seungmin x f!reader (feat bangchan)
Synopsis: You used to orbit around Chan, all late nights and unspoken feelings, until his rejection forced you to move on. Now youโre in a soft, quietly solid relationship with Seungminโand Chan can only regret the choice that made room for someone who actually chose you back.
a/n: ahh this is so bittersweet but comforting at the same time
You always find him in the same place.
Headphones on, shoulders hunched, fingers tapping restlessly against the desk as a project file glows on the screen. The clock on the wall insists itโs nearly 2 a.m., but Bang Chan still looks like heโs only halfway through his to-do list.
You pause at the doorway of the studio, paper cup of coffee warm between your hands.
He jumps slightly, spinning in his chair. The harsh blue light of the monitors softens when he recognises you.
โOhโ hey. You scared me.โ He pulls one earcup down, a small tired smile tugging at his lips. โWhat are you doing here? Didnโt your shift end ages ago?โ
You step in, closing the door with your foot. โDidnโt your shift end ages ago?โ
He laughs quietly, that soft breathy sound youโve heard a thousand times. You cross the room and set the coffee beside his keyboard.
โThought you might need this.โ
His eyes flick to the cup, then to your face.
โYouโre an actual angel, you know that?โ He wraps his hands around it, inhaling the steam like itโs oxygen. โThank you.โ
โItโs just convenience store coffee.โ
โYeah, but itโs coffee.โ He takes a sip, eyes closing. โAnd you thought about me.โ
He says it so casually, like it doesnโt send your heart straight through the floor.
You swallow, fingers twisting together. Youโve rehearsed what youโre about to say a hundred timesโ in the shower, on the bus, staring at your bedroom ceiling when you should be asleep. It never sounded right in your head, but your chest feels too tight to keep carrying it around.
โMm?โ Heโs already turned back to the screen, cursor dancing through waveforms, but his attention shifts when he hears your tone. He swivels properly to face you, brows knitting. โEverything okay?โ
You exhale slowly. โCan weโฆ talk for a second? Like, not about work.โ
His posture straightens. โYeah, of course.โ He takes the headphones fully off and sets them on the desk. โWhatโs up?โ
You thought youโd be more nervous, but once the first word leaves your mouth, the rest follow like theyโve been waiting at the edge of a cliff.
His eyes widen just a fraction. For a moment, all you can hear is the hum of the computer and the faint thump of music leaking from some neighbouring room.
You push on before you can lose your nerve.
โI know youโre busyโ more than busy, actually, like some sort of functioning insomniacโ and I know this probably isnโt a good time. But Iโฆโ You swallow. โIโve liked you for a while. And I didnโt want to keep tiptoeing around it like itโs not there.โ
You watch the realisation land slowly across his features, like dawn creeping over a horizon.
โY/Nโฆโ His voice is soft, almost careful.
โIโm not asking for anything huge,โ you add quickly, cheeks burning. โYou donโt have toโฆ give me an answer now, or at all, really. I justโ I needed you to know. Because pretending I donโt feel this way is making it really hard to even be in the same room as you.โ
You laugh, a short, embarrassed sound. The room feels much smaller now.
Chan stares down at his coffee for a long moment. When he looks back up, thereโs something heavy in his eyes.
โIโฆ thank you,โ he says, and you know from the way his voice dips that itโs genuine. โReally. For telling me. I know that wasnโt easy.โ
โButโฆโ you say quietly.
He winces at the word, like it hurts him too. โBut.โ
โI care about you a lot,โ he starts, fingers tightening around the paper cup. โLike, a lot. Youโreโฆ one of the people I rely on the most. You know that, right?โ
You nod, though it doesnโt feel like enough.
โAnd thatโs why Iโฆโ He takes a breath. โI donโt think I can give you what you deserve right now.โ
โYouโre always here,โ he continues. โHelping with schedules, picking up things we forget, bringing coffee at stupid oโclockโโ he tries to smile, but it falters โโand I already feel guilty about how much of your time I take. If weโฆ if we tried to date on top of that, I donโt know how Iโd not let you down.โ
โIโm always in the studio. Iโm always thinking about the next comeback, the members, the fansโฆ and itโs not because youโre not important. You are.โ His voice cracks slightly on the word. โBut Iโm scared Iโd make you wait. For answers, for time, for promises I canโt keep. And you donโt deserve that.โ
Silence stretches between you like a tightrope.
Youโd prepared yourself for rejection. You hadnโt prepared for it to sound like thisโ soft, apologetic, filled with too much care and not enough room.
โSo youโre saying no,โ you say quietly, just to make it real.
