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@gnhabsirhc
── ❝ JUST ENJOY ❞
── .✦. ──
「 ✦ #𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐡𝐧 𝐁𝐚𝐡𝐧𝐠 ✦ 」 ──── PROFILE ✦ STARTERS ✦ TAG ✦ AESTHETICS ✦ CONNECTIONS ──────── DATING @saaanaaabby
── .✦. ──
NOW PLAYING
DISCLAIMER : this is a private roleplay account for christopher bang ✦ created : 23.03.26. ✦ penned by : star. ✦ associated with @seoulessrp.
We got a lotta passion got it ☆ KCON:TACT 2020
rachalog ep. 24: chan ✨
for cherry, a bed for the smallest landlord in the house. - J
gnabnahc: bro, she’s already acting like she owns the place ㅠㅠ maybe she’ll sleep in this one— my pillow seems to be the favourite spot ㅋㅋ so thanks for this
Jeongchan | VENOM
── 「 ✦ PRESENT ✦ 」 for @saaanaaabby ────── 𝖐𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖓 𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖊
As Chris walks into the practice room, a small tabby kitten in his arms, content and cuddled into his embrace. He smiles at Sana, his dimples showing when he meets her gaze and there's a look of pure adoration in his eyes — whether for her or the kitten, he'll never say.
"So," he chuckles a little as he makes his way towards her, "Meet Cherry. I couldn't resist her when I saw her."
sana presses pause on the music when she hears the door open, the fond smile on her face shifting with curiosity when she sees that chris is cradling something in his arms. “hi, baby, what do you have there?”
here eyes widen as her hands come up to cover her mouth in shock when chris reveals what he’s holding. “oh,” she looks between her boyfriend and the small kitten, one hand timidly reaching out to stroke the soft fur. “she’s precious.”
without realizing it, a lone tear escapes her at the sight of the kitten. “can I dress her like a tempura shrimp?”
The small bundle in his arms meows at the touch, purrs almost too loud for her tiny body as she is wakes up. They had talked about it, joked maybe, but Chris honestly couldn’t resist. He misses Berry so the self control went out the window when he had laid eyes on the sweet kitten. He even went a little overboard with the amount of food and toys and other items they might need for her.
Two of everything so Sana could keep some at her place when it was her turn to have Cherry.
“She’s all caught up on her vaccinations, fleaed, wormed, the works.” He speaks softly, like being too loud would disrupt the kitten. He chuckles at Sana’s question, humming and nodding as he hands Cherry over to his girlfriend. “Baby, you can dress her up however you want. She’s ours.” His free hand reaches out to caress Sana’s cheek, catching the tear silently, without a word.
── 「 ✦ PRESENT ✦ 」 for @saaanaaabby ────── 𝖐𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖓 𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖊
As Chris walks into the practice room, a small tabby kitten in his arms, content and cuddled into his embrace. He smiles at Sana, his dimples showing when he meets her gaze and there's a look of pure adoration in his eyes — whether for her or the kitten, he'll never say.
"So," he chuckles a little as he makes his way towards her, "Meet Cherry. I couldn't resist her when I saw her."
── 「 ✦ STARTER ✦ 」 for @rosieisroses ────── 𝖇𝖇𝖖 & 𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖔
The invitation was sent, the bag of goodies secured and seated beside him as Chris climbs into his car and gets ready to head out. It’s not that he needs to bribe his friend with snacks for her to come and eat with him — but the incentive doesn’t hurt.
The drive to the restaurant in Itaewon took longer than he had expected, a traffic jam delaying his arrival by a good ten minutes, but he manages. Manages to make it there on time, cutting it a little close but at least he’s not late.
“Table for two, under Chris.” Of course he made a reservation, he knows better than to leave these things up to chance. “The outside area is fine, it’s warm tonight.”
He’s lead to an empty seat outdoors, the veranda sides open to let in a nice breeze and keep the place from overheating. “I’ll order when my friend arrives, thank you.” He informs the waiter, smiling kindly as she places down some water and glasses.
Chan vs. Blindfold ☆ SKZ Code Ep. 101
BANG CHAN — SKZ CODE Ep. 101
Already seated at a corner table. Back to the wall. View to the side. Face half-lit by the small amber lamp near the edge, airport exhaustion still sitting plainly over features no matter how cleanly it's being carried. Designer shirt still holding its shape, collar slightly uneven, sleeves pushed once at the wrists and then forgotten. One hand resting around a glass still not touched as much. Condensation gathering beneath fingers. One clear bead sliding down, catching the light before disappearing into the coaster underneath.
Now looking up at his friend approaches.
Not quickly. Not dramatically.
Just enough for recognition to establish. Eyes first. Face second. Then hands.
Observance sitting just long enough.
