Give me your TMI
pairing: bang chan x female reader
summary: as your friendship slowly turns into something more, you dont know what to do
word count: 2k
warnings: angst but what else did u expect
a/n: i didnt rlly know how to end this one ahaha
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Your apartment has always been a sanctuary, a place where you and chan can escape from the harsh realities of your lives.
It's a cozy, intimate space filled with personal touches—a shelf packed with your favorite books, a few plants thriving in the soft light by the window, and a well-worn couch where the two of you have spent countless evenings together. Your cat, mimi, a fluffy ball of fur, lazily sprawls across the armrest, occasionally flicking her tail.
This place has become a second home for Chan, a silent witness to the unspoken bond between you.
The two of you have always had a connection that others noticed but never fully understood. There’s a familiarity between you that goes beyond friendship—inside jokes, shared glances, and the comfort of each other’s presence. Yet, despite the closeness, neither of you has ever put a label on what you have. It’s a delicate balance, one you both seem content to maintain, even as the lines blur between friendship and something more. The lack of labels has kept things simple, or so you tell yourself, but, the ambiguity has become harder to ignore.
Lately, you’ve noticed a change in Chan. He’s still around, but there’s a distance in the way he interacts with you—a hesitation in his words, a slight pullback when your hands brush. The long conversations that once flowed effortlessly now feel stilted, as if he’s holding something back. You can’t pinpoint when it started, but it’s there, gnawing at you in quiet moments.
as you sit on the couch, your cat purring softly beside you, the silence between you feels heavy. Chan is here, but his mind seems elsewhere, lost in thoughts he’s not sharing. It’s unlike him, and the uncertainty gnaws at you. You’ve always valued the openness between you, the way you could talk about anything and everything. But now, something feels different, and the realization stings more than you expected.
You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “Channie,” you start, your voice cutting through the quiet, “is everything okay? You’ve been… different lately.”
He glances at you, surprised, but quickly looks away, his expression guarded. “What do you mean?” he asks, his tone carefully neutral, as if he’s bracing himself for what’s coming next.
“You’ve been distant,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t know, it feels like you’re pulling away from me.”
For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the floor. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost hesitant. “I’m just… dealing with some stuff. It’s not you.”
But you’re not convinced. The way he’s avoiding your gaze, the way his shoulders are tense—it all tells a different story. And suddenly, you realize that whatever he’s dealing with, it’s something he’s not ready to share with you.
And that hurts.
—
As seasons pass, the distance between you and Chan only grows more pronounced. What was once a subtle shift in his demeanor now becomes a chasm that feels impossible to bridge. He’s still around, but his presence seems to be a mere shadow of what it once was. You see him less often, and when he does come over, it’s with an air of detachment that leaves you feeling isolated and confused.
The small, everyday moments that used to be filled with laughter and warmth are now marked by an awkward silence. Conversations that used to flow effortlessly now stumble, interrupted by long pauses where neither of you knows what to say. When Chan does speak, his responses are clipped and terse, as though he’s going through the motions but not really engaging. You notice how he avoids eye contact, his gaze often drifting to the corners of the room or his phone, anything to escape the weight of your shared space.
The more he withdraws, the more you find yourself overthinking every interaction, searching for clues as to why he’s pulling away. You replay conversations in your mind, trying to pinpoint where things might have gone wrong. Was it something you said? Something you did? You want to ask, but every time you try to approach the topic, Chan’s demeanor makes it clear that he’s not open to discussing it. His evasiveness only fuels your anxiety, making you feel more like an outsider in a relationship you thought you understood.
channie!!!! imy :[ mimi misses u 2 come over for dinner?
sure only for mimi tho hehe
hoping to have a more relaxed setting where you can talk things through. You prepare his favorite meal, setting the table with care, trying to create an atmosphere that feels intimate and comfortable. When he arrives, however, he seems distracted and distant. His greeting is brief, and he quickly retreats to the couch, petting mimi while he scrolls on phone. his posture stiff and closed off.
You try to make conversation, asking about his day and sharing anecdotes from yours, but he responds with short, disinterested answers. As you sit across from him at the table, a sense of frustration wells up inside you. You’ve put in the effort to create a space where he could feel at ease, but it’s clear that he’s not fully present.
Finally, you can’t hold back any longer.
“Channie, we really need to talk,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “I don’t understand what’s happening between us. It feels like you’re pulling away more and more, and it’s hurting.”
He looks at you, his expression unreadable. “I told you, it’s not you. I’m just going through some stuff, and I need some time to figure it out.”
You feel a pang of frustration. “But I’m right here. I want to support you, but it’s hard when you’re shutting me out. I feel like I’m losing you, and I don’t even know why.”
Chan’s face softens, but his eyes remain distant. “It’s not about losing me,” he says quietly. “It’s about me needing to deal with things on my own. I’m afraid that if I let you in, it’ll make everything worse.”