He flinches, but nods. โYeah.โ His gaze doesnโt leave yours. โIโmโฆ Iโm saying no.โ
Your chest aches, but itโs a clean pain, sharp and bright. You nod once, slowly.
โIโm sorry,โ he blurts, leaning forward slightly, eyes frantic. โY/N, Iโm really, really sorry. Itโs not that I donโtโโ
โDonโt.โ You smile, and itโs steadier than you feel. โPlease donโt make it harder.โ
He shuts his mouth, guilt flickering across his face.
You pull in a breath and straighten your shoulders. โThank you for being honest with me.โ
โYouโre notโฆ youโre not angry?โ
โHonestly? Maybe a little.โ You huff out a humourless laugh. โBut itโs not your fault youโre married to your job.โ
He groans quietly, burying his face in one hand. โGod, donโt say it like that.โ
โItโs true, though,โ you say, softer. โAnd I knew that. Itโs not like you suddenly turned into someone else. Youโre justโฆ you.โ
He drops his hand and looks at you. Thereโs something raw in his expression, something fragile.
โIโm still really glad I told you,โ you add. โEven if this is your answer.โ
You step back before he can say your name again in that tone that makes everything sting.
โYou should get back to work,โ you say. โDeadline and all that.โ
โThatโs literally the opposite of everything youโve ever said to me,โ you tease weakly.
He smiles, but itโs tight, pained. โI hate this.โ
โMe too,โ you admit. โBut Iโll be okay.โ
The problem is, youโre not sure if youโre trying to convince him or yourself.
You leave the studio before you change your mind, before you stay and let the ache drag on. The door closes behind you with a soft click, and you only let your smile drop once youโre safely in the empty corridor.
For a long moment, you just stand there, staring at the scuffed floor, listening to the faint muffled beat of music through the walls.
Then you square your shoulders, wipe at your eyes, and walk away.
Comebacks blur into each other. New songs, new concepts, new tours. The boys grow more confident, more famous, more exhausted in that strange, glittering way success demands. And youโre still thereโ behind cameras, in rehearsal rooms, at the side of the stage with a clipboard and an emergency stash of plasters and cough drops.
You and Chan never talk about that night again.
You donโt avoid him, not exactly. The first few months are awkward; you triple-check your words, make sure your smiles are the right distance. He hesitates the first few times he asks you for help, like heโs waiting for you to say no. But slowly, bit by bit, it settles into something gentler. A quieter kind of friendship. Not as easy as before, but not broken either.
The feelings fade the way old bruises doโ colour draining slowly, leaving faint shadows only you notice.
You still catch yourself looking at him sometimes when heโs laughing at something one of the members said, or when he falls asleep on the sofa between schedules, mouth slightly open, hoodie pulled over his head. The affection is still there, but itโs less of a storm now and more of a tired tide, lapping at your ribs and then retreating.
Life fills up the empty spaces.
And somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, you start to notice Seungmin.
It starts with your ankle.
Youโve been on your feet all dayโ early dance practise, then a long shoot, then a last-minute change to the schedule that has you sprinting down the corridor with a stack of revised cue sheets. By the time the boys are running the choreography again for the fifth time, your legs are buzzing and your trainers feel about two sizes too small.
When the music cuts, you lean back against the wall, stretching one foot, rotating your ankle until it pops.
โYouโre doing that thing again.โ
You blink and turn to see Seungmin watching you, water bottle dangling from his hand. Sweat darkens his fringe, cheeks flushed from exertion, but his eyes are sharp.
โWhat thing?โ you ask.
โThe one where you pretend your ankle doesnโt hurt.โ
You shift your weight and immediately wince as pain flares.
He raises a brow. โRight.โ
โItโs fine,โ you insist. โIโve just been walking a lot.โ
โExactly my point.โ He takes a step closer, tilting his head slightly. โSit down.โ
You let out a breathy laugh. โExcuse me?โ
โSit,โ he repeats, like heโs talking to a stubborn puppy. โBefore you actually injure yourself and we have to drag you to A&E in the middle of promotions.โ
โYouโre being dramatic.โ
โCall it preventative care.โ
You roll your eyes, but your ankle throbs in protest when you shift again, so you slide down the wall until youโre sitting on the floor. He nods, satisfied, and crouches in front of you.
โIโll be fine after I rest a bit,โ you say. โYou should be stretching or something. I heard your choreographer threatening bodily harm if any of you pull a muscle.โ
He huffs. โI already stretched.โ He gestures at your foot. โMay I?โ
You stare at him. โWhat are you, the physio now?โ
โOnly for people who are bad at looking after themselves.โ His tone is dry, but his gaze is steady, waiting.
โShouldnโt you be starting with Chan, then?โ you mutter.
