#this night again

[smallchildyue]

Happy birthday to that one bandaged mackerel.

No fanart for him since, like last year, I wrote a thing. Technically a direct follow-up to the first piece, but now with more angst. This is chapter 1 out of 4 (5 with the planned epilogue). Enjoy !

Still available on Ao3 and Wattpad for the fr translation.

Chūya had been staring at his glass for about fifteen minutes now. Or, rather, that’s what anyone would have guessed, but his blurry gaze didn’t entirely discern his surroundings and had instead gotten lost on an imaginary point. Somewhere far away, probably. Trying to focus on his drink, he took a moment to remember how many of those he’d already had. He started counting- one, two… Damn, what came after that ? For hell’s sake, he was totally hammered, and it was only… Huh, what time was it ? He glanced at the clock on the wall left to him, but the hands wouldn’t stay still for some reason. He let his head fall into the crook of his arm, sprawling on the wooden counter while his fingers flicked the glass in a chime that echoed in his ears.

He felt the barman’s unimpressed gaze on him. Whatever, the man must have been used to it by now. After a bit, some noise in the back caught both of their attention. He straightened up on his stool as the server lifted his eyes towards the door at the other side of the room.

- Welcome, the barman said, to a new customer probably.

His attention went back to his drink. He made the wine twirl, just enough to appreciate the nice, deep red trace that flowed on the glass, and took a sip. Now that, that was the real life. Nothing better than fragrant alcohol after a long day of work.

Day… Hum.

His memory suddenly clouded with reminders of today’s date and it brutally sobered him up. The glass in his hand almost shattered, but miraculously only got a single crack near its top. Instead, he gritted his teeth. This bar was one of the few that still accepted him, he couldn’t get kicked out of it as well. All thanks to that bastard, really. Of course it was because of him, it was always because of him. No matter what he did, no matter where he went, it was like his shadow always stood nearby, mocking him all the time. Always, always, always.

He took a sharp inhale, hoping the breath would somehow stop the rage that progressed in his veins like liquid fire, but the air around him felt hot, and sticky, and heavy. He knew about heavy, gravity being his thing and all, but this… He hated it. So instead, he tried to swallow the fury along his last gulps of wine. He forced himself to focus on the fruity notes and the cooling feel it left in his throat, and not on how much he wanted to wreck the place, to burn everything to the ground and let it all disappear into ashes and oblivion as chaos engulfed the world.

But no, he would explode later, in the privacy of his room. So he pushed it all away, just like he slid his glass towards the barman to get another drink. While it happened, he knew he had to steer those thoughts away or he’d seriously go insane at this rate ; he occupied his mind by glancing at the people behind him.

The bar was almost empty, and oddly quiet. Well, not that oddly. The Lupin wasn’t that famous outside of the Port Mafia, and after the fair amount of fights he’d gotten in while drunk, his fellows had learnt to avoid it when Chūya went there. A few people sat at the back tables, most of them as alone as himself, and someone else shared the counter with him, although at the opposite end of it. Chūya side-eyed him - his judgment wasn’t yet clouded enough that he’d blatantly stare at a stranger. It was a man, clad in black shirt and suit pants, and although he couldn’t really tell since he was sitting, seemingly tall and focused on the phone in his hand. He had a whiskey glass in front of him - oh . Blood pumped in his ears, deafening in the bar’s silence. He raised his eyes, stopping on auburn hair, almost as red as his own. He blinked.

The man’s hair wasn’t auburn, but a simple, dimmer brown. Light had pulled tricks on him, he guessed. Of course. A quiet thud next to him caught his attention. The bartender had refilled his drink, and he took the glass, twirling it between his fingers for a bit before taking a sip.

The doorbell rang. Hours passed, people left, people came, and he stayed here, drinking.

(And if one of those people happened to be his ex-partner, well… He’d pretend he hadn’t noticed him, nor the way he observed him while leaning back on the wall as Chūya couldn’t help but mumbling a certain song ; nor the way his face had hardened after it ; nor the way he had left without looking back.

He ordered another drink, a stronger one, and he kept drinking.)

It had been a few hours since Osamu had gone to the Lupin for the first time this evening. It must have been quite late in the night, by now, and the streets were even emptier than before, the few people that still roamed around swaying or collapsed against the walls in all their drunken glory. In the background, the sounds of the city still pierced the silence, however. He could hear car honking somewhere quite far away, as well as the faint clamor of the more active blocks of Yokohama, where night clubs and popular attractions were. Despite the late hour, the air still felt warm, almost too hot under his coat and bandages. Well, it was already summer, after all… Many people’s favorite season, something he had never tried to understand.

Finally, he arrived at his destination. As always, and as he’d done a few hours prior, he avoided the hanging chimes on the doorway, and its pleasant noise reminiscing of too many things. The old bartender greeted him once more, with the same one word. He stopped next to the entrance, checking the counter. Chūya was still in the same spot, laying down on the wooden surface in a position, which, frankly, defied all physics. How he hadn’t fallen off the stool yet was a mystery, one that never failed to make him scoff in amusement. There was no glass in front of him anymore, his last drink of the night probably picked up by the bartender a while ago. That was his cue, the sign that his slug had now properly passed out.

He came closer, checking around the lethargic silhouette for belongings. His jacket had fallen on the tiles just like his upside-down hat ; a cigarette pack, that he recognized as his favorite brand, rested next to Chūya’s metallic lighter and ginger hair. He gathered everything, securing the lighter in the jacket’s pocket where Chūya’s mobile phone and keys already were, but keeping the cigarettes for himself.

The payment has been received, thank you for using our services~, Osamu mentally sing-sung (the payment being Chibikko’s annoyance, he had never really smoked).

- It has been quite some time, the bartender stated, surprising him.

- Is that so ? he answered with a half-smile, nonetheless.

