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The front door of his and Jeongin’s dorm finally closes with minimal squeaking, and Chan heaves a sigh of relief. Step one: complete. His hand clenches around the plastic bag hidden under his coat, and he sneeks off down the hallway- taking the stairs in hopes of not meeting anyone else mid excursion. The stairwell was squeaky clean and minimalistic, like everything else in the newly built apartment block. Both Chan and the kids had been thrilled to finally move out of the old building, where paint had been peeling and everything felt worn. The new dorms were amazing, and they had so much space!! It was great.
His footsteps bounce off the walls in the vertical space, and his hand squeals against the bannister, making his nose wrinkle at the feeling. A small hiss built in his throat but Chan quickly suppressed it. A small discomfort should not warrant such a ridiculous reaction, but that was the reality -and consequence- of beating down one’s hybrid traits for years. It made him more reactive and prone to lashing out. Years of secrecy will do that to you. Not that anyone knows of course- as far as his boys and the wider world are concerned, the beloved leader of Stray Kids is as human as they can come.
But behind that carefully crafted mask, Chan is a very different person, at least in his eyes. He is a snake. Something scary, and feared. He isn't cute and fluffy like Han or Changbin, and he isn't majestic or mighty like Minho’s tiger. No, he is terrifying and gross, and he truly can’t imagine a world where he would’ve been accepted into the group if his status had been known. So Chan lives as a human. It certainly has its downsides, but it means he gets to live with his boys and do what he loves most as a living. This life has brought him his fans and his studio, and has made his dreams come true. So really, it is a small matter for Chan to hide himself, even if it means dealing with small inconveniences from time to time.
Speaking of ‘small’ inconveniences- Chan’s very-suspicious-looking-nighttime-escape is the direct result of one. A truly wonderful part of being a snake hybrid is the shedding- this brilliant scheme of Mother Nature requires Chan to shift into his less-than-appealing other form at least once a month, wherein ensues a truly torturous night of shedding one's own skin. It is horrible, and it is itchy, and it never gets better, no matter the literal thousands of times he has endured it before.
For days leading up to the event, Chan becomes unbelievably irritable and grouchy, taking it out on everyone. The mood is inescapable, and unfortunately, absolutely uncontrollable. This time, poor Lixie fell victim to Chan’s ire, and he spent that evening guiltily trying to cheer up a very perturbed kitty. Thankfully, the side eyes and aeroplane ears had gradually subsided until Felix ended up draped over Chan’s chest, making biscuits and (very quietly) purring. And if his claws dug in just a bit more than usual, well, Chan probably deserved it.
But for now, Grumpy Bang Chan™ is gone, and it is time for a fresh start! After he has got rid of the evidence, that is. Having successfully made it outside of the dorm and into a dark side alley, Chan finally pulls the bag out from under his jacket, and dumps out a small tin can, a lighter, and the dreaded skin- all 6 metres of it. It is dry and papery in his hands, a result of being stashed away for two days instead of its usual instant disposal. One meddling roommate and six other equally meddling bandmates make it very hard to be discreet sometimes.
Due to the sheer volume of the shed, it takes a minute or two to stuff it into the can, but finally, Chan can flick the lighter on and set fire to this month's worth of snakey-evidence. Some may call it excessive, burning his shedded skin instead of simply throwing it away, but Chan calls it necessary. This method has not failed him in the entire 14 years that he has lived separately from his family: so he is not about to try and fix something that isn't broken. The only issue is how long it takes to burn. Chan can actively feel himself falling asleep, cosied up next to a (slightly morbid) fire and leaning against the roughened brick wall behind him. Such weariness is dangerous, and the hybrid can already feel his near-continuous cloaking beginning to slip, pupils slowly elongating into slits, and fangs dropping behind his closed lips, threatening to peak out and expose him.
It feels like hours before the tin contains only cooled ash, and the acrid smell of smoke has faded; but finally Chan can haul himself up and trudge back inside (after a visit to the bin), and slink back down the corridor to his shared dorm. Entering is to be executed with the utmost precision, because Jeongin’s foxy side bestowed him with impeccable hearing, and the inability to enter anything more than a very light sleep. That paired with Chan’s own less-than-stellar hearing (thanks again snake DNA) makes for a very precarious situation. It is because of this that Chan keeps his pyjamas on underneath the coat that he now hangs up, in case he ever happens to be caught mid-act. Plausible deniability and all.
Thankfully, his mission wraps up without a hitch, and soon, Chan is back in his room. LEDs glow softly, bathing the walls in purple. Chan finds himself in his mirror as he undresses, watching how that same light bounces off his scales. They hug his ribcage and dance over his hipbones, their usual tan now an iridescent glow, glinting rainbow in the light. Quite beautifully, he supposes. But even if they were pretty, which they are not, Chan will never let anyone outside his family see them. It comes with too many stakes. Keeping them hidden is proving quite the challenge at the moment, because one cannot don a more ‘risqué’ stage outfit without showing a bit more skin…
But instead of a crop top or open blazer, Chan now changes into his actual pyjamas and crawls into bed for the night. The hybrid curls up tight, revelling in the soft fluffiness that encompasses his body. One very comfortable habit of a snake is to sleep in small nooks and crannies, and a veritable mountain of blankets is what replicates that for Chan. The kids love his bed, and he will often find Innie snuggled up there in fox form, frequently joined by a cat (Felix) or a buried Japanese dwarf flying squirrel (Han). Thankfully, no one has slept over tonight, and he is free to drift into his dreams without any worries (other than waking up early).
