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Using his key, Chan lets himself into Minho and Jisung’s place; they all have keys to each other’s places including codes to the building. Perhaps it’s a little much, but after living together as a group for years, then downsizing to fours, it felt odd not being able to just walk in. When they split up into pairs, they agreed it would be a convenience to have access to each place.
Chan knocks as he enters, announcing his arrival; he had texted earlier letting Minho know he was on his way.
“Over here,” Minho calls from the couch. He’s stretched out, leg resting on a pillow and head bent over his phone.
“Hey,” Chan replies, opting to sit on the coffee table so Minho doesn’t have to shift. Chan waits patiently as Minho finishes whatever has his attention on his phone, so he uses the extra moments to run through how he’s going to discuss the upcoming AAAs performance. He flips his phone around with his fingers; he’s been dreading this conversation since he woke before sunrise. They’re running out of time needed to rehearse the changes that must be made.
Minho lowers his arms and stares at Chan expectantly and Chan immediately knows this is going to be a fight. Sighing, Chan starts the conversation with, “I know you don’t want special treatment…”
“I’m not sitting.” Minho states, interrupting.
That sounds very final. Chan breathes deeply, pulling patience from the bottom of his chest and counters, “You can’t dance.” Showing that he too can be just as stubborn. And he will win because it’s what’s best for Minho even if he’s too pigheaded to recognize it.
“It’s much better, and by the time the performance rolls around, I can wrap it tightly.”
“It’s less than a week away and you’re still limping.”
“Just a little, it’s because I’m spending so much time on this damn couch. Jisung doesn’t let me do anything,” Minho complains.
“Exactly how it should be!”
Rolling his eyes, Minho picks at the sleeve of his hoodie. “You both are overprotective.”
“Mm,” Chan hums. Looking down, he checks the time on the phone, Jisung should be back soon. Chan’s not above pulling out his not-so-secret weapon early, he just has to stall until Jisung returns and can put his anime eyes to work. “Have you tried any dancing?” Chan asks, knowing the answer but logic’s the best way to get through to Minho.
“Naaa, the steps are engrained in me, it will be fine.”
Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, he says, “I have no doubt you know the choreo, but is the ankle strong enough?”
“You seem to take Yongbok’s word on what he can and can’t do.”
Chan sits up straight, face going slack and eyes narrowing in surprise. That’s low. He raises an eyebrow and calmly states, “You’re insinuating that I’m treating you differently?” And Chan hopes it’s just Minho being stubborn and not based in fact because he works hard to keep everyone on the same level. To think that his bias could possibly be showing, makes him nervous.
There’s a flash of uncertainty across Minho’s face but he sticks with it anyway. “I”m saying that Yongbokie seems to perform through a little pain without directives from you.”
Clearly Chan’s been able to keep some of the nastier arguments he and Felix have had off the members’ radar, because if Minho knew, he wouldn’t think the treatment is different. He sighs, “The situations aren’t the same. Your ankle will heal in another week, with rest. Felix has ongoing back problems and if he sat out each time it flared, he’d miss a third of the performances.”
“So you admit he dances through the pain,” Minho’s voice is pleased to have won the point.
He tries to calm his tone, but fails. “You think that’s a good thing?” Chan sighs deeply, pushing down his frustration; it hurts him to know how painful it is for Felix sometimes, but as Felix pointed out, he would have sat through much of the back portion of the tour. He’s not sure what Minho sees or hears on his reply, but he takes on a more defensive posture, arms crossed in front of him and staring at Chan blankly. “There’s no reason for you to force yourself. We can easily adjust the choreography and set you up on a stool…”
Minho scoffs and turns his head away.
Chan stares at the back of his head.“You know I’m right.”
“Tsk.”
“Minho-ah, why - -” Chan cuts off as the door opens and Jisung barges in as though he’s late. All arms and legs, limbs seemingly moving faster than the rest of him. He toes off his shoes, flinging them to the side and comes straight to the couch. Pushing Minho over with his hand before plopping down, blithely unconcerned about the tension he walked in on.
“What’d I miss?” Jisung asks innocently and Chan bites his lip while smiling. Minho notices and glares at him, knowing full well there’s no way he’s going to argue with Jisung.
“Just discussing the upcoming performance.”
“Ah! Did you tell him about the stool?”
Chan does chuckle then. “I did. He’s not pleased.”
Somehow, Minho’s scowl grows deeper and Chan would fear for his safety if he thought Minho could catch him. But he can’t, not right now at least.
Jisung takes one of Minho’s hands into his own, asking, “Why so stubborn?”
“It’s not - -”
“You can’t even walk to the bathroom without grimacing. Why force yourself when waiting a week will get you to the same place?”
Chan can already see Minho’s resolve crumbling. Seizing the opportunity he says, “Since you went to unreasonable so quickly, I didn’t get to share that Seungmin will also be on a stool for part of it.”
“Really.” Minho says, surprised, face softening.
Jisung jumps in, “Not the whole performance, but at least a song! And he’s going to come in and out when needed.”
Minho sighs. “I hate the attention. I don’t want people to think I’m weak,” he confesses.
Chan leans forward and grasps his shoulder, thumb rubbing just under Minho’s collarbone. “No one will think that. Anyone just needs to watch the performance after the fall to see your strength and dedication.”
With a sigh Minho nods and Chan is relieved that convincing him wasn’t nearly as traumatic for them all as he had feared.
“But,” Minho starts and looks at Chan, eyes serious with a glint that Chan does not like one bit. “You will be my personal escort.”
“Uh, yeah, alright I guess.” Agreeing but feeling as though he’s not sure what exactly he’s agreeing to. In the end it doesn’t matter because Minho is taking care of himself and allowing time to heal and that’s all Chan wanted.