He couldn’t tell, since he could barely be bothered to keep track of time, but guessed it made sense. The Lupin wasn’t one of Chūya’s preferred pubs, so he rarely had to come to this place. They stayed silent after this, their short conversation already over - the simple fact there’d been one unexpected. They didn’t usually chat when he came by to pick up his slug. After short explanations the first time it had happened, they had fallen into a routine of unasked and unanswered questions. He didn’t need to tell the barman to put tonight’s expenses on Chūya’s tab for him to take care of in the future, as he already knew, so Osamu solely hauled up the short man on his back, struggling just as much as usual, before leaving.

Despite his small frame, Chūya was surprisingly heavy. Well, maybe it was himself who didn’t weigh much, and physical strength wasn’t his main asset. No matter which one it was, the fact remained that carrying him was a pain. His hair was long enough to fall on Osamu’s neck, right above his bandages where it could tickle, and that was without even mentioning the breath he had after a night spent gulping down alcohol. How could someone with such a low tolerance even drink so much ? And now he started to slide down his back, geez. He sighed in annoyance, and lightly shook his head before adjusting his former partner’s position.

Chūya felt the light before seeing it, inducing an immediate headache. He tried to open an eye, but his eyelids felt cemented together by their dryness. Finally, he managed to squeeze them open a bit. Everything was blurry, however, and his field of vision was almost entirely obstructed by some light brown thing his head was resting upon. Fabric ? The light went away so he couldn’t really see, but it felt like fabric, where his cheek rubbed against it. He fought the sluggishness away to make sense of it. He was moving rhythmically, resting against something that pressed against his thighs and the front of his body. It was an oddly familiar, yet long gone feeling.

It feels like… Like being carried, he realized amidst the haze of his mind.

The light came back, and he opened his eyes slightly more while trying to raise his head a little and utterly failing. He grasped sight of something almost black - hair, his fuzzy brain hazarded after some delay - clashing against the light fabric and pale skin. It became dark one more time. But more than anything, it was the smell that rang a bell. He couldn’t have described it in any way, yet he intuitively connected it to someone in particular.

- …a… zai… ? he mumbled, his throat full of needles as he forced out a sound.

Nothing answered him, the only sounds around him being the steady steps underneath and undetermined background noises. Soon enough, those, combined with his body’s light swaying and the warmth of the atmosphere, overcame his confusion and aches all across his limbs and slowly lulled him back to slumber.

The next time Chūya woke up, no pesky light whatsoever came to bother him. Something he was thankful for, really, since his head already hurt enough without it - the customary, yet painful throb of a hangover. He groaned a handful of swears that no one of appropriate manners would recommend to let out in public. Still cursing, he rubbed his eyes and finally conjured the strength to open them. After some time to adjust to the room’s dim lighting, he recognized his bedroom. He was in his bed, tucked under a blanket that felt way too warm and that he quickly kicked away, towards the end of his bed. It landed on top of something dark - ah, his coat, laid neatly on the footboard, and his hat resting on top of it. 

He dragged himself towards the window, drawing the curtain to peek outside. Pitch black, it must still have been night. In a moment of startled realization, he checked around him for his phone. He found it in his jacket’s pocket, thankfully, and a glance at his screen confirmed to him that it was close to three in the morning. He had a couple of unanswered texts and a single phone call, but those would wait until actual morning. Sighing, he went back on his bed in hopes of finishing his night.

To no avail, since about an hour later, he still laid on his back, very much awake. No matter what, he couldn’t stop thinking about the previous evening. He didn’t know when and how he’d gotten back home, but well, not the first time this had happened to him so he had brushed it off at first. Somehow, he always found his way back home when he passed out in a bar. However, he had this weird feeling, almost a reminiscence, of this bastard mackerel in a human disguise called Dazai carrying him in the street. Obviously, there was no way this had happened. Even after he’d let go of his pride and asked him to do that after their fight against those two Guild guys, he had left him to snore in the dirt, so to imagine he’d do it spontaneously… Yeah, right. That was just a non-issue. What wasn’t, though, was the dawning realization that he’d imagined, or dreamt of it, or however else this scene had appeared in his mind.

Shit, that’s not good, he grumbled.

He still had one hour and a half until his routine alarm, but didn’t hope to fall asleep by then, so he instead got up. His legs felt a little steadier now, and he desperately craved some cold water to ease his sore throat. Maybe even some fresh air, he thought as he gulped down the water like he hadn’t drank in a week, and maybe going out for a while would allow him to set his mind straight, so after putting his glass in the sink, he grabbed his coat, keys, and left his flat in search of some nice spot in the city. His first thought had been to perch up on top of some building, but he knew better than to use his ability while drunk or hangover -last time had ended up with him plummeting in a fountain, and he wasn’t about to repeat the experience - so he walked towards the docks of Yokohama instead.

Above him, the sky slowly lightened up as the sun rose above the ocean. He spent some time looking at it while the city started to wake up, more engines rumbling in the background and the very first shops starting to open. The fresh air had worked as intended, and he felt a bit less nauseous now, so he quickly jumped above a railing and sat down on a flat rock right next to the water. Fishing up his lighter from his pocket, he patted it for a cigarette, but frowned when he didn’t feel the smooth plastic wrap. He was sure he still had some, though, had he lost them during the night ?

 - Damn it. Guess I gotta buy a new pack, he scowled while kicking an innocent pebble into the ocean.

He mechanically played with his lighter for a moment, igniting the flame a couple of times before pocketing it and disgruntledly leaving in hopes of finding an open tobacco store. It wasn’t even five a.m. yet, but well, who knew. Maybe if he was lucky, it wouldn’t take him too long.

So, just like that, his day went by. He had miraculously sobered up enough to avoid both Ane-san’s berating and the Boss’ half-amused, half-sinister gaze by the time of the underbosses meeting. He reported on the last mission, received a new one, and as the morning ended, was eventually dismissed from his duties. Ane-san and him walked down the hallway in silence, as his early morning concerns had fought their way back into his mind once the meeting had ended and nothing occupied him anymore. As such, it took him more time than he’d liked to notice the older woman was staring at him.

- Huh ? Is there something wrong ? he asked, trying as hard as he could not to let his irritation stain the tone with which he spoke to her.

- I’m the one who should be asking that.

She raised an inquisitive eyebrow as he stayed quiet, his face intuitively hardening.

