin might feel bad for him if they were in any other situation. “Someone must have tipped them off because by the time we got there, the place was emptied out. Nothing but skid marks. Then we heard an engine running.”
“You heard an engine running?”
“A motorcycle.”
“A motorcycle,” Changbin repeats back incredulously.
Shit, he knows where this is going.
“Jongho thought they might have been involved in the scene so when we saw the headlights we followed them. And, and we were right too!” Wooyoung says with wide eyes, looking across at an equally nervous Jongho. “They were totally speeding and didn’t have a helmet.”
Changbin wants to scream. Or maybe cry. This can’t be happening. “Please do not tell me you just arrested Han Jisung for not wearing a helmet.”
“I–! We–” Wooyoung splutters.
Only then does Jongho decide to pipe up. “He was carrying illegal weapons too! He had a gun.”
“Of course he has a gun, god, do you guys have any idea who he is?”
There’s quiet in the precinct for a long moment, as if the room itself was holding its breath, before Wooyoung whispers (like it’s some trade secret), “He’s a member of the mafia.”
Changbin sends a prayer up to the sky. Heaven help them all. “Han Jisung is not just some member of the mafia. He’s the Boss’ right hand man.” Except he’s not only that—he’s that and so much more. If the Chan is the King, Jisung’s his queen, the Bonnie to his Clyde, his ride or fucking die. And now they have him locked up in a freaking cell in Changbin’s precinct. Chan’s going to kill him. “Fuck, don’t you guys remember what I’ve taught you about mafia business.”
Neither of them get a chance to answer because Changbin’s phone starts ringing and oh crap, earth please open up and swallow him whole, because he knows that damned ringtone.
He takes a deep breath through his nose and tries not to panic more than he already is. Changbin turns away from his team and answers the call.
“Where the fuck is he?”
“He’s here.”
“Where?” Chan growls.
Changbin bites his lip. “A couple of my team picked him up this morning.”
“You fucking arrested him?”
He sucks a breath through his teeth and tries to hold himself back. He’s never been on the receiving end of Chan’s wrath, not like this. Even in the beginning, when they were all wary of each other and Changbin was just a cop trying to get insider information.
It’s terrifying and it’s not. Because anyone in their right mind would be scared of Chan and ever laying a hand on something that was his. But Changbin knows the terror. He knows it as if it were his own because it’s not the first time Jisung, or Chan for that matter, has gotten themselves into messes.
“I’ll take care of it,” Changbin promises, knowing that it’s not enough but that it’s all he has to offer.
“I’m not going to let y’all keep him locked up without doing anything.” Chan must lean away from the phone because his next words are slightly muffled. “TJ go get my car.”
Changbin wants to mash his hand into his face. He wants to be back home in bed, blissfully unaware of everything. “Chris, you can’t come down here.”
“Says freaking who, I'll–”
It’s dangerous, risk-your-life kind of dangerous to interrupt a mafia boss on a good day, but, “My junior cops have already locked up Jisung, what the hell do you think they’re going to do if they see you?”
“Then you tell them to stay the fuck out of my way.”
“If I lose my job, who's left to bail out Jisung?”
Changbin heard a growl from the other end of the line. It sends a chill down his spine, and not in a good way. “Me. I’ll tear the whole place to the ground, just watch. We don’t– we don't need you.”
And that, more than Changbin was willing to admit, stings. It cuts right through him, down through the torch his heart had been holding for them. Everything he'd allowed himself to imagine. This is how it is, he tells himself for the millionth time. They don’t need you. “Give me three hours. If he’s not back by then, you can do what you like.” And then he hangs up, because after that, is there anything more than he owes Chan.
He runs a hand down his face and lets out a breath. He turned back to Wooyoung. “Where is he?”
Wooyoung, thankfully, is quick to answer. “Cell 2A.”
Changbin is already moving. “Stay here. Get me his release papers to fill out.”
“Chief?” As soon as Jongho asks, he looks like he regrets it.
“Not now. Let me fix this mess. Next time, you’d do well to look up Han Jisung first. The police force has an understanding with the mafia and I certainly don’t want to see it ruined by some rookies. For all our sake.” Chan flashes to mind, his eyes cold and shoulders set.
He turns on his heel and leaves them to stew in that thought.