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The frantic pace of the end of year award ceremonies and stages always takes a toll on them but this year, juggling two injured members, makes it more complex. Once Minho accepts his fate of riding the stool, he and Chan lead the brainstorming sessions for the choreography changes needed to allow both Minho and Seungmin the opportunity to rest or use a stool when needed. Having learned from past performances where one member was off to the side and therefore off-screen, they intentionally design a couple of moments where the group gathers around the stools, ensuring inclusion for everyone.
The practices are intense due to the short amount of time between their appearances on MAMA and then AAA. Chan worries about members juggling their solo schedules and everything extra that brings yet no one complains about the extra practices because they all know it’s about supporting each other. It fills Chan with joy to see the team constantly have each other’s backs.
Maneuvering through the airport is never easy but with Limpy and Gimpy (nicknames that will never pass his lips - ever) and one doting Jisung, it’s much more complicated. And slow. Chan continues to be amazed at the audacity of some of the fans, the way they have no concern for anyone else though this departure is relatively calm even with the amount of people lining the walkways. Chan hangs toward the back of the pack like normal, making sure all the ducklings are heading in the right direction. Seungmin’s limp is slight and Chan’s concerned about the persistent discomfort Seungmin’s been in for weeks. He wishes their schedule was a little lighter to allow time to rest, but just not possible this time of year.
Minho flat out refused a wheelchair and no amount of cajoling on his part or begging by Jisung made a difference. Chan keeps an eye on him peripherally because looking at him clearly struggling causes Chan to cringe in sympathy. Minho’s in good hands as Jisung orbits around him, sometimes brushing their arms together, other times a hand hovers inches off Minho’s back.
Later on the flight, he wishes he was surprised when Jisung appears next to him. Chan pulls out his earbuds, looking expectantly.
With a sheepish look Jisung says, “Uh, well, Minho’s pretty uncomfortable. I think the long walk to the gate probably wasn’t a good idea.”
“Yeah, probably didn’t help,” Chan agrees softly.
“Do you think we could get a wheelchair for when we get off?”
Smiling and feeling a little superior he jokingly asks, “Do I get to tell him I told you so?”
Jisung’s eyes widened in horror. “I wouldn’t,” he replies and they chuckle together.
“He’s going to use it, right? I just want to be sure.”
“Yeah, he will.”
“Good. Because I already asked for one to be waiting.”
Jisung raises his fist. “That’s why you’re the best leader, hyung.” Chan taps his fist against Jisung’s before he returns to his seat; Chan shakes his head, smiling to himself before he catches Felix’s eyes from across the aisle. Chan raises his eyebrows in a silent question but Felix shakes his head, his smile soft and full of something Chan’s afraid to name. When Felix doesn’t look away for a long moment Chan feels offbalance, heart tripping over itself in his chest.
Finally Felix looks down at his phone and Chan releases the breath he was holding. Shaking his head and putting the earbuds back in, Chan rests his head against the seat back and closes his eyes. Sleep is unlikely but he could enjoy the calm that being on a plane provides. Losing himself in the soft melody, his thoughts turn to Felix, which is par for the course since the night of MAMA.
He keeps thinking about that night, trying to find meaning in the late night visit and everything that’s followed since. Chan rubs his head against the seat cushion and remembers how overwhelming that night was, how they all struggled to process their feelings, some better than others. The photo Hyunjin insisted on orchestrating is the background on all their phones and while the staff gave them all a talking to, none of them have changed it as it holds so much meaning right now.
Chan remembers that another group hug had ended that night before they’d retreated to their own rooms. Chan had just finished brushing his teeth when he heard the knocking and somehow he knew it was Felix before he opened the door. Not sure if it was the short staccato of the three knocks or if Chan just knew Felix needed to be with someone. Felix choosing Chan filled him with happiness and gave him an outlet for the buzzing under his skin he hadn’t been able to work through during their celebration in the suite.
“Hey,” Chan greeted him.
Felix looked embarrassed. “Can I come in?”
“Always.” He stepped aside allowing Felix to enter; as Chan closed the door Felix came to a stop in the middle of the room.
“I wanted to make sure you’re ok.”
The gentle tone twisted Chan’s stomach and immediately the tell tale prickle behind his eyes warned him that tears were close, that his emotions were too near to the surface. He forced himself to chuckle and walk past Felix so he didn’t have to meet his eyes. “I’m good. Tonight was a lot, sure, but uh, it ended kind of perfectly.”
“It’s always perfect when it’s just us.”
“Yeah.” Chan turned to face Felix and his heart stopped when he realized Felix was also fighting to control his emotions. “Felix,” he said softly, conveying his concern.
Felix growled, which broke the heaviness of the moment, shocking a laugh out of each of them. “I’m fine. I’m here because… it’s just that I’m not the only one that struggled tonight.”
“True. We all did, in our own way. Hyunjin shared - -”
Felix had stepped forward and grabbed his biceps in a firm grip. “I’m talking about you. I need to know you’re… Do you need anything?”
Chan blinked and blinked some more trying to keep his eyes from filling but the traitorous bastards had other plans. He gritted his teeth, fighting for control and mumbled, “It’s all good. Just need some sleep.”
He had barely finished his sentence before he was engulfed in Felix’s arms, held so tight that Chan couldn’t pull in a deep breath. He had tensed, afraid it would push him over the edge but somehow he wrestled control back and refused to allow tears to fall. Felix held on for long minutes, not letting go, instead, he suggested they go to bed and Chan had no good argument not to. Felix brushed his teeth, and Chan hadn’t dwelled too long on the fact that he only had one toothbrush and that it wasn’t that weird to share. He had pulled down the comforter, got under the sheets in his tank top and shorts and waited. It was a short time before Felix returned, pulled off Chan’s borrowed hoodie and climbed in next to him wearing a t-shirt and sweats, both of them lying on their backs.
