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Fingers lacing together, a gentle squeeze, callused thumb brushing over knuckles in slow strokes. Comfort melts within clasped hands, and flows along memorized palm lines. The way Seungkwan holds his hand floods Chan's chest with a lulling ocean of warmth.
But tonight, Seungkwan's hand violently jolts and tightens like a lethal vice grip, numbing Chan's bones. Seungkwan inhales too loudly, too roughly. Air barely escapes through the mouthful of broken glass. Chan doesn't need to open his eyes to see Seungkwan being haunted again. He feels echoes of nameless ghosts and insidious anxiety rip through Seungkwan's arm. Another hitching breath lacerates the air before abruptly silencing.
Softly into the dark, Chan whispers, "Hyung."
A fragment of an ugly sob cuts across Seungkwan's tongue. "I-" Even just trying to say one word detonates the ruthless minefield buried inside his ribcage. Earthquake tremors split apart the tectonic plates of Seungkwan's armor. Metal shrapnel digs into weary, stuttering lungs. A loud, hard sob breaks through along with a hiss, a swear, another "I'm sorry-"
"It's okay, hyung. I've got you." Chan pulls Seungkwan away from the edge, so Seungkwan doesn't fall off the bed.
It's with the same quiet tenderness of Chan circling an arm around Seungkwan onstage, or resting a hand on his shoulder during an interview. Chan guides Seungkwan closer until he's in a protective embrace. Those familiar, strong arms wrapping around Seungkwan eases some of the tension in his chest. But also rattles another sob out of him.
Hushing gently, Chan kisses Seungkwan's cheek. Lips catch the fading warmth of tears. "There's nothing for you to be sorry about."
As rigor mortis tension bleeds out of Seungkwan, Chan knows Seungkwan's been wanting to hold onto him. Too often Chan sees Seungkwan wrestle with whether he should or shouldn't get closer to Chan.
But Seungkwan doesn't hesitate to reach out while under the watchful eye of a thousand cameras, and a million fans. He gives Chan back hugs with his chin resting on Chan's shoulder, sometimes squeezing out a fit of giggles. Fingers draw easily towards Chan's hair for playful tousling, or brushing bangs out of Chan's eyes. And no matter how fleeting the brush of lips, every kiss Seungkwan gives to Chan's temple, forehead, cheek feels adoring.
There isn't even a flicker of hesitation when Seungkwan reaches out to someone else. Because his heart's so big, overflowing, brave with giving reassurance to others. Just like every brilliant smile Seungkwan flashes onstage for their fans. It's a smile radiant with hope, full of promise that everything will be okay. Or each witty joke Seungkwan cracks to attract an interviewer's attention, so his tired groupmates can have a breather. No matter how many sleepless hours Seungkwan spends shadow boxing his ghosts, he'll always be happy and comforting to everyone else.
Seungkwan isn't only brighter than every star Chan seeks out in the sky. But Seungkwan gives more light than even the sun. Chan's never met anyone who loves so loudly, so boldly like Seungkwan.
But when Seungkwan's still bleeding from open wounds, he rarely reaches out. He locks himself in a decrepit, abandoned house, and disappears into the shapeshifting labyrinth. Darkness swallows Seungkwan until even the outline of his own shadow erases. After years of late night talks, exhausting flights stretching over multiple timezones, and alcohol-induced breakdowns, Chan slowly pieces together why.
"You're not a burden. You're not too much." Chan brushes his lips over Seungkwan's forehead. He rubs soothing circles on his partner's back. "And you can always hold onto me any time."
"But I'm making you lose sleep." Seungkwan barely strings the hissing words together between abrasive exhales. The words muffle even more as Seungkwan buries his tearstained face into Chan's chest. "You had so much going on this week with schedules back to back, and you're exhausted, and- and I'm-- I-" A litany of swears crumbles into brittle laughter. Fingers digging into the mattress, Seungkwan fights the vicious impulse to break crescent moons onto his skin. "I'm making things- harder for you-- because of my bullshit anxiety-"
Molten fury and guilt strangle Seungkwan's throat until his voice splinters. Tonight isn't the first night they share a bed with anxiety. It happened last night. Two nights before that. And countless nights spanning all the way back to trainee days.