A small, wry smile tugs at his mouth. โIโve been trying.โ
You hesitate, then extend your leg a little. He takes your ankle gently, fingertips surprisingly careful and warm even through your sock. He presses lightly into the joint, testing the movement.
โOnly my pride,โ you say.
His lips twitch. โSo yes, then.โ
He loosens your laces and adjusts your trainer, retying it more securely. When he lets go, the pressure feels different, more supported.
โYeah,โ you admit, a little thrown. โActually.โ
โGood.โ He stands and offers you his hand. โCome on.โ
You take it without thinking. His grip is firm as he helps you up.
โTry not to sprint around for the rest of the day,โ he adds. โYouโre the one who lectures us about โlong-term healthโ every week.โ
You squint at him. โDo youโฆ actually listen when I say those things?โ
โApparently more than you do.โ He steps back, eyes flicking briefly to your ankle. โIf it still hurts tomorrow, tell someone. Donโt be an idiot.โ
โYouโre very bossy for someone younger than me,โ you grumble.
He shrugs. โSomeone has to compensate for your terrible life choices.โ
Youโre still rolling your eyes when the music kicks in again and he jogs back to his spot, slipping effortlessly into formation. But later, when youโre at home and finally take your shoes off, you realise your ankle does hurt less than it had that morning.
You tell yourself itโs just the way he tied your laces.
You donโt think about the way heโd watched you for a full song before saying anything.
After that, you start noticing him more.
How he always seems to be the first one to grab an extra mic if someoneโs cuts out. How he quietly adjusts Hyunjinโs in-ear without making a fuss. How heโs quick with dry comments in interviews, but even quicker to back off if he thinks his joking is actually bothering someone.
โDo you ever stop working?โ he asks you one evening, dropping onto the chair opposite your desk in the staff room.
You glance up from the schedule spreadsheet. โDo you?โ
He shrugs. โFair point.โ
Heโs got a coffee in one hand and a small plastic bag in the other. He puts the bag on your desk.
โWhatโs that?โ you ask warily.
You narrow your eyes. โWhy?โ
โBecause the last time I walked past, you were chewing on the end of a pen,โ he says, deadpan. โWhich Iโm fairly sure has zero nutritional value.โ
You stare at him. โโฆHave you always been this sassy or did I just not notice?โ
โYou were busy limping around and pretending not to be in love with Chan,โ he says, casually.
The air leaves your lungs in a whoosh. โWow,โ you manage. โSubtle.โ
His expression softens. โYouโre better now, though.โ
Itโs not really a question. You look down at the bag and peek inside. Thereโs a neatly wrapped kimbap and a small packet of your favourite crisps.
โIโm getting there,โ you say quietly.
He nods once. โGood.โ
You tear open the crisps. โYou know, for someone who calls me an idiot at least twice a week, youโre surprisingly considerate.โ
โI never said you werenโt one of my favourite idiots,โ he replies, sipping his coffee.
Your heart does a small, inconvenient flip.
You tell it to calm down. It doesnโt listen.
You and Seungmin fall into an odd sort of orbit after that.
He starts appearing at your desk more often, asking oddly specific questions about the schedule that you suspect he already knows the answer to.
โSo, what time is rehearsal tomorrow?โ he asks one afternoon, leaning over your shoulder.
โYou literally have it in the group chat,โ you reply.
โYeah, but your version is more accurate.โ
โItโs the same version.โ
โYours is in pink highlighter,โ he points out. โThat makes it feel less aggressive.โ
Sometimes he joins you on late-night convenience store runs when practices run long.
โWhy do you always get that one?โ you ask as he grabs the same brand of yoghurt drink for the third time that week.
โBecause Iโm loyal,โ he says, then glances pointedly at the instant ramen in your basket. โUnlike some people I could mention.โ
โI have no idea what youโre talking about.โ
โYou said last week that was your โabsolute favourite flavour in the worldโ,โ he mimics your voice. โAnd now youโve thrown it over for spicy seafood.โ
โItโs called personal growth,โ you sniff.
He nudges your shoulder with his. โMm, sure.โ
โYouโve been staring at that screen for twenty minutes,โ he says one night in the empty dressing room. โEither youโre very enamoured with that spreadsheet or youโre thinking too much.โ
โIs this how you flirt?โ you ask, dry.
You choke on your own saliva. He laughs, low and pleased, and tosses you a bottle of water.
And then, without you really realising when it happened, he becomes the first person you text when something good or bad happens. The one who sends you photos of funny signs he sees on the way to schedules. The one who asks you, โHave you eaten?โ with a raised brow that says heโll be annoyed with you if the answer is no.
You donโt notice the exact moment your heart switches allegiance. All you know is that one day, Chan walks into the practice room, smiles at you, and your pulse stays calm.