- I’m fine, I guess.

- So are you going to pretend you didn’t excessively drink yesterday, once again ? 

- Wh- Urgh, goddamnit, I thought you didn’t notice.

- You weren’t as subtle as you hoped. Now, will you tell me what’s happening ? Surely it isn’t your drinking alone that puts you in such a state…

- Everytime I forget how sharp you are, I end up regretting it, he groaned, and Ane-san chuckled quietly, her hand covering her mouth. It was easy to forget that this woman led their torture squad. It’s just… I had a weird dream that keeps popping up in my head. It’s annoying the hell outta me but, it’s fine, really.

- Well, if it’s only that… Although, I’m curious to know what kind of dream would take so much of your thoughts, she hummed.

He froze, stopping right in his tracks as the pesky visions became more vivid and clear in his mind. Oh, hell no. No way he was telling her about that, not in a million years. The mere thought of his older sister knowing about this embarrassing dream of his sufficed to make him crave punching the nearest window into oblivion. Hell, he’d even destroy every single window in this damn corridor if the boss hadn’t warned him that after it happened twice already, he better not be caught doing it again.

- Chūya-kun, would you please mind your steps ? Ane-san demanded.

Her words brought his attention back, and he gave her a questioning look before noticing she was looking behind them, where they’d just walked. In multiple places, the tiled floor had cracked, forming circular small craters in a line that went for a few meters - definitely his fault, and he mentally cursed himself. That was twenty percent of this month’s pay melting away. Kōyō sighed, softly shaking her head in that “not mad, just disappointed” way of hers. Thankfully, he had gotten used to it and learnt how to dismiss its effects since he’d been a teenager. He shrugged, stating that the building had already seen worse than that, and a smirk tugged his lips when he noticed Ane-san trying to bite back her own amusement.

- Ah… You are incorrigible, aren’t you ? She stayed silent for a moment before speaking up again. I hope you know at least that you can tell me anything, if you ever want to.

- I know - and I’m thankful for it, Chūya kept unvoiced - but that…

He tilted his head to scratch the underside of his hair in a tense gesture. His hat almost fell down in the process, but he kept it on with his ability. His hands were once again twitching with the urge to wreak havoc on something, preferably a certain bandaged, beige-clad jerk.

- Is it about Dazai-kun ?

The question, which sounded awfully like a statement, made him choke on his own saliva.

- What ?! No, why would it be ?! he sputtered.

But she stared at him, in a way that made a chill run all across his spine. He clenched and unclenched his teeth a few times, trying to stop himself from spilling his guts right there and then. Ah. He was screwed.

- After I blacked out yesterday, I got home, you know ? And, I sorta had this hallucination, or something like that, I dunno, that he’d been there at the time, and that’s fucking stupid , obviously ! By then, he had started yelling without noticing. Obviously, because how in every goddamn hell would it have happened ?! And yet !

And yet here he was, the words overflowing like water from a broken dam, tumbling one after another without interruption and leaving him breathless. His hands, his legs, his entire body shaking in barely restrained hatred. It was excruciating, the way his chest squeezed under the weight of his fury, and the air inside his lungs boiled just like his blood.

An acute prickling in his palms made him snap out of it. He hadn’t felt it, but his fists clenched so hard that without his gloves, it might have drawn blood where his nails pressed. Chūya looked next to him, apprehensive of Ane-san’s reaction yet desperate to check it, but she now walked a good four meters behind him. As to which one of them had changed their pace, that remained a mystery. He stopped so that she’d catch up to him, watching her impassively walk with her eyes closed and head slightly lowered. Her face didn’t give anything away, but Chūya didn’t miss how her shoulders had tensed. When she opened her eyes, her gaze fell onto the walls, avoiding him.

- I see, she finally stated. An unfortunate dream, indeed. Well, if you’d excuse me, I have another meeting to attend with my subordinates.

Wait, that’s it ? That’s all she has to say about that ?

Kōyō stepped past him without another word. He whirled around to stare at his elder in shock. Almost outrage, really. After letting the cat out of the bag, he deserved better than that ! But she just kept walking away, her pace even and graceful as ever while he could only stand in place, dumbfounded.

Hah ?! What the actual hell ?!

It took all of his self control to resist demolishing the entire floor. He glanced at the elevator. Too far away. He opened the window with as little force as he could - maybe it had still cracked, maybe not. In any case, he would deny any kind of implication - and hopped above the frame. He needed to get out, and get a cigarette, and he needed it right fucking now.

[mimimar]

the woman who holds the moon

prints available here. my cover for this month's issue of baffling magazine.

[chloesimaginationthings]

The FNAF Vanessas meet their younger selves..

[madqueenalanna]

been seeing homies get deep into "the terror" and making me want to rewatch SO i spent two hours in the dead of night reading the wiki/the subreddit/other linked articles and like. one of those articles was deadass fucked up

there was a woman who spoke inuktitut who was writing a book containing a lot of inuit oral histories, and in nunavut she was able to hear passed-down recollections of when survivors from the franklin expedition were passing through

and like. i can't imagine being an inuit family/group, knowing that europeans exist but having never seen them, seeing 8-9 shambling, blue-skinned, cold-to-the-touch out-of-their-minds white men come wandering by. they invited the men inside their igloos for warmth, for food, to be hospitable. the men refused to eat, refused to speak, and when trade was offered, clutched their possessions close and refused to entertain the idea of trade. this was, offputting, to say the least. the group set them up in their own igloo, with their own fire, and left three whole seals for them to eat. and then they fled cause what the FUCK get out of there. they came back in a few days to check on the strangers. the three seals were completely untouched, while all of the men had killed and eaten each other

i mean. fuck dude. there are obviously pretty dark angles to view the franklin expedition from– honestly can't think of a good angle, it's pure colonialism and british exceptionalism– but that specific interaction, that inuit group who were living lives as normal until a dozen fucking walking dead showed up and did cannibalism. no wonder that story got passed down, i'd be shitting my pants if i saw that

[styllwaters]

necklace carpet sharks are SO silly and beautiful and it is of upmost importance that you all look at them

[artemis-pendragon]

NEVER FORGOR 🫡

[just-bee-lieve]

IT’S MURDER ON THE DANCE FLOOR—-

AND YOU BETTER NOT KILL THE GROOVE!!