Long enough to see what was tried to be washed away and what water had not been able to fully fix. Long enough to notice the carefulness of that grip, the fresh-clean lie of someone who had scrubbed evidence from skin and forgotten that hurt still knew how to stand in the body. Long enough to understand that the appearance being worn is mere composure the way people wore jackets in bad weather. Not looking at those hands again as looking twice would formulate a question, and looking for too long would be translated into pity.
Instead, posture leans back slightly now, mouth curving faintly at one corner, almost a smile but not quite something sitting in the middle.
❝ Milan was Milan. ❞
A breath passed, the jazz saxophone doing them a favor, filling it politely.
❝ Hot. I wore this pink outerwear in summer and pretended I was not fighting for my life. Went to Lake Como with family after. Posted photos. Apparently I soft-launched my girlfriend. ❞
The almost-smile stays, mouth twitching before continuing.
❝ It was my cousin. So the internet was beautiful to watch for a few hours before management stepped in. ❞
Only then the glass touches his lips, taking a sip. Slow. Measured. Something bitter and clean landing on the tongue before setting the glassware down exactly where it had been, ring of condensation meeting ring of condensation. A neat little perfect circle. A proof of staying.
❝ You look presentable. ❞
Words falling plainly, almost casually. Almost. Eyes flicking down once more, not to the hands this time but to the edge of Chris' sleeve, to the way the fabric shifted when it moved then back up.
❝ Which is usually suspicious at this hour. ❞
Reaching for the small bowl of ice the server had left near the drinks, taking one cube with a cocktail napkin, wrapping it carefully. Slow. Precise. An unnecessary amount of attention given to one small thing because looking directly at pain too long made people defensive. The napkin darkened where the ice began to sweat.
Sliding it toward Chris.
❝ For your hand. ❞
He pretends not to notice. Plastering that casual smile on his face, too bright for the time that it is, Chris pretends not to notice and flexed his hand to try and ward off the pain that comes with split knuckles.
He's had worse, done worse, during boxing training but this is different. This is... a sign that he lost control.
Chris takes a seat, his order at the bar delayed in arriving gives them time to talk. It allows him to be present for a moment before old, dangerous habits come into play and distract him. Chris isn't an alcoholic, he doesn't usually drink especially not when he's busy but it doesn't mean that Chris won't use it to dull his senses enough to switch off. The constant need to stay in control, that pressure, weight on his shoulders can become rather suffocating and sometimes — he needs to switch it off.
For now, he can keep to facade going until that whiskey arrives.
At the mention of the chaos that he created on his Instagram, Chris chuckles and leans back in his chair. "I saw. You caused quite the uproar for a bit, I'm surprised it took that long for management to step in." The hat he's wearing is taken off his head and placed on the empty chair beside him. He knows better than to put his hat on the table, regardless of whether they were eating or not. "You must have known that was going to happen."
Because doesn't it always? Mention a girl, mention anything to do with dating, to do with romance that is outside of the realms of what fans deem acceptable and it's a career hazard.
"She doing okay, though?" It's genuine, his question, the worry that lies underneath. He's seen firsthand what can happen when fans find out who she is and decides to attack her over nothing.
Jaehyun's words aren't an accusation, they aren't much of anything really, a mere observation and yet, Chris stiffens. Looking down at himself, he tries to play it off, a teasing jab at the other's appearance to divert attention away from himself. "Well, unlike you, I didn't just get off a flight. I could shower."
It's the action that causes Chris' eyes to lower to his hand, moving his fingers and watching the knuckles move beneath the reddened skin. "You gonna ask?" It's not an offer for him to, it's not even an acknowledgement that there's anything to ask — as Chris accepts the ice, placing it on his knuckles, the words linger in the air as if they're a warning to not ask.
But, he knows his friend better than that.
#frame by frame ☆ Run It MV #3
Bonus scene:
gnabnahc: noona, can i come over? gnabnahc: i need you. gnabnahc: it's been a tough few days...
────── @saaanaaabby
sana: you never need to ask baby <3
sana: i’ll order some takeaway for us so you can tell me about it with a full stomach
gnabnahc: sometimes i realise you’re too good for me, you know that, right?
gnabnahc: always know what to do
gnabnahc: i’ll be there soon
sana: channie it is my mission to show you just how much you deserve
sana: let me know when you’re here and I can buzz you in <3
Sighing, Chris grabs his bag from the bed, his hair still messy from drying it after the shower. The blonde curls barely showing before they are then flattened down by a beanie and the hood he pulls over, trying to hide himself as much as he can under the baggy hoodie.
It's been a rough couple of days, weeks maybe, he can't remember. Preparing for the comeback, members being unwell, travel and stressing about family stuff — Chris' mind has been everywhere and doing everything wrong. He feels like he's being pulled in every direction, having to wear so many hats, that he's feeling like he's failing at them all... especially when it comes to Sana.
Fuck. What if he's not doing enough and she thinks he's working too much for them to work?
Staring at the messages on his phone, the ones that show she cares for him, his mind twists it all into something dark, wrong, like she's just smiling for him rather than being happy. "Goddammit." He runs his hand over the hoodie before making his way out the door.
