Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Yes, I know, I know! I'm on my way." Changbin cradles his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he stumbles out the door.

Changbin's day starts off pretty normal, after a slight hiccup with his alarm— he snoozed it three times— he crawls out of bed just after the ass-crack of dawn and drags his tired and stiff bones to the gym to meet up with Minho for a morning workout. Chan, his roommate, usually also joins but he's in the thick of finishing up his assignments so he's been slacking over the past few months.

Most of their friends are also in the throws of final assignments before the end of the university term, Changbin and Jisung both being music production majors didn't have any in-person exams this semester, and already submitted their respective assessments for grading, they just needed to attend the last two weeks of classes for attendance grades and then they would be free for the summer.

After his usual Thursday session of working on his shoulders and back until his body burns with a satisfying ache, he bids Minho goodbye; but not before earning a parting ass slap so loud it echoes off the steel rafters above their heads. Changbin lets out a startled yelp, cursing and yelling after Minho who laughs maniacally and skips his way out the door, his blonde hair bobbing along with his steps.

Blushing profusely, Changbin grabs his things and hastily heads back to the apartment for a shower before class, the added twenty minutes of a commute back and forth is definitely worth not getting a mysterious infection from the increasingly off-white tiled floors, the gym showers are nasty on a good day and septic on a bad one.

Changbin makes quick work of getting home, once he steps inside the first thing he spots as he closes the door is a shaker bottle on the console table next to him, getting closer to it he sees a pink sticky note attached to the side, peeling it away he holds it up to eye-level.

drink me hehe :) is written in what could only be Chan's perfect scroll.

He picks up the bottle, tipping it to the side he can see the contents are suspiciously purple, he's never too sure what kind of things Chan put into their shakes when he took charge of making them in the morning; he dedicated a whole corner of their tiny kitchen to protein supplements and vitamin boosters of all kinds. He's such a stickler for making sure they've got a good balance of nutrients. Basically, he's the complete opposite to Changbin, who, after one-too-many blunders with the blender, does his best to keep it basic. He throws in whatever frozen fruit they have rolling around in the freezer, adds some protein powder, and covers it in the least offensive liquid that's left in their fridge.

It's no gourmet feast but it does the job.

Recently though, with him leaving for the the gym alone, his sleep idled brain keeps forgetting to make it, usually remembering when he's half-way down the street.

With a smile, he takes a swig from the bottle and throws a glance over his shoulder to look at Chan's bedroom door and finds it closed. Chan had been out all night, probably holed up on campus again working until the sun started to rise. The door had been open when Changbin left so Chan must have finally come home to go to bed.

But not before taking care of Changbin.

His hyung really knows him too well.

He slides the bottle into the side pocket of his bag before heading straight for his bedroom to get ready. Not long after he emerges freshly showered and swaddled in an oversized hoodie and sweats set, then he's off out the door to meet Jisung on campus for their lecture at eight.

He's got a spring in his step as he sips away at the shaker bottle on his way out the door.

Not a bad way to start the day.

Everything's going really well, the weather is nice, Changbin makes it in time for all of his morning classes; even if that means dragging around a zombielike Jisung who insists he's awake even after he loses his footing twice while walking and nearly face-plants into a bed of nettles as they cross the campus gardens, the cafeteria isn't too crowded when they finally get a break so he gets to eat in peace while Jisung mindless chews on whatever Changbin feeds him as he rests his head on the table— and maybe Changbin steals a few bites for himself.

Just a bit of babysitting tax.

Things, however, start to go a bit downhill after lunch when his favourite class, Advanced Songwriting and Production, gets cancelled at the last minute which leaves him without much reason to stick around at three o'clock.

Even if their curriculum for the year is over he still loves sitting in that class so he can bounce ludicrous ideas between himself and Jisung that make his professor consider retiring early— and also maybe consider changing his mandatory attendance policy in the process.

Jisung barely finishes reading the cancellation email before he immediately starts walking in the opposite direction, abandoning Changbin in the middle of campus; scurrying off back to his apartment that he shared with Minho, to "help" Minho out with his "studies".

Considering Minho is a dancer and part-time choreographer the "studies" weren't likely to be of the…academic variety.

It didn't take a genius to read through the lines.

Changbin just rolls his eyes and stops to consider his options.

The rest of their friends are stuck in class or exams until at least six and Changbin is not in the mood to mope about and hang around to wait for one of them to maybe be free. So he takes a leaf out of Jisung's book, a less depraved one, and decides to head home.

Chan finished up classes last week and is elbow deep putting the finishing touches on assignments so he doesn't spend a lot of time on campus during the day, mostly popping over once it quietens down in the evening to get some work done at the studio. 

Since Chan's been pretty busy lately trying to get everything done in time to graduate, the pair don’t have a lot of downtime to hang out, especially over the past few months. With a strike of inspiration, Changbin decides to surprise his best friend with a nice treat, considering Chan went to bed in the early hours of the morning he likely hasn't left the apartment yet, plus it's the least he could do to repay his gift this morning.

So Changbin stops by their favourite takeout place on his way and grabs them some early dinner.

Once he has their meal, that could probably feed a kids baseball team, in hand he pops into the convenience store next to their apartment to grab some drinks. A couple of beers never go amiss; but he makes sure to toss in an extra carton of pineapple juice because Chan always runs low on it.

The walk up to their apartment isn’t far, their unit is nestled in the corner of the first floor, it's a small two-bedroom but it never felt suffocating to them. They've been living together since Changbin finished his first year, he was originally staying in a dorm just off-campus but while the rent was cheap, his roommates were on a mission to make his life hell on earth. Two stolen sets of headphones, months of sleepless nights, and constant petty arguments left him desperate to find somewhere else to crash.

Around the same time Chan had coincidentally been looking for a new place to live after his year-long lease ended on the studio apartment his parents set him up in; his landlord wasn't eager to renew without a significant price hike this time around.

Changbin's never felt such gratitude towards someone's greed before in his life.

Yes, there is barely enough room for a two-person dining set in their kitchen, their bathroom cabinets are bursting at the seams from toiletries their parents always seemed to have an endless supply of, and their bedrooms…an entirely different story of organised chaos, but it's cosy and theirs; so it feels just like home.

They'd love to have a bigger place, somewhere to set up their own studio and host dinners with their friends, but the money from their part-time jobs couldn't make miracles happen so they worked with the space they had.

With Chan graduating soon things might get a bit more difficult for them producing as he won’t have access to the campus studio anymore to mix and record with Changbin and Jisung on 3racha projects, they technically weren't supposed to use the equipment for anything other than assignments but what the university didn't know wouldn't hurt them. Chan's laptop and the handheld mic they thrifted would have to pull some weight.

They have the whole summer after the semester finally ends to figure out what to do so Changbin tries not to worry about it too much, he knows it's been eating at Chan because he always works and thrives best in familiar spaces.

Which is why this is the perfect opportunity to give the older a pick me up and take his mind off of things.

Just as Changbin is about to slide in his key and open their door, he stops. Whenever he knew Chan was home he'd usually swing the door open with a "Channie-hyung, your favourite person is home!" but he didn't want to risk accidentally waking him up if he's actually getting some good sleep for once.

So he presses his ear against the cold wood panel to see if he can hear any movement inside, after a second he hears the faint shuffle of slippers being dragged across the floor and then the distinct noise of Chan's creaky door hinge.

Chan is awake.

Feeling mischievous and armed with the element of surprise he can’t miss out on the opportunity to sneak up on his favourite hyung and maybe spook him a bit, just a teeny tiny bit.

Chan is notoriously a scaredy cat and can’t even be in the same apartment when their friends have horror marathons, claiming that he can “feel it through the walls”. Minho and Seungmin scratching on Chan’s door at three in the morning last Halloween probably didn’t help their case. Since then they've been exiled to Minho and Jisung's place whenever they wanted to dabble in any spooky activities.

Giggling to himself, Changbin, slowly glides the key into the mechanism trying to be as quiet as possible, he twists it ever so slightly to release the lock and then lets himself into the apartment with a silence none of his friends would believe he possess.

He peaks his head in and sees the coast is clear, so he hurries in and closes the door behind himself with a soft click, setting down the bags gently onto the mat inside the door. As he is toeing off his shoes to swap into his house slippers something in the centre of their living room catches his eye. A suitcase.

Chan's suitcase.

Chan's "big trip" sized one to be exact, the one they'd used in lieu of a table when they first moved in, lays open in the middle of the floor. Surrounding it in small organized piles lays an array of clothes, toiletries, electronics, books, and even some gifts he knows Chan has been collecting for his family since he last visited.

All thoughts of teasing Chan immediately rush from his mind.

Is Chan going back home?

Chan never mentioned going back to home.

Chan always mentions when he's going home.

As Changbin is about to call out to ask what is going on he hears a subtle giggle come from across the apartment, straight from Chan's bedroom. His curiosity gets the better of him and abandons the slippers, opting to tiptoe across the floor with his sock clad feet.

"Yes, mum. I did, I swear, I booked them!" Chan's voice comes again, it always carries a soft lilt when he talks to his parents, you can hear the smile on his face.

It was one of Changbin's favourite things about the older, that without even being face-to-face with him you can picture the small crinkle of his eye, the gentle scrunch of his nose, and the radiance of a smile that blankets you with a warmth that would warm you even on the coldest of days.

He giggles again, this time a little squeakier. "No, I haven’t talked to Bin yet, I’ll try to talk to him today but I’m feeling really nervous." A hum, and then Chan sucks in air between his teeth, "What if he doesn’t take it well?”

Changbin freezes.

He isn't one to immediately assume the worst in any given situation but he can't help the immediate feeling of dread washes over him, what kind of conversation could Chan want to have with him that he wouldn’t take well? Sure he whines and throws what some might consider a tantrum whenever Chan goes back to Australia, because maybe he's a touch codependent and misses him fiercely, but that never seems to bother Chan. If anything he enjoys whenever Changbin gets sulky about him leaving. Chan also always made sure to inform him way in advance whenever he was going back home so he could prepare to keep himself busy because he got lonely in the apartment.

"My sweet Changbinnie is gonna miss me," He would coo and pinch at Changbin's cheeks when he'd try his best not to pout as Chan was going out the door. So it can't be that.

Changbin's ears feel like they're stuffed with cotton, he can't hear anything else being said in the other room. He stops and takes a breath, shaking his head trying to stop himself from jumping to conclusions, everything was probably fine, Chan likely being his over-dramatic self.

In all the time they've known each other Chan has never done anything to purposefully upset him, sure they'd argue over small things like taking out the trash correctly, or which one of them left the windows open during a rain storm, or whose fault it was when the lights went out because the electricity bill went overdue— it was Changbin's fault. Stupid, silly stuff that never carried past an hour of a cold shoulder.

Chan is just being Chan, probably overthinking whatever it is, and they'll be laughing over how worked up he was in no time at all.

So he steps back, not wanting to intrude on the conversation but then he hears something that stops his heart in his chest. "I just finished signing it all now, I'm gonna head over and drop it off before Bin gets home."

He signed something?

What could he have signed?

As he's wracking his head trying to think of what they could be talking about, it comes to him in a nauseating flash.

The letter.

The fucking letter.

Every year, their university holds an artistic exhibition at the start of second semester for graduating students to showcase the portfolios they've built over the course of their studies, all art students— from sculptors to dancers to music engineers— can apply for a slot in the week-long event of galleries, market stalls, and stages set up in the campus gymnasium.

Changbin and Jisung spent months pestering Chan to apply for one of the stages, namely the DJ slot that would close out the final day of festivities, after a lot of bribery and pouting, they finally got him to break the night before the submission deadline.

As expected Chan got it and absolutely killed the set, what they weren't expecting was for Chan to receive a letter from a production company offering him a paid internship just two weeks after.

Apparently unbeknownst to students it was common for companies to send out scouts to those kinds of events to try snatch up fresh talent into their teams come graduation.

He remembers the day he found out so clearly because he hasn't stopped thinking about it since.

Changbin came home for lunch one afternoon after his morning classes finished early, walking in was met with the sight of Chan sitting on the couch with his back facing the door, the line of his shoulders tense as he mulled over a piece of paper in his hands.

"We aren't getting evicted are we?"

At the break in silence Chan startled but quickly huffed out a laugh, tucking the paper into the cushion next to him as he turned. "Yeah, I think the neighbours finally got fed up with your morning karaoke."

"You're just as bad as me, hyung!!" Changbin pointed accusingly as he struggled to shrug off his burly winter coat, he didn't exactly look the picture of anger or authority while wiggling his body around like a snake trying to shed its skin in a hurry; the zipper always knew the worst possible time to jam. A few more haphazard tugs and it finally opened.

"Anyway," Changbin continued unperturbed, acting nonchalant as he tossed the jacket onto one of the many overstuffed hooks on the wall across from the entrance. "They should be grateful, people will be paying big money for it one day."

Chan laughed but it sounded off, it didn't have the life Chan's laughs usually carried, no soft squeak or breathy wheeze to be heard. Changbin flicked his eyes over his face as he walked closer cataloguing everything; a light furrow to his brow, downturn to his mouth, the sallow colour under his eyes looking more pronounced.

"How come you're home so early?" Chan was quick to change the subject.

