I've been gone for a while. A lot has happened, but I think I'm slowly getting back on track. For everyone that has been waiting, I thank you sincerely.
I do love this blog with everything I got, but life got kind of complicated lately. Thankfully, things are looking up, so new post this Friday!!!
I trust good things are coming, so thank you everyone for your patience.
『 ↳✧･ﾟ SUMMARY: BARISTA X BAKER FIC??? Chan to referred as Chris;)
『 ↳✧･ﾟ WORD COUNT: 0.96k
『 ↳✧･ﾟ A/N: For the first time in four years, I have a crush on someone. And it feels so healthy it's kinda hard to explain. So take this as like a diary, fully based on our IRL interactions + my slight delusions ofc, since none of this actually means he likes me. Anyway, hope you enjoy my comeback:p
(pictures are not mine. credits to their respective owners)
Chris had started out as a makeshift barista when Matthew and his wife first opened the café. Recently married, in their shared apartment. He helped wherever was needed since it was just the three of them.
Two years later, you joined the team. You were a client at first, but when the position opened up you applied.
Chris was now the second in command, and the head baker. The team was big enough to have a well established spot. A cozy shop, with many green plants and wooden furniture. And he had grown with the place.
You hadn't been working much when the first interactions happened. 'Seemingly' work interactions, but in reality, quiet teasing jokes, extra big smiles when seeing each other. Giddy whenever he offered to help you with anything.
You had a soft heart, that had never been a secret. And after so much heartache and pain, you began believing men were cruel and heartless, but he made you feel like you had a real crush again. Those shy kind of nerves that you had been craving since your one and only heartbreak, four years ago.
He was attractive, you think. Especially personality-wise and emotionally. He was used to working under pressure, always serene and with a warm smile. Maybe that's why you liked him so much. Because he was so your type. Stable, serene, composed. And so friendly and likeable.
𑣲⋆
>Saturday, May 27th<
— Need anything else?— He asked gently, like always, after setting down the pastries he brought down, right out of the oven.
The bakery worked in the second floor. Him, in charge for another two people; bringing pastries throughout the day. At least until 4 pm when their shift ended.
— No, I'm good.— You smiled lightly, cleaning up counters.
— You sure? Caramel? Chocolate?— He said taking a look of his own at the shelf behind you. The one where you kept all syrups and powders.
It made you look too, glancing over the glass bottles and jars.
— All good.— You chuckled.
He insisted though, this time a little playful. — I'll trust you. Don't want any complains later.
He walked out the glass door and up the stairs towards the bakery. You stared before going back to wiping down the counter.
𑣲⋆
>Saturday, June 11th<
Today was just you. Your coworker was on vacation, so you'd spend the last half of your shift alone till closing.
Bakers were about to leave since it was nearing four. Though Chris always stayed behind cleaning up and whatnot. Today wasn't the exception.
He rounded the bar when he came downstairs, backpack hung loose on one of his shoulders. You watched quietly. He set his backpack down on the floor, then approached the machine. Quietly, almost shyly invading your space, he took the portafilter off...
— Did you want something?— You asked. — I can make it for you.
He chuckled, endeared. — It's okay. I don't wanna give you any extra work.
— I literally get paid for making coffee.— You retorted. There were no clients at the moment.
His smile grew a little bigger. — I feel bad if I'm not paying you though.
It warmed your heart, and you didn't say anything else.
But his phone pinged, and you took the chance. You waited until he got distracted replying to whatever text he'd received to finish his coffee for him.
— Y/N.— He said with a soft voice when he noticed. Close, almost against your back, warm in the proximity. You pretended to ignore him, so he gently tapped your back with a knuckle. — Y/N.— He insisted, still soft.
— I got it.— You shook your head.
He relented, took a seat on the cooler right behind you, eyes locked on you as you finished making his drink.
It made you nervous. Enough to make you feel like you'd mess up, but you stayed surprisingly cool under the pressure.
— Here.— You handed it without making eye contact.
His hand brushed yours a little too long. Like it was intentional; and it made your heart jump.
𑣲⋆
>Sunday, June 12th<
It was just ten minutes before closing when he walked through the glass door. In casual clothes, hair done, slightly pushed back.
