hiii, it has been a hot minute since i posted anything original.
i have been writing a lot of stuff for myself, instead of reader insert, as it's what i wanted. and i wanted to test the waters by posting this.
bang chan is my new hyper fixation <3
the fic is very heavily based on the song lyrics. it gave me such inspiration that i had to do it
word count: 3.7k
genre: angst
Today, he touched down in L.A. As he was passing through the mass of people exiting the plane, that’s where he saw it. Her favourite hoodie. On a stranger at the gate. The black cotton, with the white embroidery on the sleeves and the big heart on the back. He almost reached out to that person. Almost. But he knew it wasn’t her. This girl was shorter, and her hair colour was wrong. She was also brunette, but it was a different shade of brown. His girl had the nicest hair in the world. This woman was… Plain… Wrong… Not her. She will never be her.
He sighed, his steps growing smaller and the distance between him and his bandmates growing wider. “You okay?” He suddenly heard his friend’s deep voice next to him. Slightly startled, Chris’ head twisted to meet his Aussie brother’s eyes. He relaxed instantly, shoulders dropping, eyes falling to the floor once more. “Yeah, yeah,” his voice came out quiet and uncertain. He felt his friend’s hand pat his shoulder comfortingly. “I know you miss her. We all do. But it’ll get better, I promise.” Felix tried to lift his friend’s spirits, but it fell on deaf ears. Chan simply nodded along, not really paying attention. “Thanks, Lix.” He replied, not looking up to meet his mate’s gaze.
Felix was talking about Chan’s girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend, more accurately. However, he didn’t refer to her that way. Chris still spoke of her as if they were still together. He couldn’t believe it ended. Refused to accept it. He thought about her all the time. Always present in the corner of his mind. Both of them knew how hard it would be when they first entered the relationship all those years ago. They truly believed they could beat the odds. They said they would be the one exception. Forever without an ending.
Chan shook his head, picking up his pace to catch up with the rest. They had a busy day ahead, and he needed to focus. He could fall apart in his hotel room later.
The eight of them were split between two vans. Chan, Han, Seungmin and Jeongin were in one, while Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin and Felix were in the other. Chris sat in the back, behind the driver’s seat. They were driving down the PCH. He leaned his head against the window, the vibrations semi-lulling him to sleep. But the smell of salt and sea brought back the memories he couldn’t erase. The two of them were at the beach, bare feet in the sand. She was ahead of him, holding her sandals and the hem of her dress in her hand. She was looking back at him, smiling widely. He was looking back at her, eyes incredibly soft, nothing but love in them. He had a small smile on his face, his long, dark locks swaying gently in the wind.
But it was all gone now. Dark, long hair replaced by short, blond spikes. They say hair holds memories, so Chan got rid of most of his. But it was all a lie. His hair was gone, but the pain and the thoughts of her still stayed. He sniffled loudly, reaching up to wipe his nose with the sleeve of his zip-up. Everyone in the car heard it, but no one commented. The guys all knew he was struggling with the breakup, but they couldn’t force him to talk about it. All they could offer was silent support. Han, who was sitting next to him in the back, turned to look at his hyung. His eyes held sympathy, but they soon turned back to look at his phone. He let out a small sigh, shaking his head with disappointment. Aimed at himself for not being able to be there for his leader. His leader, his friend, who was always there for him. Always there to pick him up when he fell down. His hyung, who was struggling immensely right now. Han felt useless for not being able to help. But in his defence, all seven of them felt that way. It didn’t help that Chan rejected any offers made for him. He’d shake his head, lie that he was fine and that he was holding up, when all of them knew the truth, that he was falling apart right in front of their eyes.
Chan closed his eyes, hoping to get some rest before the long schedule they had ahead. His dark Fendi beanie hid his hair; his face was bare, and his earrings swayed carefully as the car moved forward. He let out another small sigh, drifting off slowly. Jisung glanced at him again, gaze softening when he saw his leader sleeping peacefully.
All seven of Chan’s bandmates shared his previous faith that the two of them would stay together despite the difficulties. That someday they’d stand at the altar, at their wedding. Hearing their favourite couple make the sacred promise of forever to one another. So, when Chan sat them down one evening and broke the news that he and Tamara had broken up, they couldn’t believe it. Refused to. Calling it a heartless prank. But when Chan’s eyes glossed over, and his tears spilt, they realised he wasn’t joking. All of them asked what happened, how it happened. Chris was honest and pointed at himself. They understood immediately. He meant his career. His busy idol life finally caught up to the two of them. The news devastated Chris’ entire inner circle. Everyone really believed that they could do it. What hurt the most was that the love was still there. And there was so much of it, too. He doesn’t believe he’ll ever stop loving her. She will always carry a piece of his heart with her. But his heart still remained whole. Why? Because he’ll always carry a part of her, too.
By now, it’s been almost a year since the breakup, and he really thought he was doing better. Moving forward with his life. And he thought about her less, too. At least, that’s the lie he kept telling himself. He just kept himself busy. Constantly overworking. Wearing himself to the bone. Anything he could do to stop himself from spiralling. As it was the only way he could keep going. The only way he could stop himself from crumbling down and falling apart completely. The lyrics to Stray Kids’ song ‘Leave’ kept replaying in his head. Changbin wrote it years ago, but it was only hitting him now. He sat in the studio, alone, in the middle of the night. Just him and the screen of his laptop. The editor stared back at him. Playing and replaying a snippet he recorded earlier. He was writing another love song. Another song about the life he wished he had. Another song expressing his feelings for his former lover. Without meaning to, the chorus spelt out her name. Every sentence begins with a letter from her first name. He shut his eyes, feeling the rhythm in his bones. He hummed along, singing the chorus slowly, a constant reminder of what he had lost.
“The love I wish we had,
And even now,
Many years later, I still love you,
A caress away,
Refusing to let go,
Always waiting for you.”
He hadn’t meant to spell her name, but his heart longed for her. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly. He was starting to get sleepy, but he felt like he didn’t deserve the rest. So he shook his head semi-violently and went back to work.
When he finally finished for the day and went back to his dorm, he felt heavy. Like his clothes were weighing him down. He wanted to shower and get into bed as soon as possible. He stripped down to nothing and got in the shower booth. He twisted the knob, letting the water rain over him. He closed his eyes, face toward the ceiling. His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed gently. He raked both hands through his hair. His dark roots were showing by now, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to dye his hair again or grow out his natural colour. Tamara always said she liked his raven colour better. He shook his head again, water droplets flying everywhere. He thought that if he’d turn his head enough times, she’d get out of his head. But it was to no avail. She was there to stay.
After the shower, he was in bed. Mind replaying all of their happy memories. It was his nightly routine every day since the breakup. Sometimes he’d cry himself to sleep. Other times, he’d smile softly, as if he was reliving the scenes in his head. Today, unfortunately, felt like the former. Chan hid his face in his hands, resisting the urge to scream out his frustrations. He used to believe they were a match made in heaven. “So-called soulmates…” He muttered, scoffing to himself, turning to lie on his side. He shut his eyes, hoping for a dreamless sleep. When he closed his eyes, he would see her face. He couldn’t handle seeing her in his dreams again. He was so tired. Waking up with tears in his eyes on a daily basis. On the one hand, he wanted to forget everything that ever happened, erase all memories of her from his mind, so he could finally feel at peace. But on the other hand, he loved that time in his life the most. He was the happiest when he was with her. And he wasn’t ready to let go.
Stray Kids were on the road again, in Europe. The final leg of their tour. On stage, he acted like everything was fine. Laughing and joking with the guys. In SKZ codes, talkers and vlogs, he behaved like he was okay. But his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and his laughter wasn’t always genuine. He tried really hard, but his mask kept slipping. Fans were worried about him, but he played it out like the lack of sleep was affecting him, along with his muscle pain and whatnot. He texted his usual bullshit on Bubble, and STAY were buying into it like they did every time.