"A frozen pipe burst in the arts building so we had to clear out after it started flooding, said it should be cleared in a few hours."

"Ah."

Something was definitely troubling him and, while he was doing his best not to show it, Changbin could see right through him.

Reaching the edge of the couch he stopped and lifted his hand to poke Chan's shoulder with his pointer finger. "What is it really? You seem upset."

"Nothing, Bin, It was nothing." Chan shook his head softly and smiled that flat dimpled smile of his that made Changbin's heart flutter.

"Chan."

"Yes, Binnie?" Chan said coyly, he tipping his head to the side and Changbin couldn't help but think he looked like a scolded puppy trying to play nice.

There was no part of Changbin's mind that believed nothing was going on, not even for a second.

Even if you don't say it, I know.

Changbin nudged him again, barely a whisper of a touch against his arm, and Chan's body loosened, swaying side-to-side like a willow tree carried by the wind. Chan said nothing, but looked up at him— a slight tilt to his head brushed his slightly overgrown brunette bangs across his eyes. His gaze looking more relaxed than it had just moments ago, still stiff around the edges, not quite serene.

Maybe he imagined it, wishful thinking taking hold of a fickle spark in his chest but Changbin always felt a vulnerability in the way Chan inexplicably softened when it was just the two of them. Of course Chan was gentle and kind with everyone, but sometimes it felt like when they were together Chan could be gentle with himself.

Like the world didn't only have to sit squarely on his two shoulders.

Because that was how Chan made him feel. He wondered if it showed on his face, the way Chan turned his heart into a puddle of warmth he could happily drown in. A ray of sunshine to bask in, never too hot, just warm enough to soak into his skin and settle deep into his bones.

Maybe he was just projecting, maybe Chan softened up like that with everyone and his blinders were too narrow for him to notice.

It was not the time to ponder silly notions, he needed to get to the bottom of whatever Chan was hiding. And, sure, while he could probably sit here all afternoon and pester Chan about it until he eventually folded and admitted what was going on, Changbin needed to leave for his evening classes in just over two hours and afterwards he'd head straight to his night shift at the bowling alley across town.

If Changbin didn't find out what was wrong before he left he would be subject to a never-ending night of polishing bowling balls while staring into the shoe-stacked cubbies thinking of a million different scenarios, he wasn't going to find the answer in the bottom of a worn down shoe.

And if Chan wanted to play dumb? Then Changbin would just have to play a little dirty.

"So you don't mind if I just..."

He quickly reached down to try nab the piece of paper Chan was pressing firmly into the arm of the couch with his leg. Chan grabbed Changbin's arm before his fingers got within a distance he could take hold of it. Changbin's eyes, shining with a bead of mischief, locked with Chan's whose were wide and incredulous.

Gotcha.

They were face to face, their breaths mingling together as their noses nearly brushed, barely a hairsbreadth apart. It was as if time suspended itself for just a moment, only the quickening thrum of a heartbeat filled Changbin's ears.

One breath.

Another.

Changbin's eyes flicked down, spanning over the soft dusting of freckles speckling Chan's cheeks. You couldn't usually see them unless you were up close, they were always more pronounced after a long day in the sun, but even now in the dead of winter when Chan barely saw sunlight, he knew exactly where to find the ghost of them.

Seo Changbin was no astronomer, but he was sure he could chart constellations in the night sky to match the stars dusted across Chan's face.

Changbin was so distracted connecting each freckle across Chan's nose he forgot the reason he was this close to begin with. He blinked them out of his vision and shifted his focus back to wringing his arm from Chan's grasp.

"Fine!" Chan finally relented. "I got an offer for a paid internship."

"Hyung, that's amaz–" But before Changbin could get the rest of the words out Chan continued.

"In Australia."

"Oh," That definitely wasn't the kind of news he was expecting to hear. For someone who usually has his head screwed on tight enough to know what to say, Changbin suddenly felt pretty speechless.

"Yeah, oh." Chan mimicked and breathed out a laugh, this time when he looked up there was a soft crinkle in his eyes. He tugged on the arm still firmly him his grasp and urged Changbin to sit down on the couch next to him. Changbin went willingly, the soft plush of his thigh fell into place next to Chan's.

As much as the thought of Chan leaving scared the shit out of him, he couldn't ignore that getting offered an internship, and a paid one at that, before graduation was exactly the kind of security they had all been dreaming of. But what would that mean for 3racha? For Jisung? For all their friends too. Would he leave it all behind?

Would you leave me behind?

It's not everyday an opportunity like that comes knocking on your door. Australia wasn't exactly a train ride away. It's far and it's expensive. But even still, Chan has put in so much work and sacrificed so much that Changbin can't stomach the thought of not supporting him in pursuing something that could open up so many opportunities for him.

"T–that's, uh, that's a really cool opportunity, hyung!" Changbin said, trying his absolute best to sound excited and not at all like this was possibly the most devastating thing he'd ever expected Chan to say.

He started nervously picking at the fresh calluses on his hand, Chan usually always scolded him for it, telling him it would make the healing time much worse, but if Chan noticed it this time he didn't mention it.

"It is. It's pretty much what I would have dreamed for at one point," Chan mused. "It's kind of poetic that I came all the way here to make music and now they're asking me to go back."

Chan told him years ago that it hadn't been easy for him to convince his parents to let him move to Korea straight out of school to pursue music, he wanted to start fresh and make a name for himself but without a network to support him his parents were reluctant to agree, so they made a compromise; enroll in university, audition to become an idol trainee, or figure it all out back in Australia.

In the beginning he planned on going the idol route, he and his parents flew over to Seoul for a month to attend open calls, he recorded and submitted endless audition tapes to whoever would take them, but none of the companies that came looking for him felt right. When his hopes were pretty much dashed he dragged his feet to an open day at SNU as a last ditch effort to see what Seoul had in store for him, while milling through the campus grounds he found his way into a tour group headed for the music department in the arts building, it was an old and rackety, but it held character, soul, and most importantly- it sparked inspiration. So he took the leap.

Adjusting was difficult, being truly alone for the first time in his life really made him second-guess his decisions more than once. The first year was pretty much hell on earth for him. But then one fateful day in late August a pair of bright-eye and bushy-tailed aspiring musicians found their way into his studio and he suddenly felt like he could breathe again.

"Things never really play by the book, huh?" Changbin nudged him playfully with his elbow, Chan huffed and flopped back onto the couch cushion behind him, the base of his neck cradled over the backrest. Changbin followed suit. They lay with their gaze pointed skyward, eyes tracking over the tiny cracks on their ceiling they'd mapped out a hundred times before.

Whenever they were together Changbin felt like they were blanketed in a comfortable kind of silence, the kind that held a warmth that even the freezing wind seeping though the broken seal of their windows couldn't permeate. But he couldn't deny the shivers that began to crawl their way under his skin at the thought of Chan accepting the offer.

Don't go, don't go, don't go. The words were lodged in his throat.

Chan shifted slowly, turning until his temple met the curve of Changbin's shoulder. Changbin peered down at the top of his head, tracing the faint coils of the fluffy curls begging to take form, he resisted the urge to bury his hands in the mussed tendrils. Chan's nose brushed against his arm, warm, anchoring, and familiar. Butterflies erupted in Changbin's stomach, he prayed Chan couldn't hear the uptick in his heart beat, the thunderous thrum echoing in his ears.

Like this, Chan nestled into him, they felt almost like something.

Something more.

Something significant.

"Maybe it's a sign." Chan murmured after a while, more to himself than to Changbin, his voice barely carrying the words.

Changbin's heart skipped a beat.

"A sign?"

The body laying against his shoulder stilled, just scarcely enough to be detected, but for Changbin, who is an expert in all things that orbit Bahng Christopher Chahn, it might as well have been in slow motion.

A second of silence hanging in the air before he hurried to clarify, "Yeah, yeah," Chan cleared his throat while righting himself in his seat. "It's a— uh, a sign that things are going to go well after graduation, Bin!"

"We'll have lots of opportunities, it's only the beginning for us, you know?"

Chan sat up and moved his hand to cup the bouncing knee next to him, Changbin startled at the contact, brain not registering he was doing it subconsciously. Chan gave him a few small squeezes of reassurance and stood up from the sofa, heading straight towards their tiny kitchen. "Anyway, my Binnie needs some lunch or he'll waste away!"

And as if Chan could sense the worry in the eyes Changbin tracked across his back, he continued without looking back, "It's a great opportunity but it's not where I want it to be."

That was the last they'd spoken of it, but every day for the past three months that letter never left Changbin's mind. It fills him with an unease, an uncertainty he can never quite shake no matter how many times Jisung tells him that Chan isn't going to leave them.

But things change, plans change, people change.

Changbin never thought that Chan would, not without taking him along for the ride with him. But then again, they hadn't been normal for the past couple of months.

Did he really sign it?

Backing up from Chan's bedroom door his legs collide with a solid surface, he twists around to see what it is. Tucked behind their couch in a neat row sits four large boxes taped up and labelled, two with "A" and two with "S" in large letters across the top. Beside them is pile of empty ones, still flat and waiting to be filled.

Anxiety starts to pool in his stomach.

Changbin moves quickly, shoving his feet into the first shoes he finds, he grabs the bags he left on the floor, and opens the apartment door. For the first time in his life Changbin can't bare to face whatever awaits him so he does the only thing he can think of.

He runs.

Since the day Changbin walked into recording studio 3C during orientation he's been keeping a secret from Chan, at first it was tiny, something born of admiration that might have faded away with time. Then it grew, and grew, and grew until it was something so uncontainable he feared it will slip from his lips at any given moment.

He loves Chan.

He is deeply, pathetically, in love with his best friend.

And it fucking terrifies him.

As boisterous as Changbin is and as much as he drills the importance of telling people how significant they are to you into all of his friends, he, too, sometimes falls short of that.

Some days it feels hypocritical to sit and pester his friends into leading with their best intentions, and listening to their hearts when he's spent years shoving his into a box, too afraid to label it with name of the person who unknowingly holds the key.

There's a nagging voice in his head telling him that, perhaps, this is what he deserves for being so cowardly all these years. He squandered years of opportunities to speak up and now his time is up.

Holding Chan back from something that could bring him so many opportunities is a selfishness he can't stomach.

Whatever news Chan needs to tell him today, no matter now bad it might cut him in two, he will swallow his feelings and accept.

He will.

Just not right this second.

He can't think about what might happen when Chan opens his mouth, he needs to put as much space between himself and that reality, regardless of its inevitably.

He wants to be selfish, just for a while. Pretend for a second that his fragile heart isn't on the verge of breaking,

I'm a fucking coward.

He spent three years wrapped up in ifs and maybes while the real thing was staring him right in the face the whole time.

His love for Chan sowed itself quietly, rooting deeply in every fibre of who he is, was, and wants to be. But there is a part of him, so small but so loud, that's terrified of letting that bloom into anything more than a fantasy.

His love blossomed over sleepless nights hunched next to each other on their living room floor because the table couldn't hold all of their study notes, or when they huddled together at the window of the convenience store horsing down ramen at 3am after a studio session ran too late, or while bandaging each others busted knuckles after a sparing match gone too rowdy, and a million other mundane activities that somehow felt like a core moment in time when they did it together.

It's roots sank deep when Chan stayed with him at the hospital and held his hand the whole night when Changbin's mother had been in an accident. Chan was so gentle the whole time, not just to him but to his sister and father too, and even after being awake for over thirty hours, he still stayed until the doctors deemed her to be stable. Chan took him home in the early hours of the morning and before Changbin could muster the courage to ask, Chan crawled into bed right beside him and held him tightly as he cried.

Falling in love with Chan was the easiest and most natural thing he's ever done in his life.

His selfless, lovely, silly, dorky, beautiful Chan.

Not his, not in the way he wants it, but his nonetheless.

The prospect of losing your best friend is one kind of hurt, losing the love of your life in silence because of your own cowardice might be a cloud of regret that follows him for the rest of his life.

Three years of loving in silence and it still feels too fast.

Without much thought Changbin finds himself once again loitering outside a door, albeit this one didn't house the person he is actively avoiding, he lifts his hand to press the doorbell but before he could the door swings open in front of him and he is met with two sets of eyes. Minho stands holding the door open, and Jisung is peering over his shoulder with his arms wrapped around his boyfriends waist.

"You better have a good reason to be camping outside our front door right now because Minho and I were just about to-"

"I brought dinner!"

"Try again, I know your favourite date spot with Chan-hyung when I see it." Minho narrows his eyes and moves to close the door.

He doesn't want to talk about it, or think about it, but he really needs to find a place to crash and hide for a few hours so he can process everything before he goes home with his tail tucked between his legs, puts on his bravest smile, and pretends like his whole world isn't crashing down right in front of him when Chan inevitably breaks the news.

So fuck it.

"I think Chan is moving back to Australia."

Silence.

The door stops just shy of closing.

Silence.

And then, the creak of the hinge.

Both of his friends come into view again, staring at him, probably waiting for him to crack a joke or laugh at them for believing his bullshit but the punchline never lands and the realization dawns on them quickly when they notice the down-turned quiver to Changbin's lips.

"Okay, shit, yeah, that's a pretty good reason." Jisung says as he pulls Minho back from the door to let Changbin enter.

