Chapter Text
[New beginnings.]
“The feeling of being left alone swallows me up
Even if I live a calm life as if nothing has happened at all
I live it in fear that I'll be left alone."
“I hope this brightens up your afternoon.” Chan smiled sweetly at the elderly woman as he presented her with her tea. She was a regular. She came in every Monday and Friday, citing it as the best way to start and end her week. As far as he’d been able to discern so far from gentle probing, her children were well-off, but aloof. Thanks to them, she had a comfortable life, living in a nice little apartment near the river.
But it seemed to Chan that her children preferred to throw money at her instead of their time and affection. The better off they thought she was, the more entitled they felt to step back from her life. Chan always tried to talk to her if he had a quiet moment, but it was always so bittersweet. She was always so eager to have a chat, and was so kind, but he was always reminded of how she would have to go home to an empty apartment, praying that her children would call her.
“Thank you, dear.” He watched as her face fell as she glanced over at the counter, where a small line was starting to form.
“It’s the Friday afternoon rush, Mrs. Kim.” Chan reassured her with a soft smile. “I’ll be sure to get them all served quickly so I can get back to you.”
“Oh, aren’t you a flatterer.” She waved her hands, shooing him away. “Go on, then, don’t make me hold you up!” As much as she tried to hide her smile, Chan could see a renewed sparkle in her eyes that only made his smile grow. It may have been a little selfish, but he liked to make other people happy. It always made his mood pick up.
“You never do. Talking with you is always a pleasure.” Chan gave her a cheeky grin this time, before giving her a small bow and slipping back to his station. He worked at a relatively small, family-owned café. The owners were a sweet middle-aged couple that doubled as his second parents. They had been his lifeline when he’d moved to Seoul to study. His Korean had still been a bit of a hit or miss at eighteen, and he’d had no fool-proof way of supporting himself.
His parents sent him money when they could, but Chan hated having to rely on them so much. He’d vowed when he’d enrolled that, eventually, he’d make enough to take care of them. He wanted to be independent, even if it killed him. His bosses had always been kind to him, but through poking and prodding, they’d figured out his predicament. Their own son had moved away to study and rarely came back to visit. Chan had gladly taken up the mantle of being a son-like figure. They were always fussing over him, making sure he was getting plenty of sleep and was eating well. The thought made him chuckle.
After he’d been working there for several months, they’d begun to trust him to man the place by himself. He was the only real permanent staff member, and was currently there most days. He’d decided to take a year off after finishing his degree, before launching himself into any further study. Most other staff members – usually students or tourists looking for work – didn’t stick around for more than a year. Sure, he could find jobs that paid better, but the hours were decent. Besides, he loved his job. It kept him social as well. And the Lee’s were angels. They were worth it.
While small, the café had grown in notoriety, with a loyal and regular customer base. No matter rain or shine, Chan could always rely on their several regulars to keep his days moving swiftly. Clé, the café was called. Simple, cute, rolled off the tongue. The café had a vintage feel, with plush armchairs and a plethora of cushions scattered around. It was cosy. Bookshelves lined the walls, and every spare bit of bench and floor space was occupied with little plants or trinkets.
He eyed the philodendron hanging by the window. The plant had almost died on him several times, until he’d sheepishly asked Mrs. Lee to teach him how to look after it. It had taken a solid month, but Chan was nothing if not determined, and Mrs. Lee was full of patience. After succeeding with the philodendron – Chan had shed a tear the first time he’d seen it get a new leaf – he’d become a bit obsessed with plants. He’d banned himself from going to plant nurseries – his own apartment was full to bursting, and the café was starting to get a little crowded too. It didn’t help that he’d been gifted plants on by some of his regulars, either. As the bell at the door tinkled, he turned his eyes back to the front.
“How can I help you?” He grinned at his next customer, eyes twinkling, dimples showing. Over the next half hour, he busied himself with sorting everyone’s orders, making idle chit chat, and topping up Mrs. Kim’s tea. It was half past four, meaning that many of his regulars would be making their way through the doors soon. Thankfully, if his study had taught him anything, it was how to remember things. That was the only thing helping his pass his exams, after all. He knew some of his regular customers so well that they often just walked straight in and found a seat, giving him a friendly wave to let him know that they were there.