He went straight to the pastries, checking the work of the bakers on what had been his day off.
He came straight to the counter when he was done, leaning gently on the bar. Your coworker greeted him, asked why he was here on his day off. — I came so Y/N wouldn't be alone.— He spoke. — I thought you weren't coming.— He told her.
The admission made both of you pause for a second. And she smiled knowingly. You were already busy cleaning, not to mention a bit shy and nervous, so you didn't say much while they talked.
— Y/N?—He called; made you turn back from the sink to see him. He was smiley, almost sheepish. — Could you make me a coffee?
You knew his drink of choice by now. Especially because you had chosen to try it, though you later altered it to your liking.
— My way?
He nodded with a smile. He had claimed once you liked drinks so sugary, and now here he was asking for your slightly sweeter recipe.
— I tried making it myself the other day.— He said. — Never tastes like yours.
You thought of making a cheesy joke, or maybe even taking a jab at him, but you couldn't come up with anything.
The rest of the conversation flowed naturally between the three of you before he had to go. By then, you were locking the door.
— Don't lock me in.— He joked.
— You're helping us close.— You joked back, before holding the door open for him.
He smiled at you, dimple showing just on one side. Then, he leaned in, making you almost back away. Almost.
— See you on Saturday.— He said warmly, lips brushing your cheek before exiting.
『 ↳✧･ﾟ SUMMARY: Types of barista I think the kids would be.
『 ↳✧･ﾟ WORD COUNT: 0k
『 ↳✧･ﾟ A/N: I have no evidence for this, just vibes and fantasies:p Today I’m on my fifth month as a barista and definitely not qualified for this opinion.
(these pictures ARE mine. please credit if used!)
Bang Chan: The charming one ˙ . ꒷ 🍯 . 𖦹˙—
☕︎ Everyone likes him. EVERYONE.
☕︎ Would make GREAT small talk. Literally talk to him about anything, he’ll listen and follow up
☕︎ Aware of how charming he is; pretty humble about it though
☕︎ Hence why he's always taking orders more than making coffees
☕︎ Would make your little coffee run feel special ♡
☕︎ Cue his very gentle “can I get you anything else today?” + heart eyes and warm smile
☕︎ Lowkey the barista you wanna come back for (i’m hella biased)
Lee Know: The “serious” one ˙ . ꒷ 🍮 . 𖦹˙—
☕︎ He’d make your coffee, not necessarily take your order
☕︎ Works the rushes with an amazing flow
☕︎ Never gets overwhelmed
☕︎ Would learn to make cats for latte art
☕︎ Doesn’t talk much but he works the best
☕︎ “Vanilla iced latte for Y/N!” is probably all you’ll hear him say with a quiet “have a nice day.”
Changbin: The attentive one ˙ . ꒷ 🍩 . 𖦹˙—
☕︎ Always the quickest to wipe down tables, take away your empty cups/plates
☕︎ Loves the customer service part
☕︎ Charming too, but in a cute, funny way
☕︎ Will always ask is everything was okay or if you enjoyed everything
☕︎ Focuses on the details and makes your experience better
☕︎ “was everything alright?” as he cleans up. “Want me to put this to go?”
☕︎ Gets the most tips + he's always remembered
Hyunjin: The know-it-all ˙ . ꒷ 🥠 . 𖦹˙—
☕︎ Knows every drink on the menu, the coffee roast, the milk to espresso ratios, drip methods, etc. He’s an expert on it all
☕︎ Makes every single espresso shot with an unbelievable love for the art
☕︎ His coffee will always be the best coffee
☕︎ Might work a bit slower but his espresso is always pulled to perfection
☕︎ Draws the most beautiful tulip on your lattes
☕︎ Will definitely expect you to take a picture
Han: The fashion icon ˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—
☕︎ Wears the best outfits to work
☕︎ Believes wearing the apron "ruins" his outfits
☕︎ Works good, spaces out ocassionally
☕︎ He'll also have the best playlist
☕︎ Knows how to do latte art, always does something simple
☕︎ You'll find him reading from time to time
Felix: The talkative one ˙ . ꒷ 🍪 . 𖦹˙—
☕︎ Hear me out, you could GOSSIP with him
☕︎ lowkey a best friend more than a barista
☕︎ Always happy to see you come in, ready to catch up
☕︎ "Y/N!!! How did your date go?" before even taking your order
☕︎ Has the best tea (no pun intended), gossip goes both ways
☕︎ Gives out genuine compliments too. "Love your nails!"