Later that same day, Seungmin sits next to you on the floor, knees touching as he scrolls through dog photos to show you, and you feel your cheeks heat.
You stare at your traitorous hands, resting a little too close to his, and think, Oh.
Ironically, itโs Chan who notices first.
You and Seungmin are backstage at a music show, pressed into a narrow corridor while technicians wheel equipment past. The boys are due to go on in ten minutes. Felix is stretching his shoulders; Changbin is muttering lyrics under his breath; Jisung is bouncing on his toes, burning off nervous energy.
Youโre scanning the running order, making sure you havenโt missed any last-minute changes, when Seungmin leans in.
You frown. โWhat about it?โ
He reaches up and gently smooths a strand of hair back, tucking it behind your ear. โThere. It was annoying me.โ
Your brain short-circuits for a second. โOh. Thanks.โ
His hand lingers a moment too long, fingertips brushing your temple. When he pulls away, thereโs a small, satisfied smile on his lips.
Chan is a few metres away, watching the exchange. Heโs mid-conversation with the stage manager, but his gaze flickers briefly between you and Seungmin, eyes narrowing just a fraction in thought.
He catches your eye and quickly looks away, plastering a smile back onto his face as he nods along to whatever the staff is saying.
Heat creeps up your neck. You suddenly feel very aware of the small distance between you and Seungmin, of the way his arm presses lightly against yours.
โYouโre fidgeting,โ Seungmin murmurs.
โYou are.โ He bumps your shoulder. โRelax. You look like youโre about to be the one going onstage.โ
โThatโs because you are about to go onstage.โ
He tilts his head, studying you. โYouโre worried.โ
โOf course I am,โ you mutter. โYouโre all running on four hoursโ sleep and caffeine.โ
โFive,โ he corrects. โI had a nap.โ
He smiles, softer now. โWeโll be fine. Iโll be fine.โ
You open your mouth, then close it again. Instead, you just nod.
He glances at your hand, fingers twitching, and thenโ slowly, like giving you time to pull awayโ he takes it.
His palm is warm and dry, fingers slotting between yours with an ease that makes your chest hurt.
โBreathe,โ he says quietly. โYeah?โ
You let out a shaky breath you hadnโt realised youโd been holding.
โGood.โ He squeezes your hand once, then lets go as the stage manager calls them to standby.
As he walks away, you feel Chanโs gaze brush your profile again. When you glance over, his expression is unreadable.
You and Seungmin donโt define anything for a while. Itโs a series of almostsโ his fingers skimming yours in busy hallways, his hand hovering at your lower back as he guides you through crowds, his teasing texts that sometimes stray a little too close to something else.
you left your charger in the practice room again
are you calling me unreliable?
You stare at that last message for longer than you should.
The official shift happens on a rainy Tuesday evening.
Schedules had run long, and by the time you leave the building, the sky has opened properly, sheets of rain drenching the pavement. You stand under the awning, clutching your umbrella, watching cars hiss by in the wet.
โYouโre not seriously going to walk home in that.โ
You donโt even have to turn to know who it is. โSeungmin, I live fifteen minutes away. Iโll survive.โ
He steps up beside you, opening his own umbrella. โWhich direction?โ
โSpying on my address now?โ you tease.
โIโm deciding whether to file a noise complaint,โ he replies smoothly. โWhich way?โ
You roll your eyes and point. He hums. โThatโs on my way.โ
โIt isnโt,โ you say immediately. โYou live in the opposite direction.โ
โYeah,โ he says, entirely unbothered. โBut I also live with a group of grown men who absolutely know how to feed themselves. You, however, will probably go home and eat instant noodles.โ
You gasp. โHow dare you.โ
โYou literally did that last night.โ
You deflate. โOkay, fair.โ
โCome on,โ he says, stepping out into the rain. โWalk with me.โ
You fall into step beside him, umbrellas overlapping slightly. The city glows under streetlights, puddles reflecting neon signs and traffic lights. For a while, you just walk, listening to the soft patter of rain on plastic.
โI like nights like this,โ you say quietly.
โYeah. Everything feelsโฆ slower.โ
He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. โYou need slower.โ
You snort. โSays the idol whose job is literally running around stages worldwide.โ
โExactly. Iโm uniquely qualified to diagnose the condition.โ
โAnd what condition is that?โ
โOverworked idiot who thinks rest is optional.โ
You bump his shoulder. โStop calling me an idiot.โ
โNo,โ he says, but thereโs a smile in his voice. โWhat are you thinking about right now?โ
โYou looked like you were somewhere else,โ he says. โWhere were you?โ
You hesitate. Normally, youโd laugh it off, deflect with a stupid joke. But the rain, the quiet street, the way heโs really looking at youโ it all makes you braver than usual.
