#i neglected ftw2 for this

[linorachas]

track 01. | bang chan

⁍ pairing — bang chan x gn!reader ⁍ genre — fluff, hurt and comfort ⁍ word count — 2.6k words ⁍ details — established relationship, kisses!!!, self-doubt on reader's part ⁍ notes — this fic was supposed to be a drabble, but i may have gotten carried away because it hit close to home and maybe i need reassurance from chan Too ok damn. this one is for anon, and for every person out there who didn't get the results that they wanted, big or small. bear hugs from me and chan. you did well ♥️ ⁍ the mixtape series — this series will be for my fics that are heavily inspired by songs! i'm a very music-oriented person, so expect more of these in the future. ⁍ summary —  Chan was there for you. It was that simple.

♬ now playing:

when you love someone (day 6) ⤷ on queue: grow up (skz)

Chan knew something was wrong the moment he stepped through the door.

He should have no reason to know, really. Your days started off on a good note, sweet kisses exchanged and promises made before he left for work. You texted him sporadically throughout the day, but the texts tapered off sometime after lunch.

He hadn’t thought anything of it then, but now that he’s seen you, it took every bit of his strength to not just shake your shoulders and ask you what was wrong so he could fix it and make it better and destroy whatever it is that upset you.

He knew you liked to play your problems off like they were nothing, brushing it off in fear that you would bother the people around you. You would ignore all your problems and let it boil over if you could. And he knew this was one of those times, because you hadn’t texted him about it. Greeted him at the front door like normal, distracted him with your bright smiles and kisses that leave him breathless.

But… he sees the way your smile tightened.

The way you blinked rapidly when you thought he wasn’t looking, staring up at the ceiling to try and alleviate the stinging in your eyes. He sees it in the way you wore your (his) comfiest sweater and turned on your comfort show at a loud volume, as if you were doing all your favorite things to convince both Chan and yourself that you were fine.

But he also saw how none of these things worked, and that you were hiding something, and it was hurting you.

“Minho called today,” you start talking as you both walk to the kitchen, and Chan finds you had already prepared dinner. You bustle around the kitchen, telling him about Minho’s trip to the vet with Dori, Jeongin’s new hobby, Hyunjin’s current drama obsession.

You talk and you talk, finding little things to do, like moving the cereal box and rearranging condiments. Chan moves to get the rice like he always does, but the ache in his heart slows his movements.

He didn’t like seeing you like this, putting up a front for him. He didn’t mind you hiding what was wrong. He understood that it was hard for you to talk about your problems, and he wasn’t going to push for you to do so. But it didn’t sit right with him that you had to put on a smile, when you were clearly struggling.

So he bites the bullet.

“Baby,” he calls, stopping you mid-rant. He knew eye contact made you nervous, especially with the question he’s about to ask, so Chan keeps his gaze trained on the rice cooker. He scoops out the rice methodically, keeping his voice light. “Did something happen today?”

You laugh, but even you can feel the nerves in it. “Nothing much, Channie. I’m fine! Anyway, I really thought they’d have it, you know. It was all over the internet. I’d have ordered it online, but shipping seemed too expensive. Some of the-“

“Stop it.”

You freeze at Chan’s tone, and you turn around slowly to see him frowning at the counter, bowl placed down. You meet eyes when he turns to look at you too, but he softens immediately when he sees how caught off guard you were, eyes still wide.

With a sad smile, he shuffles closer to you, reaching for your hand. But he stops before he actually gets to touch it, looking at you cautiously as if asking for permission to hold you.

Your heart throbbed.

As soon as you manage a shaky nod, Chan takes your hand in his and intertwines your fingers together. He takes your other hand as well, but this one he brings up to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to it.

Heart stuttering, you croak, “Chan-“

“I’m here.” Chan reassures firmly, as if it was that simple. He tears through the walls you’ve built up the entire day, like they were made of cardboard instead of concrete. The stinging in your eyes worsens, because maybe it was that simple.

Chan was here. He was here, and maybe you were safe now, maybe you could let yourself cry for a bit, maybe you could let him hold you and you could forget, maybe-

He sighs, apologetic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh earlier. You can tell me to leave and I will, but I’ll be right outside that door until you allow me inside again. I’m right here, Y/N.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand, but this one is longer.