There was only silence for a long while, Chan concentrated on keeping his breaths measured, bottling up every emotion that threatened to leak out. The best way to lead was by example and even though it’s been years since they were that young, it’s a hard habit to break. He showed the members every day how to be kind to each other, how to treat others, and how to support each other. Chan had to be strong and in control all the time, otherwise showing weakness would undermine everything he’s tried to build. He was the strong, steady foundation of the team; breaking down wasn’t an option for him because he didn’t want his members to have to pick up the pieces. Going to a trusted manager felt like the safer option.
When Chan thought Felix had fallen asleep, a part of him was relieved to avoid whatever conversation Felix had intended and he forced himself to relax. The threat of the discovery of his emotional upheaval had passed and he could move forward to the next task: the extent of Minho’s injury. The other part of him, the one that craved love from his members, the side of him that refused to recognize bouts of loneliness for fear of it overwhelming him, was disappointed in the lack of confrontation. It would’ve been nice to have company for some relief.
He shifted his legs intending to flip to his left to chase sleep when Felix spoke, as though he’d been waiting for some kind of sign that the forcefield Chan erected had softened. “You’re allowed to feel things.”
Chan froze, breath caught in his throat and shame burned his face with how much he wanted the support but knowing he shouldn’t take it. Absently, he was grateful for the darkness that allowed him to keep hiding.
He felt the bed shake slightly as Felix shifted, in the near dark Chan made out the silhouette of Felix as he rested on his side facing him. “I assume you think you have to be separate from the rest of us.” A hand tentatively brushed against his forearm and slid down until Felix held his hand. “But you don’t,” Felix whispered.
A tear ran down Chan’s face, leaving a hot trail behind his ear; he swallowed, the clicking sound was loud in the room. “Old habits,” Chan said, voice husky highlighting the overflowing emotions.
The sheets rustled as Felix shifted followed by a gentle hand on Chan’s head, fingers buried in his hair. It’s permission to seek comfort as much as it’s an invitation to let Felix in. If Chan were stronger, he’d be able to resist, but he’s not. Looking back, it’s as though Felix had been chipping away at his armour for months without him fully realizing. With a soft gasp of surrender, Chan turned and reached for Felix, the two of them pulling the other as close as possible.
It started with tears, a mixture of elation and relief at receiving the album award and once the tears stopped, they talked about the group, the future. Whispered about the pressure of schedules and management, even the military service looming on the horizon. Mostly Felix held him, comforted him - loved him - made him feel less alone by offering himself as a second cornerstone in the foundation. Once he’d started talking, Chan confessed deep worries about the future and if he’d be able to handle it. By the end, Felix convinced him that they would walk the path together; that they all could take some of the weight from him.
They fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms. Chan woke in the morning curled on his side with Felix attached to his back, arm tight around his chest. It had been the best sleep he’d had in weeks, probably months.
The plane shakes suddenly and Chan’s eyes pop open; looking around it’s clear it was standard turbulence. Glancing across the aisle, Felix’s head is angled away from Chan, so he’s not sure if he’s asleep or just resting. Does Felix know how off balance Chan’s been since that night? Probably not, this is Chan's problem to figure out.
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They’re finishing up the run through on the AAA stage when Chan notices Felix is not hovering around the edges of his vision. A quick swivel of his head locates him just off stage with a manager; Felix is pointing toward stage right, making hand gestures that Chan can’t figure out. Chan’s attention is diverted to Hyunjin beside him as he concludes the meeting Chan had started by thanking the dancers for their hard work and the group disperses.
Chan clasps Hyunjin’s shoulder in thanks and immediately starts in the direction of a conversation he probably should be a part of but the manager scurries away before Chan gets there.
“Anything I need to know?”
“No,” Felix shakes his head. “He asked about the kind of stool, it’s all taken care of.”
“You told him the seat should - -”
“Yes. It’s handled.” Felix replies with a wink and grin.
Feeling off balance, Chan looks behind him to survey the direction Felix had been motioning toward earlier. As he opens his mouth, Felix curves his hand around his shoulder and pulls him toward backstage. “It’s fine, I got it. Now, let’s go eat something.”
Nodding, Chan allows himself to be manhandled but he’s stuck on Felix saying he handled it. The echo of their late night conversation about sharing the load is loud in his head. Suddenly Chan starts remembering little things over the last two weeks: Felix taking tasks Chan complained about; Jeongin having dinner ready as Chan returned from the studio so that he couldn’t brush it off; Changbin and Han coming to a writing session with the sample laid out and lyric ideas outlined, cutting their work in half and getting them all home hours earlier than expected.
Was this what Felix meant when he said they all could help carry the weight? How was Chan so blind to not notice it happening? What does that say about him as a leader that his team was manipulating him stealthily to take on more work while reducing his load?
Felix drifts from his side once they enter their green room where there’s plenty of food to choose from; Chan moves through the buffet, piling his plate on autopilot as his mind races and picks out even more examples of times where the members leaned in: food appearing in the studio after Minho visited; Hyunjin sharing a notebook of choreo ideas he’d prepared ahead of time; Seungmin starting the check-in text before departure. His stomach twists with fear that his team doesn’t think he’s enough. Sitting at the end of the table he gulps several swallows of water and looks wearily at his plate. Stomach suddenly tight, Chan’s not sure he’ll be able to eat. Most of the members are at the table and Chan’s eyes roam over them all before he looks down at his plate. How does he look to them? Like he can’t handle things?
Grabbing a small bite he regrets the previous thought about the team manipulating him. That’s not fair and not what they’re doing; they’re trying to help. Chan can’t get past the fact that they think he needs the help. Is he doing something wrong?
He pushes the food around his plate wondering where he’s lacking when Changbin sits down to his right and immediately reaches into his plate, snagging a piece of meat. On instinct he raps his chopsticks against Binnie’s knuckles stating, “Get your own.”