Chan was in the same seat again. Looking out the window again. Painful memories creeping up again. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the final shared one that they had. Their breakup. He thought about the months leading up to the end. The endless schedules, the time differences, the empty promises. Even when they were physically together, it was hard. Something came up. Always. They could barely be together without an emergency popping up. He always apologised. She always understood, with a soft smile on her lips. But at some point, it felt like too much. She knew he loved her, but she could never compete with his job. That’s why she never forced him to make that choice, mainly because she knew which one he would pick. But also because it wasn’t fair to him. To make that choice. So she made the decision herself. But they’ll be damned if they were accused of giving up. They gave it hell to get it right.
It was almost Christmas by the time the tour wrapped up. He knew she was in Seoul for the holiday. He wondered if he’d run into her. He knew exactly where she was. The same place she was always at, anytime she visited. A small, cosy Airbnb by the Han River. It was in a great place. Chan loved being there with her. The apartment was tiny. It could barely fit one person, let alone two. The former couple always had to squeeze into bed together. Legs tangled, his head on the one pillow the bed offered, her head tucked comfortably under his chin. He wondered how the place felt without him. Does the extra space make her uncomfortable? Is she thinking about him anytime she’s cooking up something in the kitchen? Remembering all the good times they shared in that place? And when she goes to sleep, does the bed feel empty without him? Does she freeze without him there to cuddle her and keep her warm? All these thoughts were running through his head as he boarded the plane. Finally, on the way back home. It was December 23rd. He wondered if he could make it back before the 25th. If he makes it back for Christmas, there’s a chance he’ll see her face. He sighed as he took his seat on the plane, by the window. He shut his eyes and lay his head back, hoping to sleep through the flight.
Chan did make it back before the holiday. It was Christmas Eve, and Stray Kids had a performance at Seoul’s annual Christmas celebration show. It was a major K-Pop event. A lot of different groups were going to perform. When it was their turn, Chan and his members walked out onto the enormous stage. Loud cheering erupted everywhere. Huge grins broke out on all eight boys. This is what they loved to do. This is where they felt the most alive. The first couple of songs were good, nothing unusual, but during the second chorus of ‘Divine’, that’s when it happened. They locked eyes. She was there. She was there the whole time. Watching him the entire time. Chan froze. Just for a split second mid-choreo. He hoped nobody noticed. But she did. Her eyebrows shot up in shock as it happened. Slight concern was taking over her features. But he didn’t have time to dwell on it. His outro was approaching, and the show must go on. He sang beautifully. His voice was stronger, more solid. Like he wanted to prove something to someone.
After the song ended, he caught her eyes again. She was relatively at the front. He could see the softness her gaze held. Along with something else, too. Pride, mixed with love and adoration. All for him. She nodded at him softly, a small smile on her lips. He gave her a tiny nod back, hoping nobody but her would catch it. His features softened as he smiled back. A barely there, just for her, twist of lips. He then turned around and walked off stage, keeping their distance. He would have said that seeing her at the show undid all of his progress, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. He hadn’t made any progress. He still missed her. He still loved her. He still wanted her. And by the way she was looking at him earlier, she felt the exact same thing. Maybe sometime, somehow, someday, they could try again. Make it work this time around. Delusional.
Over the time they spent together, they grew to have mutual friends. That’s how Chan found out she moved back home. Back when they dated, she always spoke about wanting to get away and move somewhere better. They used to talk about her moving to Korea, to be closer to him. He also knew she used to work in Seoul and planned to move permanently. So when he was told that she quit and moved back to her home country, he was surprised to say the least. He really wished that she were doing well.
He hoped she always knew he kept the letter that she gave to him. Her words of encouragement always helped him when he was struggling. Tamara gave Chan the letter on a random Tuesday night. There wasn’t anything special about that day. No anniversaries, no holidays or birthdays. It was a ‘just because’ type of thing. The letter contained everything she loved about him. How proud of him she was. How proud she was to stand by his side. Her hopes for their joint future. He usually skipped that part. She also spoke about how happy she was with him. How his stupid jokes always cheered her up. How his hugs were the best. He could recite the paper word for word by now. It hurt him to change all the present tenses to the past tense. He didn’t know why he did it to himself. Reading the letter, seeing her handwriting only hurt him. But he kept coming back. Every time. As it was also a source of comfort for him. It was messed up, but that’s just how life was.
The next time he ran into her was far from home. Well, far from her home. It was in Osaka, Japan. She was walking down the street, laughing softly at something her friend had said. When she turned her head back, she stopped dead in her tracks. Expression shocked, eyes wide. He was wearing a mask and a beanie, hiding himself from the general public. But she still recognised him. Because of course she did. She knew the shape of his face by heart. She used to trace the outline of his jaw every night they shared together. Her friend paused as well, getting closer to ask what was wrong. Tamara simply shook her head, and the two kept walking. Chan and Tamara kept their relationship a secret, so she couldn’t tell her friend that she just ran into her ex. As she was approaching where he stood, it hit him. This is where they got together. And now she was acting like they weren’t in the place where they said they’d be the one exception. It was years ago, but now the wound has reopened. Both of them knew it. They could see the hurt in each other’s faces. Their eyes spilt everything. Even if their mouths kept themselves shut. As the two girls walked past him, Chan had to hold himself back from reaching out and taking her hand in his. He clenched his fists tightly at his sides, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of his palms. His eyes were glued to her back as he watched her walk away.
He thought about reaching out to her all the time. A text. A phonecall. Just to hear her voice again. But he respected her decision too much to ever do such a thing. No matter how much he missed her. What he didn’t know was that she thought about him just as much. What came as a surprise was his phone ringing at 10 a.m. Her contact name, still unchanged from before the breakup, was on his screen. A quick calculation meant it was the middle of the night for her. Chan excused himself, exiting the practice room. “Hello?” He answered quickly, concern in his tone. He hoped she was safe. He heard sniffles on the other end. “Hi.” Shaky voice, as if she was crying. Chan walked to his studio in the JYPE building, knowing it’d be empty. Good for privacy. “Are you okay? What happened?” He was worried, and it only made her sob harder. “I’m sorry,” she cried, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Repeated an unhealthy amount of times. “Okay, breathe. Please. Can you do that for me, Angel?” The nickname slipped out. It was his former habit. Calling her his Angel, as she was always there for him. That only made her cry harder, and he cursed himself for it. He tried to calm her down by asking her to breathe, but it wasn’t working. He could hear, over the phone, how frantic her breathing was. She was having a panic attack. “Breathe with me, okay? In…” He inhaled deeply, listening as she did the same. “And out…” He exhaled. She followed his instructions. “Good job, I’m proud of you. Now, again.” His gentle praise was working. They repeated the process until Tamara calmed down, her heartbeat returning to normal. “Better now, Love?” The petname was enough to send her spiralling again, but she held back. “Yeah,” she breathed out, “thank you.” “-Of course.” He smiled to himself, feeling comforted that he managed to help her. “Are you okay?” He asked again. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just…” She paused, taking in a deep breath. “I miss you.” She finally said. He could hear the frown in her voice when she spoke. Chan could swear he could hear the audible crack his heart had made. “What?” He couldn’t believe it. “I miss you.” She repeated.
