Chapter Text
It started with a selfie.
Hyunjin posted it right after dance practice--sweaty, tousled, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal that silver bracelet STAYs went feral for. The lighting was accidental and perfect. Caption: “Practice was brutal 🥵💦.”
Changbin’s comment was innocent. Mostly.
“Brutal, huh? Want a massage later? 👀💪”
1 minute: 243 likes.
5 minutes: 36 quote tweets.
10 minutes: #HyuniBini trending.
In the dorm, Chan stared at the screen. Silent.
He wasn’t mad. He told himself that three times. He wasn’t mad.
He was just… watching.
Watching the way Changbin hovered near Hyunjin all week.
Watching how Hyunjin grinned at every word Changbin said.
Watching the replay of a behind-the-scenes clip where Hyunjin fixed Changbin’s hair without being asked.
Chan told himself it was nothing.
Then he posted it.
A black-and-white mirror selfie--his back turned, head tilted slightly over his shoulder, jaw tight, chain glinting under the studio lights. Caption?
“Try me.”
That was it.
STAYs lost their minds.
One hour: 7k comments.
"Is this a diss track in photo form??”
"BinChan? HyunBin? HyunChan? WHO’S WINNING??”
"Chan really said 🐺🔪”
Changbin saw the photo at 2:17 a.m.
And groaned. Loudly.
Hyunjin saw it too--he was the first to repost it with the caption: “I fear no man, but this post… 😳”
“Hyunjin, please,” Changbin moaned, face buried in a pillow.
Hyunjin was cackling from the kitchen. “You brought this on yourself.”
“I was JOKING.”
“You commented with a bicep emoji and an eye emoji.”
“I use those all the time!”
“You don’t use them on your leader.”
Changbin peeked out of the pillow. “He’s not mad, is he?”
Hyunjin shrugged, still chewing cereal. “He hasn’t blinked in 45 minutes. He’s listening to demo tracks like they personally betrayed him.”
“Oh my god.”
Across the dorm, in the studio corner, Chan sat in his chair, earbuds in, expression unreadable. One hand drummed the desk. The other tapped, slowly, rhythmically, against his leg.
He hadn’t said a word since posting the photo.
Changbin entered the room like a guilty puppy. “Hyung?”
Chan didn’t turn.
“I--I was just joking on the post. You know that, right?”
Still no response.
“…Hyung?”
Finally, Chan looked up. “Yeah?”
“I didn’t mean it. The comment. It was just, like, fanservice. For the algorithm.”
A slow blink.
Chan’s voice was calm. Too calm.
“You think I care about algorithms?”
“I mean--no? But--”
“You think I don’t see the way Hyunjin looks at you?”
Changbin froze.
Chan stood up. Stretched. Walked over.
“Let me ask you this, Binnie.” His voice dipped, velvety but sharp. “Would you have commented like that if I’d posted the same picture?”
Silence.
“…Would you have said you wanted to massage me?”
Changbin’s throat was dry. “I--I mean, if it was a bit…”
“But you didn’t.”
He was close now. One breath apart.
“I’m not mad,” Chan said quietly. “Not at you. Not really.”
“Then… what are you?”
Chan’s eyes dropped to his mouth, then to his chest, then back up. “Reminding you who you belong to.”
The door creaked.
Hyunjin popped his head in. “Should I… leave?”
Chan didn’t even look at him. “You should.”
Hyunjin shut the door with a quick, “Got it!”
And Changbin, poor Changbin, was left standing between his mortification and something worse--Chan’s full, unblinking attention.
The room felt electric.
Tense.
Heavy.
And the worst part?
Changbin liked it.