“Seemed like you weren’t eating it, hyung.”
“Some of us like to savor the meal instead of shoveling it in.”
Jisung makes an offended noise further down the table. Chan wasn’t even thinking about him honestly, but those that protest too much and all that. He pushes another bite in, his stomach growls in thanks, a reminder that he hasn’t eaten since breakfast.
“You seemed lost in thought. Everything good?” Changbin asks, fingers brushing against the table top. He’s being nonchalant but Chan’s suspicious.
“Fine. Don’t I seem fine?”
He shrugs. “You seem normal.”
“There you go then.” Taking another bite of food. “Did Jisung convince you to play photographer?”
Changbin laughs, which pulls a smile from Chan. “Yes. You’d think being an idol he wouldn’t get embarrassed when people surprise him. But he does. This time stammering and blushing after being caught posing on the stairwell.”
Chan glances up but Jisung’s no longer at the table; a quick look around the room finds him on the couch with Minho. “It’s a weird quirk of his.”
He and Changbin talk about nothing, Chan can't repeat anything they discuss but he’s left with a happy feeling. Spending time with Binnie is always good for the soul. Chan realizes his plate is empty and feels better for it, the food was desperately needed. As he cleans up Chan wonders if this was Changbin’s way of helping, seeing something in the way Chan sat alone at the table. Immediately his chest warms with the thought relishing being cared for until his mind, ever the pessimist, counters that he’s the leader and shouldn't need to be coddled.
Throwing the crumpled up napkin into the bin with entirely too much force, Chan wishes his thoughts wouldn't twist the love and contentment he feels into something tainted.
________________________
Stray Kids. Stray Kids. Their name is announced over and over and each time Chan’s heart soars with a mix of astonished accomplishment. The relaxed atmosphere brings so much unfiltered joy that the group shines with it. They had something to prove at MAMA, but here, where there hasn’t been time away from the event, it’s so enjoyable. Chan assumes it’s because the pressure is different, or perhaps it’s the lack of pressure that has the team cracking jokes, playing with the crowd, or the near constant revolving bathroom breaks.
The reason doesn’t matter. What matters is how much fun they’re having. When the award for Best Producer is announced, Hyunjin and Changbin are already standing looking for Jisung. Chan looks as well because, once again, he’s absent. Of course Chan wants to accept the trophy, but he doesn’t want Jisung to miss out either. In the end, he and Changbin approach the microphone in a more subdued manner to accept the award, all the while looking down the ramp and around the arena trying to locate Jisung returning.
They stall; Changbin is a little better at it because he just keeps giggling at the ridiculousness of the situation. How does this happen to someone twice? At least the first time Jisung was still on the floor. As Changbin rambles about them being 2Racha and if they can wait just a little longer so they are 3Racha again, a cheer goes through the crowd. Finally Chan can see Jisung and Jeongin being driven back on the cart, making big hearts and waving.
Changbin is apologizing to the organizers and attendees for the delay as Jisung sprints up the ramp to the podium, bowing quickly to those he passes. Chan didn’t need to greet and semi-escort him over, but he does because Chan is suppressing just how much he’s loving even this. Jisung apologizes and even mentions the previous incident before sincerely thanking them for the award.
They’re barely back to their seats when Chan mimes hitting Jisung from behind, putting on a show as the leader because a leader would be upset with these kinds of actions. Not so secretly Chan loves their typical chaos and his heart is bursting with love but Jisung turns around pleading his case, “This is not my fault.”
“History says otherwise!” Changbin shouts.
Jisung reaches toward Chan saying, “I asked the staff if I had time. They said yes!”
“I know,” Chan agrees, smiling.
Jisung shakes his head. “They said yes. So we went and now I’m the guy that’s always in the bathroom when he wins.” He drops onto his seat as though his strings were cut; he rubs his face and Chan hears him mumble, “Ridiculous.’
Chan grabs the back of his neck and shakes him slightly. “It’s funny. And you made it back so we could stand together for a moment.”
“You’re not mad?” Jisung asks, giving him a quick sidelong look.
“No,” he replies quickly. “Did you really think I would be?”
“Not really? But I also didn’t think you guys would stall. I know how seriously you take respect at events like this.”
Nodding, Chan can understand Jisung’s perspective, he remembers the way he trained them to always start acceptance remarks the same way. “We were respectful, played to the crowd and AAA now has a moment that will be viewed many many times.” Eyes twinkling, he scratches his fingers into Jisung’s neck stating, “You’re gonna be a meme again!”
Jisung’s eyes widen and mouth forms an ‘o’ before groaning and burying his face into his hands.
As Stray Kids keep winning awards a twinge of embarrassment runs through Chan, just a little, making him wonder if all the accolades are warranted. Do they really deserve this much praise? Of course they do. They worked hard for every single bit of recognition, so Chan pushes that tiny voice away as absurd. And Chan hates himself for having the thought in the first place. What’s his problem?
Then Hyunjin and Felix are honored for their individual awards and Chan’s pride explodes and his heart overflows with love. They all play for the cameras, fake crying, being overwhelmed and just being… well, being themselves. After the tough year Hyunjin fought through, receiving all this love can only provide him more strength. While Felix has the most demanding schedule outside of their group he never complains; he’s out there representing Stray Kids for the betterment of them as a group.
Their name is announced again for Best Album and the team stands, clapping, bowing and turning to make their way to the microphone, which is now at center stage and… very far away. His eyes connect with Minho and he’s beckoned over. Chan takes a step forward and when Minho gestures in front of him; it takes Chan a second to realize that Minho wants a ride. Chan laughs, turning so Minho can climb on. As he does, Minho says “Good escort” in his ear and Chan chuckles again.