Chan's the first to discover Seungkwan silently trembling under the sheets, struggling to endure a panic attack in a room full of boys. And when Chan's the first to pry Seungkwan's nails away from his arms, Seungkwan thinks Chan's going to be the first to stop being his friend, throw him away, tell Pledis that Seungkwan's too damaged, broken, fucked up to be an idol.
Instead Chan's the first to pull Seungkwan into his arms, dry his tears, and whisper that it's going to be alright, you're safe, I'm here, you're never alone, hyung. With the little pocket change Chan scrapes together, he buys bandaids and ointment to take care of Seungkwan's arms, palms, hips, thighs, wherever nails dig in. There's never any repulsion or anger. There's only Seungkwan crying harder with every kiss Chan gives to a bandaid, chiming sweetly that it'll help Seungkwan heal.
Chan's the first to playfully banter with Seungkwan when it grows overwhelming in front of cold cameras and scrutinizing executives. Most people assume Seungkwan naturally flourishes at being a social, extroverted butterfly. But Chan's the first to learn how Seungkwan's bullied into silence during early childhood, and how Seungkwan fights to get his voice back. When all the world's attention focuses too heavily on Seungkwan, Chan strides right into the overbearing limelight. Chan invites Seungkwan to banter back, gives him a reason to scoff and laugh, evaporates the heaviness in his chest.
And when panic implodes Seungkwan in the kitchen one evening, Chan's the first to rush over with knees hitting the tiles, hold Seungkwan's hand while teaching him how to breathe again. Chan doesn't let go of his hand as Seungkwan finally confesses to SEVENTEEN that he struggles with anxiety, he's guilty of bringing everyone down, and always terrified he'll be kicked out. An invisible guillotine and countless knives hover above. The dread and terror of never knowing when the blades will fall pulverize Seungkwan's lungs, even while he's already drowning.
Chan's hand aches from Seungkwan holding it tighter under the group's unconditional, endless outpouring of love. No judgement. No anger. No shame. Only warm hugs, gentle reassurances. And Seungcheol making it clear that nobody will be punished, kicked out, thrown away. Those million worst-case scenarios Seungkwan's mind writes never come true.
He's safe.
He's protected.
He's loved.
So, why does his mind keep setting his body on fire?
Chan runs his fingers through Seungkwan's hair. The strokes follow the calming rhythm of ocean waves lapping at the shore. "I'm proud of you, hyung."
Startled, Seungkwan opens his eyes, and blinks through scalding tears. The bedside lamp casts a soft amber glow over Chan. Guilt twists Seungkwan's insides at the dark circles dwelling under Chan's eyes. Seungkwan knows Chan will insist it's not Seungkwan's fault he's so exhausted. He may even teasingly quip how the couple matches with clothes, phone cases, and now even dark circles. Seungkwan searches for even the slightest hint of resentment, frustration, any of the emotions he imagines Chan wearing.
But all that gazes back at Seungkwan is gentle warmth and love.
"Wh- what?" A breathless, incredulous laugh spills out of Seungkwan. His hand grips at the back of Chan's powder blue sweater, then tightens more once realizing it's actually Seungkwan's sweater. "Why? What's there to be proud about?"
Lips curving into a smile, Chan dries Seungkwan's damp cheeks. "You're opening up way more than ever. Staying here with me instead of going to the sofa, or wandering outside to god knows where. Letting me see you cry." Chan presses his lips against Seungkwan's cheek. The smile grows until a laugh breaks free. "So yeah, there's a whole lot to be proud about. You're amazing, hyung. Brave. How could I not fall in love with you?"
"I- you--" Seungkwan tries hiding his burning face with a hand. Tremors reach up to his fingertips. "My god." Something between a laugh and sob crashes into his palm, smoothing over with a deep, shaky exhale. "The Hell did I ever do to deserve you?"