☕︎ Not great at latte art, but always tries his best:)
Seungmin: The "serious" one pt.2 ˙ . ꒷ 🧁 . 𖦹˙—
☕︎ Pretty straight forward when taking orders
☕︎ Though serious, he has a charm to him
☕︎ Considered stupidly handsome. So much it makes you giddy to even order
☕︎ Is the type of barista to start making more conversation once you start coming in more regularly
☕︎ Rushes hit him hard. He always looks a little bit down after them
☕︎ Tries his best to get his mood back up
I.N: The newbie ˙ . ꒷ 🥐 . 𖦹˙—
☕︎ Still has little hiccups
☕︎ No latte art yet
☕︎ Very kind when taking orders. "No worries, I can do that for you!"
『 ↳✧･ﾟ SUMMARY: BARISTA X BAKER FIC??? Chan to referred as Chris;)
『 ↳✧･ﾟ WORD COUNT: 0.96k
『 ↳✧･ﾟ A/N: For the first time in four years, I have a crush on someone. And it feels so healthy it's kinda hard to explain. So take this as like a diary, fully based on our IRL interactions + my slight delusions ofc, since none of this actually means he likes me. Anyway, hope you enjoy my comeback:p
(pictures are not mine. credits to their respective owners)
Chris had started out as a makeshift barista when Matthew and his wife first opened the café. Recently married, in their shared apartment. He helped wherever was needed since it was just the three of them.
Two years later, you joined the team. You were a client at first, but when the position opened up you applied.
Chris was now the second in command, and the head baker. The team was big enough to have a well established spot. A cozy shop, with many green plants and wooden furniture. And he had grown with the place.
You hadn't been working much when the first interactions happened. 'Seemingly' work interactions, but in reality, quiet teasing jokes, extra big smiles when seeing each other. Giddy whenever he offered to help you with anything.
You had a soft heart, that had never been a secret. And after so much heartache and pain, you began believing men were cruel and heartless, but he made you feel like you had a real crush again. Those shy kind of nerves that you had been craving since your one and only heartbreak, four years ago.
He was attractive, you think. Especially personality-wise and emotionally. He was used to working under pressure, always serene and with a warm smile. Maybe that's why you liked him so much. Because he was so your type. Stable, serene, composed. And so friendly and likeable.
𑣲⋆
>Saturday, May 27th<
— Need anything else?— He asked gently, like always, after setting down the pastries he brought down, right out of the oven.
The bakery worked in the second floor. Him, in charge for another two people; bringing pastries throughout the day. At least until 4 pm when their shift ended.
— No, I'm good.— You smiled lightly, cleaning up counters.
— You sure? Caramel? Chocolate?— He said taking a look of his own at the shelf behind you. The one where you kept all syrups and powders.
It made you look too, glancing over the glass bottles and jars.
— All good.— You chuckled.
He insisted though, this time a little playful. — I'll trust you. Don't want any complains later.
He walked out the glass door and up the stairs towards the bakery. You stared before going back to wiping down the counter.
𑣲⋆
>Saturday, June 11th<
Today was just you. Your coworker was on vacation, so you'd spend the last half of your shift alone till closing.
Bakers were about to leave since it was nearing four. Though Chris always stayed behind cleaning up and whatnot. Today wasn't the exception.
He rounded the bar when he came downstairs, backpack hung loose on one of his shoulders. You watched quietly. He set his backpack down on the floor, then approached the machine. Quietly, almost shyly invading your space, he took the portafilter off...
— Did you want something?— You asked. — I can make it for you.
He chuckled, endeared. — It's okay. I don't wanna give you any extra work.
— I literally get paid for making coffee.— You retorted. There were no clients at the moment.
His smile grew a little bigger. — I feel bad if I'm not paying you though.
It warmed your heart, and you didn't say anything else.
But his phone pinged, and you took the chance. You waited until he got distracted replying to whatever text he'd received to finish his coffee for him.