He shuffles into the apartment passing over the warn down welcome mat that once read "Welcome to our purrfect home", a gift from Felix when they first moved in, the letters have faded over time but Minho refuses to throw it out, citing that it's still function-able as a mat but everyone knew it's because he's a sentimental soul beneath all of his feigned indifference.

Looking down at the mat makes him realize he accidentally took Chan's running shoes in his hasty exist from their apartment, he curses himself for not grabbing a pair of his own. Maybe Chan wouldn't notice them missing, he usually only goes on runs in the early morning or long past the sun setting. But maybe he needs them so he can pack them into his suitcases in the meticulously careful way Chan did everything in life.

He hopes and prays Chan doesn't notice them missing when he puts his shoes on to leave because really doesn't want Chan knowing he was home and looking for him before he's ready. He kicks off the shoes into the ever-growing pile next to the couples door, and shucks on a pair of house slippers he knows is designated to their friends.

Changbin passes the couple who are still standing in their entryway observing him, waiting for him to elaborate. Instead he beelines for their dining table, drops his bags onto an empty chair and heads for the kitchen. He starts grabbing plates, glasses, extra utensils, and— most importantly— a bottle opener.

He can vaguely hear them talking to him but chooses to focus on the task at hand, his inability to focus on more than one thing at a time had it's benefits from time to time.

After the table is sufficiently set he heads over to his friends and drags them to the other open chairs, forcing them into the seats wordlessly. He rounds the table and starts unloading the food containers into the centre before sitting down. "Eat."

"Changb—" Jisung tries to interrupt.

"Eat."

Changbin leans over and pulls out two beers from the plastic bag on the chair and places them in the middle of the table. "Drink that, and then we'll talk."

Jisung opens his mouth as if to protest but Minho just reaches across him, picks up the opener and takes a bottle into his hand. Popping off the cap he gestures for Changbin's empty glass. "It isn't going to drink itself."

After sitting down for their meal, his friends mercifully don't press for information for a while, they chat idly, the conversation carried mostly by Jisung who recounts the bizarre plot of the latest Isekai anime he started watching the night before— Changbin could barely keep up with the words tumbling from his overstuffed cheeks. It's nice, a welcome distraction, he can almost pretend today's as normal as yesterday was.

Almost.

But every time Changbin's glass empties, Minho is quick to top it up. Suddenly the bottles he brought empty, but his head doesn't feel any lighter, and when he knocks back the last drop of liquid from the bottom of his glass, he's levelled a look by Minho that tells him his time is up.

So here they are, slouched over varying parts of Minho and Jisung's living room floor, nursing over beers from the couples ever-dwindling alcohol supply, as they try to wrap their heads around whatever the hell is going on with Chan.

"I know it was only for a year, but I asked him a million times about it, and he always said he wasn't gonna take it!" Jisung half-slurs-half-whines from where he's laying sprawled out on his stomach, his puffed out cheek nestled into the mostly empty can of cider he's be nursing since he pulled it out of the refrigerator during dinner. He's been half-asleep since he took his first sip, the cider making him drowsier by the second.

"I can't believe he didn't say anything to you, he literally tells you everything." Jisung continues around a yawn. Minho, who's lounging with his back against the wall next to Jisung, hums in agreement.

Changbin scoffs. "I thought so too, but I guess things change."

Changbin's not sure when they did, but it sure feels like they did. He didn't want to sound bitter, he didn't want to sound so affected by it all. The past few months flick by in his mind, searching through every moment trying to figure out where everything started to go wrong.

He always thought he and Chan were on the same wavelength about things, their friends would always joke they acted more like a married couple than the actual couples of the group. He'd laugh it off, but it always stung a little when Chan would roll his eyes and deny it with a smile.

None of their friends knew about his crush on Chan, other than Minho and Jisung, and that had been an accident, a very embarrassing accident that can only be blamed on a slight lapse in judgement— too much alcohol— which may or may not have ended in him crying and wailing so loud they got a noise complaint in a karaoke bar of all places.

To his defence, and he'd argue it until he was blue in the face, he'd been cooped up in a booth with the couple for almost two hours while they took turns serenading each other in ways that would likely be considered publicly indecent. All the while he sat moping in a beanbag to the side like a spare tire, begging for it to swallow him whole after everyone else flaked out at the last second after a bad bout of food poisoning.

It was their faults for having weak stomachs.

When he finally got fed up enough to grab another drink he'd headed out to the bar and , on his way back to their booth he was stopped by a girl, a pretty girl at that, he was in the middle of considering if he should ask if she'd be interested in his friend Lia when she suddenly asked for his number instead.

He wasn't sure if it was the shots he just lashed back at the bar or if something possessed him but as soon as the words slipped from her mouth, the only response his befuddled brain could muster was to burst into tears.

He was only saved when Minho and Jisung eventually emerged from the booth, likely intending to go to the bathroom or the bar, and found a scene in the hallway he would never hear the end of until the day he died. They must have looked like quite the picture as she flustered around him, trying her best to comfort and calm down a complete stranger, meanwhile he blubbered apologies and Chan's name in varying incoherent sentences.

His friends approached cautiously and swiftly steered him away from the poor girl fussing over him and back into the booth. It took a while, but they eventually managed to calm him enough to leave the club, not before one of the managers knocked on the door to ask them to keep it down as other patrons were complaining over "excessive noise".

Minho and Jisung attempted to walk Changbin home, but with every step closer to his and Chan's apartment he dug his heels harder into the ground, refusing to go home. They eventually gave up and dragged him to their own apartment, only then were they able to finally coax the reason for what happened back at the club.

Neither were too surprised, much to Changbin's chagrin.

So since then they've been privy to every Chan-related crisis whether they want to or not, it's the least they can do considering they're deeply in love and he's carrying the woes of unrequited love for his best friend.

Jisung agrees, Minho less so, though he still sits and listens, even if he jokingly teases and complains.

"Do you think they could have offered him a better contract to make him reconsider?" Minho wonders aloud. "Moving all the way back to Australia for a year is a pretty big commitment."

"I don't think so? The offer is really generous for an internship to begin with. One year long, junior position, fair compensation, his own studio space, and it's a thirty minute drive from his parents house." Changbin responds, holding his fingers up as he recounts each one.

"That is pretty decent as it is, remember when I was looking for choreography gigs and they were paying in 'experience'?" Minho rolls his eyes at the memory.

After years of breaking his back as a dancer with very little security and even less pay, Minho decided to branch out into teaching dance classes. All of their friends had been so excited he finally landed a spot, that was until his boss had the audacity to make him work almost a full month of classes before informing him that the promise of pay was to be granted in form of broadening his understanding of dance and connecting with students on a meaningful level that was beyond financial transactions, basically he had been conned out of weeks of his time, energy, and talent.

Feeding the heart and the mind did not feed his stomach, so he walked out and never went back.

"That's why I found it so strange how immediately he shot it down. It's like he never even considered taking it." Changbin laments, he's nearly certain the letter arrived the morning he found Chan reading it, and only after what seemed to be the smallest piece of hesitation did Chan decide it wasn't worthwhile.

They've all heard horror stories of other creatives all being screwed over with nothing to show for it. Changbin knows Chan has been struggling with the pressure of graduation looming, of what that means for him finally navigating an industry he's been dreaming about dipping his toes into for years, gone would be the safety net of assignments and deadlines being the worst of his concerns, and what stands ahead is the uncertainty of if anyone would answer the doors he goes knocking on.

Rationally speaking, Changbin understands choosing Sydney makes the most logical sense, it's a year long contract that would mean he could come back after Changbin and Jisung finally graduate, sure things would have to change for Changbin, but Chan's dreams existed long before they ever met. He would gain so much more than he would lose out on.

"Maybe, Channie-hyung, just wants to stay with us, we're pretty great!" Jisung pipes up, Minho breathes out a chuckle and reaches down and ruffles the dishevelled hair on the top of his head. Jisung tips his head back and nuzzles into the hand. "Aren't we, jagi?"

"Yes, bug." Minho replies, his voice coated in sweet fondness.

Changbin's heart twinges a little as he looks at them. He hates the burning, churning feeling of jealousy that coats the pit of his stomach when he looks at his friends sometimes. He'd never tell them how it makes him feel, how the ugly feelings climb into the back of his throat and choke him with an unyielding grip, so instead he looks away, focusing his eyes on the ever-so-slightly crooked shelf above their heads.

It isn't their fault, their happiness isn't at his expense. They've tried to convince him time and time again to take the leap, to trust in how he feels and try. He hates how much it scares him, how uncertain he feels about it, as if the ground he's trying to thread is an iced-over river he'll never know where might be too thin that he'd fall right through.

What they have is safe, it's comfortable, and if it's the version of Chan that Changbin could have for the rest of his life it would be enough—It should be, right? It might have to be.

Maybe the time has passed already, the ice is cracking before he even gets the chance to take that cautionary step from the safety of the ground beneath his feet.

The ground where they're friends is healthy and solid, a dependable foundation to traverse and build upon, it's familiar- a haven of sorts. The ground where they might be more lays across that frozen river bank, the surface ahead rocky and unsteady, shrouded in a mist that never clears no matter how long you wait. It needs to be crossed to be seen, some people find comfort in the unknown, but for Changbin? He can only find it in himself to fear it.

So he stays, his feet remaining on steady ground that, for better or for worse, will never let him fall.

"Changbin-ah," Minho calls, snapping Changbin's attention back to him, his eyes gentle. "I really don't think he came all this way to make music just to go back for good. Maybe it's just for the year and he'll move back."

But what about me? He wants to scream. Where do I go?

There's a part of him that believes Minho, a part of him knows that Chan has spent so long building a life that he loves over the past four years, but doubt creeps in and takes hold.

"He misses home a lot more than he lets on, hyung. I know it." Changbin insists, but doesn't elaborate further.

Chan always talks about Australia but he can be shy about the way he misses it.

The first time Changbin heard the sound of lapping and crashing waves he was sure Chan had fallen asleep with the TV on again. Chan always told them how little he slept, but Changbin didn't see the extent for himself until they moved into together. It was far from uncommon to wake up in the early hours of the morning and find Chan typing away at his laptop, lost in whatever world the night inspired in him. Changbin left him to his own devices in the beginning, not wanting to overstep when things were still so new with them living together. But as time went on, he started to slowly coax Chan into bed in the middle of the night.

It became a routine of sorts, his body clock always waking him up between four and five just to go fetch a man who never knows when to stop himself.

But one night when Changbin woke up, half past four greeting him from his phone screen, he could hear the faint hum of noise coming from the other side of the door. Changbin pushed himself out of bed and headed for the living room.

This time he was met with darkness, no familiar glow of the TV or laptop casting over the room. Changbin's sleep-hazed eyes couldn't see well in the dark so he followed the sound, he followed it until he was met a sight that made his heart seize in his chest; Chan lay asleep on their tiny sofa, bundled in a fluffy grey blanket, and just next to his hand, illuminating his face slightly, lay his phone, open on a video.

Changbin crouched down next to him, squinting his tired eyes to see what the noise was.

A beach.

The rushing waves and sandy beaches of a place that had become so familiar to him, even if he'd never been there himself. Because the person next to him took it with him everywhere he went, not only physically in the bottle of seawater that never strayed too far from his bedside table, or in the accent that carried a melodic lilt whenever he spoke, but deep in his heart as well.

Chan never wanted to let the cracks under the surface show, he was the carer, he didn't want people to see him as weak. But the reality was Chan wanted to be cared for, doted on, but he would never ask for it, never expect it from anyone. He deserved to be. Changbin wanted to be the person who could give that to him, in anyway he could.

So Changbin never mentioned it to him or anyone else, he simply locked the phone screen, and continued their routine as normal.

Changbin has his secrets, so Chan could have some of his own too.

"And do you think he wouldn't miss here just as much?” Minho tries to reason. “Maybe it’s not as bad as it sounds? You only heard half the conversation before you ran over here like your ass was on fire.” Jisung lands a fairly uncoordinated slap to his boyfriend's thigh, mostly hitting his hand on the floor. 

“Min’s right!” Jisung crawls up onto his knees, Minho grabbing his waist trying to steady his unsteady movements. Jisung shakes his hands off and continues over towards Changbin. “Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding, you gotta have hope, Binnie-baby.” 

Jisung continues to crawl his way across his living room until he is settling into Changbin’s lap, he always gets extra clingy when he's drunk. Changbin lifts his beer up to take another swig but is stopped by Jisung who haphazardly puts it on the ground next to them, he then moves his hands until he is squishing Changbin's soft face between his hands. Changbin tries to open his mouth in protest but Jisung just holds his face tighter so he can’t speak. 

“He’s not gonna leave us, he promised. He’ll come back, I’m sure of it.” Those expressive brown eyes lock on his, and he desperately wants to believe him.

While Chan is the first of them slated to finish college, they always planned to keep working on music together even while Jisung and Changbin are finishing up their last year. 3racha is their baby, everything they've planned for their future is built around that partnership.

“You know Chan-hyung would never hurt you, Changbinnie. Either of you.” Minho adds, Jisung hastily nods in agreement, shaking Changbin's head up and down to imitate him agreeing, Changbin can't help the smile that breaks onto his face at his antics. “I’m sure he has his reasons if he’s going to go.”