โI was thinking aboutโฆ timing,โ you admit. โHow unfair it can be.โ
Heโs silent for a moment. โBecause of Chan?โ
You stare down at the wet pavement. โNot exactly. Not anymore. Justโฆ thinking how a few years ago, if someone had told me Iโd be walking home in the rain with Kim Seungmin, Iโd have laughed in their face.โ
โOh?โ he says lightly. โIs that a bad thing?โ
โNo,โ you say quickly. โThatโs notโ I meanโฆโ You exhale, breath fogging the air. โI used to be so stuck on one idea of what my life should look like. One person. Oneโฆ version of happiness. And when it didnโt work out, I just assumed that was it. That Iโd missed my chance and everything else was justโฆ consolation prize.โ
โAnd now?โ he asks quietly.
โNow I know I was being dramatic,โ you say, a small smile tugging at your lips. โBecause I didnโt know there were other ways to feelโโ You stop yourself before you say this safe, this seen.
Seungmin slows, then comes to a stop under a streetlight. Rain drums steadily around you. You look up at him, confused.
He looks at you for a long moment, the usual mischief in his eyes replaced by something softer, more open.
โDo you like me?โ he asks.
The question lands between you with surprising gentleness. No teasing, no theatrics. Just simple, direct words, spoken like he already knows the answer.
Your heart thumps unhelpfully.
โThatโs a very arrogant question,โ you say, trying to deflect.
He tilts his head slightly. โIs it wrong?โ
You chew on your bottom lip. โYouโre veryโฆ sure of yourself.โ
โIโm very sure of you,โ he corrects. โWhich is weird, because you clearly have no idea.โ
โIf you donโt,โ he adds quickly, โif Iโve misread everything, tell me. Iโll shut up. We can go back to me bullying you about your snack choices and pretending I donโt care whether you rest or not.โ
Something in your chest squeezes.
You think of the coffees, the snacks, the way he steals your pen just to give it back with a stupid flourish. The way he stands a little closer than necessary. The way he noticed your ankle when no one else did. The way heโs quietly shifted his route home just to match yours.
You think of Chanโs studio, the way your confession fell awkward and hopeful into the dim light. The way your heart had shattered and slowly, slowly put itself back together.
You think of how you feel now, standing under a flickering street lamp with Seungmin, rain pounding a steady rhythm around you.
His brow furrows. โYou doโฆ what?โ
โLike you.โ You exhale, a shaky laugh leaving your chest. โA lot, actually. Which is very annoying, because youโre very smug about it.โ
A slow grin spreads across his face, bright even in the dull light. โI knew it.โ
โYouโre unbearable.โ
โYou like that too,โ he says, and then his expression sobers. โCan Iโฆ?โ
He doesnโt finish the question, but you understand. You nod, heartbeat roaring in your ears.
He steps closer, shifting his umbrella slightly so he can see your face properly. Raindrops catch on his lashes, his fringe damp. He lifts his free hand, fingers brushing your cheek, then your jaw, giving you one last chance to pull away.
He leans in and kisses you, soft and unhurried, like you have all the time in the world.
Itโs not fireworks and orchestras and the world spinning off its axis. Itโs something quieterโ a warmth that blooms low in your chest and unfurls slowly, wrapping around all the old aches and whispering, See? It can be like this too.
When he pulls back, thereโs a faint flush on his cheeks, but his eyes are steady.
โJust so weโre clear,โ he says, voice slightly rough. โThis isnโt a consolation prize.โ
โI know,โ you say, and you do. โYou couldnโt be a consolation prize if you tried.โ
โGood.โ He presses a quick kiss to your forehead, smirking. โBecause I donโt come second to anyone.โ
You laugh, the sound carried away by the rain.
People find out gradually.
Hyunjin shrieks when he catches you and Seungmin holding hands in the practice room. Jisung wonโt stop making exaggerated kissy faces for an entire week. Felix beams so brightly youโre genuinely worried he might combust. Minho just gives Seungmin a long, assessing look and says, โDonโt be weird about it,โ which is his way of approving.
Youโre more careful in public, but around the team and core staff, you donโt hide it. It feels too big to tuck away into shadows.
You donโt know exactly when he pieces it together, but one evening, you walk into the studio to drop off revised schedules and find him mid-conversation with Seungmin. They fall abruptly silent when they see you.
โโฆAm I interrupting?โ you ask cautiously.
โNo,โ Chan says quickly. โWe were justโ uhโโ
โTalking about you,โ Seungmin supplies smoothly.