There were the study buddies, Sana and Dahyun, who were around his age, and went to the same university. Dahyun always ordered an iced chocolate, and Sana would usually get an Americano. Sometimes, though, if she was looking particularly stressed out, Dahyun would come to the counter and ask if he could make her a grapefruitade. She’d always grin at him when she did so, a twinkle in her eye as she’d bring it to Sana for them to share.
There was the dad, Sungjin, and his adorable four-year-old son, Dowoon, who came every Friday afternoon for a treat of hot chocolate and cake. At five, his favourite trio of Japanese students, Mako, Rima, and Miihi, who were in a dance group, came bouncing in. One time he’d gotten to see them perform, which had been legendary.
Of course, he couldn’t forget his favourite ahjumma, Mrs. Kim, who kept him company as he pottered around cleaning up. As much as he enjoyed her company, he wished that her children would one day realise that she just needed a bit of companionship every now and then. He felt bad that he was the next best thing she had to her own children. In Chan’s opinion, he was boring, and quiet, and altogether not that interesting. He wouldn’t subject someone to his company if he could avoid it.
“Bye, oppa!” That was Yuna and Chaeryoung, who waved at him as they left. They had relaxed grins on their faces, which made Chan smile. Last week they’d been a bit stressed. He’d figured exams had been the reason. He understood that pain far too well. One thing that Chan prided himself on was how well he knew his regulars. He knew all of their orders off by heart. He was able to tell whether they’d had a rough week or a great day.
By this point, he knew that Clé was a place of refuge for many of his customers. Whether they were just seeking a bit of normalcy in routine, or needed a friendly smile and a warm drink as a pick me up, the café was always there to offer security. It made Chan feel important, in some strange way. Like he had a real impact on people. Like he was worth something.
He started to wipe down the counter, the lengthening shadows signalling that it was almost time for him to close up. He had his last half hour all planned out. He knew roughly how he’d handle his time. It would be a breeze. Then the bell at the door began to chime, and Chan’s eyes snapped up. Interesting. A newbie at this time of day. That was a rare occurrence. The man at the door was tall and slender, his brown hair sleek and pushed back from his forehead on one side. He was bathed in golden light, the last few rays of the sun clinging to him, giving him his own halo. He was stunning. His features were simultaneously soft and hard, the curve of his cheeks melding into the sharp angle of his jaw.
As he stepped out of the light, the initial impression of perfection he’d given Chan began to chip away here and there. Chan noted that a few strands of his hair were loose, sticking straight up or at weird angles. He was wearing a seemingly once-crisp white shirt, which was currently wrinkled and splattered with coffee stains. His black pants, clearly so meticulously ironed that morning, also bore the tragic remains of a spill. His shoulders were slumped, and he looked as if he’d been dragging a mountain behind him for seventy-two hours straight. Chan’s face immediately twisted with a sympathetic frown.
“Hey there,” He offered the newcomer an extra-warm smile. “How can I help you?” The man locked eyes with him and sighed. He looked…irritated. Chan could have sworn he even rolled his eyes. Rude, but fine, he could cut this guy some slack. It must have been a shocker of a day. “What are you after?” Chan tried again, leaning forwards slightly, his whole attention focussed on his new customer. “We’re closing up soon, but I can definitely organise a takeaway for you. We have baked goods, and a whole spread of hot and cold drinks –”
“I know.” The man sounded…bored. Chan tried his best to hide a frown. “Do you normally forget your name tag?” Chan flushed at this, hand flying unconsciously to the right side of his chest. Most of his regulars knew his name. If he managed to strike up conversation with a new customer, he would introduce himself. Until now though, it had never been an issue. He couldn’t help that he forgot things sometimes. The stranger’s voice was soft, and by all rights, should have sounded sweet. But the boredom in his voice and his icy tone just made Chan bristle. There was something about the quiet nature of his disdain that riled Chan more than if he had raised his voice or sworn.
“My name is Chan, sir. Can I help you?” Luckily, a spell of retail service had taught Chan how to let rude behaviour slide off of him like oil on water.
“Are my parents in?” Hold up. Chan didn’t have a script for this. The Lee’s had only one son, that much was true. The fact that he rarely visited caused his mother endless grief, which was also a fact. Chan knew that she missed her son. He wondered sometimes if he’d become a sort of pseudo-son to her. She had taken him under her wing completely and was always doting on him. Chan didn’t mind. If he was honest, he probably encouraged it wholeheartedly, missing his own mother back in Australia.
