setting: The city is quiet past midnight, your shared apartment dim except for the faint glow slipping from under Chanās studio door. Hours ago, you fell asleep wrapped in himāwarm, safe, and completely unaware that sleep would abandon him the moment it found you.
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You donāt remember when your eyes openedāonly that something feltā¦ off.
The bed was still warm, sheets tangled around your legs, but the space beside you was empty.
āChanā¦?ā Your voice comes out soft, barely there, like it might break if you try harder.
No answer.
You sit up slowly, blinking against the dark, your body still heavy with sleep. For a second, you consider just waitingāheāll come back, he always doesābut the quiet stretches too long, too unfamiliar.
So you slip out of bed.
The floor is cold under your feet, and you donāt bother fixing your appearanceājust a loose tank top and panties, hair messy, eyes half-lidded. You donāt even think about it. You justā¦ miss him.
The faint light from his office pulls you down the hallway.
You push the door open gently.
Chanās there, exactly where you expectedācurled slightly forward in his chair, headphones pushed halfway off, one hand resting against his temple as the other hovers over the keyboard. The screen casts a pale glow over his face, highlighting the exhaustion he tries to hide.
He doesnāt notice you at first.
You lean against the doorframe, watching him for a moment, the soft clack of keys filling the room.
āā¦Chan.ā
That does it.
He turns instantly, like your voice is something heās wired to respond to, and the moment his eyes land on you, something in his expression shiftsāsoftens, melts, completely undone.
You donāt even realize how you look.
But he does.
And to him, itās everything.
āHeyā¦ baby,ā he murmurs, pulling off his headphones, voice low and warm despite the fatigue. āWhyāre you up?ā
You rub your eyes, stepping closer, your voice small and sleepy. āWoke upā¦ you werenāt there.ā
He exhales softly, guilt flickering across his face. āCouldnāt sleep again. Didnāt wanna wake you.ā
You stop in front of him, swaying just slightly, and he instinctively reaches outāhands settling on your hips to steady you.
āCome back to bed,ā you mumble, barely coherent, resting your forehead against his shoulder. āPlease.ā
Thereās a pause.
Not because heās unsure.
Because heās completely, utterly gone for you in that moment.
Youāhalf-asleep, careless, soft in every possible wayāasking for him like heās the only thing that makes sense.
āYeah,ā he breathes, almost like he forgot how to speak for a second. āYeah, okay. Iām coming.ā
He doesnāt even save his work.
Just slips his hand into yours, guiding you gently back down the hallway.
You donāt let go.
Not even when you crawl back under the covers, tugging him with you, wrapping yourself around him like itās instinct.
He settles behind you, arms circling your waist, pulling you closeācloser than before.
You sigh, already drifting again.
And for the first time that nightā¦
Chan feels like he might actually sleep.
Because youāre here.
Because you asked for him.
And because nothingānot the music, not the silence, not even his restless mindāmatters more than this.
