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You were curled up on the couch, feet tucked beneath you, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone as rain tapped softly against the windows. The whole apartment smelled like coffee and clean laundry, the kind of quiet Sunday scent that wrapped around your chest like a blanket.
Chan was in the kitchen, humming something, probably a melody he’d been working on all week, even though he claimed he was “taking a break.” He always said that, right before sitting down at his computer for another four-hour mixing session.
Then you saw it.
Your finger hovered over the screen. The thumbnail glowed like a beacon: Moana 2 – Official Trailer.
You gasped audibly, almost dropping your phone.
“Chan?” you called, not looking away from the video.
“Hm?” he answered from the kitchen, the gentle sound of mugs clinking.
“Oh my god. You need to come here. Right now.”
You heard the faint shuffle of socks on wood floors before he appeared in the doorway, a mug in each hand. “What's wrong? Did someone just die?”
You didn’t respond, just turned your phone toward him and hit play.
The trailer began, music echoing through the room, and even though it was barely ninety seconds long, by the time it ended you were practically vibrating in place. You turned to Chan with wide eyes, grinning like a child on Christmas morning.
“We have to go see this together. I’m serious, Chan. You, me, front row center, giant popcorn and everything.”
Chan smiled softly, clearly amused by your excitement, but then hesitated. “Yeah, of course… But, um. I should probably tell you something first.”
You narrowed your eyes. “What.”
He gave you a sheepish little shrug, sitting beside you on the couch. “I… might’ve never actually seen the first Moana.”
You blinked. “You’re joking.”
“Nope.” He took a sip from your mug like he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell.
“You’ve never seen Moana?!” you half-shouted, dramatically placing your hand over your heart.
“I’ve heard the songs?” he offered weakly, grinning as you dramatically collapsed against the armrest like the betrayal had physically wounded you.
“That’s it. We’re fixing this immediately.”
Chan laughed, setting the mugs down and pulling you upright. “What, right now?”
“Yes, right now,” you said firmly, already scrolling through Disney+. “I can’t let the love of my life walk around not knowing the emotional journey that is this masterpiece.”
His brows lifted playfully. “Love of your life, huh?”
“Don’t deflect.” You jabbed a finger at him. “You’re gonna cry when the grandma scene hits. I guarantee it.”
He held up both hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I submit myself to the emotional trauma.”
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Within fifteen minutes, the living room had been transformed. You dragged all the pillows off the bed, Chan lit a few soft candles, the soft light of it glowing dimly. He made another batch of popcorn after you accidentally burned the first one, and he even snuck in a small bowl of your favorite candy without you noticing.
You flopped down on the couch, waiting for him with a triumphant smirk.
Chan returned from the kitchen, two mugs in hand, he instantly spotted the Hei Hei-themed blanket draped over your shoulders like a cape.
“Where did you even get that?” he asked, blinking at the chicken’s stupid little embroidered face.
“Jeongin won it at a claw machine for me like two years ago,” you said with a grin. “Don’t act like you’re not impressed.”
You rolled your eyes affectionately. “Sit. You have an entire childhood to catch up on.”
He plopped down beside you, spreading the blanket over both your laps as you cuddled into his side. His arm slid naturally around your shoulders, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your arm as the opening scene played.
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Twenty minutes in, Chan was already far more invested than he’d anticipated.
You glanced up at him when baby Moana waddled toward the ocean, her tiny feet splashing through the shallows. His eyes were wide, his lips parted in a quiet little smile.
“Oh no,” you whispered. “He’s falling for it.”
He snorted. “This animation is insane. Look at the water. It’s like-sentient.”
“It is, babe. Pay attention.”
He kept whispering questions every few minutes. “Is that the grandma?” “Wait, he turns into a hawk?!” “Why does the ocean hate him so much?”
You answered all of them with varying levels of exasperation and fondness.
And then the scene came.
Grandma Tala’s final moments. The glowing manta ray. Moana’s quiet grief under the stars.
You didn’t say anything this time. You just turned your head slowly to look up at him.
Chan’s eyes were glossy. He was blinking hard, his jaw tight.
“Oh my god,” you whispered, grinning. “You’re crying.”
“I’m not crying,” he said, clearly lying. “There’s something in my eye.”
You reached up and gently brushed a tear away with your thumb. “Yeah. Feelings.”
He chuckled softly and leaned his cheek into your palm, eyes still on the screen.
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By the end of the film, the credits rolled to a soft Hawaiian melody, and Chan sat there in silence. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek.
“Well?” you asked gently.
He exhaled, then looked down at you with the most sincere expression. “That movie… was a masterpiece.”
“Told you.”
He leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Thank you for making me watch it.”
You smiled, cheeks warm. “So you’re down for Moana 2, then?”
“Absolutely. I’m buying us tickets the second they go on sale.”
You nuzzled closer to him, already half-asleep in the comfort of his arms. “We’re dressing up. I’m getting a flower crown.”
He chuckled, tucking you in closer, his voice low and warm. “I’m wearing a grass skirt.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You love it.”
And just as your eyelids started to flutter closed, you felt Chan’s chest rumble softly as he began to hum You’re Welcome under his breath, singing just slightly off-key on purpose.
"What can I say except you’re weeeeelcome~”
You groaned. “Chan.”
His laughter echoed softly around the room, echoing off fairy lights and sleepy smiles. You drifted off to sleep in his arms, safe in the warmth of movie night magic, and the boy who always made everything feel like home.