"Welllll, for starters--" Chan drawls out. With a boyish grin, Chan waves over at the bedside table. "You fought to get me that."
The amused light dancing in Chan's eyes spikes Seungkwan's heartrate. He already gets a sense of what his partner's talking about. Glancing over, Seungkwan's shoulders shake with a laugh. Phones rest side by side. Matching cases where iridescent constellations connect perfectly. Seungkwan's eyes lock on the white cat charm hanging from Chan's phone. It's been cherished and taken care of so well there isn't even a single scratch.
"I still can't believe you have that." Burning scarlet spreads across Seungkwan's cheeks, and even touches his ears.
Chan's eyes gleam with sunbright fondness. "And I can't believe you played the toy vending machine that many times."
"You really liked the white one. I was gonna get it for you no matter what." Seungkwan shrugs a shoulder, trying to play it off cool. It's reminiscent of the gesture Seungkwan makes back then, but it's not long until he's shaking a fist in the air, and threatening to punch the vending machine. "Anyways, everyone got a charm."
The machine only spat out black cats, orange cats, grey cats with white stripes, all other kinds of cats. Those feline charms were given to everyone else in SEVENTEEN. With only enough coins for one more try, Seungkwan lets Chan turn the dial. When Chan finally gets the white cat, the boys cheer and holler loud enough for the entire street to hear. Even the store owner applauds the hard sought-after victory.
It could easily pass as just another boyhood story. The kinds of shenanigans they'd get into before debuting. But to this day, nobody lets Seungkwan live it down. It's a story retold across interviews, lives, radio shows, any opportunity SEVENTEEN has to playfully tease Seungkwan for his innocent, pure first love. Chan's the one who tells the story most, always with a chest full of pride and adoration.
"You're telling me one phone charm was enough to win your heart?" Seungkwan huffs.
"It's the day when I broke down in the dance studio." Chan reaches for Seungkwan's hand. His voice falls quieter until it wavers above a whisper. "And I was terrified if I'd make it, if I was good enough-"
"You're always more than enough." Staring fiercely, Seungkwan squeezes Chan's hand. "There's no one like you, Chan. You're freaking extraordinary."
Chan smiles softly. "That's what you said that day too." Sliding an arm around Seungkwan, Chan guides his partner to lay mostly on top. His fingers tuck strands behind Seungkwan's ear. Chan keeps his breathing slow and steady, so Seungkwan can match the rhythm. "And there's how you gave me your favorite hoodie. And cooked comfort food when stress kills my appetite. And let me cry into your chest instead of the pillow. And recorded covers of songs I grew up with. I could say a thousand other things you've done for me." Chan shakes his head with a breathless laugh. "But honestly, hyung?"
Resting a hand on the side of Seungkwan's face, Chan waits for their eyes to meet. Seungkwan's breath hitches. Lamp light reflects off the glimmer of tears in Chan's warm gaze.
"You don't need to do anything, but exist." Chan's fingers trace down the side of Seungkwan's face. Tenderness trickles down along with his fingertips. "You being yourself, you being here--" Chan draws closer, lips almost brushing. "That's all I want."
Lines and colors blur with the scorching rise of more tears. But Seungkwan still sees Chan clearly. It's the fiercely stubborn, bright light in those eyes that always calls to Seungkwan. Even while Seungkwan's chest still caves in with sadness that has no rhyme or reason, even when parasitic anxiety burrows into his veins-- Seungkwan closes the space between them, and kisses Chan. Nothing will keep Seungkwan from him. Not even the tremendous weight of his weary heart, or the army of shadows lurking in his mind.
"I'll give you everything you want--" Seungkwan seals the promise once with a light kiss, then twice by deepening it. "--and I'll love you even more."
Stealing another kiss, Chan glides a hand down Seungkwan's side. "More than how much I love you?"