Was she drunk? No, couldn’t be. She doesn’t drink. So where did this come from? And why now? Over a year later. “I miss you, too.” He replied, all feelings and no thinking. He could hear her sniffle again. “I-” She stuttered, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called.” And just like that, she was gone again. All of his questions will remain unanswered forever. Chan lowered his phone slowly, his lock screen mocking him. Did he just fuck up by speaking without thinking? He wasn’t sure what just happened. He took a seat at the office chair near the recording equipment. He replayed the phone call in his head. She called him, apologising frantically. He then helped her through an anxiety attack. They both admitted to still having feelings for each other, and then she called it a mistake and hung up. He sat here, staring at the ceiling, contemplating his life. At least that’s what he did until Changbin found him and pulled him back to reality. Chan explained what happened and got sympathy from his friend. As much as he would have wanted to wallow in self-pity, he had a job to do and a group to lead. With a final sigh, he stood up and followed his mate back to rehearsal.
The more time went on, the less he thought about her. She was still there, present in a secluded corner in his mind. But her place in his head was getting smaller. By now, it was almost spring. He knew her birthday was somewhere during the season. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact date anymore. He knew it was in March, somewhere close to Hyunjin’s, but that’s as far as his memory went. He used to believe they were soulmates. Now, he doesn’t remember her birthday. He used to see her face any time he closed his eyes, but now it was just blank. Engulfed by emptiness.
Right person, wrong time. It’s what he kept telling himself. Like a mantra. He knew that if he didn’t run into her sometime, somehow, someday, he’d see her in another life.
back again with more depressing stuff. but this has a happy ending!
i wrote this when i was not doing so well, and rereading it before posting made me realise nothing has changed since, and i still feel like shit.
tw: smut (mdni), suicidal thoughts, depression, mental spirals, all the good stuff.
genre: hurt/comfort.
word count: 9k.
Her eyes opened. Engulfed by darkness. Another sleepless night. She sighed, sitting up slowly. Her boyfriend was still sleeping next to her, snoring softly. A small smile appeared on her face, glad he was finally able to rest peacefully for once. As much as his sleep apnea allowed him to be. Tamara turned her body, her feet getting into her cosy sleepers. She stood up, gaining momentum from pressing her knuckles against the mattress. She padded over to the kitchen quietly, not wanting to wake anyone up. She shut the door carefully as she exited the bedroom. Taking a seat at the kitchen table, she sighed once again. Her mind running a mile a minute. Things have been hard lately. Though on the surface, she had no reason to feel so bad. She had a loving boyfriend, a loving family, incredible friends, including both her gang from back home and the boys of Stray Kids. But, nevertheless, her brain made her suffer. Thoughts of not being good enough, of never being enough. Of how lame she was, how Chan could find someone so much better. Someone prettier, smarter, more on his level. Someone he had more in common with. Someone who wasn’t worlds apart. Her mind kept telling her that she should just disappear. Just end it all and go away. That it’d make everyone around her so much happier. That the burden called ‘Tamara’ should just fuck off from everyone’s life. If she ever gained the courage, she’d do it without missing a heartbeat. But, unfortunately for her, she was too much of a pussy to ever do anything of the sort.
And so, Tamara sat at the kitchen table, surrounded by darkness and loneliness. She buried her face in her hands, running them up and down her exhausted features. She wasn’t much of a cryer either, so she carried all of the weight alone. She could never trouble her boyfriend with her problems. He had enough as it is. It was like standing in quicksand. Being swallowed whole slowly, with nothing to grab onto, with no way out. If only suicide were easy. She frowned, looking at the ceiling. It was illuminated by a gentle white, coming from the lights outside the window. A glimpse of hope? Couldn’t be. A bitter laugh fell from her lips, eyes dropping to her wrists. Her nervous habit of twisting her bracelets incoming. Messing with the white gold her boyfriend had gifted her for their one-year anniversary. Being with Chris made everything seem so simple. He made everything so much better. Even when they’re apart, it never feels like there’s any distance. Tamara did everything she could to show Chan he deserved to be loved. She was there anytime life felt too heavy for him. She was his shoulder to cry on. It was highlighted especially after Stray Kids won the most prestigious award of their careers. Chan had broken down completely in his girlfriend’s arms backstage. His chin on her shoulder, her arms around him, hand brushing the hairs at the back of his neck softly. His fists were clenching and unclenching by his sides, before he finally hugged her back, hands running up and down her spine. Gentle whispers about how she was so proud of him, how he deserved this award, how all the late nights and all of his hard work brought him to this moment. While Felix was comforting Jeongin, who was sobbing as well, the two made eye contact, smiling warmly at each other. Both were the comfort person for someone they cared endlessly about.
It’s not that Tamara didn’t trust Chan. She did, with her life. It was more out of concern for him, that she didn’t want him to feel bad because of her. She knew he’d feel guilty for not noticing any signs. For not trying harder to be there for her. He had his schedule to live through. She couldn’t have him worry about her constantly. Occupying a piece of his mind at all times felt selfish. What she didn’t know, was that she already was living rent-free in his head anyway. He loved her to death. He saw the spark in her eyes diminish slowly. He noticed her colour growing paler. He waited. Maybe, just maybe, she’d come to him first. She’d tell him what’s on her mind. But all his wait was in vain. Tamara could never admit out loud that she was breaking.
With a heavy heart and an even heavier mind, Tamara stood from her seat and walked up to the window. She loved Seoul at night. Even though it was nearly four in the morning, the city’s bright neon signs made it look like daytime. Opting for some fresh air, the girl crossed the living room and went out on the balcony. Her arms were resting on the cold metal railing. Thoughts of jumping off crossed her mind. But that would be cruel to the boys. She looked at the night sky, the full moon coming into view. She shut her eyes and inhaled deeply, hoping the air would clear her mind. It, however, did not. “The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” Startled, Tamara turned around. Her gaze landed on Chan, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. She smiled, features softening in an instant. “Is that a confession?” She teased. Chan walked the couple of steps into the terrace, fingers wrapping around the cold metal. He trapped his girlfriend between his arms. His eyes held worry, brows slightly furrowed. Her hands came to rest on his sides, thumbs tracing patterns mindlessly. Her head tilted to the side, confusion evident in her expression, “What’s up?” She broke the silence. Chan sighed, dropping his head to her shoulder. He mumbled something incoherently into her sleep shirt. “I can’t understand you like this, Channie.” She chuckled. That made him lift his head, dark brown eyes piercing into her soul. “I’ve waited for so long for you to come to me. But, I guess, I’m the one coming to you again.” He frowned deeply. “You’ll give yourself wrinkles if you keep looking at me like that.” Her attempt at lightening the mood went over his head. When she brought a hand to smooth out the crease between his eyebrows, Chan curled his fingers around her wrist, stopping her. His grip loosened as he interlaced their fingers, bringing the back of her hand to his lips, pecking it softly. He let it drop by her side as he came to cup her cheek, thumb brushing under her eye. “Talk to me.” He pleaded, almost begging. She turned away from him, eyes locking onto the cute plant Jeongin was taking care of. It stood in the corner of the room, growing slowly. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.” She breathed out. Chan exhaled loudly through his nose, eyes still locked on her side profile. “You think I haven’t noticed that you’re not doing well? That you don’t smile as much anymore? And even when you do, it’s not sincere.” That made her turn back, shock written on her face as her mouth was agape. Honestly speaking, she thought she was hiding it pretty well. Guess nothing gets past her observant boyfriend. “You… noticed…?” Her voice was so small, so fragile. Her eyes dropped to his abdomen, watching her thumb run back and forth over his waist. His hand moved to cup her jaw, caging her chin between his thumb and index finger. Tilting her head, Chan forced her to meet his eyes. No judgment, no anger, no pity. Just concern for his spiralling lover. “Of course.” His voice was so soft that it almost hurt. “You’re my everything, Tamara.” He never used her full name. Always a cute, loving nickname. Always ‘My Panda, Angel, Beautiful, My Love’. Never Tamara. Not even during arguments. Not even when he was frustrated or upset with her. The use of her name like that, along with the seriousness in his tone, told her that playtime was over. It was time to come clean. “I can’t stand to see you hurting. Seeing you try to act like you’re okay, like everything’s fine. Talk to me. Please.” His eyes were begging, his voice breaking mid-sentence. It devastated her how much he was hurting. And it was all her fault. Again, her mind told her to break it off. That he’d be happier without her burdening him with her constant sadness. She frowned. She loved him too much to let him go. How selfish. “Okay.” She whispered.