The trek down to the holding cells is a familiar one, and Changbin’s feet against the concrete beat a steady pace, but he’s nervous. More nervous than he can remember being approaching a holding cell. His hand reaches up for the handle, and he takes two deep breaths before he pushes down.
He hears the voice first. Light, joking, easy. Dangerous.
“–And then, of course, that’s when Mr Jerry Jerkface showed back up and can you believe that he had the audacity to wave my gun, my Miss Patty, at me? I tell you, I made sure he never forgot her name after that, not with it tattooed across his cheek.”
The officer standing guard, Mingi, looked half-bemused and half-like he was going to be sick. Changbin almost felt bad for him.
“Why aren’t you laughing at my story, Mr Cop Man? It’s funny! Chris always laughs and so does– Oh! Binnie!”
At the sight of Changbin, Jisung leaps to his feet just as Mingi’s shoulders slouch in relief.
“Hello Jisung,” says Changbin, only just falling short of a smile. He turns to Mingi. “You can leave him with me. Go see how Wooyoung is doing with that paperwork for me.”
“Yes sir,” Mingi says quickly, eager to slip out the door. As it clicks closed behind him, Jisung grins wide.
“You’re so good at being bossy, Chief Seo.” He bites his lip and goes for his best sleazy once-over. That is, of course, when Changbin finally notices the corner of his lip is a little too puffy and that when his fringe falls back from his eyes there’s something dark sitting atop his left cheek.
“Jesus christ, they hit you?” Changbin’s voice goes hoarse.
Jisung’s eyes widen and he lifts a hand up to his lip. His grin goes cheeky again. “I was resisting arrest.”
Changbin feels the sudden need to sit down but there’s no seats. He wrings his hands.
“It’s alright, Binnie, it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before. You can kiss it better if you like?” Jisung has leaned forward to twine his hands around the bars, pressing as close as he can. Even with the metre still between them, Changbin feels like he’s going to suffocate any minute.
“This is a mess,” he says, mostly to himself.
Jisung’s smile dips a little. “But you’re here now, right? Are you–” He bites his lip against and winces when he grazes the cut. “What’s going to happen now?” All of a sudden, Jisung looks much smaller in his cell, the metal bars separating them. Changbin is weak. So weak for him, for them, that he can’t help himself.
Changbin takes a step forward and lays a hand on top of Jisung’s. “I’ll take care of it, okay? You're not going to be stuck here.” Not if Changbin can help it. It’s vulnerable, far too vulnerable of him and he should pull back, because he's getting too close to the deep-end and there’s no one here to catch him. But he’s never been able to stop the control they have over him. “I promise,” he whispers as Jisung’s other hand shifts over to hold his too.
The things he does for them.
Unhealthy, Seungmin might call it. Like he and Minho have a healthy ‘whatever’ going on.
But then Jisung smiles, soft, and Changbin doesn’t really give a fuck what this is or isn’t.
“Just let me finish up the paperwork and we’ll have you home,” Changbin tells him, taking a step back for his own safety. Jisung goes to follow but can’t.
“You’re leaving me here, Seo?” Some of his confidence has started to seep back into his voice but there’s something simmering there that makes Changbin’s heart clench.
“I’ll be back before you know it.” He pauses and tries for a rueful smile. “Chris’ll make sure of that.”
“You talked to Chris?” His voice is bright, hopeful.
Changbin chin dips. “He called.”
Jisung looks like he wants to reach out again. “How is he?”
When Changbin meets Jisung’s gaze, he feels a little blank. Maybe just numb. “How do you think he was?”
Jisung’s lips part. The worry from before is back. “Channie didn’t yell at you, did he? He shouldn’t have yelled—we like you too much.”
For a moment, it makes Changbin’s heart thud heavily but it’s dangerous, far too dangerous for him to ever believe anything from Jisung. Nevermind the fact that he might already be in too deep for that.
“Let’s just get you out of here,” he says, leaving it at that for his own sanity.
“Don’t forget Miss Patty! Your rookies stole her!” Jisung calls after him.
“I won’t!”
It takes him a full half hour to work through the rest of Jisung’s paperwork, in the course of which Minho shows up for his morning shift. He takes one look at them all—Changbin hunched over a table, Wooyoung and Jongho fidgeting by his side, and the rest of the precinct watching nervously—and goes to get a coffee.
“Care to enlighten me?” he asks as soon as he’s back, caffeine in hand. “What are those?”