[gkdmts]

grandpa core! and happy malleus it might be lame but i hc the old man looking scrawny until he flexes or whatever and he's actually very muscular, he of course prefers to be seen as thin and small. though he's a cute little thing either way right guys

[silentheiss]

SQQ: Disciple Shen Yuan is weak, useless and is in no way related to this master

SQQ: *catches 14yo SY cursing and kicking cowering SQH behind the woodshed*

SQQ: This master has never been more proud and also, he birthed A-Yuan out of his own body

[druid-for-hire]

[images ID: three images of a comic titled "one must imagine sisyphus happy" by druid-for-hire. it is a visual narrative beginning with someone with wrist pain (depicted by bright orange nerves) working at a drafting table. the reader is shown the same wrist as the person uses it for many everyday tasks such as carrying a grocery basket, pushing elevator buttons, typing, and doing dishes, until the pain dissolves all the panels into chaos. the person then performs several physical therapy exercises until the pain subsides. they sit back down at a desk with their laptop, sigh, and begin typing. a small spark of pain reappears. end id]

a fun little piece i made during the semester and submitted into our school comic anthology! (which you can buy at the Static Fish table at MoCCAFest in NYC ;] ). it's about artists and injury

[chahnniesroom]

night again

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: in hindsight, visiting chan's studio right before a comeback isn't one of your best ideas. what was supposed to be a pleasant surprise leaves you spiraling into self-doubt, wondering if chan even wants to be in a relationship with you at all.

word count: 6.4k

tags/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, misunderstandings, insecurities, reader not eating due to stress

a/n: the long awaited 'he calls you clingy' fic! title is from the english translation of 또 다시 밤 (twilight)

read it on ao3 | masterlist

You love your job. It's challenging for sure and the expectations from upper management are often unforgiving, but you’re proud of how hard you've worked and everything that you've accomplished in the past few years at your company. 

As you've gained experience, you've slowly been given more and more responsibility. You've grown out of your junior role and though you're thrilled by the pay raise and prospect of being a team lead rather than being led by one, it's also daunting.

When you and your new team are assigned an important project with tight deadlines, you're determined to prove yourself. It's implied that you're going to have to have to dedicate a significant amount of time to finish it and while you're no stranger to long hours, it means that any plans you have of seeing your boyfriend, Chan, are out the window.

The timing is not terrible, Stray Kids has a comeback scheduled in about a week so you didn't think that you would be able to spend that much time with Chan anyway, but you usually try to surprise the boys at one of the music shows with a cake and some home cooked food.

Luckily, you've already been planning for this. Although nothing had been confirmed, you had expected that this project would be awarded to your company and you've already been trying to spend more time with Chan than usual in preparation for the busy season ahead for both of you.

Still, you can't help but agree with your best friend at work after she complains how little she's going to see her partner this month. Jinjoo doesn't know who your boyfriend is, but the two of you are close enough that you’ve shared that you have one and that work takes up a lot of his time. You've gushed to her about the sweet things that Chan has done for you and you've admitted that you think he's the one.

“You should bring him dinner sometime!” she exclaims when you mention you're not sure when the next time you'll be able to see Chan will be.

“Well, he’s really busy-” you start to say.

“That’s the beauty of it. I’m sure he would appreciate if you brought him food at work, especially if he’s anything like my partner and gets so caught up with work that they forget to eat sometimes,” she insists.

“That’s true.”

“Just trust me, Y/n. I wouldn’t be telling you this if I wasn’t sure that it’d work. My partner loves when I do this. It’s literally the perfect way to take some time for each other before you’re both too busy. Even if he's super busy, his work can't be bad enough that he’s not allowed to eat, right?”

You agree somewhat reluctantly. You're still unsure about whether or not Chan would appreciate you barging in unannounced, but it is a cute idea and Jinjoo's confidence is enough to convince you.

The next day after work, you head to the company and order takeout for a late dinner for you and Chan, picking it up along the way. It reminds you of earlier in your relationship before you had gotten your current position and when Stray Kids were just gaining popularity. Both of you enjoyed having more casual date nights that provided more privacy as opposed to going out to fancy places and it makes you even more excited to see his reaction.

About a year after you started dating Chan, he insisted that you get a pass to get into JYP Entertainment without having to fill out a visitor's form and have someone pick you up. It has definitely come in handy more than a few times, although you try to limit the number of visits you make. Even though you're allowed to be there, it still feels intimidating to be in the building, like someone is going to recognize that you're not an employee and accuse you of being a sasaeng.

Luckily the late hour means that you make it to Chan's studio without having to interact with anybody except the security at the door, who had waved you through without a second thought. You had double checked with Felix earlier in the day to make sure that Chan didn't have any schedules or dinner plans, so you directly knock on his door without texting or calling him beforehand. 

“Y/n?” he asks, a bit baffled when he sees you. “Did we- Did I forget that we had plans tonight?”

“No,” you say, a little nervous for some reason. It's just Chan, you tell yourself, but it doesn't make you feel any better. “I didn't think that you had dinner yet and wanted to see you.”

“Oh, I see. Come in,” Chan responds slowly, still processing your sudden appearance. “I just have something that I need to finish up-”

“It's fine! You can work,” you assure him quickly. “I don't want to interrupt you too much, I just wanted to drop by since I don't have plans and wanted to make sure that you're eating well.”

Chan’s studio isn’t messy at all, but he still gets up to clear some space on a side table for you, before returning back to where he has Cubase opened up. You pass over his food and feel relieved when he immediately digs in, but your appetite seems to have vanished, you can only get yourself to pick at your meal.

Chan is short with his responses all evening and continues to work on his laptop, even while eating. It throws you off a bit, you thought that he would be able to get to a stopping point and at least make a bit of time for you, but you did tell him that he could. Even so, you're determined to make the most of the last time that you’re going to see them for a while. You know they’ve been super busy the past few days, or more like the past few weeks, but still you had thought he would be a little bit more engaged or at the very least seem happy to see you.