Being aware of the timing of award shows, and the distance ahead of them, Chan starts to jog, bouncing Minho with each step and Minho’s soft laughter in his ear fills Chan with joy. He hears more than sees Felix keeping pace and the others are coming up behind them. He trusts Changbin to ensure Seungmin is fine and after depositing Minho to the stage, he sees Seungmin bracketed by the members, arms on their shoulders for support if needed. Chan ignores the weird twinge across his back, attributing it to the way he dropped Minho.
It’s apparent to all watching just how much fun they’re having through their antics and comings and goings from their seats. And the lack of tears, that’s probably also a good indicator that they’re enjoying receiving all the love and appreciation from the event and Stay.
It’s not long after that, that the Best Artist is announced and once again they’re honored to be called. Chan doesn’t hesitate and assumes the position for Minho to climb on. He adjusts his hold, having Minho higher up his back and holding behind his knees tighter, and not running this time. He still spins when he gets there for a little added flare before gently lowering Minho down; his back is not happy. He’s clearly twisted it but he’s sure a soak in the tub and sleep will cure it.
As they line up to start their acceptance speech, confetti cannons explode and they all react, jumping and exclaiming, extremely startled. Within moments they’re laughing and playing it off but Chan’s sure their reaction will highlight just how uncool they can be. But they all play it differently like the professionals they are. Except Changbin who barely reacted, the man has nerves of steel apparently.
Winning eight awards is humbling, and if Chan is honest, shocking. It’s not that he doesn’t think they’re talented, it just always feels like they have to fight so hard for each inch that when they get to the finish line first, it doesn’t feel real. It’s why they’re gracious and sincere in their thanks every time because they’ve never taken anything for granted and never will. They will continue to work hard and stay as true to themselves as possible.
They don’t return to the seating area though, instead going directly backstage to get ready for their performance. There’s a quick run through of timing and staging, the best they can do in the hallway.
Gathering in their customary circle before heading out, their hands are piled on top of one another as they have a moment to themselves. No encouraging words needed, just their standard wide smiles and jittery nerves.
The performance is a success, no major issues, the seated contingent were highlighted as planned. Felix not actually kissing Changbin’s fist was amusing since he originally was going to, he’s sure Minho will call him a coward. As far as Chan’s concerned, hearing the roar of the crowd is the best way to end such an amazing night.
The members file down the stairs, exiting the stage one by one, Chan hangs back, ensuring all his charges are accounted for when he realizes Seungmin is lagging. He steps towards him asking, “You alright?” Now that Chan focuses on his face, he can see the exhaustion reflected there.
Seungmin tries to say he’s fine but Chan knows he’s not. “You want help?” Chan asks and Seungmin hesitates before answering affirmatively but it’s the pause that tells Chan that he needs it. Chan steps in front of him and squats down a little, indicating for him to get on his back. Seungmin latches on quickly, arms tight around Chan’s shoulders and neck, trying to help keep some of his weight supported. He appreciates the thought but it doesn’t help much.
Chan has a second to worry about the stairs, the other members are ahead of them, so there’s no one to spot him. Centering himself, he grabs Seungmin’s legs tight and starts down the steps, not taking a breath until he hits the bottom. The rest should be easy, and it is, but Chan can feel his lower back tighten with each step. Seungmin is taller than Minho, weighs a little more, and after all the energy he’s expelled tonight, Chan’s closing in on empty. He focuses on the walkway and exit ahead of him, hoping he can keep the steady pace and make it look like he’s not starting to fade. Then Seungmin shifts, tucking his head close to Chan’s shoulder and the love that floods Chan in that moment of vulnerability, fuels him enough to ensure he cares for Seungmin properly.
Arriving in their backstage area, Chan’s muscles unclench and relief floods through him at successfully making it out of prying eyes. As he enters with Seungmin on his back, Hyunjin and Felix approach immediately; Hyunjin helps Seungmin off, steadying him before walking with him to the chair. Unfortunately for Chan, Felix focuses on him and immediately clocks how out of breath he is and the wince he fails to hide.
“Are you hurt?” Felix asks, concern evident in his tone.
Chan shakes his head. “No, just winded. He’s not light,” he jokes, trying to distract Felix. It doesn’t work.
“Seems like more than that.”
And because Chan is a sucky liar in the face of an earnest Felix, he admits, “I’m not meant to do so many piggyback rides with a performance mixed in. I’ve been told I’m old, remember.” Still trying to be honest but downplaying it.
“How can I help?”
“Nothing. Let’s just do the press portion and then head to the hotel. No worries.”
They have press and photos to take care of, and two members who are not very mobile, there’s no time to add another wrinkle to the mix. Chan is fine, it’s unimportant. He stands up straight, raises his arms over his head, stretching, and hopes the grimace isn’t noticeable. Felix’s raised eyebrow says otherwise.
The event staff is tickled that they have eight awards for eight members, and the photographer groups them together in multiple configurations, resulting in the members rotating in and out of frame. At some point Felix must sneak away because when Chan and Felix aren’t included in the photo, Felix hands him ibuprofen and a water bottle. Chan’s heart flips end over end in his chest and he smiles softly at Felix before he remembers he shouldn’t.
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Chan wishes he were surprised by the knock on the door, but he’s not. He felt Felix’s gaze throughout the press duties, throughout changing out of performing clothes and the return to the hotel. Through it all, Chan felt bare under his watchful gaze; he knew Felix was looking for additional indications of an injury so Chan tried not to give him hints to the dull ache in his back.
The knock tells Chan he did a piss poor job of it if Felix is coming by so late. Chan stands stockstill wondering if Felix will think he’s actually asleep or maybe he can pretend to have headphones on and just didn’t hear the knock. Anything to postpone the care that Felix undoubtedly wants to give him all because Chan’s not sure he’s strong enough to resist. He always wants Felix’s attention, his touch, his love. And each time Chan allows himself to indulge, it’s harder for him to pull back and return to the other side of the line that separates being friends from something more.