“Not right now, no. They normally do their grocery shopping on a Friday.” Chan watched as confusion twisted the other man’s delicate features. He definitely held a strong resemblance to his mother.
“Then why are you here?” The retort was surprisingly sharp. His demeanour definitely didn’t suit his appearance at all. He looked like an angel, like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Unfortunately, he sounded like he’d spat the butter out before it had had a chance to get comfortable. Chan desperately started racking his brain for the man’s name. Mrs. Lee talked about her son all the time, so if he just racked his brain enough…
“I’m usually in charge of closing up, Minho.” Bingo. The newcomer – Minho – stiffened as Chan used his name. Chan was trying to fathom how such a lovely couple could have created such a stuck-up child.
“No ‘sir?’” Minho raised an eyebrow, eyes narrowed in challenge.
“Really, you should be speaking to me formally. I’m older than you.” Chan smiled as he said this, knowing that it would piss Minho off.
“How do you –”
“Your mother talks about you often enough.” Silence. Chan had clearly struck a nerve, because Minho began outright scowling at him. It made Chan nervous. Despite the man’s soft voice and lovely face, this new expression was kinda scary. It didn’t help that Chan also hated confrontation. Although…there was something about Minho that made it so tempting for Chan to keep pushing his buttons. It was a bit of a thrill. There was a tiny sense of danger to it. Chan felt like he was toeing the length of a tight rope.
“Right.” This was spat out through gritted teeth. “Well, can you – could let tell them that I’m here? Please – Chan-ssi.” Finally, a bit of vulnerability slipped out as Minho’s voice wavered. Chan felt himself deflate, any fight he’d had in him suddenly extinguished. Maybe he’d judged too quickly. He felt a little bit guilty.
Minho hadn’t been home in a while. Up until a year ago, the Lee’s had still been handling most closes by themselves and had been around a lot. Minho had probably just had a really shit day and had been taken aback. Chan shut down when he wasn’t feeling well, choosing to internalise and isolate. Minho was probably someone who externalised his frustration, and Chan had just fed into it. He shifted uncomfortably, an apology brewing on his tongue.
Certainly, after an awful day, Chan would want to go straight to his mother, not have to deal with a total stranger. Besides – didn’t he owe it to his bosses to treat their son well? They were so good to him. He felt his shoulders slump as shame welled up inside of him. They’d given him so much. The least he could do was be polite.
“They’re usually back by half past.” Chan tried again to give Minho a warm smile. “Let me make you something, and you can wait here for them.” He watched as Minho relaxed, his scowl slowly slipping away. Chan couldn’t help but wonder why Minho didn’t have a key to their apartment, which lay above the flat, but he knew that mentioning it would just bring Minho’s guard up again.
“Okay.” There was that soft, sweet tone that Chan had anticipated in the first place. His smile widened. Finally, a win.
“Your wish is my command, your highness.” Chan could have sworn that Minho’s lips twitched, as if he was about to smile. There was a pause. The silence seemed to stretch on and on, like the shadows outside.
“Thanks, Chan-ssi.” Chan couldn’t help but smile at this.
“Please, it’s just Chan. You’re my boss’ son.”
“But –” Minho was frowning at this.
“Just Chan. Or hyung, but I’m still not really used to it yet.” Chan rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. He was used to it from customers, sort of, but having grown up in Australia, it was still a little weird to him. He was good with using it for others, but it still felt weird being called hyung. “I grew up in Australia, so it still feels kinda weird sometimes.” Chan laughed. Minho still looked hesitant.
“Could I…could I have a coffee then, please, Chan.” Minho’s soft murmur seemed...almost shy. It was cute, the way he was staring at his hands, biting down on his bottom lip. Chan felt his face soften.
“Sugar, milk?”
“Two sugars. Lots of milk.”
“How about a latte, then?” Chan kept his voice soft, so as not to spook Minho. Minho nodded wordlessly. Chan couldn’t help but marvel at how quickly the tension between them had dissolved. Chan hummed as he began his work, allowing himself to relax. “Busy day, Minho?”
“Yeah.” Minho didn’t seem bored anymore, just tired. Chan realised it had to have been a front. Changbin often said that he looked like a douchebag when he was trying to pretend that he was fine. Maybe it was the same case for Minho. “I…” Another pause. Minho seemed debating whether or not to divulge anything personal. Then, his shoulders slumped, and he seemed to relent to the concern in Chan’s eyes and the frown on the barista’s face. “I had a job trial. It didn’t go so well.” Minho’s voice grew softer still.