Lips brushing against your palm, he promises, “Whatever it is, I’m right here with you.”

And the dam breaks.

You don’t register the tears rapidly flowing down your cheeks until you see the way Chan panics, and the sight would have made you laugh any other time, but unfortunately you were too busy crying your heart out. Chan makes a wounded noise when he gathers you up in his arms, and your hands clutch at his shirt desperately, finding your safe space in the crook of his neck.

You hiccup and you sob and you shake, but all Chan does is hold you tighter and tighter, almost like he was holding together the pieces that were slowly breaking off you.

Like it was that simple.

He doesn’t say anything, except for the occasional hushing when you choke on a sob. One of his hands was wrapped snugly around your waist, keeping you close, while the other stayed at the back of your head. He was shielding you like this, hiding you away from the world that hurt you so much.

He starts swaying once your sobs die down. He rocks you back and forth slowly, humming under his breath just so you could have some music to sway to. It distracts you, and focusing on his humming eventually leads you to focus on your own breathing too.

You only pull away once his nails start gently scratching your scalp, afraid you would fall asleep on him if he continues any longer. You look up at him then, with puffy red eyes and tear stained cheeks, and Chan— who was never the one to resort to violence first— feels a lick of immediate anger deep in his soul for the person, or the thing, or whatever it was that made you like this.

Meanwhile, you look mournfully at the big wet patch on Chan’s shirt, berating yourself for being gross. Chan follows your gaze and laughs softly. He tears your gaze away from it by tilting your head up, two fingers under your chin. You meet his gaze and sniffle, apologetic.

“I’ll make you wash that later.” Chan’s nose scrunches, smiling at you playfully. Your lips quirk at that for a quick second, but the relief that washes over Chan at the miniscule expression was massive.

Brushing your hair away from your face, he sighs, “Now who made my baby cry, huh? I’ll beat them up for you. Really.”

You snort, about to tell him he couldn’t even hurt a fly, but then a fresh wave of tears well up in your eyes again just from the question alone and Chan coos as he brings you back in your arms.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me. I’m not forcing you. We don’t have to talk about it, okay?”

You shake your head at that, face still buried in his chest. It’s not that you didn’t want to tell him, you were just…

You hiccup, furiously wiping at your tears as you pull away. Chan’s face was so open, so understanding and so ready to fight whatever upset you that the worlds bubble up in your throat before you could stop them.

Fuck it.

You face Chan again, steeling yourself as you whisper, brokenly;

“I didn’t get it.”

A look of realization and shock flickers on Chan’s face, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. It’s replaced with understanding, his gentle smile just coaxing more tears out of you. He cups your face between his two hands, shushing you.

“Oh, my baby.” He sighs, brushing your tears away with his thumb. He opens his mouth to ask how he can help, but surprisingly, you keep talking.

“It’s just so stupid.” You start, and then the words just don’t stop. “I feel so stupid. I know I shouldn’t be crying over this because I have other applications and- and-“

“Don’t say that,” Chan frowns, not wanting to interrupt you but also not wanting to hear you say you were stupid. “You’re allowed to cry over anything. No matter how big or small it is. There are no rules about what you should or shouldn’t cry to. I know how much you wanted that, Y/N.” He shakes his head, “You have every right to be upset.”

You swallow, letting Chan’s words sink into your bones. Exhaling shakily, your hands come up to grip his wrists.

“Everybody— my other friends, they kept telling me that I did my best, and I should just focus on the fact that I gave it my all, but if I— if I did my best, if I gave everything I had, why didn’t I…” you trail off, looking at Chan imploringly, as if he knew the answers to your question. “Chan, why didn’t they-“

You’re wrapped in another tight hug before you could finish your sentence, Chan pulling you so close that not even air could get between you two. His grip should be suffocating with how tight it was, but it just made you feel more safe. Secured. Protected.

Loved.

“Tell me what you need, baby.” Chan asks when he pulls away, eyes searching your face desperately.

He hated seeing you like this, but most of all, he hated knowing he couldn’t do anything about it. This wasn’t something he could change with a snap of a finger, or something he could avenge you for. But hell would freeze over first before he’d let you deal with this alone.