They’re close and they flirt, but that seems to be the members’ default mode with each other, so it doesn’t mean anything. Over the years it’s become obvious that they don’t know how to be anything but in each other’s personal space. And Chan loves it, how comfortable they are with each other, it shows the depth of their feelings and how they’ve become a close unit. But for some, that closeness is a pathway to something more; Minho and Jisung crossed that line and never looked back.
But for him and Felix, they seem to jump back and forth over that metaphorical line continuously and in the beginning it was exciting. Will they, won’t they. Now, years later, Chan is tired, feeling as though they’ve done this dance so many times and one of them always retreats. And he’s honest enough to admit that it’s normally him.
If he lets Felix in, maybe this time will be different. The persistent voice in his head reminds him that now is not the time. He sighs to himself when there’s another set of knocks at the door.
A second later his phone chimes with a text, followed by several more.
FELIX:
You can’t possibly be asleep
Ha! I heard the alert.
Open the door
Please
Chan shouts, “Just a second.” So at least Felix knows he’s been heard and can stop making such a commotion. He runs a towel over his hair again, quickly applies a conditioner and runs his fingers through it so it kind of falls nicely. He crosses the room quickly and opens the door, it’s then he realizes he’s only in boxer briefs and a robe and should’ve spent the time putting on actual pants instead of messing with his fucking hair.
As the door swings open, Felix walks in saying, “Is there a reason why I was exiled in the hallway so long?”
“Nope.”
Felix blinks at him as though he doesn’t understand what Chan’s saying. He’s holding a bag in one hand, the other tucked in his hoodie pouch. “Changbin checked on Seungmin and he’s alright, just drained.”
Chan’s throat closes. He forgot to check on Seungmin. He meant to do it once he got settled but after the long, hot shower…
He never forgets.
His face must show his horror because Felix steps forward, extending a hand to grab Chan’s, but Chan’s already turning. He fumbles the phone from his pocket, thumbing open the screen to call Seungmin. But before he can hit ‘call’ Felix is pulling the phone from him.
“Hyung, it’s ok.”
It’s not ok and Chan’s angry that Felix thinks it’s acceptable to forget to check on a member who’s hurt. His brows wrinkle and he rumbles, “How is it fine?”
“Changbin is on it, Seungmin is cared for.”
“Not by anything I did.” He growls, turning away and sits angrily on the bed, but he isn’t careful, his back twinges and he stands back up with a grimace.
Staring fixedly at the floor, he hears Felix sigh. “I knew you pulled something.”
“Good for you,” he says unkindly but Felix ignores him.
The bag Felix brought smacks onto the small table to the right of the bed, an indication that Felix isn’t happy with him, and he begins to take things out. Feeling embarrassed by his outburst, Chan shuffles forward to try and peer around Felix to see what he’s doing; a bottle and a mini massage bar sits there.
Felix turns around, eyes serious and arms crossed. “I know you’re upset about the supposed slight against Seungmin, but you did nothing wrong.”
Chan opens his mouth to refute that but Felix pokes his chest, hard. “No. You don’t get to talk shit about yourself.”
Felix angrily pulls off the comforter and piles it on a chair. “You are one person. We’ve talked about this before. About asking for help.” He walks into the bathroom before returning quickly with a towel which he spreads in the middle of the bed. “But you’re so fucking stubbon, you continue to go alone.”
He takes his phone out of the hoodie and puts it on the nightside before yanking off the sweatshirt, folding it in half and putting it on the dresser. Felix turns around and crosses his arms again, glaring at Chan. “I told Changbin to handle Seungmin because I knew you were hurting. You should’ve asked for help instead of me trying to guess about what you may need.”
All the anger from moments before condenses as shame in the pit of his stomach. Chan scratches at the back of his neck and mumbles, “I’m sorry”. The next second Felix is in front of him gripping the robe. “I’m not… mad at you.” He shakes Chan with a fistful of robe. “I want you to treat yourself like you treat us. With kindness and understanding. We’re a family; start including yourself in that.”
Chan blushes hotly, and he wishes he could hide the effect Felix’s words have. He’s not good at self love or self care, he hasn’t been since he’s had seven others to care for. Maybe he never was. Whatever happens to him just… is, he can either handle it or work through it.
“I know it’s hard for you. That’s why I’m here,” Felix offers, forcing an excited tone to try and lighten the mood.
“Seungmin’s fine?” Because Chan wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t ask one more time.
Felix smiles softly, “Yes, I promise.”
“Good,” Chan nods and tries to ignore the guilt still gnawing in his chest despite the assurances. He clears his throat. “So what’s all this?”
“I’m here to give you a massage,” Felix says as though it’s an everyday occurrence. Chan is terrified that this is going to go very very wrong. How is Chan supposed to control his reaction to Felix’s hands all over his body?
“Uh, this, um, seems elaborate?”
Felix cocks his head looking from Chan to the bed and back. “There’s time to do it right, not just a quickie.” He blushes after hearing his words and stammers, “More time, there’s just more time to concentrate on um, the places it hurts.” He turns and escapes to the bathroom, the door shutting behind him.
Chan’s frozen for a moment, unsure on which path to take: get on the bed or somehow politely refuse. The toilet flushes and he’s run out of time. In a fit of longing and wanting something for himself, he shrugs out of the robe and lies down on the towel in the center of the bed. He’s settling in when Felix emerges from the bathroom.
“Oh, hey, can you put your head at the foot of the bed? Easier to reach your back…”
So much for avoiding feeling awkward. Heaving himself up, Chan repositions himself as instructed and if he doesn’t make eye contact with Felix while he’s twisting around in only boxer briefs, he’s the only one to know of his cowardness.