— Y/N.— He said with a soft voice when he noticed. Close, almost against your back, warm in the proximity. You pretended to ignore him, so he gently tapped your back with a knuckle. — Y/N.— He insisted, still soft.
— I got it.— You shook your head.
He relented, took a seat on the cooler right behind you, eyes locked on you as you finished making his drink.
It made you nervous. Enough to make you feel like you'd mess up, but you stayed surprisingly cool under the pressure.
— Here.— You handed it without making eye contact.
His hand brushed yours a little too long. Like it was intentional; and it made your heart jump.
𑣲⋆
>Sunday, June 12th<
It was just ten minutes before closing when he walked through the glass door. In casual clothes, hair done, slightly pushed back.
He went straight to the pastries, checking the work of the bakers on what had been his day off.
He came straight to the counter when he was done, leaning gently on the bar. Your coworker greeted him, asked why he was here on his day off. — I came so Y/N wouldn't be alone.— He spoke. — I thought you weren't coming.— He told her.
The admission made both of you pause for a second. And she smiled knowingly. You were already busy cleaning, not to mention a bit shy and nervous, so you didn't say much while they talked.
— Y/N?—He called; made you turn back from the sink to see him. He was smiley, almost sheepish. — Could you make me a coffee?
You knew his drink of choice by now. Especially because you had chosen to try it, though you later altered it to your liking.
— My way?
He nodded with a smile. He had claimed once you liked drinks so sugary, and now here he was asking for your slightly sweeter recipe.
— I tried making it myself the other day.— He said. — Never tastes like yours.
You thought of making a cheesy joke, or maybe even taking a jab at him, but you couldn't come up with anything.
The rest of the conversation flowed naturally between the three of you before he had to go. By then, you were locking the door.
— Don't lock me in.— He joked.
— You're helping us close.— You joked back, before holding the door open for him.
He smiled at you, dimple showing just on one side. Then, he leaned in, making you almost back away. Almost.
— See you on Saturday.— He said warmly, lips brushing your cheek before exiting.
『 ↳✧･ﾟ CW: Heavy crying, light mentions of SH, comfort, no happy ending.
『 ↳✧･ﾟA/N: BIG TRIGGER WARNING. Sorry for being away.
The apartment felt unnaturally quiet.
He left his shoes right by the door. His bag on the couch as he settled in. Called out your name with no response. Odd.
You always welcomed him home, so when you didn't, naturally, he went looking for you to the bedroom. That's when he heard it. Desperate sobs. Really broken ones.
He had always been so protective and caring, so he immediately rushed in, but he didn’t expect the scene.
You paced the room with frantic, uneven steps, sobbing so hard you could barely breathe. Like your body no longer knew how to stop.
“baby girl?” he said rather scared.
He knew you hid this from him. You’d only mentioned it in passing before. Saying your mind got complicated sometimes. But he’d never actually seen it. He had never, in three years of dating, one of living together, seen you like this.
But what scared him the most was the way your hands shot toward your head. Hit hard once, twice…
He closed the distance immediately, horrified at the sight. “Hey, hey, hey.” He stopped you before you could do it again. He wrapped himself around you from behind. Tight. A bear hug that kept your arms pinned safely against your sides.
Your ribs expanded with force as a louder sob escaped you.
The second his arms circled you, every ounce of strength left your body. Your knees buckled, you sobbed harder. He barely managed to lower the both of you before you hit the floor. He embraced you with force. As though if he could hold you together hard enough, nothing else would break.
“It’s okay, baby, I’m here,” he whispered into your hair. So soft, but so, so worried. “I’m here, sweetheart. I'm here, baby girl.” His voice stayed gentle, but his heart raced with worry.
You wouldn’t stop crying. Your chest felt impossibly heavy, tight with a pressure you thought had been long gone. But you were back here again. Over and over; like every time you got better, you were happy, you got pulled back to this whole.
He was terrified. He had no idea what to do. So he just stayed. Kept talking, even when you couldn’t hear him.
It took almost an hour for you to calm down. Even then, when you finally relaxed in his embrace, he didn’t let go. His cheek rested against the side of your head, nearly squished against your ear, gently rocking the two of you.
Silence settled over the room again. You felt hollow.