Chan shoots him a helpless look. You blink. โOh. Should I be worried?โ
โProbably,โ Seungmin says.
โDefinitely not,โ Chan says at the same time.
You snort. โThatโs reassuring.โ
Seungmin steps towards you, brushing your hand briefly with his. โIโll meet you downstairs, okay? Donโt let him bully you into doing another all-nighter.โ
โI mean it,โ Seungmin says, ignoring him. He looks at you, gaze briefly soft. โTen minutes.โ
He leaves, closing the door gently behind him. The studio feels oddly quiet in his absence. You turn to Chan, suddenly very aware that youโre alone.
You hold out the folder. โUpdated schedules for next week.โ
โThanks,โ he says, taking it. His fingers brush yours briefly. โHow are you?โ
You blink at the question. โIโm fine. Why?โ
โYou can, but you usually lead with โSorry, can you do me a favour?โโ
He huffs a small laugh. โI am trying to improve.โ
You smile, but thereโs a tension in the air that wasnโt there before. You hover for a moment, unsure whether to leave.
โY/N,โ he says suddenly.
He stares at his hands. โWhen did youโฆ start dating Seungmin?โ
Your pulse stutters. โUm. A while ago.โ
You chew your lip. โIs thatโฆ okay?โ
He looks up sharply. โWhy wouldnโt it be?โ
โI donโt know. Itโs justโฆ youโre the leader. Maybe thereโs some unwritten โno dating staffโ rule I missed.โ
He snorts. โIf there is, theyโve never told me about it.โ He sobers, fingers tightening around the folder. โI justโฆ I wanted to make sure youโre happy. Thatโs all.โ
You study him. Thereโs something careful about his expression, like heโs holding himself still.
โI am,โ you say quietly. โIโm really happy.โ
A flicker of something crosses his faceโ pain, regret, something small and bitterโ but itโs gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a soft smile.
โGood,โ he says, and he sounds like he means it. โHeโsโฆ good. Seungmin.โ
โHe is,โ you agree, warmth curling in your chest at the thought.
Chan looks at the monitors, then back at you. โCan weโฆ talk? Properly. Not right now, maybe. Justโ at some point.โ
Your stomach twists. Youโve known this moment might come, but youโd hoped, selfishly, that you could just glide past it forever.
โOkay,โ you say. โJust tell me when.โ
It happens two days later.
Youโre half expecting him to text you late at night, ask you to drop by the studio after everyoneโs left. Instead, he catches you after practise, when the others have already shuffled out, laughing and shoving as they head to the showers.
โY/N,โ he says, leaning in the doorway. โGot a minute?โ
Seungmin looks up from where heโs fiddling with his phone. His eyes flick between you and Chan, and his jaw tenses almost imperceptibly.
โYou good?โ he asks you quietly.
โYeah,โ you say. โIโll meet you in the lobby?โ
He studies your face for a heartbeat, then nods. โText me if you need rescuing.โ
You roll your eyes. โHeโs not going to murder me, Seungmin.โ
โWell, he did reject you once,โ he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for Chan to hear. Chan chokes on his own saliva.
โGo,โ you urge, shoving lightly at his shoulder. โYou smell like sweat.โ
You watch him leave, then turn to Chan. โSo. Whatโs up?โ
He jerks his head towards the studio. โCome here for a sec?โ
The familiarity of the room hits you as soon as you step inside. Same scuffed rug, same mismatched cushions, same faint smell of coffee and dust and creativity. You remember standing in almost this exact spot two years ago, heart in your throat.
Chan closes the door gently behind you, then walks over to his usual chair, but doesnโt sit. He rests his hands on the back instead, fingers drumming restlessly.
โIโve beenโฆ thinking,โ he says finally.
โThat sounds dangerous,โ you reply, because humour is easier than the knot in your stomach.
He huffs a weak laugh. โYeah.โ
Silence stretches. You watch him, waiting.
โI owe you an apology,โ he says at last.
Your gut twists. โChanโโ
โNo, listenโ please.โ He takes a breath, eyes fixed on his hands. โWhen you confessed to meโฆ I handled it badly.โ
โYou were honest,โ you say. โThatโs not bad.โ
โI was honest about the symptoms,โ he says. โNot the cause.โ
You frown. โI donโt follow.โ
He lifts his gaze to yours. โI told you I couldnโt give you what you deserved because of work, because of my responsibilities, because I was too busy. And that was true, but it wasnโt the whole truth.โ
โWhat was the whole truth, then?โ you ask, voice low.
