✰

The afternoon sun slanted through the paper-butterfly windows, dust motes dancing in the beams, and her stomach gave a flutter—Early pregnancy nerves or intuition… Y/n couldn’t tell anymore. But Chan proudly claimed that it was the former—Based on hopes and dreams alone. The school chimed to life at 1:45 PM, right as Y/n was attempting to coax fourteen overstimulated five-year-olds onto their nap mats.

“Hana, dul, ses—Please dance along to the Storybook Theater!” She announced, receiving twirls, hops or a mix of both from her giggling students. A smile grew sweetly as she watched them with a fond gaze, “Special guests have arrived for nap-time entertainment. Repeat, special guests in the theater.”

Min-seung sat up from his mat, clutching his stuffed rabbit. “Is it Santa Claus?!”

“No, sweetie,” she chuckled, smoothing her cardigan. A round of ‘boos’ erupted from the kids, making her chuckle even more. She shook her head, sighing contentedly. The Storybook Theater wasn’t more than a corner she had transformed for the kids, it had small stage curtained in felt suns and moons. She watched them settling onto their mats with their pillows and blankets, the lights dimmed to a soft indigo blue.

The door opened, eight figures appeared making the kids gasp and ooh. Eight adorable mascots. Not just any mascots— the SKZOO mascots, life-sized. Plush and absurdly vibrant, wearing the ‘Stay In Our Little House’ fanmeet shirt.

A wolf, who the kids immediately recognize from his last visit, walked in first like he owned the room. Wolfchan was flanked by a white bunny who—As one of the kids pointed out, “looked evil.” Which of course had Leebit look at the kid with a quick head turn. Making said kid squeal and hide under their blanket.

Beside Leebit was a pink little bunny-pig who instantly grabbed the kids attention. Part in awe, part in curiosity, and part in slight fear. Though the sweet Dwaekki greeted the students with both hands. Jiniret was next in line, standing next to the pink little creature, he gasped seeing one student with his teddy bear version.

Flanking Chan’s opposite side was Han Quokka—Who almost tripped over a chair. Helping him steady himself was a yellow chick with freckle, “BbokAri!!” A couple of little girls squealed in excitement as they clenched their own BbokAri plushie. Felix awed, waving to them and bumping into Jisung in the process.

The last two to walk in were the class favorites—Meaning they were Y/n’s favorite. She had PuppyM and FoxI.Ny over her desk—(Now with Wolfchan in the mix since they were dating.) The students cheered seeing them, waving their hands and plushies in the air. Seungmin stared, for a moment before he waved. Jeongin twirled then bowed making the children erupt in laughter Sung-ji screamed delightedly into his blanket. Min-seung fell sideways hiding into his bunny who the others said looked like a nicer version of Leebit.

Wolfchan—Chan who had his shoulders squared but hands trembling slightly—stepped forward. He waved using both hands, “Annyeong~ Are you ready for today’s song!” He asked putting the gray mittens of the costume on his hips. His voice was muffled but still clear enough for Y/n and the kids to hear him.

“Annyeong!!” “Sing!!” “Please Wolfchan-ssi!!”

The seven others turned slightly as if to hide their already hidden faces.

Chan waddled over to Y/n, she tilted her head to where he could see out of the mesh covered eyehole of the headpiece. She could hear the soft giggles coming from Chan—Likely cuteness aggression already. She placed a soft kiss on to Wolfchan’s nose, “I’ll play the song from your phone, yeah?” She said holding her hand out for him.

“Wahh~ Thank you baby,” he whispered to her as he placed his phone in her hand. He waddled back to his position, she connected his phone to the mini Wolfchan speaker she had on her desk. She didn’t know which song he decided to sing for her class, she assumed maybe it was ‘Youitful’ or maybe ‘Stay.’

It had been seven weeks since Chan had composed the little lullaby in the hotel room. Though in the others’ opinions the ‘little lullaby’ might as well been a full single. He made it in the quiet hours of 3 AM, thinking to himself that he was writing a manual for their kid. Like he confessed to Jeongin after drinking one to many espresso martinis—

“It’s so they know how much they’re love before they even get here.”