You couldn’t remember what had started it. You didn’t feel better. You didn’t feel much of anything. Of course, you were aware of his arms around you, of his heartbeat against your back, but everything felt hazy.
You sniffled for a while, in his arms. As he begged you to calm down. Breathe.
A few minutes passed and his fingers brushed a few strands of hair away from your face. As if checking you were okay.
Your cheeks felt tight with dried tears. Your nose was still stuffy, your hair tangled and sticking to your skin. You felt wrung out. Messy.
“Baby… my love…” he called softly. As though waiting to see if you’d come back to him.
You were. Just not mentally. You felt fuzzy and detached. Your hand finally lifted, weakly nudging at his forearm. His grip loosened just enough to give you room to move. He still didn’t let go entirely.
“Talk to me,” he coaxed. “You wanna lie down? Want me to get you water? What do you wanna do?”
“Nothing.” You spoke a little hoarse. “I don’t want anything.”
Everything felt oddly quiet. Just you and him, mostly him, shuffling to get you to bed. He just tucked you in at first, tried getting you comfortable with how drained you looked.
"You scared me, baby." He said once he tucked you in.
"I don't wanna talk about it."
He knew he shouldn't press too much, that you weren't in a good state right now. But it felt important.
"I know you don't want to talk, but that wasn't nothing." He said softly. "I'm scared for you, my love."
You sighed, shuddered. "I didn't want you to see me." You admitted.
His lips pressed to the top of your head. "I'm glad I saw," he said quietly. Honest. "Because now I know... and now I can help."
"Yes, but if you didn't see me... maybe I could have stayed the same." you replied. "Now I have to fix it and get better."
That broke his heart. But he understood why you thought that way. Sometimes healing trauma felt harder than staying in the same loop.
TW: body image issues, loneliness, complexes, etc.
Hi everyone. I’ve been thinking about coming up here and just venting everything. Like genuinely just purge all the bad and the ugly that’s been on my mind.
I hadn’t been wanting to talk about because I genuinely didn’t think this belonged here. I think sometimes I forget this is genuinely my blog, and I’m allowed to post things that are personal (whether good or bad) and not related to Stray Kids.
I’m sure a lot of this I’ve said before in similar posts, but here I go.
I’ve been pretty lonely lately. I know I have friends and family, but they all have someone and it feels like I’m always the last choice. I’ve tried hard to learn to be alone, in fact, I’ve done life alone for years.
But I crave love. I crave someone who wants to be with me 24/7 and will never want to let me go, and that sees all the ugly and still chooses to stay.
Because I’m so tired of handling everything alone. I’m tired of having to learn to be alone. And so I got another job, which I do love, and I also signed up for the gym. But none of these things fix anything inside me.
My body image issues don’t go away just because I train, I don’t feel less lonely just because I’m busy all the time.
And I understand the hows and whys for everything I feel and everything I am. Insight has never been a problem, because I wish I could be so smart that I could fix all my problems. But the truth is I just become obsessive and don’t fix anything. I can never fix anything.
I still want to be ridiculously skinny, borderline sick, and I want to hurt all my friends for making feel so unimportant and lonely. And I’m so envious, I want all of their lives, all because I want to have someone.
I don’t dream of fancy dinners or expensive gifts. I dream of having a chest to lie on at night, somebody to hold me, someone to acknowledge how hard it’s been and how good I’ve managed.
And yet, I find everything with me so wrong. Like how could somebody ever fall in love with someone so broken and insecure? And I’m tired of the “you gotta love yourself first” narrative.
I’m so, so tired of it all.
And I haven’t posted because I feel so sour. I wrote fics because Iived through them. They soothed the ache in me. But I can’t anymore. They’ve all become repetitive, the same reader collapses and Chan holds her and chooses to stay. And I think that says a lot about me at the moment.
I’ve never wanted to make this blog an obligation, hence why I haven’t posted. Because I hold so much love for this place that I rather not disappoint you.
I feel like a fraud. Nothing I write is real. And I get it, that’s literally what fiction is. But it’s just all so meh to me lately.
It feels like I’m genuinely just trying to survive each day as it goes but I keep dragging all these demons that never go away.
I hate myself so much and that feels so unfair. It feels pathetic. I’ve just reached my limit. I wish I could just throw a tantrum or cry all day, or just lie on the floor and let time go by.