Finally, after half an hour of eating with minimal conversation, you decide to broach the subject that’s been on your mind this entire time. Chan’s finished his food and you know that you won’t be able to get yourself to eat anymore, so you shuffle everything off to the side and inch closer to Chan. 

“You know that client we’ve been trying to work with for a while?” you start tentatively.

Chan hums noncommittally, continuing to type on his computer. Not quite the reaction that you're hoping for, but you forge on anyway.

“We got awarded the job! It’s a great opportunity for the company and everyone is really excited, but-”

“Y/n,” he interrupts. “I’m sorry, that’s amazing and all, but you know that it’s not a good time for me right now. I have something I really need to work on and now that you’ve finished eating, can we please not bother with the small talk?”

“Oh,” you say, a bit caught off guard. Chan has never been the type to cut you off when you're speaking. “No, yeah, I get it. Uhm. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, just-” he sighs, sounding frustrated. “Next time can you please ask me when you want to visit in advance so this doesn’t happen again? You chose the worst timing to come by. I just need some space, from all of… this,” he says, waving a hand between the two of you.

“Sorry, I know it’s a busy time, but I just wanted to see-”

At that moment, an alarm on Chan's phone goes off, interrupting you. When he turns it off and notices the time, he swears lowly, unlocking his phone and typing out a message to somebody. You’re scared to break the silence. Less than a minute later, someone knocks on the door.

“Come in,” Chan calls. When Changbin and Jisung step into the room, they eye you curiously. You keep your head down and try to prevent your hands from shaking as you stand and start to haphazardly shove away all your belongings and the garbage from your dinner into bags. 

“Noona, it's good to see you!” Jisung says brightly, although his smile dims when you make eye contact and can only manage to weakly return the smile. “Sorry for interrupting you two.”

“Hi Hannie,” you reply quietly, not wanting to make conversation, but not wanting to be rude.

“It’s okay, Y/n was just leaving,” Chan says, his obvious annoyance making things even more awkward.

You say bye to the boys quietly and apologise as you shuffle past them to the door.

The handles of the bag from your dinner are digging into your hand painfully and your purse can’t close with the way that you’ve thrown everything into it. You only take a few steps before you have to stop for a moment to save a container from falling and decide to put down everything and reorganise it all.

When you crouch down, you take a second to mentally berate yourself. Everything you had worried about had come true. Instead of being a pleasant surprise, you had come across as a nuisance.

In your rush, you hadn't fully closed the studio door behind you and you're close enough that you can just barely pick up the conversation that happens inside.

“Sorry,” you hear Chan say faintly. “I don't know what's been going on, but Y/n has been… really clingy these days. She just showed up today without asking and I hate-”

You leave before he has the chance to say anything else. You look like a mess for sure, you had just grabbed all the empty containers without bothering to put them back into the plastic bag, your jacket is partially dragging on the ground, and your purse is hanging off your elbow, having slipped off your shoulder. You're pretty sure you hear an empty drink bottle clatter to the floor behind you, but you don't look back to check.

You don't have it in you to care, you just need to leave.

Even waiting for the elevator feels humiliating, so you bypass it and stumble down the stairs. You dump the garbage into a bin on the first floor, not bothering to sort it properly, and step out onto the street, bee-lining to the nearest subway station.

The ride home passes by in a blur.

It hurts, of course it hurts. 

Honestly the reason that your relationship had worked out so far was because you weren’t the kind of person that needed a lot of attention. You understood that both of you were busy and were content to just exchange messages every couple of days because you knew how important Stray Kids was to Chan. Of course you did, they were just as important to you.

If Chan wanted space, well. You were more than capable of giving it to him.

In fact, your upcoming schedule had been the reason that you had wanted to meet up in the first place, the source of your so-called clinginess. You’d never been called that before. You were hyper-independent and tended to get lost in your own mind, easily distracted by different thoughts. It had gotten to a point that most of your exes had complained at least once about you being distant or inattentive.

With Chan, you had been determined not to be the same. It had been difficult at first, to make the effort to send messages throughout the day. You had to convince yourself not to spend too long drafting replies in your head and try not to worry that you were bothering him, especially if you knew that he had schedules at the same time that you were texting.

By the time that you make it to your apartment, your pain has faded into a mixture of resignation and numbness. You don't want to talk to Chan about how you feel, it's your clinginess that he didn't like in the first place, and you don't think you'll have time or the energy for a long, emotional conversation in the next few weeks anyway. If you keep your distance for a while, it just benefits both of you, you tell yourself. You won’t be a distraction to Chan as Stray Kids has their comeback and he won’t be one to you as you take on this new project. 

As much as you want to spend the rest of your night overthinking- something you’ve done more than you’d like to admit- you know that you have a busy day at work tomorrow. Feeling a bit like a zombie, you force yourself to shuffle through your usual nighttime routine, swallowing a melatonin pill before climbing into bed.

Normally, you would send Chan a good night message. Actually, normally you would have sent him a message the second that you arrived home. It was something that he was insistent on starting from early on in your relationship, wanting to make sure that you were safe.

Tonight, you just turn off your phone, plug it into its charger, and sleep.

—

In the morning, you allow yourself to wallow in bed for 5 minutes, before you get ready for work. You’ve never been good at eating breakfast and today’s no exception. Your stomach turns uneasily at the thought of food so you only force yourself to drink some water before you leave.

Your team at work has agreed to get to work earlier than usual just to get a headstart on everything. Though you’re more of a night owl, you’re grateful to find that deviating from your usual routine means that the subway is empty enough that you can find an empty seat, a luxury that you’ve rarely experienced.

It feels eerie to walk through the streets of Seoul when the sun has just started to rise and you’re relieved when you finally make it to your office.

Unsurprisingly, you’re one of the first to arrive. You’re grateful for the time that you have to unpack your things and make a much needed coffee before the rest of your team shows up.

“How did it go last night?” Jinjoo asks you excitedly when she comes in.