“Damn,” Chan shook his head at this, knowing better by now than to continue prodding. He’d let Minho lead the conversation. “I’m sorry to hear that.” As Chan finished preparing Minho’s coffee, he found himself eyeing the sprinkles at his elbow. Usually, he reserved the edible gold stars and rainbow sprinkles for kids, but he figured Minho needed something to pick him up. He snuck a sprinkle of golden stars onto the cream on Minho’s coffee. He slid it across the counter, trying to gauge Minho’s reaction to the addition. Minho’s eyes widened, and his lips twitched again. It was more of a smile than before. Chan also didn’t miss the glimmer of delight that sparked in Minho’s warm eyes. He’d remember that for next time. Minho liked cute things – or sprinkles, at least. “If it sucked though, all the better to look for another job. You can’t give up now.”
“I’ve been trying.” Minho confessed after a moment. “That’s…that’s why I’m here, actually.” Minho looked down at his stained shirt, looking utterly defeated. “I told myself I’d never ask my parents for help, but…I’m getting desperate.” He was a far cry from the aloof man that had ambled in before. Chan felt his heart break a little for Minho. He was already starting to put the pieces together. Something had happened that meant Minho had had to come back. He’d tried to get his life together before springing his return upon his parents, so he wouldn’t have to rely on them. But he’d so far failed, and was running out of money. Pride or respect, or both, had kept him from asking for help until now.
“I’m fairly certain one of our casual staff is leaving soon.” Chan murmured, rubbing his chin. “But there’s easily room for someone on every shift. I know you used to help out when you were in high school, shouldn’t be a problem for you to get back into it.” He’d meant to be reassuring, but Minho’s guard had kicked back in. Minho was regarding him suspiciously, his eyes narrowed. He’d been leaning against the counter, but had now drawn back, arms crossed over his chest.
“You sure seem to know a lot about me.” It was an accusation. Minho’s voice was cold again. But this time, Chan easily discerned the little bit of unease and confusion in Minho’s eyes.
“Your mother does talk a lot about you.” Chan shrugged. “I’m sorry for listening.” Minho glanced away at this, biting down on his bottom lip.
“Do they…do they miss me?” It was barely more than a whisper. The guilt was heavy in Minho’s voice. Chan frowned again.
“Yeah, but I’d say most parents miss their kids when they move away. Luckily, I have two siblings for my parents to occupy themselves with. But I know they still miss me.” Minho’s gaze flicked back to him. His stare was heavy, calculating. Minho finally reached for the coffee and took a sip.
“Do you see your parents often?” Minho murmured.
“I moved from Australia a few years ago. I try and go back when I can, but…it’s not as often as I’d like.” Minho’s eyes widened a little.
“I have no excuses, then.” Minho muttered.
“Life gets away from us.” Chan offered. He wasn’t a stranger to offering a listening ear. He considered it part of his job now, really. Plus, he was usually the first one his friends turned to when they needed advice or a shoulder to cry on. That was one of the things he prided himself on – his ability to be there for people.
“We had a fight.” Minho blurted this out, looking shocked at what he’d just said. Chan guessed that he wasn’t used to divulging so much. “That’s why I chose a university so far away, and never come home. I feel like I’m just going to disappoint them. I feel like…like I’m letting them down.” At this, Chan’s face softened. Minho looked incredibly sad. The pain in his voice went straight to Chan’s heart.
“First things first, how about you sit down?” Chan gingerly stepped out from behind the slowly made his way towards Minho. He made sure that his movements were slow and relaxed, like he was approaching a stray cat. He hesitated, but then gently took hold of Minho’s shoulders. Minho stiffened at the contact at first, but after a few moments began to relax. He allowed Chan to lead him to one of the plush chairs. Minho slumped into the chair, burying his face in his hands. Chan went and grabbed his coffee for him. He’d put sprinkles on it, dammit, and he wasn’t going to let it go to waste. “Alright, continue.”
“No.”
“I think you’ll feel better if you do.”
“I don’t even know why I’m talking to you.”
“I’m cool.” Chan offered with a shrug. He watched as Minho rolled his eyes. There was another ghost of a smile. As soon as it appeared, Minho coughed into his fist, making Chan wonder if he’d imagined it. “So – a fight, huh?”