When the intro began, soft violins with the gentle chords of the piano just behind it, “Ohhhh.” The eight voices harmonized, soft and sweet despite the muffled vocals. Wolfchan stepped forward, arms opening wide, “A is for the arms that hold you through the night.” He closed his arms, giving the class a big hug. In response, they mimicked the gesture.

He continued, “B is for the blue moon that shines so soft and bright,” he sang doing—well attempted to do, a big circle over his head with his arms. Again, the students mocked the gesture with giggles. The next gesture was a ‘C’, “C is for the chorus, I’m singing when—”

“The night is so calm,” FoxIn.Y—Jeongin, harmonized with him easily as he sang the pre-chorus. “The stars are so bright. The world is tucked away.” Chan joined in again, "When every letter, every rhyme, wraps you up at bedtime.” They all randomly hugged each other—Bumping headpieces, Hyunjin almost lost the Jiniret head, making the kids giggle even more.

Though PuppyM ignored the chaos of the SKZOO mascot and sang the chorus. “A-B-C, can you see? Love is all around, in the whisper of the trees, in every little sound.” The children were silenced, eyes wide, lulled by the melody. He swayed liked a metronome set to a heartbeat tempo, “A-B-C, close your eyes, sail the silver sea. The alphabet of love tonight will sing to you so calmly.”

“Ohh~ Little heart of mine.” Leebit joined in to sing the last part with him, their voices harmonized together. The kids hand now snuggled under their blankets, holding their plushies or pillows tightly. Y/n was mesmerized by the lyrics already, she was sitting in her chair holding a Wolfchan teddy bear.

The music shifted to a minor key, delicate piano notes dropping like shooting stars. For the first verse, Jiniret’s smoothing voice sang with Han Quokka and BbokAri vocals behind his: “Drifting dreams of dancing through starlight, star bright, the star that shines tonight. Every sweet whisper the night winds impart, fills little corners and hallways of your heart.”

They had moved around, sitting next to the kids or in spaces near them. Some students snuggled up with them, sharing their blankets or resting their heads on their legs. BbokAri’s raspy but comforting voice sang next with Hyunjin and Jisung's vocal behind his, “Golden are moments when time settles slow, holding you close wherever you go. Inside the heavens the stars seem to play, joyfully twinkling till night fades away. Kind are the wishes the moon sends above the oceans—”

The children’s eyes drooped, Chan sang the chorus this time. Moving to where he could sit close to Y/n, he rested the headpiece against her. He sang to the class, though they both knew who he was really singing too, “A-B-C, can you see? Love is all around, in the whisper of the trees, in every little sound. A-B-C, close your eyes, sail the silver sea. The alphabet of love tonight will sing to you so calmly.”

Seungmin added his voice quietly, him and Chan sang together, "Oh~ Little heart of mine."

Y/n felt tears pricking. Chan—Wolfchan—was looking up at her, or trying to. Even through the mesh eyes, she could see the shape of his smile. the tension in his shoulders as he poured every ounce of compositional love into this moment.

The tempo picked steady, gentle but still soft. Chan sang with quiet giggles, “Elemenopee you’re my favorite little melody, my love for you is big as a manatee.” His voice went up and down for the second verse, soft sleepy giggle slipped from the children before Dwaekki join in.

His voice was sweet, sound small but full of love as he sang to a group of kids who decided that he made a better sleeping mat. “You mean the whole wide world to me. Little one, drift off to sea. Close your eyes and count to three. Sleep, my love, so peacefully.”

Minho who walked among the kids, gently patting heads, guiding them to lie back on their pillows. Sang the chorus again, the song breathed here, slowing down. “A-B-C, can you see? Love is all around, in the whisper of the trees, in every little sound. A-B-C, close your eyes, sail the silver sea, the alphabet of love tonight will sing to you so calmly.”

Chan sang with him, "Oh~ Little heart of mine."

Night sounds began to play through the speakers—crickets, gentle wind. The lighting shifted to deep blue-purple. The mascots moved slower, heavier, as if sinking into sleep themselves. FoxI.Ny who was swaying by himself sang quietly, “Quiet is the moonlight resting on the sea. Rising with the rhythm of your gentle dreams to be. Softly sings the starlight through the willow tree.”