Changbin quirks a brow but doesn’t pause his work. “Release papers.”
At the desk beside him, Minho settles into a chair. “Who for?”
“Han Jisung.”
Minho chokes on his coffee. “No way.”
“You can check for yourself if you like,” Changbin says with a nod towards the holding cells.
“Holy crap,” Minho whispers, leaning back in his chair. “Whose brilliant idea was that?”
Changbin glances at Wooyoung and Jongho. Minho gets the hint. “Damn. Be prepared for highway patrol for the next month, rookies. Oh my god.” He stares down into his coffee for a long moment before something else registers. His gaze snaps up to Changbin. “Does he know?”
Changbin’s shoulders tense up tight. (Well, even more than they had been already.) He’d been trying really hard not to think about that phone call but the words kept coming back to him. We don’t need you.
“He knows,” says Changbin, still not looking up from his report.
“Well, shit.”
And yeah, that just about summed it up.
Sometimes Changbin wishes he could go back to before he got entangled in mafia business and two men with smiles far too pretty for their own good. He had been a good cop once, a proper clean record, straight by the book cop. Changbin had principles. He had finished top of his class at the academy and been the lead cadet in his unit. He was the chief of his station by twenty seven.
Somewhere, somehow, that clean record had changed.
He used to think that it was just a stint. For the first three months, he’d managed to convince himself he was just going back to that bar for intel. That his eyes didn’t linger on the broad line of Chan’s shoulders or the curve of his neck.
(There was no denying Jisung. Not even from day one.)
Life would be easier, Changbin thinks, if he’d never stepped foot into that bar. Or had never let Chan buy him that first drink or Jisung smile at him all pretty when he told him his name. He should never have given his name at all for that matter.
When Chan had found the gun strapped to his upper thigh, while he was caging Changbin into the grimy tile of too dark bathrooms, it was Jisung who giggled, high and sweet. “Too nice to be one of us, Binnie." His tongue ran over his teeth, eyes bright. “You gon’a arrest me, officer? Cause I don’t see no handcuffs.”
And Changbin should have said something then, because he could feel Chan slip his gun out of the holster and that was definitely the sound of bullets hitting the floor, but Jisung had leaned in close and his breath was fanning over Changbin’s cheeks and if he just moved a little closer, they would–
So yeah, Changbin was royally screwed.
Because the King had his Queen. Chan and Jisung ruled their little world. And Changbin, well, Changbin was just some cop they’d met at the bar. There to keep the rookies out of their districts and mess around with when they felt like it. (That was all he was, right?)
Changbin wondered if there was more out there like him. The thought stung like a bullet across skin.
He should just be done with it all. Right here and now, he should let it all go. As he scans the paperwork into the database, he struggles to find a reason why not.
However good they make him feel, however nice it is to have a blissed out Jisung curled around him as Chan grins down at them, however crazy-high he feels when they’re speeding down the highway together—arms thrown out wide and wind streaming through their hair—was it really worth it? All these stolen moments, the ones that don’t quite feel like his.
Chan was telling the truth. They don’t need him.
Before he can make it to the door, a hand finds his shoulder. It’s Minho.
“Hey.” Minho has never quite been the comforting type but his eyebrows are pulled together. He takes a moment. “Want me to go with you?”
It’s more tempting of an offer than Changbin cares to admit. But he shakes his head. He’d rather not subject his best friend to his messy ‘whatever-the-hell-this-was’. “Thanks though. It’s my mess to sort out.”
Minho looks like he wants to disagree—after all, he’d been right next to Seungmin as he’d lectured Changbin on his poor choices. But Minho lets him go with one final look.
Just like before, Changbin takes two deep breaths before pressing down on the handle. This time, Mingi doesn’t even greet him, slipping out of sight immediately. Changbin turns to Jisung, his heart somewhere down near his stomach. Jisung is looking right at him, all familiar and smiling, and Changbin’s throat tightens.
“Binnie,” Jisung coos.
There’s no air in his lungs. But they don’t need you, he forces down his throat like a bitter pill.
He reaches out to unlock the cell, Miss Patty tucked under the other arm. For a second, the jangle of keys is the only noise that fills the room. His heart feels like a dead weight inside him.
“Bin?”
Changbin looks up, just as the door swings open.