"Yeah, of course-" Seungkwan's brows raise once catching sight of Chan's challenging smirk. He lets out a scoff mixed with endearment and disbelief. "Are you seriously trying to be competitive about this? Lee Chan, I swear, you-"
Without warning, Chan pins Seungkwan on his back. The bedroom's still spinning while Seungkwan tries to understand what the fuck just happened. Or what sorcery Chan does to straddle him with such graceful, swift ease. Or how someone can be both fucking adorable and hot at the same time. It may have something to do with the oversized sweater revealing the elegant angles of Chan's clavicles. Or maybe it's just Chan.
"Damn right, I'm competitive about this." Chan playfully nips at Seungkwan's lower lip before he chides Chan for swearing. Grinning cheekily, Chan brackets Seungkwan's head with his arms. "You're ahead with the courting. I've got a lot of catching up to do."
Seungkwan's face aches from smiling too widely. Pure light pours through the cracks of his heart, and purges Seungkwan of poison. A giggle breaks free when Chan kisses his dimple. "Pretty sure you caught up long time ago. You're a natural charmer." Seungkwan slides a hand under Chan's sweater. Just to feel closer, bask in the quiet intimacy, fingers yearning to relearn the rise and fall of lovely vertebrae. "You had my heart from the start. And you'll always have it- even if-" Seungkwan laughs to cover the sudden wavering in his voice.
But words still crack. He shakes his head, mostly at himself. Fuck. Just when the mood's lightening, Seungkwan can't even hold that reprieve for more than a few seconds. His skin crawls with the impulse to leave this bed, this bedroom, this entire building.
Chan brushes a few strands out of Seungkwan's eyes. "Even if...?"
Inhaling deeply, Seungkwan silently begs for the invisible fist pummeling his sternum to stop. Please. He's so fucking tired. What more of him can break and be taken away?
"Even if-" Another laugh. This time more brittle, more crackling at the edges. Something acerbic bristles at the back of Seungkwan's throat. "Even if someday- you don't... want-"
Seungkwan closes his eyes, trying to will the tears to recede. It's a magic trick he masters for any time he's in public. But the magic disappears once he's behind closed doors. More tears rise once Seungkwan opens his eyes, and sees both their shadows merge on the opposite wall. Chest collapsing, a crater sinks Seungkwan's heart.
Voice shattering into a whisper, Seungkwan confesses, "Even if you don't want me anymore."
Before Seungkwan can break away, run, vanish-- Chan turns Seungkwan's face towards him, and reunites their eyes. Seungkwan forgets how to breathe. The fierce love in Chan's gaze nearly eclipses Seungkwan's sight.
"Y'know how everybody's been encouraging me to be more selfish? Especially a certain someone." Grinning boyishly, Chan caresses Seungkwan's cheek with his knuckles. "Babe, I'm selfish with you. Been wanting you more and more. No way am I gonna let you go."
"Chan-" Seungkwan's about to groan about how absurdly romantic his boyfriend is. But his voice kicks an octave higher when Chan kisses his throat. Right over the hummingbird pulse. "Jesus fucking Christ." Even while dizzy from the affectionate ambush, Seungkwan bares his throat as an invitation for more.
Chan's laughter melts against the warm, tender skin under Seungkwan's jaw. "Gosh, you're so cute, hyung."
"C-cute?! Me?!" Flustered, Seungkwan tries to flail and lightly swat at Chan's arm. But another keening sound escapes Seungkwan when Chan playfully bites the curve of his neck and shoulder.
"Mmhm, cute. Witty. Hilarious. Sweet." Chan's relentless with the onslaught of searing kisses and coy bites, his mouth attacking every sensitive area on Seungkwan's throat, shoulders, collar bones, any expanse of skin. "Fucking beautiful." Lips trail a burning line along Seungkwan's jaw, then reaches his ear. Chan brushes over the silver helix that mirrors his own earring. "And all mine."
Those last three words serrate with rough embers on the brink of sparking a wildfire. Chan's voice falls into a deeper baritone that shakes Seungkwan to his core. Seungkwan barely stifles himself with the back of his hand. Chan strikes out like a viper, ripping Seungkwan's hand away, so Chan can hear every note of his partner's moan.
"Always sound so fucking pretty," Chan murmurs in quiet awe. His hips expertly tilt to draw another melody out of Seungkwan. Chan inhales sharply at the beauty ringing in his ears.