"Mhm," Changbin nods and murmurs noncommittally.

Jisung wriggles in his lap a bit and then moves to stand up. "I gotta go pee."

Changbin just can’t wrap his mind around it though, if Chan isn’t leaving for good then why didn’t he be telling him about any of this stuff, and why be so secretive about it? Why was he never home anymore? Why did it feel like he was chasing a shadow through his own apartment? Even now when he wakes up in the middle of the night to go in search of Chan, he isn't there, the room as dark and cold as he left it hours prior.

Chan being gone for a year would be fine, it's only a year. But even that assurance did nothing to quell the anxiety thrumming through his veins. Sure, he'd spent most of life without Chan in it, but every single day of his life these past three years held some version of Chan. The longest they've ever been physically apart was the two weeks every summer when he and Felix go back to Sydney to see their families, and even then they'd call and text constantly.

Chan would prop his phone against the wall while he ate dinner, or take a walk down the beach giving Changbin a perfect view of an Australian sunset. What would that be like now? Chan barely even texts him back anymore, what would five thousand miles in the difference do to the distance already between them?

Once Jisung successfully crosses the living room and rounds the corner to their bathroom Minho speaks up. "Chan taking that internship isn't the only thing getting to you, is it? You're scared"

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm not scared." Changbin argues, getting to his feet to go in search of…something, not keen on entertaining wherever this conversation is heading.

"You're not scared he's leaving our friends behind, or 3racha behind, you're scared that he's leaving you behind." Minho says it with such a gentle finality, like it was the simplest of truths.

No matter how kindly they were said, the words hit him like a slap. Changbin whips around from where he stands in the doorway of their kitchen and opens his mouth to disagree, but once he sees the sympathetic look on Minho's face any rebuttal die on his tongue. He isn't trying to prod or call him out, Minho is just trying to help him understand his feelings.

And he's right.

Of course he's right, it's not that Changbin doesn't care about what Chan leaving could mean for their friends, or for him and Jisung with 3racha, but that felt different, it felt less…personal. Their friends would be nothing but happy for him chasing his dreams even if they missed him, and they still had a full year before needing to fully commit to working together on 3racha, so pursuing something in the meantime made sense, it would be good for them in the long run. But the thought of living a whole year not seeing Chan's sleepy face in the mornings, or hearing his whines when he loses a League match, or his happy giggles when he eats something good, or catching his eyes through a crowded room when they know its time to go home, hurts in a way he can't put into words.

Changbin's shoulders, which he unintentionally wound tight in defence, loosen. Dropping down like they were carrying a two-tonne weight. He leans his body against the door frame, blowing out a breath as he tries to blink away the sheen of tears that burn the back of his eyes.

"He's never home anymore," Changbin's voice constricts around the words. "I can go days without sharing more than five words with him in person. We used to be inseparable, we dragged each other out of bed in the morning, we ate almost every meal together, he'd call me during every break at work just to keep him company, he'd even come down and sit with me at the alley just to make my night shift a little more bearable. It was always him and me. Not like you and Sungie, or Lix and Jinnie, or Minnie and Yeni, but we were a pair."

Jisung emerges from around the corner. "You guys a—"

Before he can finish Minho raises his hand up to stop him. "He needs this, Sungie."

Jisung takes Minho's lead and sits on the couch, pulling his boyfriend up next to him. Changbin is pacing back and forth over the worn rug that sits snugly under their small coffee table. His throat burning as he continues to talk.

"I'm tired of pretending that these past three months haven't scared the shit out of me, he always brushes me off when I ask if something is wrong or if he needs help with stuff. Even when I text him it can take hours for him to respond, it was never like that before. So yes, I'm scared. I'm terrified I did something to upset him and he won't tell me. I'm terrified that he got fed up with how noisy I am, and how much he takes care of me. I'm terrified that everything is going to change and I can't do anything about it."

"And most of all," He takes a deep, shuddering breath." I'm terrified he'll find someone else, someone more important, someone to love the way I love him."

And there it was, the real reason behind his panic, the truth behind the stabbing, aching pain settling itself right behind his ribs.

"Oh Binnie…"

Jisung walks across the room and envelopes Changbin in the tightest hug he can muster, wrapping his arms around Changbin's biceps, caging his hands to his chest.

"Don't. Just don't say anything. It's my own fault." Changbin whispers. They stay like that for a few seconds until Jisung lets go of the tight hold to grab him by the hand and tug him over to the couch next to Minho. Once Changbin is settled firmly into the centre cushion, he crawls in next to him. Minho and Jisung bracketing him either side.

"I think I was waiting on him to find someone so I didn't have to choose, as much as it would hurt, I was never brave enough to walk away. He never did, and so I guess I kept hoping and hoping that one day he'd look at me…differently. He didn't, he doesn't want me, and that's okay but," He sniffles wetly. "I don't know how to stop wanting him."

He'd have to carve his own heart out of his chest, and even then the emptiness it would leave would still yearn.

Changbin’s eyes sting the more it settles over him. The last thing he wants is to be a crying, blubbering mess in his friends living room but all of his emotions are bubbling over beyond what he can hold inside anymore. He's so lost in his own head he didn't register the tears finally spilling free from his burning eyes, Jisung is quick to brush them away with the cuff of his hoodie. He tries to blink the wetness around his eyes away but the dam has finally broken.

“Shh-shh, you’re okay,” Jisung’s voice murmurs reassuringly, then Minho shifts and places his head against Changbin’s shoulder and begins tracing comforting circles on his upper arm.

“It’ll be okay.”

Would it though? He desperately wanted them to be right, that this was just one colossal misunderstanding, and that he was just a fool for getting tripped up over something small and inconsequential. But an emotional mind is rarely rational and he can't make heads nor tails of anything he's feeling right now.

"I did this to myself, you guys shouldn't have to comfort me." He chokes out.

"You're a fool if you think you can force me to do anything, Seo Changbin."

The feeling of déjà vu sinks into his chest, it's funny how similar this played out to the night at the karaoke bar, Jisung on one side of him sleepily petting his hair and whispering reassuring words he can barely register and Minho on the other side, a quiet but a solid presence of comfort.

"You can't force yourself to not feel. You're allowed to be sad, hyung."

Changbin isn't sad, he's devastated, wrecked, cracked right down the centre of his soul.

He’s been so sickly in love with Chan for what felt like forever that he never even considered looking elsewhere, but that didn't mean Chan was the same. He always felt like there was always an unspoken thing between them, he never had any delusions Chan wasn’t pursuing romantic partners but in all the years they lived together, nothing ever came up, and he never brought someone home. 

Changbin was the person in their friend group who was the closest to him in most things except age, so if he was going to tell anyone something he would have thought it would be him. But as the news of the internship showed, maybe it never was never the case.

Maybe Chan has been spending more time outside of the apartment in the past few months, and getting home late because he found someone.

Maybe that's what he meant all those months ago when he said it must've been a sign.

It wasn’t as if he was lacking in people having interest in him, most times when they went out people would try to flirt with Chan, he would usually giggle and thank them but turn them down kindly or just run away into the nearest bathroom stall. Someone could have come along and caught his attention when Changbin wasn't looking, because so long as Chan was within sight his eyes never wavered.

A throb starts thrumming behind his eyes, all the heightened emotions mixed with the alcohol begins to manifest itself in a nasty headache. When he lifts his arm to pinch the in between his brows Minho catches the grimace forming on his face.

"You need something for your head?"

"S'not too bad."

"It's still early, lay down and rest with Sungie for a bit." Changbin cracks his eye open to look up at Minho, who is tugging a blanket from the armchair across the way. Turning his head he can see Jisung struggling to keep his eyes open as he leans into the crook of Changbin's neck.

Minho drapes the blanket over the pair curled up together on their well-loved couch, and wordlessly patters off picking up empty bottles and other stray pieces of garbage.

A rest did sound nice, just for a few minutes.

Within seconds he's out like a light.

A muffled giggle is the first thing Changbin hears upon waking up, his legs feeling numb from staying in one position for too long, and there is a sudden weight pressing down hard on his right thigh.

"Stop it!" He vaguely hears being whisper-yelled somewhere in front of him, and then another giggle, he can feel the shaking body clinging to him.

"I just need to ge—"Changbin opens his eyes to find Jisung halfway across his lap holding a phone inches away from his face. "Oh hi, hyung! You're finally awake!"

"Jisung, I told you to let him sleep!" Minho chides defeated.

"But, hyung, he looks so cute when he sleeps! Look!"

Jisung swings his arm around to show Minho whatever was on the phone. Minho bellows out a loud laugh. "Bug, that's you."

"What? No!" Jisung swipes his fingers frantically across the gallery over about a dozen accidental selfies until he lets out a happy shout. "See, see!"

Changbin sits up and reaches across trying to grasp the phone out of his hand but Minho takes it before he can. "All I can see is a blurry picture of half of his nose,"

"Isn't it so squishy!"

Minho looks at him incredulously. "Okay, no more alcohol for you."

"Can I have some?" Changbin asks innocently.

"Get it yourself."

"Yah, hyung I thought you were being nice to me!" Changbin exclaims too loud, Jisung lets out a yelp at the outburst and falls out of Changbin’s lap onto the floor, knocking over a beer can Minho must have missed while cleaning earlier. His eyes wide from surprise but he just lets out a high-pitched giggle in response. “Jisungie, get me something sweet!”

“Seo Changbin, you will die if you do that again!” Minho declares, placing a quick smack to Changbin’s exposed arm before moving to pick his disorientated boyfriend from the floor, who is still in a fit of giggles, completely oblivious to the spilled drink slowly trickling towards where he is laying. “And get your own drink!” 

Minho offers a hand down to Jisung, who just gives him the sweetest, gummy smile he can muster. With a sigh, he grabs the younger by the arm and pulls him away from the puddle, muttering curses towards his too-cute-to-be-angry-at boyfriend . “That’s the last time I try to comfort you, you ungrateful brat!” 

The sleep, however long or short it was, helped to clear the throbbing in his head a little bit.

Changbin goes into the kitchen and grabs some paper towels to soak up the spill, after wiping it up, he finally goes in search of his own drink. The dim rays of the setting sun peer through window above the sink, the day hasn't completely gotten away from him then.

Tossing the soiled tissue into the bin as he passes, Changbin heads for the fridge in search of something he can mix with a spirit of some kind. Opening it his eyes track over the contents until he spots a familiar yellow carton. The pineapple juice.

Minho must have found it when he was cleaning up and put it away.

"Stupid thing doesn't even taste good." He mutters as he picks it up. He's lying, he does like it, he steals a sip from the cartons at home every now and then when Chan isn't looking. But right now it feels like his mortal enemy.

Chan isn't here to drink it anyway, so maybe he should just have it all to himself. He goes to twist the cap off in frustration but upon hearing the first snap of the seal give way he can't bring himself to commit to opening it.

He didn't want it anyway, it would be too bitter and acidic. There was definitely something better he could have, he didn't want the damn juice.

He spots some sodas and other miscellaneous juices but he can't quite get the phantom taste of tropical sweetness out of his mouth. Shoving the carton back onto the shelf, he blindly grabs a beer from the bottom shelf, and closes the door a bit too hard, the glass bottles inside clinking with the force.

Jisung comes barrelling out of his and Minho's bedroom, Minho hot on his tail. "Hyung, hyung, look what I found!"

He holds up a set of wireless karaoke microphones, Changbin vaguely remembers Seungmin bought him a few birthday's ago.

"I'm only doing this on the condition you do not pull any freak shit this time!" Changbin points a warning finger in each of their directions.

They have the gall to act innocent. "I don't know what you're talking about." Minho shrugs.

Changbin looks at them from under his lashes as if to say really?

"We promise, right?" Jisung nudges his boyfriend lightly in the side. "You can go first, I'll cue up Lonely for you." Jisung holds out one of the mics and then freezes covering his mouth in horror.

In Jisung's defence 2NE1's Lonely is one of his go to karaoke songs, he loves to belt a good heart-breaking ballad. Jisung looks up at him with such wide, apologetic eyes, Changbin can't help but laugh at the irony.

It starts as a small chuckle and quickly morphs into a full-belly laugh, he clutches his sides as the giggles take over his whole body. Minho and Jisung look at him in abject horror, probably thinking he's finally lost his mind.

Wiping the tears from the hysterical, watery-eyed cackles, Changbin takes hold of the microphone. "You better sing it with me."

They perform a truly heart-breaking, and window shattering, duet, and when the song ends, Minho applauds and pretends to cry as they dramatically bow. He tosses the mic over to Minho and throws himself onto the couch to catch his breath.

Much to Changbin's absolute dismay the opening cords of Trouble Maker sounds through the room. Grabbing a spare pillow from the couch next to him, he lobs it for Minho's face, his hand eye coordination must be way off because instead of hitting the smug face looking down at him, it hits the wall way off to the side.

Changbin groans, covering his eyes. "Oh fuck you."

Changbin's eyes blink slowly, his surroundings melding into a dark muddled blur of colours. He closes his eyes and blinks again, quicker this time in the hopes of removing whatever is obscuring his vision but when he opens them his sight is just as bad.

What the hell?