He swallows. โI was scared.โ
Your chest aches. โScared of what?โ
โOf letting you down,โ he says. โOf getting it wrong. Of being selfish enough to say yes when I knew Iโd be exhausted all the time, distracted all the time, asking you to understand things you shouldnโt have to.โ He exhales, shoulders slumping. โI thought that by saying no, I was protecting you. That youโdโฆ move on faster without having to deal with me half-loving you between deadlines.โ
The word hangs in the air like a dropped glass.
โHalf?โ you say, heart hammering.
His lips twist. โIโฆ liked you. Maybe more than liked. I justโฆ refused to look at it too closely. Because if I did, I knew Iโd give in. And the group was still finding its feet, and I felt like I couldnโt afford to beโฆ anything but focused.โ
You stare at him, a dozen memories rearranging themselves in your head. The extra coffees. The late-night conversations. The way heโd always seemed to know when you were having a bad day, even when you didnโt say anything.
โWhy are you telling me this now?โ you ask, not unkindly.
โBecause for a long time, I thought Iโd done the right thing,โ he says, voice quiet. โI told myself youโd get over it, that you deserved someone who could actually show up. And then I watched you and Seungmin.โ
โHe looks at you like you hang the moon,โ Chan says, a faint, bittersweet smile on his lips. โHe notices things I used to notice before I forced myself to stop. He walks you home. He makes sure you eat. He teases you until you laugh on days when Iโm too buried in my own head to see anything past my laptop screen.โ He takes a shaky breath. โAnd I realised that the thing I thought I was doing for youโฆ I was mostly doing for me.โ
You blink. โWhat do you mean?โ
โI told myself I was being noble,โ he says, rolling his eyes at himself. โBut it was easier to say no and bury it than to admit I wanted you and still might not be enough. I was cowarding out, basically. And in the process, I hurt you. And then I justโฆ let that hurt sit. I never cleared it properly.โ He looks at you, eyes earnest. โYou deserved better than that. You deserve better than me pretending it never happened.โ
Emotion burns behind your eyes. You look down at your hands.
โI did wait,โ you say quietly. โFor a while.โ
โNotโฆ forever,โ you add quickly. โBut I waited. I thought maybe once things calmed down, once youโd settled a bit, youโd come back and say youโd changed your mind.โ You laugh, small and self-deprecating. โThen I realised your job is never really going to calm down. And neither is mine. So I had to stop waiting or Iโd justโฆ stay stuck.โ
โIโm sorry,โ he says again, voice thick. โI never wanted you to feel like you were waiting for something that was never going to happen.โ
โBut it did happen,โ you say, meeting his gaze. โJust not with you.โ
A faint, sad smile flickers over his face. โYeah. I see that.โ
You take a breath. โYouโre right, though. About Seungmin. Heโฆ shows up. Even when heโs tired, even when heโs busy. He doesnโt make me feel like Iโm an extra task on a checklist.โ You shrug. โItโs not big grand gestures. Itโsโฆ him turning up with my favourite snack after a long day. Or texting me just to ask if I got home safe. Or noticing when Iโm quiet.โ
โSounds familiar,โ Chan says, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips.
โYeah,โ you say softly. โA little.โ
He looks at the floor, jaw working. โIโm really happy for you,โ he says, and this time you can hear the honesty through the ache. โI mean that. Even if itโฆ hurts, sometimes, when I think about what I couldโve done differently.โ
โYou were doing your best,โ you say. โWe both were. We were justโฆ different people then.โ
He huffs a quiet laugh. โYou got wiser. I just got more sleep-deprived.โ
โHey, youโve grown too,โ you protest. โYou apologise faster now.โ
โThatโs growth?โ he asks.
โFor you? Definitely.โ
He smiles properly, the tension easing a little.
โFor what itโs worth,โ you add, โI donโt regret telling you. Orโฆ liking you. It hurt, but it alsoโฆ made room for the person I ended up with.โ You shrug. โWe wouldnโt be here without that.โ
He nods, eyes shining faintly. โIโm glad you didnโt wait forever.โ
โSo am I,โ you say, meaning it.
He hesitates, then steps closer, holding out his hand. โFriends?โ
You look at it, then up at him.
โFriends,โ you say, taking it.
His grip is warm and steady, and for the first time, the old ache in your chest feels like something finally, properly laid to rest.
You find Seungmin leaning against the lobby wall, scrolling on his phone. He looks up as you approach, eyes immediately scanning your face for signs of distress.
โYou survived,โ he says.
โDisappointed?โ you ask.
โA little,โ he admits. โI was looking forward to a dramatic rescue.โ
You snort. โYouโd get distracted by a dog on the way and forget what you were doing.โ
He gasps. โUntrue. I can multitask. I would absolutely rescue you and pet the dog.โ
โYour priorities are very concerning.โ
โMy priorities are excellent,โ he says, straightening and taking your bag from your shoulder without asking. โYou just happen to be one of them.โ
Warmth flutters in your chest. You bump his arm lightly. โWe talked,โ you say.