Closing his eyes as he settles, Chan hears Felix behind him, fiddling with the items on the nightstand and soon the sound of the ocean permeates the room. He opens his eyes, about to say something, when the main lights go dark and the room is only illuminated by the bathroom light. Squeezing his eyes shut again, Chan takes a deep breath and holds it for a few seconds before letting it out. He pointedly ignores the anxious voice in his head telling him this was a mistake. There’s no way he’s going to be able to last through a massage as Felix rubs his hands all over him without… embarrassing himself. Or saying something he may come to regret. Or them approaching that line in the sand again.
He’s so far in his own head that he jerks as Felix settles against his left side, pressing a hand to the center of Chan’s back. “Hope this is ok. I heard that favorite sounds can help bring on relaxation better.” He rubs the palm of his hand in a circle and Chan focuses on that point of contact. “Seungmin likes the sound of an air conditioner. Weird. But, uh, I thought you’d like the sounds of the beach.”
“Uh,” his voice cracks, clearing his throat Chan says, “Yeah, no, it’s great.” He forcibly ignores the fact that Felix has done something similar with Seungmin and he doesn’t feel jealous at all. Not even a little bit. Hopefully the repetition will help him believe it at some point.
Felix stands and sounds as though he moves toward the nightstand again, Chan hears the pop of a cap before Felix’s voice again. “Tell me if I do anything that causes pain. Anything at all.”
“Ok.” Chan agrees quickly.
The first touch of Felix’s hands are light as he spreads the massage oil from his shoulders to his waist and down his arms. He stands over Chan, legs spread on either side of where his head rests against the foot of the mattress. Chan doesn’t understand why this would be easier at first, but once Felix presses down, he realizes standing is going to help Felix’s leverage. He has a thought about Felix’s back, if the bed is tall enough to prevent Felix from bending over constantly, but then Felix’s thumbs drag down either side of his spine and Chan forgets his concern.
It’s only been a minute and Chan’s already struggling not to make any sounds he can’t take back. He thought he’d last longer before failing to contain noises, clearly he’s overestimated his control.
The room is quiet except for manufactured ocean waves rolling onto a beach and the occasional breath Felix lets out or a soft gasp from Chan himself. Relaxing, he zones out as he hyperfocuses on Felix’s fingers as they glide over his skin. Chan picks out a small pattern in the way Felix starts up high, around his shoulder, before meticulously moving down his back until his fingers skim the waistband of his boxer briefs. Then he repeats the movement on the other side. Chan resolutely ignores the flutter in the pit of his stomach each time Felix’s fingers brush along the waistband of his briefs.
Felix presses firmly along the top of his shoulder, digging his thumbs in the muscles along the top, before following it around and down to his biceps; fingers pressing harder until there’s a give and Chan gasps at the feeling. It’s not painful, but an intense release under his skin and Felix drags his fingertips repeatedly from elbow to shoulder soothing whatever he just knocked loose. He moves to the other side and repeats the steps, this time Chan expects it and isn’t surprised when the muscle is forced into loosening.
Chan listens as Felix shuffles away before returning moments later, his fingers coated in more oil as they slip over his entire back, saturating his skin and enabling fingers to glide freer. Felix starts under his shoulder blade, pushing slowly, taking his time; Chan recognizes the way Felix’s fingers move this way and that way, looking for the knots he assumes forever lives under Chan’s skin. And he’s not wrong, Chan should treat himself to more massages. Not necessarily from Felix, but as a general part of his work out routine. Somehow though he always finds an excuse not to make the time.
As Felix presses hard, his thumb digging deep, the pressure circling when it finds the knot and after several rotations the muscle unfolds with a click and Chan grunts.
Felix soothes the area with his fingers, murmuring, “You ok?”
Chan nods, humming.
Felix spends a few more minutes in that area, slowly moving toward the center of his back; running his hands down his side towards the mattress, fingers dragging up from his stomach and around his ribs. As he reaches the base of Chan’s back, he retreats and moves to the other side to start the process once more. He finds another nasty hard spot at the base of his right shoulder and Chan winces. Felix must be watching his face as he picks up on Chan’s discomfort.
“Too much? I don’t have to go that hard,” he says softly, as though preserving the feeling of quiet peace that has come over them.
“It’s ok. It’ll feel better after.”
“Mm, hopefully,” Felix agrees before spending long moments working on the worst of it. As he soothes the area and moves toward his ribs Chan sighs, already noticing less tension. Now that the massive knot is gone, Chan refocuses on the strength of Felix’s fingers, the slick feeling of thumbs making tiny circles on either side of his spine before pressing down and gliding away before moving up and repeating the motions again.
He’s so lost in the feeling of having Felix’s hands on him that he misses when Felix climbs on the bed. Chan becomes aware of it when Felix’s knee rubs against his inner thigh as Felix’s hands move toward the top of his spine. Chan’s eyes open, heart beating rapidly against his chest but he doesn’t move; he’s just now very aware of all the places Felix is touching him. He’s torn; does he want this to continue? Stop? Or change into something else.
Chan sighs, squeezing his eyes shut, banishing thoughts of how easy it would be for Felix to dip under the waistband of his boxer briefs; to bend down and place kisses along Chan’s back. He’s pushed these desires down for so long it’s like second nature, but having Felix all over him, in a semi-intimate way, is shattering the wall built to protect his heart. And Felix’s. And the group. His thoughts are selfish and he needs to stop entertaining anything else.
His thoughts spiral looking back at the past year, where he’d thought maybe, but then the accident happened and Felix dealt with a broken wrist, not to mention the recurring back pain. They released multiple albums, finished a world tour; through all that Hyunjin pieced himself back together with the members providing strength wherever possible. Brand deals. Seungmin dealing with chronic foot pain.
And now the year ends with Minho spraining an ankle mid-performance.