Lifting his hand up to rub at them, his fingers meet immediate resistance, he pats his hands against it feels…soft? Deft fingers tug at the offending object, pulling it away he notices it's a pair of fluffy, gaudy cat-eye shaped sunglasses. When the hell did I put these on? It's probably Minho's doing. He tosses them on the coffee table in front of him, which is now at least a little more visible without the dark tint darkening his vision.

Changbin lays curled into a ball on the living room couch, the blanket from earlier pooled around his waist. Jisung lays on the floor next to the couch passed out asleep without a care in the world, his body wrapped around a comically big dinosaur footprint-shaped pillow. Changbin has no memory of when that appeared, frankly he can't remember much past the second round of karaoke and the third bottle of soju Minho pulled out of the back of their alcohol cabinet.

God his head is spinning.

The faint throb that was present earlier is coming back with vengeance, the pulse reverberating behind his eyes. The pillow under his head is hard and lumpy, like it was made of solid stone, he sits up and smacks it a few times before laying back down.

"T'is pillow sucks," Changbin hits the pillow against the arm of the sofa and tries to lay his head on it again. He shifts from his side onto his back and still can't seem to find a comfortable position. Tossing from side to side but he feels restless. "I wanna go home."

Home, yes that's exactly where he wants to be. Why was he even here anyway? He couldn't remember. This couch was never comfortable to sleep on without plenty of cushioning, he should go home right now.

Chan would take care of him, he always does when he feels sick. Wouldn't he? He always tucks him into bed and frets over him like a mother hen, giving him water and food. Always brings in his extra pillows to make Changbin's bed softer for his aching body.

"Channie's pillows are much softer, I should go get his pillows." He tries to lift himself upright on the couch, but his hand slips off the edge hits Jisung in the back. Changbin stumbles to his knees. "Sorry, Seungie, 'm sorry."

He clumsily pets Jisung on the head in apology, mostly slapping his uncoordinated hand off Jisung's cheek, he lets out a disgruntled sleepy groan, swatting the hand away from him. "Stop it, hyung."

The muttered apologies continue as Changbin stumbles to his feet. Minho had been drinking with them all night so there was no way he can drop him home so he needs to figure out another way home. He needed his phone so he could call for a lift, but can't seem to find where he left his bag.

Minho would know. Where is Minho anyway? Changbin looks around the room for him, he turns his head a bit too quick to the left and loses his balance, the wall next to him his only saviour from crashing to the ground.

Easy does it.

"Minho!" Changbin calls out, bracing himself against the wall as he walks.

There's no answer.

"Sungie, where's hyung?"

"Dunno,"

"Minho," He tries again, but still nothing.

Maybe he's in the bathroom or their bedroom, Changbin moves slowly towards the hallway, hugging the wall, afraid he'll trip over his own feet. The bathroom door is wide open, so he's not inside there, carrying on he sees a faint glow of light coming from the bedroom at the end of the hall.

The door is ajar, the bedside lamps coating the room in a warm glow, but when he peers around there is still no Minho to be found, then he sees it, the door to the small balcony attached to their bedroom sits open.

Silly Minho hiding away.

On unsteady feet he staggers his way across the room.

Even with the subtle haze to his vision It's not hard for him to spot Minho leaning against a railing, chin resting in one hand as he holds something with the other— a phone pressed up to his ear.

"-on't think it's a good idea, it's late anyway, hyung."

Hyung? Who is he talking to?

Minho says nothing for a second, listening to whoever is on the other side of the line, humming along.

"He's been with us all afternoon, don't worry. His phone must have died earlier."

Oh he's talking about me!

"Chan, it's fine, I'll drop him off before work in the morning."

Oh Chan! Chan could come get him!

Changbin rushes forward colliding into Minho's back, stealing the air from his lungs. "Hyung, Channie-hyung!"

Minho coughs, and pulls the phone back from his ear, eyes widening in alarm. "Binnie, what are you doing?" He whispers through clenched teeth.

"Wan' Channie-hyung to take me home!"

Minho shakes his head and tries to cover the phone receiver with his hand. "No, you don't."

Instead of listening, Changbin attempts to reach around him and snatch the phone out of his hand. Minho turns, holding it far above his head away from where Changbin could reach.

"I do, hyung! I wan' go home."

"Binnie believe me, you don't want that." He tries to reason. "You didn't want to see Chan, right now, remember?"

He can't remember that, why wouldn't he want to see Chan? Chan is so delightful, he always wants be be around him, everyone should, well not everyone, but Changbin definitely wants to be.

"I always wanna see, hyung. He's my person."

Minho lets out a sound of resignation, he runs his empty hand down his face, pleading with Changbin to stop before he says something he'll definitely regret. The single-minded desire to go home drives him on, Changbin extends his hand again, reaching up on his tip-toes, stretching as far as he can to grasp the device just out of his reach. He leans too far forward and slams into the metal rail, Changbin yelps and Minho curses; grabbing hold of Changbin with both hands as best he can to steady him.

Changbin hardly reacts to the blow to his side that is sure to leave him bruised in the morning, more focused on the phone now cradled next to his hip, he snatches it from Minho's hand and rushes inside.

"Seo Changbin!" Minho yells after him.

He pays no mind the the frustrated curses Minho throws at him, Changbin sits down on the edge of Minho and Jisung's bed making himself comfortable. Before the phone even reaches his ears he can hear Chan's concerned voice coming through.

"Minho, what's going on? Minho!"

"Is me, hyung." Changbin nibbles on his thumb.

"Binnie?" It feels like it's been forever since he's heard Chan's voice, it makes him feel warm and fuzzy, in all of the best ways.

"Hi," He says timidly, suddenly feeling shy.

"Hi, you okay?" Changbin nods in response forgetting Chan can't see him.

Minho walks in then, closing the door to the balcony, He tosses one look over at Changbin who meets his gaze with a tiny sparkle to his eyes, Minho just sighs and wordlessly heads out the door.

"Binnie, you there?" Chan asks, a worried lilt to his voice.

"Yeah, you okay, hyung?"

"I'm better now that I'm talking to you." Changbin flushes, a swarm of butterflies take flight in his stomach. "Do you want me to pick you up. Bin-ah?"

"Yeah, wan' go home."

"Yeah?" Chan's voice is soft now, soft and buttery and warm. "I'll bring you home. Just sit tight and I'll be there soon, okay?"

"Okay." He whispers, then the line goes dead. He stares down at the phone in his hand, a dopey smile plastered to his face.

Giddiness takes over his body and he bounds to his feet, wincing a bit when he feels a throb under his ribs, that would have to wait, he needs to get everything to go home. When he re-emerges back into the living room, he finds Minho placing his bag onto the coffee table. Well that was easy.

Jisung is sitting up on the couch now, feet tucked under him, sleepy eyes blinking slowly. "You sure you want to go home, hyung?"

"Bit late for that, Chan-hyung is probably already on his way." Minho mutters. "Did you bring anything else with you?"

Changbin thinks for a minute, padding over to the bag he surveys the contents with a shred of attention and shakes his head.

"Let me see your side." Minho tries to pull up Changbin's shirt to see how badly he'd hurt himself, he swats away the offending hand.

"Sungie, your boyfriend is trying to strip me!" Minho raises his hand to smack Changbin on the arm while he wriggles away towards Jisung.

"Buy him dinner first, jagia."

"You two are going to owe me for tonight, just wait." Jisung sticks his tongue out at Minho's retreating back, making Changbin erupt into a fit of giggles.

Changbin starts fiddling with his bag, he finds his phone stashed away in one of the side pockets not a sign of life in it. Who knows when it died, he certainly didn't.

"Do you want this?" Minho appears in the kitchen doorway holding an offensively yellow carton. Pineapple juice! Chan loves pineapple juice! Changbin nods and Minho tosses it over to him, once he has it in hand he puts it into his bag and zips it closed, then it dawns on him; Chan is coming over.

Chan. Is. Coming. Over.

Oh god.

The blood drains from his face.

"Ah, so you've realised what you've done,"

A nod.

"And now you're freaking out."

Another nod.

Nausea turns in his stomach. "It's okay," Jisung whispers. "You can tell hyung you feel too sick to go home, you know he won't mind."

"I was practically begging him to take me home all of five minutes ago, Sung. He's not gonna believe that."

"Even if he doesn't believe it, he'll respect it."

Before he gets to open his mouth and say anything there is a light knock on the door.

That was fast, how'd he get here so fast?

Oh fuck what have I done?

The rush of panic washes away any traces of lingering exhaustion in a flash, suddenly he's a ball of nervous energy. Jisung places a gentle hand on to his back, slowly rubbing circles around, and around, trying to calm him down.

"I can get Minho to deal with it, say you passed out asleep right after the call."

An out, they were giving him an out, but he's already made Chan come all the way here to get him. "I'll go."

He feels fuzzy around the edges, the effects of the booze still lingering on the surface, getting to his feet he shuffles slowly towards the door. The pair following him slowly, Minho opens the door as Changbin leans on Jisung's shoulder, stuffing his feet back into his shoes—Correction, Chan's shoes.

Fuck.

Please, please don't notice.

Once the door opens, Chan comes into view, looking as soft and lovely as ever. His hair is a mass of untamed curls he usually stuffed under a hat before going out, but this is a late-night excursion, Changbin isn't even sure what side of midnight they were on, so maybe he didn't care as much. He's dressed in a loose fitting black tank and grey shorts, still wearing his house slippers like he'd run straight out the door.

"Hey," Chan waves shyly.

"Hi, hyung," Jisung sending a small wave over Changbin's shoulder, Minho nods in acknowledgement.

Chan's eyes flick and linger on Changbin who still hasn't moved or uttered a word.

Changbin clears his throat. "Uh, h-hi, hyung,"

Shuffling closer to the exit he remembers his bag. "Oh I need to grab—" He turns back to grab it but Minho is already holding it in his hand. Chan takes it from him without comment, slinging it over his shoulder.

"I got it," He turns to Changbin then. "Lets get you home, huh?"

A nod is all he can muster in response. He feels so awkward, cataloguing every movement he makes. Chan accepts it and holds out his arm for Changbin to take, to steady himself as they walk. Chan knows too well how clumsy he can be after a few drinks, two left feet would be putting it lightly, there has been more than one occasion of piggyback rides being his only viable transportation home.

"Bye guys, thanks for tonight." Minho and Jisung look at him with a simmering worry etched in their eyes, Changbin tries to ignore it.

"Goodnight." They say in unison closing the door with a soft click.

They barely take two steps down the hall before Chan stops, fumbling with something tucked under his arm. "In case you're cold."

A hoodie, Chan's favourite hoodie.

Changbin wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole, this man is going to be the end of him. His first instinct is to say no, but the other part of him, the needy, sappy, deeply in love part, wants nothing more than to wrap itself in a cocoon of Chan's making.

So he decides to take it, Chan didn't have to know the chill in the air didn't bother him, or that his own hoodie is tucked safely into the bottom of the bag settled against his hip.

As he raises his hand up to take the hoodie, Chan softly drops the arm cradled in his and holds it open instead, prompting him to slip into it. One arm, then the other. He can feel the heat emanating from Chan's chest on his back

He shivers.

"See, I knew you'd be cold."

Yes, of course, the cold is definitely the problem here. He hums in response.

Chan rotates him around gently, tugging at the material until it sits comfortably over his shoulders, fussing with every detail until he's satisfied and zips the hoodie closed.

It's warm. Not the kind of holding it in your grasp warm, the kind of warm from being worn.

The butterflies in his stomach flutter mercilessly.

Chan gave him the hoodie off his own back.

It's been far longer than he'd like to imagine since they've stood together like this, Changbin doesn't know what to say, small talk seems impossible. Chan doesn't press, he just looks over with a gentle, tired smile, and offers his arm once again, they resume their positions and walk slowly down the hall.

When they reach the car Chan makes sure to open his door and settle him inside comfortably before rounding it and setting off for home, they don't live far, maybe ten minutes. Changbin rests his head against the window as each building passes in a blur, before he knows it they're pulling into Chan's designated parking spot.

The anxiety that had slowly simmered away during the day starts to build again. Some fresh air sounds nice, he unbuckles the seatbelt and goes to open the door, but Chan stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

"You're tired, wait for me to come around and get you."

He says it so earnestly that Changbin can't help but nod in acceptance, Chan is clearly taking his lack of conversation for exhaustion, that's fine, he can work with that.

On the walk up to their apartment he's bracing to be met with the same sight that made him run to begin with, but once the door is unlocked and the living room lights flicker on, nothing looks out of place. No case to be seen, no boxes, nothing. Everything looks exceedingly, unnervingly normal. Like it had never been there to begin with.

Chan must have had the foresight to hide it all away before Changbin would be home.

After dropping his keys and Changbin's bag onto the console table by the door, Chan turns his attention back to Changbin, who leans back settling against the security of the solid door behind him, attempting to kick off his own shoes.

"I'll help."

Before Changbin can protest Chan drops to his knees and starts tugging at the stubborn knotted laces, not once pointing out that the shoes weren't Changbin's to begin with.

There is patience and care in every movement, each tug and graze barely a whisper of touch, the hold on his ankle so gentle he can hardly feel it as he successfully removes the shoes from each foot—it's exactly what the deliriously sleepy-drunk version of himself delighted in the thought of earlier.