She let Chan take the lead, her hand in his as he walked the two inside. He let her go momentarily to close the balcony entrance. He took her to his room, shutting the door after himself. Tamara sat on the unmade bed, wrapping her arms around her ankles, burying her head in her knees. Her back against the headboard, as if she was trying to minimise her very existence. Chan sat next to her, on the other end of ‘her side’ of the bed, feet on the hardwood floor, torso turned sideways to look at his hurting girlfriend. His hands were in his lap, fingers toying with each other. He didn’t rush her. He never did. Always waiting for Tamara to break the silence first. She took a deep breath and lifted her head. “I…” She began, trying to think of the right words to say to convey her feelings properly. “Don’t think,” he shook his head, “just lay it all on me.” A small smile pulled at the corners of her lips, eyes radiating nothing but love for the man in front of her. “Sometimes I wish I could just disappear.” Her focus was on the ceiling lamp, which was illuminating the two of them in a warm golden glow. “Like a vacation?” His question made her meet his eyes, and she smiled gently, eyes crinkling just a tiny bit. Her response, though non-verbal, made him understand the true meaning behind her words. “Oh.” He dropped his gaze to his lap. Her eyes remained on his side profile. “So pretty.” She blurted out. In her defence, he did tell her not to think. But he was so beautiful. The curve of his nose, the way his plush lips popped out even from side view. The way his Fendi earring dangled from his ear, moving when he did. The way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. The veins on his hands as he twisted the signature silver that always adorned his wrists. The way his elbows dug into his knees. How focused his expression was: eyebrows furrowed, mouth slightly open. His dark hair fell over his face, covering his eyes partially.
Tamara instinctively reached forward, fingers brushing his soft locks behind his ear, palm remaining on his face. He was warm. Her thumb ran over his cheek, bringing more comfort to her than to him. She pulled back, settling against the back of the bed again. “Sometimes I wish I could just drop dead.” Her voice echoed in the room. Chan was worried the crack that his heart just made was so loud she could hear it too. The worst part was how steady her tone was when she said it. No shakiness, no uncertainty. His eyes snapped to her face, eyebrows high in shock. Before he could ask why she’d wish for something so horrible, she beat him to it, explaining exactly why. “I just feel like everyone would be so much better off without me.” Chan was about to cut her off, but she raised a hand between them, not giving him the chance to. “Before you try to say I’m wrong, think about it. I’m a nobody. You’re an international superstar. You can have anyone you want. Why settle on someone fucked up like me?” Chris’ face twisted in an emotion she didn’t immediately recognise. Anger. “Excuse me?” Her head tilted at his words, not understanding why he was mad. “You don’t get to say what or who I can or can’t ‘have’.” Air quotations on the last word, fingers hanging in the air. Tamara tried to open her mouth to speak, but this time, Chan’s cut off was successful. “I get to decide that.” He pointed at his chest. “I get to decide who I wanna be with. And I want you. Even if you’re ‘fucked up’.” More air quores. “I love you, Tamara,” again with the full name, “with your flaws. With your mess. With your everything. Because it’s you.” That did it. The dam finally broke. Tears streamed down her face. Chan’s features softened instantly, he reached forward to cup her face, wiping her tears away. He whispered apologies as he kissed her closed eyes, feeling guilty that he made her cry. Tamara shook her head, explaining that it wasn’t his anger that made her cry, but the fact that, despite everything, despite how low she was feeling, he still chose her. “Thank you,” barely above a whisper. He smiled, eyes becoming impossibly softer. He leaned in, lips connecting with her forehead. Her tears fell onto the backs of her hands, which were gripping her shins tightly.
“Why do you think you want to die?” Chan asked once Tamara had calmed down. “It’s my brain telling me I suck, and that everyone would just be happier if I were gone. One less burden off their shoulders.” She couldn’t meet his eyes. Couldn’t bare to see the damage her words had done. “Hey,” it was delicate, his hand on her knee, “While I can’t promise for other people, though I’m sure they’d say the same, I can say that personally, to me, you’re not a burden. Never was. Never will be.” So confident in the way he spoke, almost making her believe him. Almost. “I wish I could believe you.” She sighed. “It’s okay,” he brought a hand to her chin, tilting her head up to meet his eyes. They were shining, hopeful, while hers were dull, void of any life. “I’ll repeat it as many times as I need to. Until you believe me.” He smiled, pecking her forehead again. “You do it for me.” She really did. She reminded him that he deserved to be loved, deserved to be taken care of, that he didn’t need to earn her affection. She was there when he fell apart, holding him so tightly that he was pieced back together. Slowly, she became his safe haven. He didn’t need to pretend with her, didn’t need to act strong, or force himself to stay composed. He knew Tamara would welcome him with open arms, no matter what. He just wished he could be the same for her. “Don’t ever think you can’t come to me, okay?” She nodded, but that wasn’t good enough. “Okay?” He repeated. “Okay.” She confirmed. Chan wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest, fingers spreading into her hair, tucking her further into his shoulder. He felt her fisting his t-shirt, clinging onto him like a last lifeline. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, hoping it could help quiet her mind at least for a couple of hours, so she could at least get a little bit of rest. He kissed her temple as he felt her grow heavy in his arms. He removed her head from his shoulder, lowering her to the pillow gently. Her arms were quick to wrap around the Wolf Chan teddy bear he handed her. Her body turned to the side, itching closer to where Chan usually slept. He was quick to tuck her under the blanket and go to the other side, getting into bed himself. He knew she couldn’t magically be fixed with some sweet words and sleep. But her opening up to him was a start. He told himself he’d do better. For Tamara. For himself. That’s what ran through his head as he draped an arm over her middle, pulling her closer, his chin above her head, her face nuzzled into his neck. He shut his eyes, determined to be there for her.
No one really noticed anything was off about Tamara. Guess she acted well in front of the others. But Chan saw. Saw the differences. Before, her laugh filled the entire dorm when Han said something dumb. Now? Barely a chuckle. Before, she always initiated physical contact with Felix, hugging or cuddling while hanging out. Now, she tried to withdraw into herself as much as possible. The boys just assumed she was tired or homesick. But Chan saw through the cracks of her mask. Saw how the bags under her eyes grew in size, darkened in colour, taking up more and more of her once beautiful face. Jeongin beamed privately in Chan’s DMs after he succeeded in making her smile, but Chris saw how it didn’t quite reach her eyes, how it was almost painful for her to fake that twist of her lips. He didn’t have the heart to tell that to the younger guy, so he kept the truth hidden.
Tamara was never a big talker, but recently, the lack of her voice was concerning. Even though Chan urged her to talk to him, he knew opening up would take time. He was patient, but seeing the person he loved most in such a low state hurt him. But Chris never pushed, never forced, only welcomed her with open arms. She was trying to get a job in Korea, hoping to move permanently to be closer to her boyfriend and drop the long-distance act. Even though Chan never pressured her, Tamara’s stress was at an all-time high. Interview after interview, promise after promise of ‘we’ll be in touch’ or ‘we’ll call you’. But to no avail. Tamara was beginning to worry that she was not good enough, that she was incompetent. He tried to reassure her that he could carry the financial weight until she settled in. But Tamara could never take advantage of him like that. It all just added to her feeling like a burden, as it is.