—
The next day finds Chan swamped in (entirely self-inglicted) work at the studio. He would feel more stressed about it, but the Monthly Shed is now officially over, and everything is infinitely brighter and better today. Even the 4 hours he has already spent cooped up in the small room aren't enough to dampen Chan’s mood, nor is the looming dance practice in two hours. Plus, Changbin is hunched over the desk next to him, not necessarily happy, but it means Chan is not alone in his work. These sessions are always more productive when the man has someone to bounce ideas off of (and occasionally banter with).
Today however, neither of these things have occurred much; so Chan knows it is only a matter of time before something gives and Changbin either asks for help or storms out. He sincerely hopes it is the former option this time.
After only a few minutes more of incessant foot tapping and ear twitching, it seems the rabbit has had enough, and he turns to Chan with a huff.
“You ok Bin?” Chan takes it upon himself to ask. He gets a few grumbles and a frown in response.
“Binnie, can I help?” he tries again, “You wanna talk about it?”
Another huff, then finally a muttered “…tracks annoying me.”
“Yeah I guessed mate,” Chan chuckled. “Hug?” he says, holding his arms out.
Changbin nods gruffly and scoots forward, glaring as the wheels of his chair squeak at the movement. He stops, and fidgets for a moment, wringing his hands. Chan just waits.
Eventually, the hybrid's eyes meet his, silently questioning. Seconds later, he finally asks, “Can I… can I shift please, hyung?”
Chan smiles warmly and nods,“Of course Bin, you know you never have to ask.”
“I know hyung, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable by just suddenly shifting, I know you're not as used to it,” he replies. Chan’s heart aches slightly, whispering that Yes! Yes he is used to it!! But he just can't tell them…
Instead, Chan softens further and pushes back his chair. He pats his lap, looking at Changbin expectantly. Soon, tiny paws are prodding at his leg, and Chan reaches down to scoop up the bundle of fluff that had replaced his Binnie. A few adjustments later, and Chan has an extremely cute lapful of contented rabbit. He can already envision the black fur all over his pants and sweater later, but it was absolutely worth it to watch the stress practically melt off of his dongsaeng.
It only takes five minutes more of working before Changbin gently nudges Chan’s stomach and stares up at him with wide, pleading eyes, nudging more insistently when he doesn't get a response. The bunny has just started bringing his paw up for a poke when Chan finally looks down and giggles.
“Ok, Ok Bin,” he concedes, “You want pets?”
It might be a strange sight to see a rabbit nodding, but the leader of Stray Kids is very used to his boy's habits in their animal forms by this point.
Changbin settles down as soon as he gets what he wanted, which is Chan’s fingers gently carding through his fur, and ruffling his ears. The man supposes he can take a break from work for a few minutes, and he tells the bunny as much. Triumphant glee practically radiates from the animal in response, so Chan settles in for what could be a long cuddle session. Not that he is complaining, the hybrid will happily take affection in any form from his boys.
His computer display actually dims in front of them before Chan remembers to save his work and turn it off, leaving the two of them bathed in the soft overhead lights. Warmth surrounds his heart as he lounges, content in the company of one of his favourite people, happy.
—
It seems they were a bit too warm and comfortable, because Chan is only awoken two hours later by his phone buzzing. Light slowly filters through slits of his eyes as he stretches and notices the weight on his lap, before registering it as Changbin still curled up in bunny form. Chan smiles softly yet longingly at the cute sight, imagining how nice it would feel to be curled around Binnie in his snake form instead, keeping him safe and warm. Thoughts like that are one of his only regrets when it comes to his hidden identity. Although snakes are solitary creatures, Chan absolutely adores getting cuddles and attention in his snake form, and would often seek out his family for a scaly snuggle back in Australia before he moved. It is a luxury that he is sadly not afforded these days.
He is dragged from his thoughts by another buzz, so he gingerly reaches a hand towards the desk and grabs his phone, avoiding moving as much as possible so as not to disturb his lapful of fluff. Squinting at the bright display, Chan registers that Felix has texted him multiple times.
Aussie Bros 😎😸
Lixie 😸
Hyung are you coming to dance practice? [15:02]
Hyung??? [15:03]
Chrisssss (^_^) [15:05]
Hyung!!! You better not be stuck in a song again!! >:[ [15:08]
Also do you know where Binnie hyung is??
Is he with you?? [15:09]
Chan rolled his eyes and chuckled at his dongsaeng’s insistence before snapping a picture of Changbin cuddled up below him.
Aussie Bros 😎😸
Channie 😎
Sorry Lix, I was asleep. [15:11]
And yes, I do know where your Binnie Hyung is. [15:11]
[15:11]
Lixie 😸
AWWW BINNIEEEEEE
HES SO CUTEEE!! o(^▽^)o
HYUNG I WANT BUNNY CUDDLESSS /(^-^)/
[15:12]
You do still have to come to practice tho hyung[15:13]
Binnie cuddles can’t save you forever >:[ [15:13]
Channie 😎
Ok we are coming Lix 😂😭
Just let me wake him up properly.
[15:13]
Lixie 😸
Ok!!
Don’t be too long hyung… [15:14]
Sighing fondly, Chan sets down his phone and stretches again. Changbin has already partially woken from the disruption and is currently trying his damnedest to burrow back into Chan’s warmth and go back to sleep, which the man puts a stop to by lifting him up. Holding the squirming rabbit at head height, Chan chuckles, addressing his dongsaeng.
“Binnie, seriously…” The rabbit just stares, unimpressed.
“Yes I know, sorry for waking you,” he says, “but we had dance practice like… ten minutes ago.”
The rabbit huffs. Loudly.
Chan just shakes his head and waits, one eyebrow raised. Eventually it works, and Changbin begrudgingly hops down onto the floor. Seconds later he is replaced by a scowling man, who stares wistfully at his vacated spot on Chan’s lap.
Chan stands and guides him towards the door, already internally bracing himself for the guaranteed chaos of the next few hours.