The moment drags on. Then Jisung steps closer, a half-grin toying at his mouth in an all too familiar lilt. It’s Changbin who steps backwards. He’s not sure he’s ever done that before. “Don't– Just save it for Chan, okay?” he says, hoping the bitterness doesn’t bleed into his words. He doesn’t look at Jisung’s face. He can’t. “I’ve got to get you back before my time’s up.”
A tentative hand wraps around his upper arm and Changbin’s not strong enough to brush him off a second time. Those wide eyes are set on him once again. They’re almost enough to break his resolve.
“Did I do something?” Jisung asks, careful.
Changbin bites his lip and tries to ignore how dark the bruising around Jisung’s eye has gotten. He goes to shake his head and aborts the movment halfway through. “I’ll take you back in my car,” he finds himself saying. “I won’t get far with the squad car where we’re going.”
For a second, Changbin isn’t sure he’s going to let go. But after a deep breath and a settle of his shoulders, Jisung steps away. “Lead the way, chief.”
One day, he’s going to look back on this—the painfully slow trek they make through the precinct—and laugh. Minho will bring it up after a couple of beers and cackle his head off as he reenacts the scene they make.
In the moment, however, he kind of wishes he were six feet under. Or at the bottom of the ocean. Or anywhere but here.
There’s no doubt that Wooyoung and Jongho will be the highlights of the story. They’re practically shaking and it’s only encouraging Jisung more. Changbin steadfastly ignores looking in the direction of Minho, although he’s pretty sure Jisung’s gaze darts over there.
Somehow, they make it out to his car. Changbin’s never been so happy to settle into his driver’s seat.
He doesn’t ask Jisung to put on his seatbelt. The boy doesn’t even reach for it.
It’s silent the whole ride down, and Changbin checks the clock five times on the way. Three hours, he’d told Chan. In less than twenty minutes, Changbin can be free. No more dimly lit clubs, no more late night calls, no more them.
He’ll live. He has to.
As he expected, they get pulled up at the gates. It’s the seedier parts of town, so the two women standing guard are all too happy to flash the guns strapped under their jackets. “Looking for trouble?” the shorter of the two asks.
Changbin almost rolls his eyes. He feels, rather than sees, Jisung lean across the car. Each point of contact sets his skin alight.
“He’s with me,” sings Jisung, who revels in the way the girl’s eyes widen. “And Bin’s older than you, Ryujin. Watch out.”
“Shit,” the shorter, Ryujin says. “The boss is going to be happy to see you.”
Jisung pouts. “He’s always happy to see me.”
The taller barks out a laugh. “Ain’t that the damn truth. Y’all are free to head in, sorry for the hold up.”
“All is forgiven,” grins Jisung as he slides back into his seat. His warmth leaves an imprint across Changbin’s whole left side. “To the palace,” he cheers. It does nothing but remind Changbin that they’re in Jisung’s world now. One word from him and it’ll be like Changbin had never existed in the first place.
He steadies his breath. They’d never given him any proper reason to be scared before today. Or maybe he’s just a goddamn fool for ignoring it if they do. He doesn't need proof of how dangerous they are. The whole city knows.
Changbin spots Chan first. It’s hard not to. His presence looms, extending up and around. His eyes are locked on their car.
Beside him, Jisung buzzes with excitement.
As soon as the car stops, he throws open his door. Changbin follows by example.
“Channie!”
Within moments, Jisung steps right into Chan’s arms. Everything, from Chan’s shoulders to the set of his chin, smooths out as he wraps his arms tight around Jisung. A Queen returned to his King. Changbin aches.
“Baby,” Chan whispers softly, as he works his fingers into the ends of Jisung’s hair. His eyes slip shut as he breathes in, holding tight. Nobody says a word.
(Chan’s voice sent the smallest shiver down Changbin’s spine. He’s infinitely grateful nobody is watching.)
It’s only when Jisung lifts up—with their arms still locked around each other—that Chan notices the bruising on Jisung’s face. His eyes go cold and his gaze snaps up to Changbin. Inside his chest, Changbin’s heart turns to ice.
“How dare you–” Chan growls.
Before Changbin has the chance to answer, Jisung’s hand finds Chan’s cheek. “Hey, no. He would never and you know it. It was just his rookies, not his fault. They caught me by surprise while I was on my bike– oh shit, Channie, my bike! I just left it on the road–”
The cold melts slowly out of Chan’s gaze as he turns back to Jisung. “No, no. I took care of your bike. I had Yeji pick it up.”