Having Chan's undivided attention on him for the first time in months almost feels too much. There's so much he wants to say, needs to say, but he can't. He can't bear to break the moment and rush the inevitable.

It's unlikely Chan will confess everything tonight, too focused on fussing over Changbin's every move, so perhaps they can pretend nothing looms beyond the horizon. For tonight, however long is left of it, he'll let Chan do as he pleases, and soak it up as much as he can.

Once Chan places the shoes back into their designated spot on the rack, he stands, and tugs on Changbin's hand to lead him over to the couch.

"Do you need something to eat?" Chan asks while helping Changbin slowly lower into the couch, however, when he twists he feels a burning pain shoot through his side and winces.

"Are you okay? What happened?" Chan's hands hover over him, as if he'd inflicted the pain himself.

"Jus' moved weird," He shifts again, trying to ease the pain but moving just makes it hurt more.

"Bin, be honest."

A sigh. "I hit my side on the balcony railing."

"What? How?"

"Was being dumb," He'd ran out onto a balcony five-stories high, drunk out of his mind, dumb was putting it lightly. Changbin's sure he will get an ear full from Minho tomorrow about it.

"Can I see?" The pleading, worried look in Chan's eyes makes him fold.

A tentative nod in acceptance has Chan pulling the zipper from his hoodie down slowly, once opened, he carefully lifts up the edge of Changbin's t-shirt just enough to take a peak at his side.

They've been around each other shirtless, and even less, more times than he could count, but there is something painstakingly intimate in the way Chan's hands move over his torso with such compassion. Chan lets out a pained hiss when the blossoming redness of a bruise comes into view.

"Christ, Bin. That looks painful."

"It's not so bad," He looks down at it, it definitely looks worse than it feels.

"Hold on, I'll grab you something for the pain."

And then he's gone, rushing off towards their kitchen, Changbin barely blinks before Chan returns holding a glass of water in one hand and a blister pack of pills in the other. He pops a pill out onto his hand and holds it out for Changbin to take.

He graciously takes them both, popping the tablet onto his tongue and washing it down with a sip of water. Chan hovers next to him.

"You'll definitely need to eat something before bed then, not having you take pills on an empty stomach." Chan mutters as he walks towards their kitchen.

"I'm alright, hyung."

"Will Shin Ramyun be okay? I think I saw some in here earlier," Chan starts rummaging through the cabinets. "You don't feel sick or anything?"

He could feel the nervous energy from where he sat, knowing Chan he is probably tying himself into knots making this situation somehow his fault, he always had an awful talent for mental gymnastics. A gold medal prodigy.

"I'm fine,"

"You didn't hurt your head, right? If you hit your head we should bring you to the emergency room,"

Lifting himself off the couch, Changbin heads over to Chan who is still muttering to himself. "Hyung,"

"You should be sitting down," Chan turns quickly, and tries to coax him back towards the couch but Changbin stops him, pressing a hand against his chest.

"I'm okay," Chan doesn't look like he believes him, Changbin takes hold of the back of Chan's head, making him meet his eyes. "Look at me, I'm okay, alright?"

"Only thing hurting my head right now is the stupid amount of alcohol I drank, stop worrying yourself."

Chan's eyes dart around his face, looking for any indication otherwise. He seems to find what he's looking for because he relaxes his shoulders. "Okay, go sit down for me, please?"

Their tiny dining table is closer than the couch so he sets himself down in the hardwood chair, taking in the full view of Chan as he moves around the kitchen, the faint hiss of the kettle filling the air.

He never expected that this was how the day would wind up after everything that happened this afternoon.

"What time is it?"

"It's uh," Chan pulls his phone from his pocket. "Almost three in the morning."

That was way later than he thought it would be, he'd showed up to Minho and Jisung's probably sometime after four, no wonder his head is pounding.

"Shit," He clears his throat. "Sorry for making you come get me."

Chan waves him off. "I wanted to, I got worried when I didn't hear from you, you usually always text me if you're out late."

"My, uh, my phone died. I didn't notice it earlier. I'm sorry."

It's no wonder Chan had called looking for him, he never usually went a couple of hours without texting him, even if it was just a picture of his food, or a reminder to take a break. Even if the messages went unanswered he sent them anyway.

"I should probably put it on charge."

"Give it to me, I'll do it."

"It's in my bag,"

Chan nods and walks over to where it lays on the console table, he's zipping open the main compartment when Changbin remembers what's in there. "Side pocket!"

It was too late though, Chan's already holding the carton of juice in his hands. He's looking over at Changbin, a carefully calculated smile.

"You trying to hide it so I don't steal it on you?"

"I got it—I bought it for you, earlier, when I went to the…store." He cringes internally, why did he make it sound so suspicious? All he had to do was say oh it's yours! and be done with it, not act like he's being criminal investigated for pineapple possession.

"Oh, well, thanks Bin. I haven't had any in a while."

"Yeah , I kn—yeah, that's no problem," He scratches his neck awkwardly.

Chan makes no comment of his fumbling, he just keeps looking down at the stupid juice with a small smile on his face. After fishing the dead phone from the side pocket he places it on charge next to their TV. By the time he makes it over to the fridge to put away the carton, the kettle finishes boiling.

He makes quick work of filling up both cups of ramyun and brings them to the table. He places Changbin's right in front of him, setting his chopsticks on top of the lid to hold it closed as it cooks.

"Thanks, hyung."

Instead of sitting across from him, Chan pulls his chair to the side so they're adjacent, knees brushing against each other. Changbin pulls the cup of noodles closer to him, wrapping his fingers around it like a lifeline. He's not sure how much time has passed but the quiet is slowly eating away at him, so he decides it's cooked enough for his patience.

Just as he shovels the first bite of noodles into his mouth Chan speaks up.

"I meant to ask, do you still have Friday's free?"

Changbin almost chokes in surprise. This past semester he's been lucky that his Friday lecture had to be moved to earlier in the week due to a scheduling issue for his professor, so has long weekends every week, he wasn't aware Chan knew about that.

"Uh, yeah. I don't have class again until Monday afternoon."

"Good, I was thinking we could get breakfast together tomorrow, there's some…stuff I want to talk to you about."

The words feel like concrete setting into his stomach. Changbin's mouth dries up, It was inevitable, he knew that the second the left his apartment less than twelve hours ago, but to have it numbered now, merely hours away made him realise just how real it all is. But it is a reality he had to face one way or another.

So he swallows past the lump in his throat. "Yeah, of course, whatever you need."

He manages a few more mouthfuls of food before he can't stomach any more. Chan hadn't been entirely wrong earlier when he said Changbin was tired, he is, but he doesn't want to go to bed. He hadn't feel all that tired until he sat down here, maybe it's the comfort of being home or maybe it's the crash of adrenaline, but he feels the tiredness deep in his bones. Even after sleeping a bit at Minho and Jisung's place, the exhaustion from the day creeps up on him, making a yarn crawl out of his throat.

He tries to cover it with his hand but Chan still notices anyway.

"C'mon, lets get you into bed." Chan tosses the cups into the trash and the chopsticks into the sink.

Changbin stands, the pain in his side much less apparent after the medication kicked in, but he doesn't push away the arms that band around his shoulders that steer him in the direction of the bathroom. "Go on in, I'll grab you one of my extra pillows for your side."

After walking into the bathroom, he closes the door behind himself with a soft click and moves on auto pilot, picking up his toothbrush he does his best to avoid contact with the mirror reflecting back an image he likely doesn't want to see, but curiosity gets the better of him.

The tips of his cheeks stained in a crimson flush that likely won't leave for hours until the alcohol has really left his system, his lips chapped from where he's spent half the day nervously biting at them, and his eyes, there is still a faint redness around them from his crying earlier but mostly they're dark and hollow, begging for sleep.

Once finished brushing his teeth he does the rest of the usual tasks needed before bed, opening the door he finds Chan waiting for him, two pillows tucked against his chest. "I thought two might be better."

The pair walk towards Changbin's room, Chan still guiding him all the way with a hand pressed firmly to his back.

Stepping into his room, the light from the living room illuminates it enough to navigate without the overhead light on, he's thankful for that because the bright light would be brutal on his sensitive eyes. Chan moves inside opting to switch on the small lamp perched on his bedside table, and places down the pillows he's carrying.

Changbin's room is exactly how he left, the blanket on his bed messy after he stumbled out of it in a hurry, his laundry basket topped with this mornings gym clothes, the sticky note Chan left him tucked into the corner of his mirror; barely peaking out from behind a stack of notes obscuring it from view.

"Do you need me to grab you some clothes?"

Oh, he hadn't considered that. Chan's hoodie is still wrapped around his shoulders, and if he's got a say, he'd like to keep it that way. "Maybe just some shorts?"

Chan rifles through one of his drawers and grabs a clean pair of shorts. "You need help?" Changbin shakes his head, tips of his ears flushing red. Chan turns his attention to the bed, fixing up the skewed sheet, and arranges the pillows he brought in. Changbin's bed is pushed up against the far wall, he usually sleeps facing it but with his side hurting he'll have to opt for facing outwards tonight.

When Chan turns his back to him, Changbin shimmies out of his sweatpants, tossing them into his overflowing laundry basket, and does his best to step into the shorts without bending his torso down too much. Once finished he goes to stand behind Chan.

"Go on, in you go," Chan urges him in, pulling his blanket down.

The scene makes something in his chest crack, the finality of it all. He'll go to sleep, and within a few hours he'll finally have to face a reality he desperately wants to avoid. But he has to, for Chan, he has to.

His heart breaks a little more with each step he takes, each shift of his leg onto the bed, each manoeuvre until he's laying his head on Chan's pillow with the blanket tucked under his chin. He wants to look up at Chan, but he can't, he's shattering piece by piece as each second ticks by.

"Goodnight, Bin." Chan brushes a hand through Changbin's hair, he flicks off the lamp then he turns, padding off towards the door.

Changbin screws his eyes shut, trying to resist watching Chan’s silhouette as he retreats from the room, but even with his eyes closed he can feel exactly where he is, and how each step takes them further and further apart.

“Don’t go,” Changbin whispers into the pillow tucked beneath his head, the words ghosting over the air, barely reaching his own ears.

A secret shared between the sheets.

The soft shuffle of Chan’s feet against the wooden floor stops suddenly, the silence of the room hefty, a weight blanketing the darkness that engulfs them. It's a burden Changbin's not sure he can carry on his own. His heartbeat begins jack-hammering in his chest, surely Chan hadn’t heard him? He can barely hear himself.

Then again, they knew each other like no one else ever could

Chan has always been too attuned to him, maybe if he stays still Chan will think it was nothing, that he misheard something.

No one moves.

Just quietly existing so close, but never close enough. 

It stays like that for one blink and another, time passing so slowly it feels like hours.

Move, please move.

Pressure is building in his chest, his throat constricting around a sob that is desperately trying to break free. It hurts, everything fucking hurts.

He wants to reach out and beg him to stay, he wants to tether himself to Chan so neither can drift too far without the other following close behind, but he can't and it kills him.

He hates himself for being too scared to open his mouth, to chase what he wants, who he's always wanted. But it was vastly different than anything else he's ever done, because he had something so precious to lose.

Beyond all of those romantic feelings he holds, Chan is still his best friend, the most important person in his life outside his family. Losing Chan is any way just is not up for debate, so he will bite, chew, and swallow anything down so that does not have to change.

Changbin knows deep down that Chan is too understanding to ever make him feel bad or wrong about his feelings but there is a deep pit of dread in Changbin's stomach that tells him something would change, maybe he'd be uncomfortable and never tell Changbin or he'd put more space between them.

He'll lose him, maybe he already did. He never had him to begin with anyway. 

Things are bound to be different when you find out your best friend hangs off your every word.

Changbin hears the soft thud of Chan's feet resume, sounding further and further away. The soft click of his bedroom door closing is his last straw as the tears he has been suppressing burst from his chest in wracking sobs.

He presses his face almost suffocatingly into his pillow, but the faint scent of Chan's shampoo on the pillow case cracks open what was left of his heart.

The last thing he wants is his love to become a burden for Chan, he carries too much already.

Changbin's hiccuping sobs fills the quiet of the room, echoing off the sparsely decorated walls. A faint brush against his forehead makes him flinch, it's soft, and warm, fleeting, and then it returns. His eyes shoot open.

The darkness of the room cloaks the silhouette in front of him.

"Hey, hey. It's okay." It whispers.

Nothing feels okay, everything is too much, too loud, too sharp. A million thoughts, a million regrets, a million missed opportunities crash over him like a tidal wave, drowning away the air from his lungs.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, Bun. I'm not going anywhere." The silhouette moves, a faint glow from a streetlight outside his window illuminates his room just enough for him to make out the figure of Chan kneeling next to his bed with the softest expression he could ever conjure from his dreams. Maybe this is a dream, maybe he sobbed himself into a blissful dream where Chan waits for him to soothe the agony. His perfect guardian angel come to watch over him again.

The featherlight brush of fingers travel from his brow, down the slope of his nose, and find its home cupped around his tear-stained cheek- softly swiping away every errant tear that dares to slip past. 