“Australia, huh?”
“I thought we were talking about you.” At this, Minho paused, tilting his head to one side.
“That doesn’t seem fair.” Minho bit his lip again, lapsing into thought. “If I…if I share my problems with you, I think it’s only fair I return a bit of the favour.” He sounded so genuine and earnest that Chan couldn’t help but smile. He felt like he was starting to get through to Minho a little. “I’d feel bad taking advantage of you.” Chan waved his hands wildly.
“I hate seeing people down. It’s selfish, but the only favour I need is you cheering up a little.” Minho just blinked at him for a moment. Then he shook his head in disbelief. Minho opened his mouth to speak, but his words seemed to get stuck in his throat. Minho coughed and looked down at the coffee. His gaze softened as he picked up the drink and took a sip.
“Alright. Seeing as you make decent coffee and my parents seem to like you.” Minho sniffed haughtily. He cast a look at Chan under his eyelids, and Chan bit back a smile. Minho was putting up his mask again, and was trying to see if Chan had noticed. When Chan remained silent, Minho took a big gulp of his drink and sighed. “They didn’t like the degree I’d chosen.” He murmured. “Of course I can see now that they just meant well, and wanted me to have a well-paying job, and lots of security. But I wanted to be dancer. I still do. But I set my whole life on it, back then. I…I lashed out.” Minho sighed again and looked down at his hands. “They weren’t even bad about it. In hindsight, I can see how gentle they were when they brought it up. And how they meant it as more of a suggestion. But I took it as an order. I’ve only recently realised all of this, being as stubborn as I am. I sprained my ankle really badly.” Chan bit back a gasp. He couldn’t begin to imagine the turmoil that would have thrown Minho into. “For a while, I didn’t even know if I could dance again. It made me realise that that if I really couldn’t dance anymore, I didn’t have any backup plans. And that they did have a point.” Minho balled his hands into fists. “And here I am. I lost my job, almost lost my future career, and I haven’t known how to apologise, or even approach them.”
“I don’t think you need to worry, Minho.” Chan murmured. “To be honest, I think your parents have realised that they should have approached it better – instead of seeming like they were forbidding you from dancing, they wished they’d just suggested you had given yourself a backup plan.” He had Minho’s full attention now. Minho’s jaw had dropped a little. Chan resisted the urge to mock him about turning into a fly trap. “But I think they’ve realised how much dancing means to you, and they’ve wanted to tell you that they support you.” Minho’s eyes were glassy now, shining with the beginnings of tears. “You got that stubbornness from your parents though, because the lot of you have clearly been wanting to apologise for ages but haven’t been able to.”
“You better not be lying to me, Chan.” Minho choked out.
“To be honest, I owe your parents a lot.” Chan shot the other man a wry smile. “They took me in despite me being a struggling student from another country. They’ve really looked out for me. And I know how much they’ve been wanting you to come back. So, the fact that you’re even here will mean the absolute world to them. Especially to your mother.” Minho’s gaze was fixed on his hands, which were curled into fists on his lap.
Chan felt sorry for the guy. He knew how easy it was for misunderstandings to be blown out of proportion, especially when it came to parents. He knew how much the Lee’s cared about their son. To be honest, when Minho had first introduced himself, Chan had been wary of him. Mrs. Lee always expressed great sadness when it came to her son. It made Chan wonder why Minho barely visited, barely spoke to them.
Chan hadn’t really been able to see it from Minho’s side. He’d harboured resentment for the younger man, wondering how on earth he was able to ignore his parents for so long. But having spoken to him – Minho was a good guy. He was clearly guarded and disliked strangers, but he seemed to be a very compassionate and genuine soul. Chan respected that.
Then the bell at the door tinkled. Chan got to his feet automatically, a wide grin already on his face for the next customer. But he quickly realised that he’d summoned the devil – or angel, really – herself, Mrs. Lee. She smiled at Chan, but then her gaze landed on Minho. Chan heard her sharp intake of breath. Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide. Chan glanced over at Minho, who had a stray tear rolling down his cheek.