“You know,” she began one evening. The couple was in Chan’s room. He was sitting on the bed, back against the headboard, legs spread wide. Tamara sat between them, her back pressed to his chest. He hummed in response, running his hands up and down her forearms. “I feel like I’m trapped.” He quirked a brow in question, not that she could see. “What do you mean?” He felt her lean back further into him. “Like…” Explaining her exact feelings was hard, but Chan was overjoyed that she was finally opening up about her thoughts and feelings. “Like I’m drowning? But not in water, in something more… Difficult? Like struggling won’t help.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, staring straight ahead at the shut-off TV, her own dark reflection staring back. “Like quicksand?” He tilted his head, eyes meeting hers through the screen. “Yeah! Exactly like that!” Her voice came out surprisingly loud, bringing a smile to Chan’s face. He missed her voice. “Like, right now I’m almost halfway in, with nothing to grab on to.” Chan nodded, understanding what she meant. He turned to look at her, catching her already looking up at him. He leaned down, pecking her temple. “I know what you mean. Like there’s no way out, so you just watch yourself die slowly.” He knew all too well how it felt. As if heavy weights, like the group, being the leader, producing new songs, constantly being the caregiver, were tied to his ankles, dragging him down in the water. All while he was fighting for air.
Meeting Tamara didn’t magically bring him back to the surface, but she took some of his weights, tying them around her feet. Sharing the weight meant they could reach higher together, advancing towards the sky together, hand in hand. But in Tamara’s case, it wasn’t that easy. Sure, Chan could jump into the sandpit with her, but what good would that do? All it would do is make him drown with her. He had to think of something else. “Yeah.” She replied, her voice snapping him out of his daze. “We’ll figure something out. Together. Yeah?” Another slow, loving kiss to her hair. She took one of his hands in hers, bringing his knuckles to her lips. She then sandwiched it between both of her hands, the action bringing comfort. Chan wrapped his free arm shoulders from the front, holding her even closer. “Yeah?” He repeated, needing to hear it back. “Yeah.” She breathed out. “Good.” Another lingering kiss to her temple, right over the area that was pulsing painfully.
Tamara suffered from migraines. Not as frequently anymore, thankfully. But when they did hit, they hit hard. Despite the intense pain, she kept going. Never letting it shut her down. There was so much to do. Chan admired that about her. How, even when hurting, both mentally and physically, she didn’t give up. He always handed her a bottle of water and some pain medicine when he saw she was struggling. She never outright said she wasn’t feeling well, but Chan noticed. He always did. He noticed everything when it came to her. So when she squeezed one eye shut when Changbin was being loud, or when she pressed two fingers to her pained temple, Chan would walk to the kitchen quietly, take a bottle of water and hand it to her. He would sneak her away to his bedroom amidst the chaos, letting her take migraine pills in quiet serenity.
He did the same thing now, too, reluctantly letting her go so he could reach the bottle on his nightstand. “Thank you.” She whispered when he handed it to her. She extended an arm forward, grabbing the pills from her side. She swallowed two, shuddering afterwards, their bitter taste not to her liking. Chris wrapped his arms around her waist, fingers lacing under her chest. His chin rested on her shoulder. She set aside the bottle, covering his hands with hers. “This is nice. You’re nice.” He smiled at her words. “Yeah? I’m nice?” His tone was slightly teasing. Her cheeks tinted pink, eyes dropping to their hands, where she was messing with his bracelets. “Yeah?” He repeated, beginning to pepper kisses all over her face. She yelped in surprise, a laugh escaping her. A real, genuine laugh. “Stop!” She whined, grinning brightly. No way in hell he was stopping now. Not when she was finally giggling and smiling. When her hands reached up to push him away playfully, Chan curled his fingers around her wrists, lowering them back to her lap. He had both in one hand, the other coming to cup her jaw gently. He turned her face to meet his, capturing her lips in a sweet kiss. She melted into it, fingers relaxing under Chan’s grip. He let her go, her arms reaching up, wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer. Her fingers threaded through his soft, dark locks. Oh, how she loved his natural colour. The way it highlighted all of his beautiful features: the dark lashes that rested on top of his pale cheeks anytime he closed his eyes. The blackness of his hair also brought out the gorgeous dark chocolate of his eyes, the plush of his pink lips. The same lips that were now pressed against hers. He parted them slightly, hoping to deepen their kiss. Tamara reciprocated, letting him lead.
Chan wanted this time to be different. To be comforting, loving, caring. He wanted Tamara to feel safe with him. He wanted more than just sexual satisfaction for both of them. He wanted emotional safety. For Tamara to be engulfed by love and security. Her hands travelled down his shoulders, to his sides, sneaking under his black tank top. Nails grazing his sides, making his muscles twitch reflexively. Chan was the one to set the pace, deciding how to continue. He tugged at her sweatshirt. Taking the hint, she broke their kiss, raising her arms in the process. Chan lifted her top, taking it off and tossing it to the side. That left her bare in front of him. While her instinct was to try and cover herself, she learned that never worked with Chan. He always guided her hands to his shoulders, letting them rest there. This time was no different. He threw his tank top over his head, dropping it somewhere behind him. He brought his hands to her biceps, gliding down the smooth skin until he reached her knuckles, leading them to his broad shoulders. They then slid up and down her forearms comfortingly. Her grip on him tightened, needing to feel grounded. His palms went to her back, pulling her into him. Her chest was flush against his, his lips crashing into hers.
He turned her body around, bringing her to sit on his lap. She could feel him pressing up into her clothed core, but he didn't take it further just yet, relishing in the moment. His hands were everywhere, her back, her hair, her sides, occasionally cupping her breasts. They parted when air was due, but always came back for more. Tamara’s breathing was heavy as she bore into his eyes. She saw how much he wanted her. How badly he wanted to show her that she’s not all the negative things she thought she was. “You’re so beautiful.” He murmured, knuckles tracing her cheeks. She blushed, pushing away the hairs that fell over his forehead, palm remaining on his cheek. She leaned in, pecking his nose. He smiled, exhaling the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “You’re one to talk,” her gaze fixated on his forehead, “Mister Fendi ambassador.” The tips of his ears reddened. For two people who loved words of affirmation, they were so bad at receiving them. His head dropped to her shoulder, chuckling softly. His hands travelled to her shoulders, pulling her in for a hug. Her arms went around his back, face buried into the crook of his neck. “You smell good.” She inhaled his scent. Feeling risky, she brought her lips to the point where his neck met his shoulder, nipping at it gently. The action took Chan by surprise, earning a pleasured grunt from him. She pulled away only when she felt satisfied with her work, smirking at the new mark she left on him. “Now, you’re mine.” He raised an eyebrow, “And before, I wasn’t? Hmm?” Accent heavy. She rolled her eyes fondly. “You know what I mean!” He laughed, enjoying seeing her slowly return to her normal self. A little bratty, but she was his brat. And he loved taming her.
The foreplay continued until Chan couldn’t take it anymore. He needed her. Now. He also wanted this to feel different. For their connection to feel deeper. He flipped the two of them delicately. Now Tamara was on the bed with Chan hovering on top. His touch was tender, reverent even, when he took off her sweatpants, taking her bottoms along with them. He trailed kisses up her thighs, missing her aching core completely, and went to her stomach. He advanced upwards, reaching her chest, then collarbone, shoulders, jaw and the corner of her mouth. Only then, he kissed her lips. Only after he showed love to every other part of her as well. He didn’t have to use words to show her he admired her. Every kiss was a promise. That he was there for her. With her. That they’ll get through this. Together. That he was never letting her go. Or slip away through his fingers. That he loved her, through everything. Her hands went to his hair, brushing it back so she could maintain eye contact as he planted loving pecks down her body. His eyes were locked onto hers, enjoying the way she was getting more and more breathless. Chan slid his own grey sweats down his thighs, letting them drop on the floor, at the foot of the bed, boxers falling alongside them. He groaned in delight as he stroked himself, finally reliving some of the tension. He crawled on top of her, bringing one hand to her palm, intertwining their fingers. The pressure made her fingers curl around his.