When has there even been the time to think about a conversation between him and Felix about feelings? He’s not even sure he wants to, there’s so much on his plate that adding something else is unwise. It doesn’t stop him from longing for something more. He just feels like the timing is never right.
Felix’s thumbs stray under the waist band of his boxer briefs, as though Chan’s thoughts can be heard. Chan bites his lip to stop the moan because the thumbs are strong and slow and seem to melt the tension every place they touch. He should stop Felix but he doesn’t want to, this is what he wants, would it be so bad to take it? Chan’s tries to ignore the nasty little voice that says yes, it’s selfish.
As Felix works his way back and forth across the base of Chan’s back, Chan exhales and sinks deeper into the bed. It’s just a massage, not… not crossing the line, Chan will stop it if it goes any further. But if it does go further, can Chan accept this as a sign of Felix’s feelings for him? Would Felix cross the line because he actively wants Chan? Or is he just lost in the movements of providing something Chan’s needs? Felix would never tease him, but Felix doesn’t know the depth of Chan’s feelings for him because Chan’s never said.
But this wouldn’t be the first time Felix tried to move them over the line.
Chan pushes those thoughts to the side because he wants to enjoy the here and now and right now he’s never felt so relaxed. With the muted sounds of the ocean emanating from the phone, the dim light and Felix’s fingers he can almost imagine he’s in Australia on holiday, enjoying down time instead of squeezing this respite in between award shows and other commitments. He floats along, losing himself in the steady movements of Felix’s fingers, finally allowing himself to enjoy feeling cared for.
Chan’s vaguely aware of the mattress dipping as Felix shifts, fingers scratching at the base of his back. The fingers momentarily disappear before Chan feels them rub along the middle of his right thigh. His eyes open but the rest of him remains relaxed; the fingers move in a small back and forth motion before expanding further up and down his leg. The movement is soothing even as the pressure increases, releasing the tension constantly living there.
Felix moves to the other leg, giving it the same treatment and Chan’s eyes flutter at how light he feels. He huffs silently to himself as he thinks this is the best massage he’s ever had, fully aware it’s about the person giving it more than anything.
Chan feels fingers trailing softly from his neck down his back, over his ass and down his legs. His eyes open again recognizing this feels different. The movement is slow and gentle and as Felix’s fingers ghost over his boxer briefs again Chan shivers, a new nervousness flutters through his chest and his heart beats faster. Felix’s hands cup his right thigh, thumbs rubbing in tandem up his leg, sweeping closer to the bottom of his boxer briefs until they slide under. Licking his lips, Chan considers if it was accidental or purposeful and what he's going to do, all in the span of several seconds. He can’t deny it feels good, or that it’s something he wants with such ferocity, but is it right? Can they afford something like this now? What does Felix want?
Felix’s hands move forward, high on his thigh, thumbs inches under his briefs, just caressing the bottom of his ass. Chan panics. They should talk, he can’t assume Felix’s motivations and now’s not the time with more shows and commitments on their schedule. While the persistent voice in his head reminds him that he can’t be selfish.
“Felix,” Chan says, immediately embarrassed at how breathless it sounds. He clears his throat and tries again as the fingers retreat to the back of his knee. “Felix.”
Even without looking at him, Chan imagines the way Felix’s shoulders move with the sigh he makes. Soft hands return to his back, steady, just pressing down letting Chan know he’s there. “It’s ok to have what you want,” Felix gently.
Chan rolls his head back and forth against his folded hands. “Yeah, sure, I - uh, I know. But, eh, now’s not really the time…?”
He hears Felix suck in a breath as though he’s going to say something, but doesn’t. The fingers glide up and down his back until one buries itself in his hair, pressing and rubbing until Chan fails to contain the groan of how good that feels. He’s not sure how long Felix rubs his head or plays with his hair, but it’s both forever and not long enough at the same time.
Felix trails his hand down Chan’s back before climbing off the bed; Chan remains still until he hears the bathroom door click shut. Feeling frustrated, he levers himself up and puts the robe on once more. He’s shut Felix down, again, over something Chan actually wants, what does that say about him? What will that do to them? Chan didn’t confirm his feelings, just said ‘no’ and maybe Chan should’ve stopped it differently. Maybe he should have twisted around and talked to Felix, modesty be damned, to make sure Felix didn’t feel slighted. But that would have meant Chan baring his heart and he’s clearly a coward.
He doesn’t get too much further down his spiral when the bathroom door opens and Felix exits, approaching the nightstand covered with all the items he brought. “How do you feel?” he asks brightly.
Chan blinks, feeling off balance because Felix sounds the same as he always does. Was it not a pass at Chan? “Uh, I feel really great,” Chan replies, putting in as much love and gratitude as he can.
Felix turns, gripping the bag, a smile on his face. “Amazing. I was hoping it would help a little.”
“It helped a lot. I feel so much, eh, lighter.”
Stepping forward, Felix hugs Chan with the arm not holding the bag; it lasts several long seconds but Chan’s frozen long enough to just get both arms around Felix before he’s stepping back. “Don’t forget to ask for help. We’re all happy to.” And pats Chan’s chest before walking around him, grabbing his hoodie and heading toward the door.
Everything about this is normal, Felix’s tone of voice, the hug, the offer but Chan is painfully aware that Felix doesn’t look at him, their eyes never meet. Chan’s heart stops, he knows he should fix this but he’s not sure how, but he needs to know they’re ok. “Felix,” he calls out, concern evident in his pleading.
Felix pauses at the door, head turning allowing Chan to see his profile showing the sad smile. “We’re good Chris. Promise. I - I respect your… well maybe another time.” He clears his throat as he opens the door. “Now, go to sleep and don’t waste all my hard work. We have a flight to catch in the morning.” It sounds just like normal Felix, upbeat and full of love and yet...
Chan stares at the closed door for several long minutes, wondering just how badly he fucked up.
The End