“Mother.” Minho whispered, and Mrs. Lee gave a small cry and hurried towards them. He had barely just gotten to his feet by the time she reached him and threw her arms around him, squeezing him tight. She was whispering, ‘my baby, you’re home,’ over and over, and Chan realised that this moment was too private, too intimate, for him to trespass on any longer. He slipped away to the storage room. There was always plenty for him to organise, and he still had time left before he clocked off. He found himself unable to wipe the grin off of his face. He hoped that Minho and his parents would be able to just talk everything out. He was confident that they could begin to repair their relationship. Hopefully then Minho would give him an actual smile, instead of just that twitch of his lips.
☕☕☕
His apartment was dark and empty when he got back. Chan swallowed down the wave of loneliness that threatened to overwhelm him. He still wasn’t used to it, the silence. He didn’t know if he ever would be. He placed his groceries gently on the bench, his appetite suddenly gone. He frowned when he realised how much he was slouching. He’d had a good day. He’d had a really good day, in fact, but he was letting a little bit of loneliness tear down his mood.
He’d tried to quietly creep away when his shift ended, not wanting to interrupt the moment between Minho and his mother, but Mrs. Lee had caught hold of him anyway. She’d squeezed the life out of him with her grateful hug. She’d thanked him over and over – what for, Chan didn’t really know. He’d locked eyes with Minho before he’d left, and had almost thought he’d seen a true smile on the other man’s lips. He wondered if Minho would be back. Chan hoped he would be. The Lee’s would be much happier with him around. It seemed like Minho needed a break from his life, too.
Chan started unpacking his shopping, hoping that would instil some hunger in him. If anything, looking at all of the food and thinking about cooking just made him more adverse to the idea of dinner. It wasn’t healthy. He’d probably end up eating in the early hours of the morning. He’d probably neglect the fresh fruit and vegetables he’d scolded himself into buying and would end up with a cup of ramen. He winced at the image of himself he was conjuring up. He needed a hobby. Or maybe a pet. Or maybe just a distraction.
He glanced down at his phone.
seoul smash bros
From: SpearB
You two up for a session at the studio tmrw?
Been writing smth for those lyrics that Channie wrote
Frustrated with the beat though
Idk if it’ll work with the flow I have in mind
From: J.One
That’s cause u ain’t got no flow, B
Leave that to me
From: SpearB
Just cause you store air in your skinny ass chicken legs
From: J.One
I’d rather be a chicken than a thicc ass turkey like you
Gobble gobble bitch
Chan bit back a laugh. Han and Changbin had been his first friends in Korea. He’d always been into music. When he’d moved to Korea, he’d been inspired by the likes of Agust D and Jus2. He had started playing around with beats and tracks and samples online. But it wasn’t enough. It had unlocked a hunger in him he didn’t even know that had existed. He’d ended up in a music store one day, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. There was so much to look at. He’d been full of energy, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He’d felt so happy.
“Hey man, how can I help?” Han had appeared at his shoulder, a grin on his face. He’d seen the glint in Chan’s eye and had taken it upon himself to educate Chan. Chan’s excitement had only grown. Him and Han had just clicked. Chan’s brain had started whirring, thinking of all of the new things he’d be able to try. And Han had only been only too happy to hype him up. After he’d spent pretty much all of his savings, Han had pressed a scrap of paper into his hand. “Here’s my number. If you make anything interesting, hit me up! I’d love to see what you can do.”
Thus had begun Chan’s extremely productive yet very sleepless nights. Well – productive was the only new addition, really. He’d been an insomniac for longer than he’d care to think about. He’d eventually come up with something he’d been decently happy with. He had a basic melody in mind, but had more lyrics than he knew what to do with. As soon as he’d been able to come up with a beat and a few layers of synth and bass, the lyrics had just begun pouring out of him. Only problem was, they were enough for probably two or three songs. He’d spent a week tossing and turning, debating whether to send the demo through to Han.
He didn’t want to send Han just an instrumental though. He wanted to impress him a little bit. So he’d spent another week painfully sorting through his lyrics, deciding which ones he wanted to use. He’d then played around with harmonies and had tried his hand at some mixing. The result was….well, it was amateur. But Chan thought that it was at least passable for a beginner. He’d had a message to Han typed up for weeks, and finally, finally, found the courage to hit send.
From: Chan
Hey, it’s Chan! The guy from the music store :)
The response had been almost immediate, as if Han had been waiting by his phone.
From: Han
Hey man! What’s up? How can I help?
From: Chan
I think I have a song.
From: Han
Wait, like a whole song?!
I was expecting a few beats thrown around lmao
That’s way cool
From: Chan
It’s not great though.