Chan wanted to test the waters before proceeding. He brought his fingers to his lips, coating them in saliva before inserting one into her. Her moans caught him off guard. She was never really vocal in the bedroom, so hearing her cry out in pleasure was like praise to him. Another finger followed, stretching her deliciously. His pace quickened, and Tamara arched her back off the mattress, head falling backwards in bliss. She could feel an orgasm coming, Chris’ name falling from her lips. He kept at it, giving her everything she wanted. He could feel her clench around his fingers as she gushed on them. He whispered gentle praises to her, giving her time to come down from her high. Once she did, he aligned himself at her entrance. “You okay?” She nodded, “Yeah.” Voice slightly shaky. “Okay.” He slid in easily, the earlier play helping. Both of them groaned as he went further, bottoming out. His hips met hers, and he stilled, giving her time to adjust. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. Chan leaned down and kissed them away. No amount of finger prep could ever compare to the real deal. “It’s okay.” She broke the silence. He nodded, starting to thrust in and out slowly.
Chan had incredible stamina and great endurance. He kept the rhythm steady, even without a direct grip on Tamara. He had one hand in hers, from earlier, still clasped tightly. The other cupped her chin, tilting her face to meet his, lips leaning to meet hers. His palm slid to her cheek, then into her hair, settling on the back of her neck. He applied gentle pressure, helping her rise into a sitting position. He let go of her other hand in favour of resting it on her waist, keeping her steady. Both of hers were in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. He chased her lips when she pulled away for air, eyes fluttering open. He helped her bounce in his lap, keeping the pace steady. She rested her head on his shoulder, chest flush against his. That way, the jumping didn’t hurt her breasts. Chan began thrusting up into her, meeting her halfway. Her arms were tight around his neck, moans muffled into the crook of his neck, right where the hickey she had left was placed.
His rhythm was growing sloppy as he was nearing his edge. His grunts were the hint. “I’m close too.” She breathed out into his ear. He kept going, hips stuttering once, twice, as he came inside her. He didn’t stop, though. He kept up with his thrusts, overstimulating himself until he felt her clench around his length. That alone would have made him orgasm again if he could recover that quickly. She cried out as she reached her own climax.
The two collapsed forward, Tamara’s head falling on the pillow, Chan’s landing on her chest. His weight felt comforting on top of her. She ran her fingers through his curls, wiping away the beads of sweat that pooled at his temples. His breathing slowly evened out. “Hey…” She cooed, “Channie…” voice so gentle it was almost like he imagined it. His arms tightened around her body, nuzzling further into her. “It’s starting to burn.” She frowned. He was up in an instant, sitting up so he could pull out properly. Both of them groaned at the action. Their mixed juices immediately leaked out of her, onto the sheets. “I’ll be right back, okay, Angel?” Her favourite nickname. She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. She’d be worried about Chan going out naked, but it’s nothing Jeongin hasn’t seen before. Suddenly feeling overexposed, she wrapped her arms around herself, eyes locking in on the ceiling lamp. Chris returned a couple of minutes later, a towel and some wet wipes in hand. He used the towel on her, being extra careful around her tenderness. He wiped it all away, cleaning her with expertise. He used the wipes on himself, feeling better once he was all done. “No shower today?” She shook her head, a childlike “Mm-mm” escaping her. He chuckled. “Okay, Angel.” He reached forward, both hands on her waist as he lifted her up, setting her on the floor gently. Her eyes widened in surprise, hands gripping his shoulders for dear life. “Sorry, Love, gotta change the sheets. Can’t have my baby sleep on something dirty, yeah?” He let her go, bending down slightly to tug at the sheet. “Do you need help?” He kissed her cheek, “No, thank you, My Love.”
It was done in under five minutes. Fresh bedding. It smelt faintly of laundry detergent mixed with Chan’s scent. A comforting combination. Even though he said he didn’t need any help, Tamara walked around the room, gathering all of their discarded clothing. She placed all of it on his office chair. Afterwards, she got into her pyjamas, which tonight were underwear and one of Chris’ oversized black t-shirts. Chan pulled a clean pair of boxers from his nightstand drawer and put them on. He got under the covers, opening his arms for his girlfriend. She crawled into them lazily. “Here, drink.” He handed her the same bottle from earlier. She did as told, gulping down water. She left him some, giving him the open bottle. He finished it with ease, taking the cap from her fingers and dumping both of them in the little trash can next to the bed. The plastic joined the dirty wipes that were thrown earlier. Tamara slid down the mattress, lying her head on his chest. The steady rise and fall of his abdomen, along with the rhythm of his heartbeat, and mixed with the exhaustion, all made her fall asleep that much faster. “Goodnight, my Sunshine, I love you.” She couldn’t see it, but Chan absolutely lost it at the nickname, burying his tomato face in his hands. It worsened when he felt her lips on his pec, right over his heart. The beating of his heart quickened, but it already didn’t matter to Tamara, who was sound asleep by now, drooling onto her boyfriend’s bare chest. “Goodnight, Sweetheart.” He whispered, leaning down, kissing the crown of her head. He wrapped both arms around her, keeping her steady as he lowered himself onto his pillow. He kept her tucked into him, chin resting on the top of her head. He shut his eyes, the soft sound of her breathing lulling him to sleep. He smiled, knowing that she was here. That she wasn’t going anywhere.
The next spiral, surprisingly, wasn’t Tamara’s. Chan has been on the edge for weeks, and today, he reached his breaking point. When he entered his apartment after another long day at the studio, his shoulders slumped. His backpack slipped from where it was hanging on his left side, down to his forearm, weighing him down. He sighed as he took off his sneakers, feet sliding into his slippers. He dragged himself to his bedroom, passing by his girlfriend without a word. She raised an eyebrow from where she was sitting on the living room sofa. That was unusual. She got up and followed him to his room, shutting the door after she entered. Chan dropped the bag by the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he sat down. “You okay?” She knelt beside him on the floor. He ran his hands over his face, trying to calm himself down before he broke down completely. She hesitantly reached out, placing a hand on his knee, thumb running over the area soothingly. He took her hand in both of his, bringing her knuckles to his forehead gently as he sighed loudly. “No.” Quiet, but certain. “Wanna talk about it?” She never forced him, always waiting for him to be ready. “What I really want, is to shower. Wash away all of today.” The Australian accent was heavy in the way he spoke. “Okay,” she nodded, “we can shower.” She lifted herself, offering him a hand. He smiled softly, his first real smile of the day, and put his hand in hers. He felt her squeeze gently, a sign of comfort. He stood up and followed her to the bathroom. They passed by the third roommate, Jeongin. Tamara smiled gently, her eyes shining. He smiled back. Chan, on the other hand, kept his eyes on the floor, avoiding all eye contact. The maknae’s eyes ran across his leader’s face, his smile fading into confusion. He watched as the two of them entered the bathroom, Tamara closing the door after Chan entered. Her eyes met I.N.’s again for a brief moment. “I got this.” She mouthed to him. Jeongin nodded, stepping away from the scene and going back to his room.