“You,” you finally croak out, falling into the safety of his arms again. Here, nothing could hurt you. Here, you were safe. “Just you. Please.”

And his heart breaks.

Chan swallows, feeling that same lick of anger rise up again. But he pushes it down, because nothing else mattered in the world right now but you.

He coaxes you out of the kitchen, hands still intertwined as he leads you to your bedroom. He sits on the middle of the bed first, leaning back against the headboard. Then he opens his arms wide, and you crawl into his lap, your bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces.

The hand he slips under your shirt makes you shudder, but there was nothing sexual about it. You’ve unknowingly been cold all day, the nerves from waiting for that damn email somehow lowering your body temperature and forcing you to bundle up. Just an hour ago, you had wanted nothing but to curl up under a blanket and hide from the world, shivering. But now, Chan felt like a furnace, and for every place that his hand touches, your skin warmed.

You didn’t need to hide now, because Chan was here.

It was that simple.

Chan takes your hand again, bringing it up to his lips. He presses a kiss to each of your fingernails, even tilting his head so he could kiss the thumb. He’s smiling as he does it, with that goofy little smile he does when he’s trying to act cute and make you smile. You’ve long stopped trying to discern if the smile you do end up making is because of his cuteness, or because he looked kind of hilarious.

Today, you realize it’s because you love him.

And another smile is tugged out of you again, because you’re reminded that he loves you.

It shows when he presses gentle kisses to the palm and the back of your hand too, down to your wrist. He shows it again when a cool draft of wind comes in through your open bedroom window, and Chan’s already throwing the covers over the both of you before you could even shiver.

He shows it once more when he captures your lips in a chaste kiss, and it’s still as sweet as the first one you ever shared, when you were both nervous but just as in love.

“You’re allowed to hurt.” Chan whispers after you guys spend a few minutes of silence just basking each other in, Chan rocking you side to side, his cheek pressed on top of your head. “You’re allowed to cry. I don’t want you to ever think that you can’t be upset about this. Yes, you did do your best, and that’s something to be proud of. But it still hurts here, doesn’t it?”

He touches your intertwined hands to your chest, right where your heart was located. You nod shakily. He smiles softly.

“So let it hurt. Let it hurt now, and when it passes- when, baby.” he looks you in the eye, determined and sure, “remember this: when. Not if. Never if. Because this will pass, and we’re going to get up tomorrow and find you other options. We’ll continue tomorrow and we’ll find another way like we always do. You’re doing well. You’re doing just fine, and I know you’re doing your best. But for now, you let it hurt so you can heal from it…”

Despite himself, Chan’s voice breaks. Because even though letting you hurt now was essential, that didn’t mean he liked it. He wished desperately for some kind of way to transfer your pain to him, just for a moment.

The stinging in your eyes comes back on full force again, but this time for an entirely different reason. Chan catches the teardrop by your lash line before it could even roll down your cheek.

“...and I will be right here with you.”

He promises, nose nudging against yours gently. Your eyes flutter close when Chan leans up to press his lips against your forehead, muttering even more promises. He intended to keep every single one of them.

It didn’t matter that it seemed unrealistic to promise so many things. Chan would fight tooth and nail to live up to those promises, if it meant putting a smile on your face. He’d do just about anything if it meant seeing your lips twitch or your eyes gleam or your cheeks flush over and over again.

Your gestures and expressions were things he learned to take note of early in your relationship, ever since he realized you liked putting up a front. Every day, he learns something new about what a certain gesture or expression meant, and every day he falls in love with each of them a little bit more.

So to see such a pained, guarded expression on your face; it drove him crazy. He wanted nothing more than to find the source of your pain and make them suffer too, no matter how illogical that sounded.

But then your hand twitches again his, your hair tickling him from where you’ve buried your face on his neck, and he remembers that you need him right now.

You needed him to stay, and he was more than willing to do so. He didn’t mind if his body ached in this position, or if he had to stay up all night to distract you from your thoughts. It didn’t matter if you wanted to go out in the middle of the night for a distraction, or if you wanted to stay and shut yourselves in. He’d do all of it in a heartbeat.

Just so he could ease the pain in your chest, even just for a little bit.

Because it was simple: he loves you, and whatever you wanted to do and wherever you wanted to go…

You will always, always have him.