โI figured,โ he replies. โYou look like someone who just let go of a very heavy backpack.โ
โThatโsโฆ weirdly accurate.โ
He glances at you. โYou okay?โ
You consider the question. Think of the studio, of Chanโs apology, of the way the ghost of your old crush finally loosened its grip.
โYeah,โ you say. โIโm okay.โ
He nods once, accepting your answer. โGood.โ Then, with mock seriousness: โIf he made you cry, Iโm pushing his chair over in the next meeting.โ
You laugh. โHe didnโt. I promise.โ
โShame,โ he muses. โWouldโve been fun to watch.โ
โYou like that,โ he says, the words so familiar now they feel like a private joke.
You do. You really, really do.
Months later, at a team dinner, someone makes a comment that finally puts everything into sharp, almost comical relief.
Youโre squeezed into a long table at a restaurant, empty plates and side dishes scattered everywhere. The boys are loud and loose, laughing over some story Jisungโs telling. Youโre perched between Seungmin and Felix, half listening, half texting a colleague about tomorrowโs call time.
Seungmin drops a piece of meat into your bowl without looking, still engaged in an argument with Changbin about some game.
โEat,โ he says absently.
โI was going to,โ you mutter, but you take a bite anyway.
Across the table, one of the stylists watches the exchange, eyes flicking between you and Seungmin, then over to Chan, whoโs quietly topping up everyoneโs water glasses.
โYou know,โ she says, grinning, โI always thought you and Chan would end up together.โ
The table goes briefly, awkwardly quiet. Your chopsticks pause halfway to your mouth.
โBut seeing you with Seungmin nowโฆโ She gestures vaguely between you two. โYou suit each other so well. It just makes sense.โ
Time seems to slow for a second.
You risk a glance at Chan. Heโs frozen, jug in hand, expression carefully blank. Then he clears his throat, smile returning a fraction too bright.
โYeah,โ he says, voice light. โThey do.โ
Heat rushes to your face. You open your mouth to deflect, but Seungmin beats you to it. He simply reaches over and casually adjusts the collar of your shirt, fingers deft, like heโs done it a thousand times before.
โObviously,โ he says. โSheโd be miserable with anyone else.โ
You choke. โExcuse me?โ
He gives you an innocent look. โWhat? Youโd be late, unhydrated, and your ankle would definitely be in pieces by now.โ
โWow,โ you say. โRomantic.โ
He leans in, voice dropping just low enough for only you to hear. โYou know what I mean.โ
You do. Your cheeks burn, but you canโt stop smiling.
Across the table, Chan watches for a moment, then looks down at his plate. When he looks up again, he catches your eye and gives you a small, genuine smile. Thereโs a hint of sadness lingering at the edges, but it no longer feels like an open woundโ more like an old scar you both acknowledge.
You smile back, and that feels like its own kind of ending.
Later that night, you and Seungmin walk home together. The city is quieter, streetlights casting long shadows on the pavement. He hooks his pinky through yours, swinging your hands between you.
โA bit,โ you admit. โYou?โ
โIโve been tired since 2018,โ he says. โItโs my personality now.โ
He glances at you, then gently tugs you closer, slipping his arm around your shoulders. You melt into the warmth instinctively, head resting against his shoulder.
โIf youโre tired,โ he continues, โlean on me. Iโll carry the heavy stuff. You just have to walk next to me.โ
The words are simple, almost off-hand, but they land somewhere deep, somewhere that remembers late nights in studios and unanswered wishes and the feeling of always coming second to something you couldnโt compete with.
You look up at him, your chest full.
โOkay,โ you say. โBut only if you let me carry yours too.โ
He smiles, a small, secret thing. โDeal.โ
You walk the rest of the way like thatโ in step, shoulders touching, the future not some grand, glittering promise, but a series of ordinary nights like this one. Quiet, honest, shared.
In a studio several floors above, Chan sits alone in front of his computer, headphones on, a half-finished melody looping gently. Through the window, he can just make out the street below, two small figures walking side by side.
He watches you both for a moment, something bittersweet tugging at his ribs. Then he smiles to himself, presses play, and gets back to work.
Heโd made his choice years ago.
And for the first time, all the timelines sit comfortably together in your chestโ the girl who once stood under harsh studio lights with her heart in her hands, the woman now leaning under the soft glow of a streetlamp against someone who always, unfailingly, shows up.
Good for you. Bittersweet for him.
You tighten your arm around Seungminโs waist, and he squeezes your shoulder in reply, as if to say, Iโm here.
You smile into the night, and keep walking.