Inside the bathroom, Tamara turned around and caught her boyfriend already shirtless, the t-shirt in his hands getting dumped into the dirty laundry hamper. He was hunched forward, feeling totally and utterly defeated. Before he had the chance to strip further, he felt gentle, warm hands envelop him in a tight hug. One hand running up and down the curve of his back, the other on the back of his neck, fingers scratching the skin softly. She pushed him into her, his chin resting on her shoulder. He shut his eyes tightly and let himself be comforted. Her voice broke the silence in gentle shushes. Chris wrapped his arms around her middle, holding on as if she was the only thing keeping him together, which, honestly, she kinda was. Before he could understand what was happening, all of his anger and frustration poured out of his eyes in the form of tears. The hand she had on the back of his neck went up into his hair, fingers spreading on the top of his head. She kept tracing comforting patterns on his back, hoping it would help in calming him down slowly. His tears ran down his face, then dripped onto the soft cotton of her hoodie. The black Starset hoodie she adored. The only piece of merch she owned from her favourite band.
They stood like that for another few minutes, mostly in silence, except for Chan’s soft sniffles. Tamara released Chan from her grasp, hands coming to cradle his face, thumbs wiping away the fresh tears that escaped. Her lips pressed to his forehead, the sensation grounding him. He rested his hands on her sides, fingers slipping under the plush material of her top, thumbs running over the soft skin. “Sorry.” He looked down, their feet coming into view. “Today was just… Bad.” He let out a humourless laugh. With his face still in her palms, she forced it up, making him meet her eyes. “Don’t be sorry, okay?” He nodded, and she hoped he meant it. “Let’s wash up, yeah?” Her voice was tender, like she was saying the words directly in his head rather than out loud. “Yeah.” He whispered back, untangling himself from her.
The two stripped down to nothing, throwing everything into the laundry pile. Tamara stepped inside the shower booth first, the coldness of the tiles making her shudder. Chan followed suit, taking the shower wand into his hands. The water came out cold at first, but was slowly warming up. Chris immediately aimed the stream at his girlfriend after deeming the temperature worthy. Tamara sighed in relief, relishing in the warmth. He rained over her head, wetting her hair. Her hands ran through it, making sure it was washed properly. “Gimmie.” She reached forward, taking the wand from him. She tested the temperature with her fingers. “Let me know if it’s too hot, okay?” He nodded, and she aimed at his feet, testing the least sensitive area. “Okay?” He nodded, “음.” (eum.) He shifted under the spray, not really looking at her. She slowly raised her aim, getting more and more of him under the water. “Turn around.” She instructed softly. He did as told, his tone back now facing her. She raised both hands, one using the handle to dampen his hair, the other running through his locks, brushing them back.
Once satisfied, she handed him the wand back. Their fingers brushed as Chan took it, aiming at his feet. Before getting any product in his hair, Tamara pressed the pads of her fingers to his temples, massaging in slow, comforting circles. Chan all but moaned in response. He could feel her rubbing away the tension from him as her hands lowered to his shoulders, fingers pressing harshly into the muscles. She then grazed her nails up and down his spine, not painfully, just… being present. “How’s that feel?” She leaned in and kissed the curve of his shoulder. “Heavenly, thank you, Angel.” His head dropped, eyes fixated on how red his feet were from the hot stream. “Anytime, Baby.” She didn’t call him that often, reserving it for when he was the one in need of caring. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her chest to his back. His hands covered her wrists, the water hitting both of them now. Her lips connected with his neck, trailing kisses upwards. To his jaw, then behind his ear, then his temple. He hummed in response, eyes closed, loving the feeling of being pampered once in a while. Her hands ran up and down his bare torso, Chan’s abdominal muscles flexing unintentionally. She covered his pecs, pressing her cheek to his back, hugging him tightly. “I love you.” She mumbled, barely understandable due to the squish in her lips. Chan smiled softly, eyes fixed ahead on the rack, and all of the different brands it held. “I love you too, Angel.”
With a final kiss to the nape of his neck, she pulled away, shower wand in hand. She rained over him again, drenching him once more. Chris handed her his products one at a time. She massaged each one into his scalp carefully. Chan, without noticing, tilted his head back, instinctively aching to be closer to her. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, mouth hanging open, eyes shut. With the final product in her palms, she reached up and delicately spread it into his hair, making sure to coat every curl. “Now it’s your turn.” He said when she finished washing his hair for the last time. His voice was gentle. “But what about body wash?” He shook his head, “Later.” He turned around to face her. “Okay.” She smiled, giving in. “Turn around.” He repeated her earlier words. He repeated more than just her words. The back massage? Check. The loving kisses all over her body? Check. His arms around her middle, tightly pressing her back to his chest? Check. His lips were practically glued to her cheek? Double check. “Channie…” She whined, growing slightly dizzy from all the steam. He kept her steady, washing her hair with such tenderness. Even as he raked his fingers through her messy strands, rinsing away the hair mask, he did it painlessly. The feeling was so relaxing she almost fell asleep right then & there.
Chan washed her body first, soaping her up just right. Hands tracing every curve, not missing a single piece of delicious tanned skin. The water brought comfort as he washed it all away. “All done, Love.” He smiled. She returned the favour, using his vanilla-scented body wash. Her hands lingered on his sides, thumbs brushing the area between his ribs. A goofy smile played on her lips as she leaned in, kissing him softly. No more than a second passed before she pulled away, rinsing the soap off his body. She shut off the water, returned the wand to its place, and stepped out onto the fluffy carpet. Chan followed, handing her a large towel before taking one for himself. Not thinking earlier, the two went to shower without bringing any clothes to change into. Tamara flushed, feeling embarrassed. Thankfully, the steam covered her. Chan poked his head out, not seeing Jeongin anywhere. “Coast’s clear.” In his best spy voice. She chuckled, wrapping the towel around her body. Unlike her, Chan dashed naked from the bathroom to the bedroom. Tamara followed close behind, feet in slippers as she tried not to slip and fall. She closed the door after she entered, feeling slightly breathless.
Her boyfriend was already dressed: a black t-shirt with a random doodle and black basketball shorts. “Today was bad,” he began, looking her way. She was just finishing pulling her bottoms over her butt and turned to face him. Chan’s breath caught in his throat. An ass man through and through. Her action made him lose his train of thought momentarily. He shook his head, regaining it. “I felt like Han and Changbin were useless ALL day. Like, I was the only one trying to make any kind of progress.” He paced around the room, hands thrown in the air as he gestured towards nothing in particular. Tamara nodded as she pulled one of Chris’ old sweatshirts over her head and got under the blanket, pulling her knees to her chest. “I just…” He sighed, stopping in front of the bed, blocking the television. “I’m just tired.” He frowned. “I know, Baby. It’s okay.” She always validated his feelings, making him understand that he had every right to feel that way. He had one hand on his hip, the other running through his slowly drying locks. “I really hope you guys can take a break soon. The songs you write keep showing how much you need it.” She was referring to tracks like Ghost and Holiday, which spoke about falling apart and desperately wanting to get away. “I hope so, too, but I doubt it.” His frown deepened. She opened her arms, inviting him in. That made his lips curve into a tiny smile. He accepted her offer, getting into bed. His head came to rest on her chest, arms wrapping around her torso. She had one hand in his hair, brushing away from his face softly. The other was tracing mindless patterns on his back. “I think I understand better what you said before. About feeling trapped in quicksand.” He spoke softly. “Life sucks sometimes.” That made her smile, a small, heartfelt smile. “Yeah,” she breathed out, “but at least I have you.” He looked up and met her eyes. The furrow in his brows relaxed, and his lips matched hers. “And I have you.” He kissed her over her clothed heart. She leaned down and kissed the top of his head. She then reached for the remote, turning on the TV.