The admission stings, and you can’t help but feel a mix of sadness and anger. “So you think pushing me away is going to solve anything? All it’s doing is making me feel like I don’t matter. Like I dont matter. Do you not trust me?”
Chan’s shoulders slump, and he runs a hand through his hair, looking torn. “I didn’t mean for it to come across that way. It’s just… hard for me to open up. I’ve always been this way, and it’s not easy to change.”
The conversation dwindles, leaving an uncomfortable silence between you. The warmth of the dinner you prepared feels cold now, and the evening that was meant to bring you closer only highlights the growing distance between you. You both sit in silence, the emotional gap between you widening, leaving you to grapple with the painful realization that the connection you once shared is now shrouded in uncertainty.
—
Without Chan, your days are filled with a profound sense of confusion and heartbreak. His admissions had left you reeling, struggling to reconcile the man you thought you knew with the one who now seems so distant. You find yourself replaying his words over and over in your mind, trying to make sense of his fear and his withdrawal. The more you think about it, the more you realize how deep his insecurities run, and how they’ve come to shape the dynamics between you.
The apartment, once a save space for the two of you, now feels like a reminder of what’s slipping away. The warmth and comfort you once associated with these four walls are overshadowed by the empty spaces left by Chan’s absence. Every corner of the apartment seems to whisper memories of better times, and it only amplifies the silence that has settled between you.
Chan’s absence becomes a constant, painful presence in your daily life. He still reaches out occasionally, but his messages are brief and lack the warmth that once characterized your conversations.
When he does come over, it’s clear that he’s not fully engaged, almost like he doesnt want to be there. He’s physically there but emotionally distant, and the brief interactions you have are tinged with a sadness that neither of you can quite articulate.
You try to give him the space he’s asked for, but it’s hard not to feel hurt by his growing distance. The silence between you grows more pronounced, filled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Every attempt to bridge the gap feels like it only widens it further. You’ve always been able to talk to Chan about anything, but now even the simplest conversations feel strained and awkward.
In your quiet moments alone, you grapple with your own feelings of rejection and sadness. You understand that Chan’s fear of vulnerability is driving his behavior, but it doesn’t make the pain any easier to bear. You miss the easy closeness you once shared, and the emotional chasm that has opened between you feels impossible to cross.
You’re left in a painful limbo, uncertain of how to move forward. You want to support Chan and be there for him, but the constant silence and emotional distance are taking a toll on you. The weight of the situation is heavy, and as each day passes, you find yourself searching for a way to bridge the gap between you, hoping that somehow, amidst the silence, you can find a path to understanding and healing.
—
hey ynnie we shld talk ur place?
channie hii yea we shld sure wtv works for u
The decision to confront Chan one last time feels both necessary and heartbreaking. When he arrives, the familiarity of his presence contrasts sharply with the emotional distance that now separates you. The apartment feels both intimate and alien, a space that no longer holds the same comfort it once did.
You sit together on the couch, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken words. Your cat, mimi, sensing the shift in atmosphere, retreats to a corner, adding to the sense of somber quiet. You look at Chan, your heart aching with the realization of what’s become of your relationship.
“Chan,” you begin, your voice trembling with emotion, “I think we need to acknowledge whats going on ya know, this obviously is about us, you can't really about it now.”
Chan’s eyes meet yours, a mixture of sadness and resignation in his gaze. “I know,” he replies softly. “I’ve been avoiding this conversation, I'm sorry, but we both knew that it was never going to work.”
There’s a pause as both of you grapple with the weight of the moment. The connection that once drew you together—your shared curiosity and mutual affection—now seems like a distant memory. What was once a source of closeness has become a barrier, as your emotional needs and fears have diverged.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Chan continues, his voice filled with regret. “You know with my job and all, I just cant handle a relationship. Besides you're moving for school in the fall, how would it even work out?”
You nod, tears welling in your eyes. “I know channie, trust me I do. But we should have tried. Whenever I try talking to you, you just shut me out. Do you not care?”
Chan’s expression mirrors your own sorrow. “It’s not about that. You know that. We were two lonely people who found each other, nothing more, nothing less.”
The conversation is a painful acknowledgment of the truth that both of you have been avoiding.
Despite the depth of your feelings and the history you share, the realization that he didnt want to be with you hurts. The barriers that have emerged—his fear of vulnerability and your struggle to connect—are too significant to overcome at this point.
As the sun sets, you both just sit there, the silence between you two marking the end. There are no grand gestures or promises of reconciliation, only the quiet understanding that its over.
Chan leaves the apartment, and you watch him go, feeling a profound sense of loss. The space that once held the warmth of your connection now feels hollow, marked by the absence of the person who once meant so much. You’re left with the echoes of what was and the uncertainty of what the future holds.
In the quiet solitude that follows, you maybe regret not telling him sooner, heck maybe even meeting him.
As you sit alone in the apartment, the reality of parting ways sinks in, and you begin the process of moving forward, carrying with you the bittersweet memories of what once was.
fin.
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