Real rough.
From: Han
Send it through, man! I’ll shoot you my email.
About ten minutes had passed before Han had responded after Chan sent him the song. Chan had been fidgeting and rocking himself back and forth, full to the brim of nerves. What if Han laughed at him? What if – what if Han didn’t like it? He’d gritted his teeth. Maybe it was time for damage control.
From: Chan
There’s a lot I want to say, but I had to cut out a ton of lyrics
So it probably sounds weird
And I know my mixing is dodgy
From: Han
Dude!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That was insane for a beginner!
That was seriously so good
Btw, have you ever considered rapping?
And that was how he’d met Changbin, Han’s childhood friend and fellow producer. The three had crammed into Chan’s tiny apartment to read over his lyrics and listen to his song. They’d been inseparable ever since. Han’s ability to ride the beat always left Chan with his mouth hanging open. Changbin’s flow was insane, and made Chan feel breathless. Somehow, the pair found something special in him too. To this day, Chan hadn’t really been able to figure it out. He was just a try hard. Han and Changbin had real talent. He often wondered why they kept him around at all. His phone buzzed again, forcing him back into the present.
From: SpearB
You in, Channie?
I don’t wanna deal with chicken legs by myself
From: CB97
Always, Binnie
Don’t worry, I’m always down to prevent a murder
From: J.One
Please, if I was gonna kill him, you wouldn’t even know about it
From: CB97
I was unaware you had enough brain cells for that sort of operation
Keep dreaming though
From: J.One
I’m so glad my hyung is so supportive
A supportive pain in my ass
From: CB97
Watch it, or I will make sure you have a pain in your ass
Don’t make me kick you
From: J.One
Oooooooooh so scary
Not
From: CB97
Keep that up and I’ll be the ass kicker every day
See you tomorrow nerds
He grinned down at his screen. He felt a little less lonely now. Unfortunately, the universe had other ideas – his phone chose that exact moment to light up with a new notification. The contact name made his stomach lurch.
From: that guy
Hey
Chan swallowed down the mixture of excitement, revulsion, and fear that was beginning to brew in his stomach.
From: Chan
Hey
From: that guy
You free tonight?
From: Chan
I guess
From: that guy
Alright, I’ll be over soon. Tidy up.
Chan didn’t bother responding. He inhaled deeply, his breath trembling. He carefully put his phone down on the bench before he threw it across the room. He always gave in. He still couldn’t say no to him, could he? Chan knew he was a fool for still seeing his ex – no, for letting his ex use him for sex. His former partner had cited boredom and lack of ‘spark’ as the reason for their breakup. Chan knew, after discovering countless messages and images on the man’s phone, that his ex had decided that ‘exploring’ was where his priorities lay, and not…commitment. It still stung. The aloofness hurt.
The complete disregard for Chan’s feelings, even now, cut deep. But he was too lonely, too foolish, to let go. So he clung to the meaningless sex, the occasional hug, the fleeting kisses. It was the only thing that stopped him being driven mad by his own company. If Chan closed his eyes and pretended, then he could imagine that he was being given a warm, tender smile. That he was with someone who cared.
He felt his eyes begin to burn with the beginnings of tears. He knew he cared too much. He knew how much of a flaw it was, to give so much and crave the same in return. But he couldn’t help it. Maybe he gave so much of himself to other people in the hopes that they would show him the same amount of attention. It was selfish, really. He wished he had the self-respect to tell his ex to fuck off and stop using him, like he was just a piece of meat. He wanted to be furious, and shout, and glare, and proclaim that he was sick of being viewed as easy. But he couldn’t. Every time some semblance of resolve rose in his throat, his fears would pull his legs out from under him, and he’d be back to square one. If it came to feeling used or feeling alone, Chan knew he would cowardly pick companionship every time.
There was a knock on the door. Chan’s nausea grew twofold, but his heart skipped a beat. He hated that even now, he was still happy to see the man who had fucked him over. Chan knew he could just refuse to open the door. Could just block the number. Could force himself to make some decent food, and watch a movie. But he still felt an irresistible pull towards the door. He was like an addict, going back to the very thing caused him pain with open arms. So he opened the door, feeling the hole in his heart open up wide and threaten to swallow him whole.
“Jae-Seong.” He murmured.
“Hey baby.” Chan couldn’t even force himself to smile.