They watched Psych for a couple of hours, until Chan’s breathing had evened out, and he fell asleep to the sound of Tamara’s heartbeat mixed with her fingers through his hair. It was a tad shorter now; his split ends were gone. It looked good. But everything looked good on him. His grip on her tightened in his sleep, holding her close. Just like how he spoke about cuddling with his large Wolf Chan plushie in bed, he was using his girlfriend in the same way. She smiled at his resting form, mouth slightly open as he struggled to breathe. She kissed the crown of his head softly, lips pressed to the now dry, raven hairs that adorned his scalp. She reached to the side, using the remote to shut off the television. Tamara stayed like that for a little while longer, not wanting to disturb her boyfriend’s rest. He barely got any as is, so she cherished small moments like these. Where he felt safe enough to let go completely, letting her take care of him. Falling apart entirely, knowing there’s someone who will piece him back together. Crashing down, knowing she would be there to catch him. His brows furrowed in concentration, tongue running over his lips, as if he was about to say something. His voice came out incoherent, a string of weird, mumbled and barely audible whispers. Tamara’s gaze broke from her phone, eyes dropping to where her boyfriend was softly sleep-talking. He coughed once, twice, and then his eyes fluttered open with a loud gasp for air. He sat up immediately, coughing almost violently. Tamara’s hand patted his back comfortingly, helping him to let it all out. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes, his body’s natural reaction to choking. Gentle shushes fell from her lips as he slowly came to his senses. She reached for her nightstand, took her half-empty bottle of water, and handed it to Chan. He drank it down in long, loud chugs, exhaling hard after, the sound low and rough. Water droplets glistening on his bottom lip, dripping down his chin. The empty bottle crumpled in his fist, Chan unconsciously crushing it with his immense strength.
“You okay?” She reached up and wiped the water off his lips using the sleeve of her sweatshirt. Not trusting his voice at the moment, Chan simply nodded at his girlfriend’s question. He looked around him, slowly coming back to himself and figuring out his surroundings. Tamara’s hand was still on his back, tracing patterns up and down the area. His chest was rising and dropping rapidly, heartbeat racing. When he finally turned to look at her, his eyes were wide, slightly fearful. His mouth hung open as he inhaled deeply. Her free hand cupped his cheek, thumb brushing under his eye, wiping away the tears that threatened to fall. His fingers curled around her wrist, grip tight, but not painful. He lowered her hand to his lap, both of his coming to toy with her fingers, folding and unfolding. He coughed a couple more times, more to clear his throat than anything else. He sighed, eyes locked on his messing around in his lap. “At least I got to sleep a little.” He joked, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m sorry that happened, Lovie. You deserve to rest properly.” He smiled softly at the nickname. “Maybe someday…” Voice small, insecure. When he looked up to meet her concerned gaze, his own orbs were shining brightly. A little hopeful, a little desperate.
Her hand on his back paused its movement, coming to rest on his shoulder. “It’s all gonna be okay.” Said more like a promise than just empty comfort. “Yeah?” He sounded hopeful, like he really wanted to believe her. “Yeah.” She confirmed, smiling gently. She freed her hand from his grasp, both coming to cradle his face tenderly. She pulled him to her, lips landing on his forehead. “I love you.” He sighed again, but this time with content. “I love you.” She never said ‘I love you, too’; that ‘too’ has felt wrong for her ever since her dad told her, in her native tongue, not to use it, but to say ‘And I love you’ in response. Chan noticed, and the cute little backstory made him ‘Aww’ so loudly that Jeongin came bursting into the living room, confusion evident on his face. Tamara blushed, hiding her face in her hands when Chan translated the story to the maknae. He, too, Aww’d loudly. It’s something that stuck with them for a while after.
“Wanna go to sleep? Or sit for a little longer?” “-I wanna sit for a little bit more. With you.” He practically pleaded. “Okay.” She smiled, opening her arms for the second time that night. He crawled closer, and she tucked his head under her chin, shielding him from the cruel world out there. She peppered kisses on the top of his head cutely, while he nuzzled further into the crook of her neck. He inhaled her scent deeply, loving the way she smelled. Natural, no perfume, just her mixed with body wash. Chris wrapped his arms around Tamara’s middle. “Can we just talk?” “-Of course, Baby. Whatever you want.” Her voice was gentle and loving. Chan spoke about anything that came to mind: tracks that he was currently working on, lyrics he was stuck on, future plans, things he wanted to do with her. The talk about eventually going public came up. Both of them wanted to delay it as much as possible, valuing their privacy more than anything. Chan also knew that, no matter how hard he’d try, he couldn’t shield Tamara from all the hate that was to come. It was inevitable. The thought of her having to eventually deal with it in the future made his arms tighten their grip around her. “Do you still wish you were dead?” The question made her seize her current action of threading his fingers through his hair. She pondered over it for a short while. “Sometimes,” she finally said, “it comes and goes, you know?” She felt him nod against her chest. “Yeah…” He swallowed, “I get that.” He frowned slightly. “It’s okay, though,” her voice came out confident, “we’ll get through this.” “-Together.” He finished her sentence.
And so, even if she felt herself drown in a pit of endless sand. Even if she thought she was beyond saving. Left to drown slowly, Chan was her shining glimmer of hope. He ran around her puddle of quicksand, desperately searching for something. And then, he saw it. An abandoned tree branch. He rushed to her side quickly, extending it for her to take. He showed her that no matter how lost and hopeless she may feel, he’d be there to pull her out of it. By force, if he had to. Her eyes shone as she looked at her lover’s offering. Her arms were already halfway in, but now? Her real struggle began. She fought hard to free her arms. With Chan’s soft words and encouragement, Tamara managed to break free and grab onto the wood.
Just like how she carried some of his weight underwater, Chan helped Tamara fight against the pit of despair that threatened to take her away for good. It was a relationship built on mutual trust and affection. Built on being there for each other. Even when things got hard, they always managed to push through. Their love was stronger than the pain. And everything they went through, they did so together.
High Potential S02 E12 - The Faust and the Furious
Mirror neurons. It's just an unconscious empathetic breathing response. Like a yawn. Your breathing and your heart rate were calm. So you calmed mine down.
A little breakdown of Adam Karadec’s realization that he’s in love with one Morgan Gillory.
We’ll start here; a conversation that can be translated to, “I know you'd like me to show my feelings more, but that's not in my nature. You make me better. I hope you see that.”
Screen grab from @tedbecca
He gets to be the rock that she can lean on, crash into, push against. She can always trust him to be there and to take care of her, even if she can't see it. Or like it.
Let's hop on over too—
*Panic Attack in progress*
As Morgan is getting deeper and deeper into her spiral, consumed about their death, the fear of losing her children, you can see Karadec get more and more unnerved. He feels unsteady—he is losing her.
His fear isn’t that visible, but it’s there. He is supposed to be her partner, her support—he is supposed to be calm and collected, for her. But he’s uncertain. She is the reason why he can be strong and silent. But he is losing her. Morgan—this beautiful, chaotic whirlwind of a human is breaking apart. She needs his strength. And in this moment Karadec realizes strength requires action. So, this ‘do nothing, say nothing’ man, who hates germs and physical touch, disregards every one of his natural instincts, for her.
Gif from @buckslasagna
And this action, well, this action changes everything.
Shortly after, we have Oz’s speech at the funeral.
The immediate camera cut to Adam giving Morgan this look.
Gif from @tedbecca
At Gabe’s house, he lost (temporarily) his Morgan, and it made him realize something.
Gif from @livelovecaliforniadreams
When faced with the terrifying possibility of losing her, Adam Karadec realized that he would do anything, become anyone that Morgan Gillory needed him to be. He is now realizing that he wants to be the man worthy of her sparkling heart. A man who is no longer a ‘do nothing, say nothing’ man. Her heart is safe in his hands, and he is going to do whatever it takes to show her that.