Changbin's eyes track every moment, trying his best to commit his face to memory even if it is a dream, maybe it would heal his heart enough to let him fall into a blissful sleep.

"Shh, you're okay. Channie's here." The voice continues.

His eyes droop, feeling heavier with every gentle brush against his cheek.

"Channie's here," Changbin echoes, leaning his face into the warmth of the palm. His eyes flickering closed with a gentle hum.

"I'm here."

The first thing Changbin registers upon waking up is a weight blanketing his waist and legs, it's warm and comforting. He can feel the blinding light of the morning warming his face, his eyes feel sensitive and sore so he keeps them closed, turning away from the sun.

The weight around him shifts, tightening around his waist and pushing against the back of his leg, then there's a ghost of breath coasting over his neck. He stills, breathing in, and then it hits him.

A whisper of sticky-sweet vanilla, a scent so hardwired in his brain he could never mistake it for anything else, anyone else.

Chan.

They've been in this position numerous times, with Chan's arm lazing over his hip after they'd fallen asleep in his bed watching something the night before, Changbin would take a second, any shred of time he could get, and latch onto the warm arm banding around his mid-section, letting himself exist in a pocket of time where there was no consequences to be paid.

The memories of last night surface, everything hitting him at once like a freight train running through his head. Running from their apartment, crying his heart out to Minho and Jisung, begging Chan to take him home, and then passing out with the image of Chan's retreating back branded into his eyelids…or so he thought.

It had been Chan, the apparition he thought he'd conjured in his heartbreaking delirium. The ghost of his touch coasting over his cheek had been real, Chan saw him break down, and he'd stayed, wrapped his arms around Changbin's fragile heart and held it together all night.

Why did he have to make it so easy to love him?

Changbin considers sneaking out, feigning forgotten plans and hiding for the rest of the day, the rest of his life if he could, but he promised Chan last night that they'd talk.

Before all that he needs to clear his head, put some space between the thundering of his heart in his chest and the feeling of Chan's steady heartbeat against his back.

Drifting his hand down the length of Chan's forearm, pushing down the fluttering in his stomach at each tiny brush of contact, he reaches to lift the hand from where it bands around him. However, as soon as his fingertips graze Chan's hand it eases closed, holding him in place.

"Good morning," The warm rasp of Chan's voice travels across his neck.

Changbin's tries to even out his breathing, to feign being asleep for just a few more minutes.

"I know you're awake," Chan's voice is closer now, Changbin can feel the slow drag of his chin against his shoulder, the ghost of lips at the shell of his ear.

"Binnie, please turn around." It's a gentle request, he breathes out a shudder. Chan pulls back, there's a small tug on the swell of his hip, just below where the tender, mottled bruise made its home. Changbin hesitates a second before steeling himself and presses back, angling his body slowly onto his back until Chan's face comes into view.

His back-lit figure looms over him, the morning rays of the sun splintering through his sleep mussed curls, Chan looks down at him, head cradled in the palm of his hand, and there's a rawness in the gaze he meets, an acknowledgement in the way it traces over every dip and curve of his face. He feels bare, exposed, scrutinised. He feels seen.

What a terrifying ordeal it is to be seen.

The arm around his waist remains, Chan's thumb tracing lazy circles around the side of his hand. The touch anchoring him in his place, if he focuses on the rough pad of Chan's thumb brushing its path across his skin and the solid weight banding around him perhaps he can ground himself enough to survive whatever is to follow.

Chan drops his hand from where it supported his head, splaying his fingers through Changbin's hair, softly caressing the top of his head. Changbin blinks his eyes quickly as the subtle burn, he's become all too accustomed to within the past twenty-four hours, returns.

"You're mine too, you know?"

"Huh?"

"You're my person" Changbin freezes in his hold, eyes screwing shut as to not give away how much agony laces through him at the words, waiting for Chan to tease or to break the tension with a laugh, but it never comes. A beat, and then. "You're mine"

Mine?

His person?

"What?" The words croak out. he sits up.

Mine, mine, mine, mine. It repeats in his head, like a broken record. On and on it goes. Hope builds and crashes in his chest over and over in an instant.

Chan must have overheard what he said when Minho was trying to get the phone from him, a hot flash of embarrassment shoots up his spine. "I didn't…I'm sor—-oh god, let me get up."

Using his free hand he pushes himself to sit against the headboard but the arm around his waist keeps his lower body in place, he can't bring himself to look at Chan, he's only trying to reassure him that he's important to him, his best friend, his…platonic person, he couldn't mean it otherwise, not the way he wanted him to…right?

Shaking his hand, he tries to pull it from Chan's grasp but he won't relent, the grip isn't forceful, it's firm, grounding. Tears trickle out of the corner of his eyes. "Please."

More tears, he's sick and tired of fucking tears. He doesn't want to push, doesn't have the energy to argue, he just wants to hide away from the scorching feeling of humiliation coursing through his veins. He tries again, yanking harder this time.

"Hey, stop, just hold on for a second." Chan pleads softly, he lets go of Changbin's hand, bringing his hands up to cup his tear-stained cheeks, painfully similar to the way he did it just hours ago. He tips Changbin's face back to meet their eyes, a wet glisten mirrored back at him. "I'm gonna talk, and I want you to listen to everything I have to say, and I need you to understand that everything I'm about to tell you is the truth, okay?"

Changbin shakes his head, he can't do this, he needs to leave. "I—I can't,"

"I promise you, everything is okay, I just need to tell you this, Bin-ah. Please, I can't wait anymore." Chan's voice cracks around the words, his chest shaking with uneven inhales. This is hurting the both of them, the final nail in the coffin for his resolve comes with the subtle tremble of Chan's lower lip.

Changbin sucks on his own bite-reddened lips, he takes a deep, steadying breath in through his nose, and nods.

Reluctantly letting go of his face, Chan moves, tucking his legs under himself, kneeling next to the plush of Changbin's right thigh. Changbin is a bundle of nerves one tug away from unravelling, he starts fiddling with his hands, twisting the cold metal of the ring his parents got him on his last birthday, then picking idly at the fresh blister he'd acquired at the gym yesterday morning.

Once Chan settles himself the way he wants to, his eyes catch on the restless fidgeting in Changbin's lap, he hesitates a moment before he reaches down, clasping both hands in his own, bringing them over to rest against the tops of his knees.

Chan's hands tremble around his as he grips them tighter. "Okay, please don't say anything until I'm finished, I've been thinking of a million ways to tell you this for…what feels like forever."

He takes a deep, shuddering breath.

"There's something I've known about myself for a long time, well it took a while to realise it, and even longer to admit it to myself, but, I fell in love." He smiles wetly. Changbin's whole body turns rigid, heart plummeting into his stomach as Chan continues. "I fell in love and it was the most amazing and the most terrifying thing I've ever felt in my entire life. I'm not sure exactly when it happened, maybe on the first day, or maybe a little bit every day that passed afterwards. All I know is that suddenly there was someone living in a corner of my heart and I couldn't do anything to get them out, I didn't want to. But I was scared, because what we had was good, and I thought it was selfish of me to want more, to expect them to give me any more of themselves."

"Especially when I can barely make sense of myself most days," He says sheepishly. "I didn't want to burden them with…me. But I didn't notice, for far, far too long, that they were struggling just as much as me, just as scared as me. That every step I took away from them, they were trying their best to catch up, I made it harder on them and I didn't even notice. Then when I got the internship offer, it made me start thinking about what that would mean for us, I couldn't fathom being there they weren't so…I took it as a sign. Cosmic intervention or whatever. It's kind of dumb. Then things got a little…complicated. But I decided it was time to tell them, you know?"

"It's okay, hyung," Changbin plasters on the biggest smile he can muster, the tension hurting his jaw as he tries to keep it steady. "I understand, I'm happy for you."

Chan looks at him, a confused look written across his face. He shakes his head. "No you, don't. I'm doing this all wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"It's you," Chan pulls their entwined hands close to his chest, resting right above his heart. "It's always been you."

Time seems to freeze, the moment suspending itself above the frantic skip of Changbin's heart in his chest. Me? He's in love with…me?

Changbin frantically flicks his eyes across Chan's face, but sees no trace of a lie, all that stares back at him is terrified and hopeful the face of a man who is hand-delivering his heart in a box stamped and lettered in his name.

"Me?" Changbin whispers. "You lo—me?"The words catching in his throat.

A fond, gentle, and now he knows, loving, nod greets him in response. Chan shifts forward, never letting go of the hands he has gripped like a lifeline, until their foreheads brush and settle against each other. Nothing exists outside of the bubble between them, the only thing that matters is where one of them starts and the other ends.

"I love you." Chan says it with a tender conviction. "I love you so much, Bun. I'm sorry that there has ever been a day you've felt otherwise. I have loved you and I want to love you for as long as I can. I was a coward, and I hurt you. It was the last thing I ever wanted to do."

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

As the words settle into him, he realises. Oh I haven't said it back.

"I love you too!" He blurts out, startling Chan backwards a little bit. They're both wide eyed, smiling like idiots.

"I have waited so long to hear that," Chan leans forward until their noses brush. "Say it again."

Changbin flushes. "I love you."

"Again,"

"I. Love. You."

There's barely any space between them now, the only thing Changbin can see or feel is Chan, his warmth, his hold, his love.

They're a hairsbreadth apart, their breaths mingle in a way that is familiar but also new. It carries different weight, different context, different implications. He could move now, he could close the barely existent distance between the two of them.

Changbin could kiss Chan and the world wouldn't end.

He wants to.

He wants to so badly.

So he does.

He pushes forward.

They meet in the middle.

Finally.

The sweetest form of relief.

It's tentative at first, shy, unsure, but the gentle brush of lips against each other sparks alight in his chest. Goosebumps erupt over his entire body, he feels breathless in an instant.

He can feel everything, his senses on overdrive. Chan's lips are soft, softer than he could have ever imagined. They kiss again and again and again, a whimper leaves him when Chan goes to pull back but Changbin isn't finished, he chases the lips as they separate, a whine slipping from his kiss-reddened lips. Chan lets go of their entwined hands, but instead of moving away, he sinks his hands into the nape of Changbin's neck, pulling their faces together again and kisses him with all of his might.

Changbin falls back against the headboard but Chan never lets go, he follows suit, swinging his legs around, bracketing either side of Changbin's legs. Changbin reaches up, gripping the soft curve of his hips, his fingers grip hard enough they'll likely leave a bruise, a reminder. Chan doesn't even seem to notice, too lost in caressing and tugging the hair at the nape of Changbin's neck.

They break apart, breathless.

Chan sits back on Changbin's lap, his hair is a mess, tips of his cheeks flushed, and his lips reddened and glossy. He looks thoroughly kissed. Changbin doesn't doubt he looks the same, maybe even worse. He can't think of a more beautiful sight.

A sudden thought occurs to him.

"You called me 'Bun', the first time you said it last night I thought I misheard it, but you said it again." Chan ducks his head into his shoulders, looking shy.

"Oh, yeah I guess, I always call you that in my head."

He's so cute I might just die.

"I like it," He says instead.

"Oh yeah, you like being my little bunny?" Chan teases.

"Hyung," Changbin whines. "Don't make fun of me." Changbin prods his finger into Chan's side, making him erupt in a fit of giggles. Chan hops off his lap and curls up next to him, tucking his head into the curve of Changbin's shoulder.

"But it's so fun to tease my pretty boyfriend." Chan fiddles idly with the string of his hoodie, which Changbin isn't feeling keen on returning at any point.

Boyfriend.

The word alone sets the butterflies off again, raging through his stomach. Changbin flashes him a blinding smile.

"Boyfriend, huh?"

"Well, yeah, you're not getting rid of me now."

Well, that isn't entirely true is it? Chan is still leaving, right?

Changbin clears his throat. "You've got some pretty shoddy timing considering,"

"Considering what? Your ribs?" A hand drifts down his torso, he can't feel the heat of it though the layers of clothing but tingles decorate its path, it stops and settles just below the tender spot on his side. Changbin's eyes are fixated on the brush of his fingers coasting over the well-loved fabric.

Of course that's the most pressing matter on Chan's mind right now, Changbin rolls his eyes fondly.

"My what? No, Chan. You're, you know, you're—."

"I'm?" Chan raises an quizzical brow.

"Leaving."

A deafening silence follows, even if it isn't the most opportune time to talk about it, the rush of giddiness and joy settles with an undercurrent of uncertainty. He needs to know where they stand, so he can finally have some peace in his heart.

Within seconds Chan's face changes from a serene smile to pure, unadulterated confusion. He sits up. "What are you talking about?"

"You going to Australia," Changbin picks at a loose thread on the bedsheets beneath him.

"Why would that change anything?"

"What do you mean, it's a big distance, you know? It would complicate things, but I guess we can try make things work, I can try visit on breaks, and we can face-time."

"Binnie, I really have no idea what you're talking about, please explain." He sounds so genuinely puzzled.

Oh this wasn't how he expected this to go.

Changbin splutters. "Well, yesterday I, I came home."

"After the gym?"

"No, my class got cancelled, and I saw the…boxes and the suitcase."

"The boxes?" Realisation flares in his eyes. "Oh."