“Uhm, it was okay,” you reply noncommittally. “He was definitely surprised.”

“Oh,” Jinjoo pouts at your lack of enthusiasm.

“I mean, it wasn’t bad,” you backtrack, hating to see her disappointed. “It was just so short, he was kind of… busy. But that’s what I expected anyway so that's fine I guess. Thanks for suggesting it to me though! I really appreciate it.”

“That’s good,” Jinjoo brightens. “At least you got to see him one last time.”

“Oh yeah for sure! I think that after seeing him yesterday, it’ll be easier to deal with how busy we’re going to be for the next few weeks,” you say truthfully. 

It’s not a lie, you justify. For the first time since you started dating, you’re not looking forward to the next time that you’re going to see Chan.

You know that your communication is about to reduce to an all time low for the next few weeks, and while you had originally been worried about how Chan would react, now you’re thinking that he’s just going to be relieved not to hear from you. You’ve never thought yourself to have been overly chatty with Chan during the day though, preferring in-person conversation over texting and knowing that he’s generally not available to read your messages anyway, much less send you a reply. It seemed that you were wrong. 

Luckily your team now has to use a shared box that you’re required to put your personal phones into during working hours and only have a little bit of time during lunch and dinner breaks, if you take them, to fish them out. It’s a policy that your company enforces when teams are working on confidential projects and you can’t blame them due to past litigation that they’ve been involved in after a former employee leaked sensitive information.

For once, you're glad for this excuse to not look at your phone, even if you feel a little bit naked to look at the side of your desk or reach into your pocket and not have your phone there. You’re relieved to bury yourself in your work and forget all about your personal life. Even though your project is just starting, you feel like you're already behind. 

When you're finished work for the day and take back your phone, you find yourself reluctant to check your notifications. It's only when you're waiting for the subway to arrive at your station that you finally force yourself to take a look.

No new messages or calls from Chan.

You’re not sure what you expected, but somehow you’re still disappointed.

You get back to your apartment late, you had wanted to finish a couple of things before you left the office and it had led to you being one of the last to leave. You had also stopped by the convenience store closest to your place, not having the energy to cook anything for yourself.

You pick at your dinner half-heartedly. You're used to eating alone, Chan often had his meals at odd times due to his schedules, but tonight the silence feels more oppressive. 

It haunts you, the tail end of the overheard conversation. You have no idea how Chan was going to complete the sentence, but your mind unhelpfully fills in the blanks with worse and worse suggestions.

He hates the timing of your visit.

He hates that you visited at all.

He hates that he has such a clingy girlfriend.

He hates that you are his clingy, annoying, bothersome girlfriend.

He hates you.

In moments of clarity, you can recognize that it's not true. That's not the Chan that you know and he would never say something like that about anybody, least of all you. It's just hard when a small part of you has never really been able to believe that someone as talented and amazing as Chan would want to date someone as unremarkable as you.

You find yourself falling into a new routine, waking early, working overtime, and trying not to cry yourself to sleep. You succeed most of the time, you keep yourself occupied by thinking about work and you're so physically exhausted by your long hours that you fall asleep the second that you get into bed. Luckily, your coworkers are just as overworked as you are and it’s easy to blame your declining condition on the project. Weekends don't help you rest at all, you've committed to your manager that you can work on Saturdays and Sundays are spent completing the chores that you've neglected during the week.

You still talk to Chan sometimes, either right when you wake up or on the way home after work. The conversation is stilted though, both because of the long delays between messages when you text and the limited time that you have when you call. It's enough of a difference that Chan asks you multiple times if everything is okay. Even though you try your best to assure him that you're fine, just busy, you're sure he knows that something is off, although he doesn't question your further.

Most exciting is the day that the new Stray Kids album releases. You've already heard most of the songs for this comeback, perks of dating the member that's the most involved in the writing and production of the album, but it's different now that they're available to the public too. You make sure to organise your schedule so that you're on break when the music video drops and you send a number of messages in the group chat that you have with the group cheering them on. Usually, you try to take a day off to deliver some food to them at the music shows, but you've had to settle for arranging with one of their managers to treat them to a meal.

You can tell when they get breaks because when you check your phone after work, notifications from the members are all in the same blocks of time. It's mostly them thanking you, taking pictures of the food you sent, flowers that they've been gifted, and letters from fans. They have a short promotion period this comeback, but it's packed with different interviews, performances, and fanmeets. At one point, Felix even sends you a picture of Chan sleeping slumped over on one of the waiting room couches. As much as you're relieved to see that he's able to get some rest, the picture has your stomach twisting uncomfortably.

You're proud of Chan, of all of the boys. They've worked so hard and each comeback seems to be more and more successful. Even if you're not confident in what's going to happen with you and Chan in the future, you want to celebrate with them while you still can.

—

After almost four weeks, your project is nearing completion and you've never been more grateful to have a deadline arrive.

You only have a couple more days left until your last submittal is due and after getting off work, you want nothing more than to collapse into bed even though your stomach has been growling the whole walk from the bus to your building. You had caught a significant mistake in a document right before it was going to be sent to a client and the whole afternoon had been spent trying to fix it in time. Your team had just barely managed it, but your head has been pounding for hours and your whole body is tight with stress.

You’re not quite sure how you make it to your apartment, your exhaustion has made you clumsy. You struggle a couple times to enter in the code to unlock your door and trip over a pair of shoes that are scattered in the entryway.

You manage to catch yourself before you fall, then squint back. Yes, you haven’t had the chance to tidy your apartment in a couple weeks, but you’ve never been the type to leave your shoes on the walking path.

A light is on, further in your apartment. You know for a fact it wasn’t like that when you left this morning, it would have been obvious since you've been leaving before the sun rises. Someone else is here.

You stare at the light for a few seconds in disbelief, then slowly reach to grab something, anything that you might be able to use to defend yourself. Your shaking hands close around a full sized umbrella that you keep beside your closet. 