Jisung’s smile returns. “Thank god. Can we go inside now? I’m sick of concrete.”
“Of course we can, baby.” Chan keeps his hold on Jisung tight, as he jerks his head towards the other man by his side. “Let Hyunjin know Jisung’s back. He can come see us later.” And with that, he bends down to sweep Jisung up into a bridal hold—the boy’s giggle is so bright it almost hurts to hear—and turns towards the house.
Changbin’s feet stay rooted to the ground. He glances down at his car, its engine still running, and wonders what he’s supposed to be doing with his hands. This was it, right? That’s his last debt paid.
But before he can talk himself into driving away, a voice calls out, “You're coming in, right?” So Changbin, being the fool that he is, does.
The inside of the mansion is more elaborate than Changbin had expected, tapestry dripping from the foyer’s walls, and dressers sitting tall and proud. He follows Chan and Jisung as they make their way down hallways and past living rooms and their elaborate couches. He wonders what it would be like to live here everyday.
(He pulls his mind away from the want that courses through them. Say goodbye. This is where the road ends.)
Finally they make it to an office where two men are already discussing something in hushed tones. Both of them snap to attendance at the sight of Chan.
“Jisung,” the blonde boy smiles, face softening immediately.
“Hi Lixie,” he replies, smiling broadly as Chan sets him down.
“Jeez, you had us worried there, Sung. Arrested, really?”
“Hey,” Jisung pouts, “it wasn’t like I was asking to be arrested. They snuck up on me. One moment I was getting ready for a street race and the next everyone scattered and the sirens showed.”
Felix looks bemused. “You’re crazy. Don’t go doing this again anytime soon, okay?”
“Or ever,” tacks on Chan.
“Okay, okay,” Jisung whines, leaning into Chan’s side, “I promise. You two can stop your worrying. Plus, they called Binnie in so I knew nothing bad would happen.”
Felix’s gaze finds him for the first time and something sly twists the edge of his grin. “Is that so?”
Changbin knows not to answer that question himself. There’s a time and a place with these people, and now is not his.
“Yeah,” Chan answers instead, somewhat begrudgingly. “Regardless, I really don’t want something like this to happen again, okay Sungie? It was bad enough waking up to find you gone but to not be able to call you either? I’d rather not live through that a second time.”
At that, Jisung damn near melts into Chan—as if they were one body split into two and were trying to mould themselves back together. It was sweet and painful all at once, and Changbin tried not to let it show because Felix was still sneaking glances at him.
“No more being arrested. Promise, Channie.”
Over the top of Jisung’s head, Chan’s gaze found his and Changbin understood the question there loud and clear.
“My kids have learned their lesson. You won’t be hearing anything from them anytime soon.”
Chan nods, once.
He turns back to the room. “Leave us now.”
Felix and the other man start to move towards the door and Changbin follows. That is, until a voice stops him.
“Not you.”
He glances up and is surprised to see Chan looking right back at him. Changbin’s feet teether him back to the ground.
“Boss?” It’s the other man who asks the question.
Chan doesn’t take his eyes off Changbin. “What?”
“Do you really think that’s– I mean, he’s a cop, right?”
The line of Chan’s mouth goes hard. “I am well aware of what Changbin is or isn't, TJ. None of which concerns you. You may leave now or I will make you.”
There’s no more protests and the door clicks shut.
Changbin doesn’t move. His stomach churns. The air feels thick and not in a good way. Chan is still watching him, as if he’s trying to see right through him.
It’s Jisung who speaks first however, lifting just slightly out of Chan’s embrace to lean towards Changbin. “You didn’t answer my question. Back at the precinct.”
Changbin opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He doesn’t know what to say—they’ve done everything and nothing to him. He’s the one who allowed them to ruin him so completely. He’s the one who allowed him to fall. Every line has been crossed.
“I don’t–” He draws in a breath. “I don’t know. I don’t have an answer for you.” The silence hangs for a long moment. “Was that all?”
Jisung looks crestfallen.
“You don’t just get to leave,” says Chan, incredulous.
“Why not?”
Chan’s gaze hooks on him for a moment before darting around the room; from the door to his desk, lingering on the gun that rests atop it.
Changbin is starting to feel a little hysterical. Or maybe he’s just gone numb. “You gon’a shoot me, Chris?” He asks mirthlessly, ignoring the way the name sits all wrong on his tongue.