"And I didn't mean to eavesdrop." Changbin says earnestly, twisting his hands together. "But I was trying to surprise you, and then I overheard you talking to your mom on the phone; about booking your flights and signing the contract, so I know, and it's okay, it's totally fine. It's a really good thing, hyung! I'm really not upset about it."

There's a soft look on Chan's face as he look at him, he tilts his head to the side. "Bun?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm not leaving."

"But the internship?"

"I never took it, I was being serious from the day that letter arrived. I didn't want it. Do you know what the first thought that passed through my mind was when I got that offer?"

Changbin shakes his head.

"I wish I could take you with me,"

"Oh,"

"When I said it was a sign, what I meant was it made me realise how much losing you terrified me. Opportunities come and go, but what I have with you, even without taking the big step and admitting how I feel, that was worth so much more. I didn't want to be anywhere else. I want you as close as I can get you, and even then it isn't close enough. So don't doubt for a second that anywhere I would go, I would take you with me."

A warm, fuzzy feeling takes over him. God, he'd been so quick to jump to conclusions. He spent the whole of yesterday dooming over a reality that was never even real, twisting himself into knots over all kinds of scenarios and what ifs, drowned in regret when there was no final blow to take. But that didn't explain why Chan had been gone so often all these months, there is still something Chan isn't saying.

"You said, on the phone, that you were scared to tell me something. What is it?"

Chan's smile turns uneasy. Ah, so there is something.

"That's what I wanted to talk about with you, at brunch. But I guess, we can talk about it now. Uh, it's nothing bad, really, but can we actually talk about this in the living room, I feel a little nervous."

"Yeah, of course."

They untangle themselves from the sheets, Chan helping Changbin to his feet, the pain from the night prior isn't too bad, just a faint hum under the skin. Chan takes Changbin's hand into his own and leads them out towards their living room.

The early morning sun casts a golden glow on across the space, it's warm and inviting. Chan sets Changbin down on the couch, reluctantly letting go of his hand, Changbin tucks himself against the arm as Chan putters around. "Do you want something to drink? Coffee?"

"If you need a second then yes, but if you're just doing it for me then no."

Changbin doesn't get to know the answer, considering Chan beelines straight for the kitchen. He lets him take his time, faffing about with the mugs, pulling out the coffee for Changbin and the tea for himself. He's methodical in the way he navigates around the space, all focus zeroed in on the task at hand. He usually gets like this whenever something is stressing him out and he has a hard time talking about it.

The line of his shoulders seems less tense when he returns, popping Changbin's black coffee onto a coaster on the coffee table. He keeps his own mug in hand and stays standing.

"Do you remember I told you I knew Jeon So-Yeon?"

"The leader of the idol group you met during auditions?"

"Yeah. Well, a couple of months ago I was picking Hyune and Minho up after they finished work to go for food and bumped into her coming out of one of the dance studios, we got to talking and she asked if I would be interested in helping her with a track." He starts pacing around the room. "I didn't really have the time with all of my assignments and work but it was such a big opportunity I didn't want to turn it down."

"I asked if I could invite you and Sungie in for help but she said management weren't keen on her bringing in a whole new team like that out of the blue so we should start small, they were already taking a huge risk letting me onboard. One of the other producers warned me not to tell anyone about it until everything was finished or the whole project could get scrapped, apparently it had happened to them before. It's been making me physically sick not telling you guys. I've spent every free minute I've had these past couple of months mixing and re-mixing that song I feel like it became part of my brain chemistry."

The only feeling Changbin has is pride, so much pride, and a smidgen of relief. "Hyung, why would I ever get upset about that?"

"I was nervous because I didn't want you to think that I'm trying to make moves, or progress in my career without you guys, we're a team, and that's the most important thing to me. That we stay together as a team for this. I can understand if it makes you uncomfortable or upset, but you guys always come first for me."

"You know we don't have to, right? You can have your own thing too." Changbin holds his hand out, coaxing Chan to sit next to him, he relents, trudging over and wrapping himself around Changbin's arm as he sits down.

Chan shakes his head. "It was fun, don't get me wrong, but it felt weird not having you guys with me."

"So it went well?"

A shy nod. "The label signed off on it yesterday morning, they liked it. It's going to be a b-side on their next album."

"No fucking way," Changbin drags Chan into his lap, his back meets the arm of the couch as he sits sideways across Changbin's legs—-carefully avoiding putting weight against his side. Changbin couldn't care less, he wraps his arms tightly around Chan's body, squeezing so tightly Chan lets out a squeal as he laughs. "Oh my god, I'm so proud of you!"

"Binnie, your side!"

"I don't give a shit about that right now, are you kidding me?"

Changbin looks up at Chan in his lap, the crinkle beside his eye pronounced by the radiant smile plastered into his face. He lets himself look, he lets himself bask in the joy and love he kept bottled up inside for so long.

He lets go of Chan with one hand and pinches the bottom of his chin between his thumb and forefinger, he guides Chan's lips to his own in a searing kiss. His stomach flutters just as much as the first time, his heart racketing behind his ribs.

His other hand trails up Chan's side, hitching his breath. With a featherlight touch he grazes his hand up and up until his hand cups Chan's jaw, angling it down, letting him kiss deeper.

As Changbin's thumb brushes against his earlobe, Chan lets out a whimper. "You're so sensitive, aren't you, baby?" He whispers against his mouth.

Chan smacks him on the shoulder. "Now whose doing the teasing, huh?"

"Well, as you said, it's fun to tease your pretty boyfriend." Even just saying the word make him feel giddy. God, Chan really is his boyfriend.

"I hate you,"

A dopey, smug smile. "No, you don't."

Chan rolls his eyes. "Unfortunately."

They lay on the couch for a while, lazily kissing and cuddling into each other. Making the most of the time they had to just exist together, to make up for the time they'd both spent being cowardly fools.

"So is the song the thing you signed for yesterday?"Changbin eventually asks.

"Not…exactly."

"What secrets are you hiding from me now?" Changbin pinches the softness of his side teasingly, Chan lets out a yelp.

"It's not a secret, it's a surprise, well I guess it is a secret." Chan mutters innocently. "I can show you now I guess, I was gonna do it yesterday."

"But was hiding at Minho and Jisung's" Changbin scratches behind his ear, a sheepish look to his face.

"Yeah, I thought as much. Once we got back and you were acting weird and sad, I assumed you hadn't been there for nothing."

"I really overreacted, didn't I? Minho is never going to let me live this down."

He can already see it now, the calculated smug smile on his face when they finally spill the news to everyone. He'll sit there with his arms crossed over his chest with a stare that says "I told you so,". If he and Chan ever get married, Minho is definitely a shoe-in for his best man, as much as Jisung would pout and cry over it.

Maybe he's getting a bit ahead of himself.

"I probably would have reacted way worse than you, but I don't think I can save you from Minho's wrath." That's fair, no one can stand in Minho's way when he wants vengeance. "We should weaponize Jisungie against him."

"Now that's something I can get behind,"

Chan lifts himself from Changbin's lap. "C'mon, we need to get dressed."

"Why, I thought you were showing me my surprise?"

"I am, it isn't here. Go get dressed."

"Ugh, fine." He throws up both of his hands, grabbing at the air for Chan to take the hint and help him to his feet, Chan rolls his eyes with mirth and pulls him to his feet. "Maybe I'll actually remember to put my own shoes on this time."

"Wait so you did steal my shoes!" Chan accuses. "I noticed them last night but I just thought you accidentally bought the same pair or something."

"I wasn't thinking, it wasn't intentional theft! But me keeping this hoodie will be, sorry it's mine now." Changbin snickers rushing into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him quickly as Chan calls after him.

Changbin has no idea where they're headed once Chan herds them into his car, Chan refused to give him any hints, telling him to be patient. They drive by the same buildings they always do, heading in the direction of Jisung and Minho's apartment, well pretty close to where all of their friends live, really.

"Are we going to see Felix and Hyune? They usually have Friday's off, right?" If he wasn't going to tell him exactly what they were doing maybe he could figure it out another way.

"I'm not telling you anything."

"That's no fun, we should make it a game." He wriggles in his seat, restless. The curiosity eating him up.

"We're almost there, stop your whining or we're not going to that new barbecue place down the street for dinner tonight,"

Oh! That was unexpected. "Like a date?"

"Yes, a date. But only if you behave."

"You should know better than to leverage food against me, hyung. Not very nice." Changbin tuts. "Not even twenty-four hours together and you're already giving me ultimatums, what does this say about our future, huh?"

"That I have my hands full."

A smirk forms on Changbin's face. "Damn right, you do."

Chan splutters, ears turning crimson. "Stop that right now."

"I did nothing, that's your filthy mind, hyung."

"Bun," Chan warns him, never taking his eyes from the road.

"Fine, I'll be good."

Changbin turns his attention back out the window, all he can see is apartment complexes, it's a fairly residential part of town. They might be in the car for a while then. Just as he's about to pick up his phone and and scroll mindlessly as he waits, Chan takes a sudden left turn, slotting himself into a parking space.

"We're here."

"Huh?" Changbin looks at the building in front of them, it looks identical to all the ones that surround it, all high-rise apartment blocks. He isn't aware of anyone he knows living here.

Putting the car into park, Chan slides his keys from the ignition, and goes to open his door. "C'mon, lets go."

When they get to the front of the building he expects Chan to have to call on the intercom to get them let in but he just pulls out a swipe card and unlocks the door, holding it open for Changbin to step though. "After you," Chan tilts his head, urging him inside.

They enter an elevator and head to the sixth floor, it's nice not having to climb multiple flights of stairs. Maybe in their next apartment they can look for a place with an elevator, he has never been a fan of cardio after all. Keep the sweating for the gym, not for just trying to get home.

Once the elevator arrives on the sixth floor Chan navigates them down the hall, they stop in front of a unit at the very end. Instead of ringing the door bell or knocking, he keys in the pass-code and pushes the door open.

"Hyung, what are you—" Chan urges him inside with a knowing smile and flicks the light-switch on.

The room is completely empty, well almost empty save for a small pile of boxes and a suitcase stacked next to the door.

"Oh," Changbin recognises them immediately, he doesn't know what to say. This is the last thing he was expecting to find here.

"Welcome home, Bun." Chan shuts the door behind them with a soft click. He moves to wrap his arms loosely around Changbin's waist from behind, resting his chin softly against Changbin's shoulder. "What you saw yesterday was me trying to move a few unnecessary pieces over here before you noticed, obviously I miscalculated."

"How did you even get this place? I doubt the swimming-pool gave you a raise like that."

"Well, I've still been working there and I got paid bit by bit from working on the song and I put it all away, saving up as much as I could so we could finally get a bigger place. When the song was finished and submitted, they offered me a really generous figure. I'd been looking for a new place for us for a few months and this unit popped up out of the blue on Monday so I scrambled to get it. I came over to sign my name to the lease and give them the check for the security deposit yesterday. You just need to sign yours and everything is finished."

"So this place is ours?" Changbin's eyes scan over the room, the living room is easily double the size of their current one, the open concept kitchen lines the back wall with squeaky-clean amenities he could probably see his reflection off of. There's a hallway to the right, lined with doors.

"All ours, three bedrooms to decorate as we please. I was thinking we could have one for just us—if you're ready for that."

They could share a room, a private space that's just theirs. "I'd like that."

"The second room I was thinking could be a spare for when people come to visit, and the third could be a studio."

A home studio, they'd finally have the space.

"How does that sound, hmm?"

"That sounds perfect." It sounds so wonderfully perfect, he couldn't have wanted anything more perfect.

"So the suitcase wasn't for Australia, but you are going back to at some point, right?"

"Yes, I told my mum I'd be back in just under a month, once I've submitted the last of my assignments." Changbin nods, the final piece of information wracking his mind at peace. "It'll be a little different this time though."

"Oh why's that?"

"Because you're coming with me. I already bought the tickets, my parents are excited to see you again, they'll be glad to know I finally got my head out of my ass."

Changbin barks out a laugh. "We were both pretty dumb, not just you."

"Yeah, well, they've been giving me hell over it for years so they'll be relieved either way."

A warmth spreads across his chest. Chan told his parents about him, about wanting to be with him? "Really, they know?"

"Yeah, they caught on to me pretty quickly when I spent pretty much every minute I was at home talking about you, and then when they came to visit it just got worse."

"If they're as bad as Minho and Jisung have been to me I feel sorry for you."

"It's our penance for being emotionally repressed idiots." Chan rocks them side to side.

Changbin hums, getting distracted by what lays before them. still can't believe it, all this space is theirs. His eyes flicker around everywhere. Chan follows his gaze.

"Do you want me to give you a tour?"

"Yeah," He sniffles. "I'd like that." His voice thick with emotion.

"Come here" Chan tugs on the empty belt loop of Changbin's jeans to spin him around, Changbin lets himself be pulled along willingly. He hooks his arms over Chan's shoulders as Chan's rest his over his hips.

Chest to chest they stand in a room brimming with so much possibility, they lean in, smiles ghosting against each other.

"I love you,"

"I love you, too."

Changbin doesn't have to fear what tomorrow might bring, because sometimes the things you think are inevitable can't be further from the truth. Sometimes you just need to trust that the leap you take will land you on solid ground, and even if it doesn't, enjoy the thrill of the fall.

"Let's go."