── .✦. ──
gnabnahc: heading up, noona
Chris flicks her a quick message, locking the door and looking up at the building in front of him for a moment before making his way towards the entrance.
Part of him wants to pull away, say it's fine and he didn't mean to bother her but the other part pushes forward, waiting for the door to be opened.
gnabnahc: noona, can i come over? gnabnahc: i need you. gnabnahc: it's been a tough few days...
────── @saaanaaabby
sana: you never need to ask baby <3
sana: i’ll order some takeaway for us so you can tell me about it with a full stomach
gnabnahc: sometimes i realise you’re too good for me, you know that, right?
gnabnahc: always know what to do
gnabnahc: i’ll be there soon
track '97 | continued from: x @gnhabsirhc
Seoul did not look any different after Milan, equally half-asleep.
Not quiet.
Softened around its edges, blurred by exhaust fumes and late summer humidity. Yellow smear of streetlights dragging themselves across the pavement. Taxis crawling past like they knew every secret the city had ever tried to bury before the sun rose.
Car windows reflected back at him in pieces whenever they passed, face cut by the shadow, collar still sitting wrong from the flight, the same black Prada shirt he had worn through Malpensa, through Incheon, through the blur of cameras and luggage wheels and the voices of calling out his name from somewhere beyond his noise-cancelling headphones. Milan still clinging to him in pieces. A folded boarding pass tucked badly into his wallet. The faint sterile smell of the plane cabin caught somewhere in the fabric near his collar, mixed with the cologne he had reapplied in a bathroom mirror because habit was easier than admitting exhaustion.
Jakarta.
Seoul.
Milan.
Seoul again.
Phone warm in his hand, Chris' name on the screen. For a moment, fingers just there, still. Then moved away. Came back. Screen lighting his face in pale blue. No new messages. No missed calls. Nothing dramatic enough to justify concern, which somehow made concern itself worse. He knew enough. Not everything. Never everything. Men like them did not hand each other their wounds cleanly labeled and easy to hold. They let information slip sideways. Knew how it started. Knew how it ended. Or at least, knew and understood the shape of it.
The driver waiting without asking where to next, eyes forward, hands still on the wheel, pretending not to notice the man in the backseat staring at his phone like it had become another stage he did not want to step onto.
Typed. Deleted. Typed again.
jaehyun: you awake?
Message sent too cleanly. Too small for what he meant.
jaehyun: don't answer that actually jaehyun: i know you are jaehyun: don't answer if you don't want to talk jaehyun: just read this jaehyun: there's a rooftop bar in cheongdam jaehyun: i'm going there
Exhaustion settling deeper now, the kind that arrived after the body realized no one needed to perform for the next ten minutes. Shoulders heavy. Neck stiff. Hands cold despite the heat running through the car. Should have gone home by now. Should have slept. Instead, still sitting in the back of a car with Milan still on him, asking another man to leave a room that had probably started eating him alive hours ago.
❝ Cheongdam, please, ❞ giving the driver the address with the same even tone used for schedules, interviews, greetings, goodbyes. ❝ The Siena Lounge. ❞
The car pulls away from the curb.
Heaviness sits in his chest as Chris places the last of the mess is put in a bag. There's cuts on his hands from the shards of glass, the pain a reminder of his mistake. Knuckles bleeding from having slamming his fist into the broken coffee table to let out the frustration he's feeling. Maybe he should have gone to the gym. Maybe he should have gone home.
Maybe he shouldn't have let himself get attached to a good thing.
Slamming his laptop shut and shoving it back into its case, he decided to call it quits for the night because there's no work getting done. There's no fucking way he's going to be able to do anything right now — he's useless. Or he feels that way. As Chris swipes his phone off the table, it lights up in his hand.
you awake?
Sighing, he shoves the phone back in his pocket, grabbing both his gear and the rubbish bag as he walks out of the studio. He can feel the messages incoming as he walks, wondering for a moment why Jaehyun would even be awake this late before remembering that he would be back from Milan.
There's the urge to ignore it, pretend like he's not awake, that he doesn't have his phone... excuses start to run through his mind with all the possible ways of avoiding seeing his friend but he knows it's cowardly. He might be fucked up but Chris is not a coward, so pulling his phone out of his pocket, adjusting his bag on his shoulder, he opens the messages.
gnabnahc: i'll be there soon.
── .✦. ──
It doesn't take him long to arrive, having gone back to the dorm so he could shower and change quickly; the evidence of sleepless nights and being locked away with his thoughts in the studio washed away to make him look presentable. Not that Jaehyun would care — he just got off a plane.
Walking in, it doesn't take Chris long to find his friend, sitting at a table with a view as if it was a common place for him to be. "Hey man," he greets Jaehyun, voice a little rough, "how was Milan?"
chan ✨ r u n i t mv ft. seungmin