I’m so overwhelmed, my thoughts don’t feel like they have any relation to each other. Like I’m just putting pieces of different stuff together and hoping it’ll make sense.
I wish life would give me a break, I wish I could be kinder to myself. I wish people would miss me. I wish I didn’t cry every night. I wish my heart didn’t feel so heavy.
I wish I had someone. I wish I was perfect. Skinny, pretty, likeable. I wish someone showed interest in me.
I wish I was good.
TLDR ; Life sucks lately I wanna crash out and collapse.
heya idk how this website works I literally only used it so I can reach out to u but uhhh PLEASE FINISH SEI LA MIA VITA IM BEGGINGGGGG!!! I BINGED IT LITERALLY TODAY AND EVEN THO THE ENDING WAS GOOD IT STILL HURTS TO SEE 23/25 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏PLZZZZZZZZ🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏
hii bby that’s not my fic ?????? might be something i reposted idk???
I don’t think people understand how lonely I feel. I have friends and family but their lives constantly feel too busy for me.
I don’t know who to talk about it, because the few times I’ve tried bringing it up, I got called desperate.
Is it desperate to want mutual presence?
I keep trying to enjoy being alone. I have two jobs, I spent my only day off either writing for this blog, or following up with my other hobbies. I keep trying to stay busy and function my way out of feelings, but the truth is it’s getting really heavy.
My friends atm are also constantly busy with their partners which leaves me in this in between state of either chasing their attention or just waiting around for whenever they remember me.
I’ve also started having this toxic mentality that only a boyfriend will fix this, when I know that is not true. But when it’s everyone else treating their partners like that, when it’s all I know, I can’t help but wonder.
I keep crying myself to sleep lately. My nails always trying to dig into where my heart aches the most. Fists constantly punishing my so intellectual mind. Always trying to understand, comprehend. As if everything I know will magically solve anything.
I hate having so much love to give, but no one to receive it. I hate trying to convince myself that I’m fine by just pouring it into my job, my hobbies. But honestly it’s not enough anymore.
I also wonder what’s so wrong with me that no one chooses me after that situationship. My first and only heartbreak.
Before him I didn’t need love. I wasn’t looking for it. He approached me, he asked me out, and then used me to be discarded.
I’m just so so tired of being alone. Of functioning alone. And all this sadness turns into anger and I want to disappear from everyone’s lives. I want to call out my stupid friends for always making me feel like I’m not important in their lives.
I want to collapse. I want to stop feeling like this and feel something. I want to feel giddy and in love. But most importantly I want to feel like I matter to the people close to me.
『 ↳✧･ﾟ CW: Friends to lovers???, idol!Chan. Overworked reader, breakdown, confessions, etc. Chan referred to as Chris.
『 ↳✧･ﾟ A/N: Very, very self indulgent. Wondering what else to do to stay even more busy and outrun my own feelings. Lowkey shoutout to my favorite little Korean spot in my city.
(pictures are not mine. Credits to their respective owners!)
Chris had always been kind and gentle. It was his essence to be a true gentleman.
It was very heartwarming, at first. Then, it was platonic, like an older brother sort of thing, once you grew close. But with time, feelings dug deep. Wove themselves into the roots of the friendship you had for years.
Maybe that’s why none of you said anything. Just let it be what it had to be.
Lingering around each other, fleeting glances, a touch on the shoulder here, a giddy smile there. Just small things that meant everything or nothing. No explanation needed.
Today, on your day off, you grabbed an early dinner after volunteering.
Chris was already there, sitting at the wooden table tucked away in the corner. The spot you'd shown him years ago. The one you'd both kept coming back to.
He wore a simple black hoodie and basketball shorts. No Stray Kids logo. No stage persona. Just Chris.
You smiled when you saw him. "Hey, sorry. Things ran long at the center."
Chris stood immediately, pulling you into a hug. "You're good. I'm glad we could meet."
"Yeah." You stepped back. "I'll eat with you, but I want to head home after. I'm beat."
His expression softened. "Okay." He didn't ask questions.
After dinner, he offered to drive you home. For once, you handed over the keys without arguing. The ride was quiet. Music played softly through the speakers while city lights drifted past the windows. Every so often, he glanced your way. You looked tired. Not the kind that a nap would fix. Tired from weeks, maybe months. Like you were emotionally drained.