All the praise and affection renders Seungkwan breathless. "Chan-" Seungkwan's exhale skips to a staccato. That static storm in his mind fell silent, since the first attack on his throat. Now Seungkwan hears the roaring of a typhoon, desire growing louder as Chan creates friction between their hips.
Starving to unravel his partner even more, Chan wraps his hand around Seungkwan's throat. The universe collapses and resurrects, all that exists is the two of them, Seungkwan surrenders to Chan's gravity. Finally, Seungkwan can breathe. Chan's brand of loving possessiveness reaches through the forest of thorns in Seungkwan's chest, and cradles his heart in that gentle hand.
Opening his eyes, Seungkwan promises, "Yours."
Dark oceans swallow autumn eyes as Chan's gaze dilates. Insatiable wildness leaves only thin rings of burnt sienna hues. Seungkwan's heartrate cranks higher. To this day, Seungkwan's slammed with whiplash of how Chan goes from doe-eyed innocence to wildcat hunger. This feral nature reveals itself when Chan pins Seungkwan against the dressing room door, or makes Seungkwan watch their reflection in the dance studio's mirror.
"Nothing could ever stop me from loving you." Chan glides a scorching palm down his partner's side. His hand around Seungkwan's throat shifts just enough, so he can caress that lower lip with his thumb. "I want you, hyung. All of you."
"Fuck-" Seungkwan shudders. He kisses Chan's thumb. One hand curls into Chan's hair, while the other hand rakes nails down his partner's broad back. "Same. Always want you, babe. I love you-" Exhaling shakily Seungkwan holds onto Chan tighter. Heartache threatens to explode his bones. "Love you so much, Chan, I'm sorry, I'll do better, be better-"
Anymore apologies incinerate under the ruthless collision of lips. Chan devours the words before sound takes shape, even if it means cutting his tongue on the sharpness of fear, or tasting the phantom blood of guilt. The sheer ferocity of Chan's love overwhelms Seungkwan just like how he craves. As Chan gets a taste of tears fading at the corners of Seungkwan's mouth, he grips the man's waist even harder. Gasp deepening into a moan, Seungkwan leans into Chan's touch. Seungkwan already revels in the faint indigo fingerprints that will show by tomorrow.
"You're perfect for me. Always have been." Chan kisses along the blurry edges of a crimson love bite. Syllables blend together from how he's so intoxicated by Seungkwan. "Can't get enough of you."
Eager as ever to burn words of love onto Seungkwan's body, Chan's untamed mouth creates more marks. Seungkwan arches, choking on a moan, every atom of his being screaming for more rouge starbursts. Chan's merciless with the love bites, accenting them with teeth lightly running across like a matchstick igniting a flame. Yet Chan's gentle with the worship. He takes his time burning lines of poetry on the inside of Seungkwan's thighs, and savors tracing the angles of hip bones with his tongue.
"Babe-" Seungkwan runs a hand through Chan's soft hair. Silken strands flow between his fingers. "You're spoiling me."
"Mmhm." Chan brushes his lips over the scattering of scarlet wildflowers. "But I'm indulging myself too." Eyes flickering up, Chan's gentle smile sharpens into a wicked smirk. "I want you feel all of this-" Chan runs a hand down Seungkwan's thigh, flaring the marks to life. "--under your clothes. For days."
"God." Seungkwan throws his forearm over his face. The blush singes his arm as it darkens several shades.
But from the delighted sound of Chan's giggles, Seungkwan knows his blush isn't fully hidden. Chan plays it off as if he's doing this for himself. But Seungkwan knows Chan's giving him physical reminders of how he's loved, he's safe, he'll always be with Chan.
Seungkwan's heart feels too damned full. He lets out a slow breath. "What am I gonna do with you?"
Drifting back up, Chan lays comfortably on Seungkwan, and gently guides his arm away. He smiles warmly. "You can love me back."
"I already do." As Seungkwan draws Chan closer, he feels that smile against his own. "And I always will."