You’ve already made enough commotion that there’s no way the intruder didn’t hear, but you try to keep your footsteps light as you creep down the hall to where your kitchen is. It’s stupid to try and confront them, but the idea of someone in your space, potentially taking your things, is enough to inspire a sudden bout of bravery.

You hold your breath as you turn the corner, launching forward to attack the second that you see someone. You recognise the figure halfway through your swing, and though it’s too late to fully stop, you manage to pull back enough that they’re able to easily catch the umbrella before it hits them.

Chan wraps his arms around you then eases the umbrella out of your hands, resting it against the wall. You sag into his embrace, adrenaline draining away, leaving you exhausted again. 

“Chan?”

You've missed this. His warmth, his comforting scent, the reassuring steadiness that he always provides. You can almost pretend that everything is fine.

“Sorry for scaring you,” he says, sounding more amused than apologetic.

“You should be,” you grumble into his shirt. “I could have seriously injured you if I didn't realise it was you!”

“I don't think that was going to be a problem.” Even though you can't see Chan, you can hear the grin in his voice.

“Hey!” You lightly smack his arm. “You take that back!”

“Fine, fine,” Chan acquiesces, holding up both his hands in surrender. “I'm very glad that I didn't have to experience the full power of your self defence.”

“Yeah yeah,” you huff. “What are you doing here anyway? Other than trying to give me a heart attack, that is.”

“I made you dinner,” Chan says shyly, turning pink.

“For what?” you ask suspiciously. It's easy to fall back into the banter that you typically exchange with Chan, but you can't help but be a bit wary these days.

“No reason. I uh, just haven't seen you in a while,” Chan says sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck where it’s now flushed red. “We had so much preparation to do and then all our schedules… Anyway, I wanted to surprise you, so I thought I could cook for us.”

Now that he's mentioned it, you can see that he's set your tiny kitchen table and that there's a couple of pots on the stove. Chan doesn’t cook often, but he’s expressed a desire to learn before and you’ve taught him how to make a few of your favourite recipes.

You stare at him for a moment, lost for words.

It's only been a few weeks, but you feel like you've forgotten how to act around Chan. Instead of a comfortable silence, it's almost awkward, neither of you knowing what to say.

“Oh,” you say finally, touched and still a little shocked that he's actually here. “That's- that's so nice, I just- is it okay if I wash up a bit quickly first?”

“No, yeah, of course. I'm sure you had a long day,” Chan says. “Go ahead, I’ll- the food should be reheated anyway so I’ll get on that. Take your time.”

You skirt around him to go to the bathroom, taking a moment to splash yourself with water. This feels like a bizarre dream and you wonder for a moment if you’re making this all up. But when you leave to go to your bedroom, Chan’s still there, puttering around in front of your kitchenette. You change your clothes slowly, mind racing as you try to puzzle together why Chan has decided to visit all of a sudden.

You eventually settle on the most logical reason that you can think of.

He’s finally decided to break up with you.

You’ve figured that this was coming for weeks by now, but somehow it still hurts. Instead of feeling resigned, it feels like you’re shattering into little pieces. You twist your work blouse into a tiny ball as you try not to cry, even though you know the fabric is going to wrinkle terribly. You finish cleaning up in a daze, already drafting what you're going to have to message your manager later. There's no way that you're going to be in any shape to work tomorrow if you’re right.

“Y/n?” Chan calls eventually. You know you're procrastinating leaving your room, but you want to put this off for as long as possible even though you know it’s just delaying the inevitable. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you reply with a heavy heart. “I’m fine. I'll just be another second.”

You can tell that Chan doesn’t quite believe you. He hovers around you when you emerge from your bedroom, knocking away your hand when you try to pull out your own chair from the table.

He's set the table, going so far as to fold little napkins under your utensils. There's even a tiny vase with your favourite flowers as a centrepiece. All this effort just hurts more.

“You look exhausted. You got home so late. Where were you?” he asks.

“I was at work,” you reply stiffly. You know that if you try and say any more, your emotions are going to spill over and you're either going to scream or cry. Maybe both.

“So late?” Chan's forehead creases with some sort of emotion. You can't quite tell if it's concern or scepticism.

“You're not the only one that has a demanding job.”

“Y/n, you know that's not what I meant-”

“Sure,” you say. “Whatever, let's just eat. Thank you for the food.”

You don't want to deal with this. You're so tired.

You have no idea why Chan’s dragging this out longer than it needs to be. Why he’s forcing you to sit through a meal with him like he’s not about to break your heart. Chan is one of the kindest people you know, he’s probably trying to make this easier for you, giving you one last nice memory, but it just feels cruel.

Chan reaches out, stopping you before you can pick up your chopsticks. He stares at the way his fingers overlap each other around your wrist.

“You’ve lost weight,” he says quietly. You look away, watching steam curl from the bowl of rice that has been set in front of you instead of returning eye contact.

“I’ve been busy.” Is all you can say in response. 

You don’t want to tell him that you’ve been basically subsisting on iced americanos and various convenience store meals in part because of your work schedule, but mostly because of your lack of appetite. Every time you thought of Chan, it made your stomach turn and well, everything reminded you of him. You hadn’t realised how much it had actually affected your physical condition until now though.

“You're not taking care of yourself,” he scolds you. You can feel yourself bristle at his comment even though you know it’s true. “I haven't been around to take care of you either. I'm sorry.”

“Chan,” you protest. It has been weeks since you last saw him in person and you’ve spent more time that you’d like to admit micro analysing your relationship, but you still can’t make sense of his behaviour, especially how he keeps switching between criticism and tenderness.

“What?” he asks in genuine confusion.

“Why are you here?”

“I missed you,” Chan says, sounding hurt and confused. “I haven’t seen you in so long.”

“I just- I don’t understand what you want from me!” You run your hands through your hair in frustration. “One day you don’t want me around, we go weeks without seeing each other, then you’re at my place cooking me dinner? You said you needed space, I gave you space."

“Woah woah woah, what do you mean I don’t want you around?” Chan asks, alarmed. “When have I ever said that?”

“You made it pretty clear that you didn’t appreciate it when I went to bring you dinner that day,” you start.