You let him inside your apartment.
It was small but comfortable. Photos of friends, a few struggling houseplants, mismatched cushions on the couch. There were no pictures of him anywhere amongst the ones of your friends.
Maybe because neither of you knew where this stood.
You filled a glass with water for him. You tried to, but the glass slipped from your hand and hit the tile with a sharp crack. The glass shattered and water spread across the floor.
You froze, then immediately bent down. "I got it." Your voice came out tighter than you intended.
Chris crouched beside you. "Y/N."
"I said I got it." Your hands were shaking like you were trying to hold your own pieces together.
Before you could grab another piece, he gently took it from your fingers and set it aside.
"Hey. C'mere." His hand cradled the back of your head. A hug that tried holding all of it: grief, fatigue, loneliness. “C’mere.”
That was all it took.
A small, choked sob escaped you first. Then another. And then the dam cracked.
You buried your face into his chest, fingers clutching the fabric of his hoodie like an anchor as weeks—months—of running finally caught up to you. No dramatic sobbing or screaming. Just tears that shook your whole body and came from somewhere deep and raw where all the pain had been stuffed down for too long.
Chris didn’t flinch, didn't pull back. He just held on tighter.
[...]
The apartment was quiet now. Just the soft sound of glass being swept into a dustpan. Chris moved carefully, not wanting to make noise and disturb you.
You had ended up on your sofa, curled under a blanket while he cleaned up in silence. Swept the glass fragments and made sure there were none left. Because he knew you liked walking around barefoot.
“Please be careful with the glass,” you finally spoke.
He looked up at the sound of your voice. It was hoarse from crying. He gave a small nod, his expression gentle.
"I'm being careful," he spoke back—not too loud because he knew your head probably hurt from crying so much.
He came back to you when he was done; kneeled like it was nothing, and petted your head with so much love. Like you were precious and fragile, like this wouldn't blur the lines even more.
"I think we should talk about it." He whispered.
You looked away. "Nothing to talk about."
His hand paused. "Y/N."
"I'm fine."
He gave you a look that made it obvious he didn't believe you. "You cried over a broken glass."
"I got overwhelmed."
He exhaled quietly. "You're working two jobs. You're volunteering on your only day off. You're exhausted all the time." He sighed. "I hate seeing you do this to yourself."
"So what?" You laughed bitterly. "Should I just sit around feeling sorry for myself because I'm alone?"
"No." His answer came immediately. "You just shouldn't have to carry everything by yourself." You swallowed hard. Chris held your gaze. "You deserve someone who checks if you've eaten. Someone who worries when you're tired. Someone who cares." His voice softened. "I'm here, Y/N."
You shuddered, looking anywhere but at him. "I-I don't think you know what you're saying."
"I do." He said with a certainty that made your heart stutter. "I want to be the person you call when things get hard. Don't act like you don't know how I feel."
Of course you knew. That was the problem.
"Y/N?"
You closed your eyes. "I don't think I can love anyone right now."
Something flickered across his expression. But he didn't look away. Instead, he reached for your hand and pressed a gentle kiss against your knuckles. "I don't need you to. I just want to be here while you heal."
Tears burned behind your eyes again.
"That's not fair."
"Why?"
"Because I can't love you back." The words came out broken. "I can't think about anything except being tired."
For a moment, he looked hurt. Then he pulled you closer. Until your forehead rested against his chest. "That's okay."
You shook your head. "No, it isn't."
"It is." His arms tightened around you. "You don't have to be ready. I haven't asked for your love." His hand moved gently through your hair. "I've only asked you to let me stay."
The apartment fell quiet. Just Chris cradling you in his arms.
"And if all you can do right now is let me sit beside you," he murmured, "then that's enough."
Chan stroking your head while you cry your heart out during a really bad depressive episode
“I know… I know baby” he speaks every now and then knowing the tone of his voice is comforting to you, otherwise staying silent while you let it all out.
When you go quiet, the room is comfortingly silent. After a while, you squeeze. Just squeeze him with your face still in his chest. Squeezing him to further ground yourself, to silently let him know you’re grateful for him before you trust your voice again
