ɪᴛꜱ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ (방찬)
pairing: christopher bahng x fem!reader, strangers to friends to lovers
summary: based off of its nice to have a friend by taylor swift
tags/warnings: chris is literally feeding a squirrel at the beginning, hes extroverted, reader is introverted, not proofread,
a/n: guys wait i kinda liked that i put the squirrel thing in lmao (this is a scheduled post.)
The first time you see him, he’s standing in the snow, feeding a squirrel.
You blink from the bench near the science building, clutching your tea between your gloves, and squint to make sure you’re seeing this right. There’s a boy, maybe a little older than you, with messy curls poking out from under a gray beanie, crouching in the middle of a patch of half-melted snow, holding out something in his palm.
The squirrel is suspicious. The boy is not.
“C’mon, buddy,” he whispers, like it’s a secret. “I’m just trying to make your day better.”
You watch him for a second longer than you probably should.
You’re not usually one to stare at people, but he’s…strangely magnetic. Like a lit window on a rainy street. Warm, inviting.
He doesn’t even notice you, he's so fully committed to this squirrel.
When the little creature finally darts forward and snatches whatever was in his hand, he grins so big that it lights up his whole face.
You look away before he sees you.
You see him again two days later. Different spot, same beanie.
You’re coming out of the library, arms full of books you probably won’t finish before the due date. He’s sitting on the low stone wall near the fountain, reading lyrics from his phone, quietly mumbling them under his breath. He taps a pencil against his knee like it’s a drum pad.
He hums a melody. Something soft, but unfinished.
This time he looks up and catches your eye, just briefly.
You freeze and turn halfway, unsure if it’s you he’s calling out to.
“I saw you on the bench the other day, right? Near the science building?”
Your heart does a little hiccup in your chest.
“I thought so!” He hops off the wall, brushing his hands on his jeans. “I was hoping I didn’t imagine that. Hi.” He grins, sticking out a hand like you’re old friends meeting again.
You stare at his hand for a second, then awkwardly adjust your books and reach out.
Your fingers brush his. He shakes your hand like it’s a genuine honor to meet you.
“I like your scarf,” he says brightly. “Looks warm.”
You blink. “Thanks. It is.”
He laughs, not unkindly. “Nice. That’s a great quality in a scarf.”
You feel the corner of your mouth twitch, almost-smiling. He’s strange, but in a nice way.
Like early spring sun on icy pavement.
He doesn't keep you. Just waves.
You nod, still a little stunned. “Bye Chris.”
He’s everywhere after that.
You’re not sure if you’re just noticing him more or if the universe is playing matchmaker, but suddenly it’s like he’s stitched into the background of your days.
He holds the door for you at the coffee shop and grins like it’s fate.
He passes you on the quad and shouts “y/n!” like you’ve known each other for years, not seconds. It turns heads. You nearly trip.
One afternoon, he appears next to you in line at the campus bookstore, arms full of snacks and a single pencil.
“Emergency brain food,” he explains. “And I always lose pencils. Might as well keep the tradition going.”
You huff a quiet laugh, not looking up.
He notices anyway. “A smile! I win.”
You roll your eyes, but there’s no bite in it.
You don’t mean for it to, but it does.
Somehow, Chan always finds you on the quieter days. When the sky is gray and your headphones are in, or when your lunch is a little too lonely, or when you’re halfway through a library session and your eyes are going fuzzy from reading.
He shows up with a half-crushed granola bar, a “fun fact” he found online, a shy joke and a big grin and an energy that’s too big to contain but still never drowns you out.
He’s different from anyone you’ve known.
You’re used to people trying to draw you out like pulling teeth. But Chan doesn’t pull anything from you. He offers stories, laughter, warmth, and lets you take what you want.
And for some reason, you keep reaching.
One Thursday, you’re sitting at your usual spot near the music building and he finds you without hesitation.
“Thought you might be here,” he says, settling beside you. “You’re kind of a creature of habit, huh?”
“I like that,” he adds quickly. “It’s comforting.”
You sip your drink. The air smells like thawing snow and blooming things.
He stretches out on the bench, arms crossed behind his head. His foot bumps yours accidentally-on-purpose. You don’t move it.
“You ever feel like people talk too much?” you ask suddenly, surprising yourself more than him.
Chan turns his head toward you. Doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t tease.
“All the time,” he says, softer than usual.
You glance at him. He’s watching the clouds.
“Sometimes I talk a lot when I’m nervous,” he admits. “But quiet’s good too. Especially when it’s the right kind.”
Your heart warms. You don’t answer, but your shoulder leans just a little closer.
That same week, he shows up with a guitar.
It’s old, a little scuffed. He carries it like it’s precious.
He plays something gentle. Not polished, just a melody he’s been working on.
“It’s not finished,” he says after. “But it feels like a beginning.”
You just sit there, knees touching, the song lingering in the air between you like steam off a mug.
One night, you catch yourself writing his name in the margin of your notebook.
Just once, to see how it looks.
You close the page quickly, like you’re keeping a secret.
Spring is blooming by the time he walks you home for the first time.
It’s accidental. He’d stayed late at the library too. You both left at the same time, and it made sense.
Until you’re walking beside him in the evening hush, and it doesn’t feel like coincidence at all.
“Want to see something?” he asks suddenly, tugging your sleeve.
You follow him through a winding path behind the dorms and he stops at a low fence, then points up.
Cherry blossoms-- white-pink and glowing in the moonlight.
You both stand there for a long moment.
“Yeah,” he says, not looking at the tree.
You don’t look back. But you feel it. You feel everything.
He walks you the rest of the way in silence, your steps soft on the pavement.
At your front door, he pauses.
“This was nice,” he says.
He takes a breath, shifts his weight like he wants to say something more.
But instead, he just smiles.
That night, you press your hand to your chest and feel your heartbeat like a drumroll.
You don’t really know him.
But he’s made your world feel a little brighter, lighter.
And something about that feels like a beginning.
Like maybe...
just maybe...
it’s nice to have a stranger.
youth by lee know, hurt by newjeans, chill by stray kids, killer queen by mad tsai, juice by lizzo, circles by post malone, smart by le sserafim, suburban legends by taylor swift, python by got7, airplane by stray kids, slide by calvin harris, frank ocean, the migos, flamin hot lemon by jaehyun, humble by kendrick lamar, brought the heat back by enhypen, congratulations by mac miller and bilal, sweet dreams by j-hope, no doubt by enhypen
@rockstarkkami @sirloncelot-of-bananas @jisunggy @me-on-a-archive @hyunjiiza @highway-143 @hvseunq143 @hyuneskkami
taglist is open! please comment if you would like to be added <3
should chris have fed the squirrel??
no 😭
HELL YEAH!
erm actually
Voting ended onJun 15, 2025
areudirty
discoholicmusic
jimmyeatworldofficial
blakekathryn
theartofmadeline
tangentwithtanner