“No, baby!” Chan stands up abruptly before you can say anything else. He falters when the loud scrape of his chair causes you to flinch back. He slowly walks towards you and kneels in front of you, reaching out to hold your hands in his. His eyes are wide with earnestness. “Of course I wanted to spend time with you. I always want to be with you.”

“So why did you call me clingy?” you ask in a small voice. Gone is your anger, replaced with a self-consciousness that you can’t hide. You look away as tears prickle your eyes.

Gently, Chan lets go of your hands and cups your cheeks instead, turning your face so that he can see you better. His thumbs swipe under your eyes, brushing away the tears that have managed to escape.

“Baby,” he says, sounding even more upset and angry than you feel. “I'm sorry. Did someone tell you I said that?”

“Nobody had to tell me, I heard you say it myself!” you burst out, pushing Chan away. You know that you’re being dramatic, that you keep oscillating between different emotions, but you don’t care. “That day, in your studio, you told Han and Changbin that I was really clingy.”

“You heard me talking to Binnie and Hannie?” Chan asks slowly.

“I didn't mean to eavesdrop,” you sniffle. One of Chan's hands shifts and he carefully tucks behind a lock of hair that has fallen in front of your face. The gentleness makes even more tears well up.

“It's okay, I think I know what you overheard now. It must have hurt, right?”

You can't muster up a response, choosing instead to just nod slightly.

“I’m sorry, I'm sorry,” he soothes you. “Can I explain myself?”

You pause for a moment, then slowly nod again.

“I don't mind that you're clingy, actually, I like it. I shouldn't have used that word. I like that you want to spend time with me, Y/n,” Chan says carefully. “I like that you take time to visit me, even though I know that your work is busy too. I think that it's cute and thoughtful that you think of me and try to take care of me by bringing me food. I know that you intentionally take the time out of your day to text me because you know that I like hearing from you, even though I might not see it or respond right away.”

Chan pauses for a second and you use it as an opportunity to pull away slightly. His hands tighten briefly, before he lets them fall away, giving you the space to process.

It's not that you don't like what Chan is saying, it's just hard to reconcile it with the thoughts that have been eating away at you for the past few weeks. You still don't understand what you overheard though, how it fits into all of this. When you voice your concerns to Chan, he sighs, before continuing to speak.

“I don't know what I did to have someone as caring and thoughtful as you in my life.” You want to protest, but Chan carries on before you can say anything. “It's just that- you visited me without notice and were the sweetest person in the world. I wanted to spend time with you, believe me, I did, but I can't just ignore my deadlines when the rest of the members are relying on me. It makes me feel like garbage when I can’t give you all my attention. That's the thing I hate the most. That I can't be the boyfriend that you deserve. That I can't show you how much you mean to me the way that I want to.”

It makes sense, in some sort of twisted way. You know that similarly to you, Chan often feels insecure. It had taken a while before you had been able to convince him that you really did want to be in a relationship with him even with all of the difficulties that were associated with being an idol. You hadn't realised that your visit had fed into his worries that he wasn’t enough.

“I didn't know,” you say quietly. “I'm sorry.”

“Hey, I didn't tell you how I was feeling and that's on me. I’m the one that’s sorry, you have no reason to be. I should have been clearer about what was going through my mind and it wasn't any excuse for the way that spoke to you. Even if I wasn't at my best, I can't believe that I made you feel like I didn't want you to be around.” Chan shakes his head and you can tell that he's beating himself up about it. This time, you're the one that reaches out to him, grabbing one of his hands in both of yours.

“I am sorry that I put you into that position, though. I got caught up in the idea of how fun and romantic it might be, that I didn't give enough consideration to your schedule. Even though I wanted to surprise you, it would have been better to check with you beforehand. I don't ever want you to have to feel like you have to choose between me and work.”

“It was a really nice surprise,” Chan agrees. “I wish that I hadn't been so wrapped up that I wasn't able to enjoy spending time with you. I really hated not being able to see you these past few weeks.”

“It was really hard for me too,” you admit.

“I missed you so much. I missed your beautiful voice, hearing your laugh, seeing your smile. I missed all the texts that you usually send, they make me feel like I'm not as far away, that I'm a part of your day too. You kept saying that everything was fine and- I know it's hard for you, especially during comeback periods when I'm not as responsive. I didn't want to pressure you into messaging me more often if I'm not able to do the same.”

“No, it's not that. It doesn't bother me. Work was, is still really busy for me,” you explain. “I was trying to tell you that day, but-”

“But I basically shut you down,” Chan realises. He laughs bitterly. “I’m just the worst, aren't I? No wonder you were so confused by why I was here.”

“I thought you were going to break up with me tonight,” you whisper. Chan looks devastated by your statement.

 “No- you know I wouldn't-” Chan stumbles on his words in his haste to correct you.

“I don't think that anymore,” you reassure him. “I understand everything now, it was just that we didn't communicate well and I assumed… It's okay, we're together now, this won't happen again.”

“I promise that I will make it up to you. I love you and I will prove it to you in every way possible. And I'm going to start right now. You still haven't eaten yet, please go ahead.” Chan moves back to his abandoned chair and doles out a portion of the stew from the pot that's on the table. 

“I am really hungry,” you confess. Your stomach chooses that exact moment to growl loudly and the two of you can’t help but burst into laughter. 

Just like that, it feels like things are back to normal.

You know that there's still more that you and Chan have to talk about. The two of you have only scratched the surface on your insecurities, communication, and how those things led to such a significant misunderstanding.

But tonight, it's enough that you get to share a meal with the man that you love.

read it on ao3 | masterlist

[mr-doodles]

Okay soooooo

Also I just hit 1,000 followers!! That's genuinely so cool!!!!

Thank youuu!!

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF movie William says the mask stays on-

[itsadancingdinosaur]

I'm so glad the fnaf movie just kept Balloon Boy as this creepy mf. No explanation. Why is he here. Who is he. Who cares? All the jumpscares with him were great

[arberspin]

A shoot out!

(Detective au?)

[lotus-pear]

top 10 moments before disaster (dazai is about to step on his toes)