The shift in Chan’s expression is immediate, flooding with regret. Jisung looks like someone just stabbed him in the gut.
Changbin turns back to the door.
“What are you doing?” This time when Chan speaks, his voice is soft. Gentle.
“I’m leaving,” Changbin says plainly.
“Why?”
“What did we do?” Jisung asks, his voice cracking. "I promise, I'll fix it, please just don't go."
It’s like they’re in some weird game of tug of war except Changbin’s right at the end of his rope and it hasn’t ever been an even match. The odds aren’t in his favour. The only thing left is for him to let go. With the last of his courage, he faces Chan. “You don’t need me.” The words taste bitter on his tongue. “So I’m leaving.”
Changbin likes them, god, he likes them so much that most days he thinks he might go mad with it. But there’s nothing left for them to take from him. Chan was right.
Except his words seem to have the opposite effect because now it’s Chan who looks devastated and Changbin is so damn confused because why won’t they just let him leave? He’s gotten attached when he shouldn’t have. Someone pulled out a gun and he jumped into the middle of it and now there’s nowhere left to go but out that door.
“I’m leaving,” he says, once more, not sure if he’s convincing them or himself.
“No.” Jisung’s voice is tiny but he’s looking right into Changbin’s face, pinning him in place. “No, no, Binnie, who told you that? Who told you we don’t need you because it’s not true.” He shakes his head, looking wild-eyed. “It’s not true.”
“You want to leave because of me?”
The answer to Chan’s question sits heavy in Changbin’s mouth. “I brought him back,” he gives instead, “Just like I said I would.”
“And nothing else?”
Changbin can’t play this game anymore with Chan. With either of them. “You don’t need me,” he says again, except this time his voice shakes and his expression must say it all; you don’t want me, you don’t need me, your heart doesn’t ache for me like mine does for you; and it should be totally embarrassing but all he can feel is relief that it’s finally out of his system.
“I lied.” Chan’s voice stutters out the last of Changbin’s breath. “On the phone call, I was worried and scared for Jisung and it was terrible of me to say, it was terrible of me to try to hurt you just because I was hurting.”
Changbin shakes his head. “But, you... I was already– I was trying to help.”
“I know, I know, I wasn't thinking straight,” and Chan looks so remorseful that it makes his throat hurt. “I’m sorry. I don’t like seeing you hurt. I’m sorry that I lied. We do need you. Badly.”
And from under his arm, Jisung rocks forward from his heels, eyes searching Changbin’s face. “Binnie. We want you. I’ve always wanted you.” He smiles his smallest real smile. “There’s no one else like you, Binnie.”
There’s a part in the movie where you can see right through the acting, where you can tell that the main actor is about to burst into tears, right before they burst into tears. Changbin is the actor.
They reach for him in sync and Changbin’s vision goes blurry.
“Binnie,” he hears softly as familiar arms wind themselves around his shoulders. Something warm meets his neck, pressing in under his chin, and it seems like Jisung’s crying too. His tears are wet against his skin.
“I was scared. I didn't– didn't want to admit it, how much we need you,” whispered Chan, thumbing away tears until Changbin can see him standing before him, eyes full of something warm that Changbin’s only ever caught him directing at Jisung. “But we do. Here I was thinking that we were stupidly obvious.”
Changbin shakes his head carefully so as not to dislodge Chan’s hands on his cheeks. “How was I supposed to know?” he whispers back, voice breaking.
Chan shifts until their foreheads rest together. “It's my fault that you didn't let you see. But never again, baby. I’ll make sure that you know every second of every damn day how fucking crazy I am about you.”
“You’re ours,” Jisung whispers right into his ear as Chan tilts his chin up, a question shifting in his expression. Changbin presses forward before he can properly register what he's doing (there's more to say, more apologies to be made, but he's too caught up in the moment and the intensity of Chan's gaze to care). Chan responds in kind, surging closer, hungrily, to capture Changbin in a kiss.
All other thoughts, anything that doesn’t involve them in this very moment, disappear. There’s nothing in the world except the feel of Jisung’s mouth against his neck and Chan’s teeth tugging at his lip and the simple fact that they want him. He can’t remember wishing for anything so badly before this.
Fuck yeah, he’s looking for trouble. Only, he’s already found it.
And like hell he’s going to be letting go any time soon.