Han Quokka who leaned on BbokAri sang while the two swayed in unison,“Tender are the wishes drifting so sweetly. Underneath the heavens, you're safe and warm with me. Velvet skies surround you in their sweet tranquility.”

BbokAri: “Winds of wonder carry sleepy thoughts afar. Xanadu is waiting just beyond the brightest star. You are my forever joy, my sweetest melody. Zzz's now fill the nighttime, sleep so dearly."As he sang the final letter, the other seven mascots had now all been sitting down.

The children, mirroring them, had succumbed to the lullaby—fourteen small bodies breathing deep, clutching their paper moons and stuffed stars. Jiniret, Dwaekki and PuppyM had sang the final chorus, their voice dropped to a whisper. “A-B-C, can you see? Love is all around, in the whisper of the trees, in every little sound. A-B-C, close your eyes, sail the silver sea. The alphabet of love tonight will sing to you so calmly. Oh~ Little heart of mine.”

The piano played now in a lullaby of its own, Wolfchan didn’t move for a long moment. Then, slowly, he reached up and removed his mascot head. Chan’s hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, his eyes red-rimmed and shining. He looked at her—really looked at her—and then down at her stomach, where his hand rested.

The rest followed, taking their headpieces off, now they were just singing to her. As the others harmonized with the piano, Seungmin sang: “Now the alphabet can rest, the stars will keep their glow.And dreams of love from A to Z, will follow where you go.”

Chan placed his forehead on her stomach, “Sleep, my dear, and dream so sweet. Till morning comes anew, the ABCs of love will shine forever over you.” The piano played quietly until it faded out and all they could hear was the soft breathing of the sleeping children.

“Hi,” he breathed, voice cracking slightly. “How do you like their song?”

Behind him, Minho’s hair was static-charged from the bunny interior. Changbin was grinning, wiping his eyes. Hyunjin was already posing for a selfie with a sleeping child. Felix was wiping tears away—hiding from Seungmin who was trying to take a picture of him. Jisung was trying to not accidentally wake a kid while he moved to get closer to Hyunjin for the selfie. And Jeongin—Jeongin smiled, mouthing, “Love you noona.”

Y/n laughed, the sound wet and overwhelmed, “The whole alphabet?” she whispered.

“Every letter,” Chan promised, standing up to kiss her temple, then bending to press a kiss to the top of her belly, “From A to Z. And back again. Forever.”

━━━━━━━━

The knocks came softly at 10:11 PM. Y/n cracked the door open, peaking her head out, her eyes landed on Chan who was already pouting. He leaned in, “I’m about to do something very dumb, but I promise you… I will make it up to you later.”

Y/n raised her eyebrow in confusion, “Chris why are you whispering? What are you talking about?”

Chan whined quietly, his shoulders slumped, “Just please… Please baby, just go along with it.”

She sighed, shaking her head softly with a barely noticeable smile formed on her lips. She nodded, opening her door more for him to walk in. He didn’t even get the chance to fully explain when he heard the faint thud coming from next door. She pressed her lips together to hide the laugh.

Chan sighed like an exhausted father, which was partly true. He dragged his hands through his hair, “YAH!” He let the single explode from his diaphragm, in return they heard a startled scream from Jeongin. 

“Iyenah! Get out of my room and go to sleep!” He scolded watching Y/n covered her mouth. Chan rolled his eyes playfully as he closed the door behind him. He watched her sit on her couch, her arms crossed–waiting for him to explain. 

“Yah!! Don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you!!” His voice ricocheted off the walls. Which was impressive for someone who usually spoke to her in the vocal equivalent of a hesitant whisper. He pointed a finger at her—shaking, dramatic, and stomped forward.

Y/n blinked. Staring at him like he just told her chicken had meat in it. 

He fell to his knees immediately, bowing with his forehead slammed on the hardwood floor. Chan sat up, kneeling in front of her, turning a bit to gesture towards the wall. He held up seven fingers and then made a not so subtle, frantic gesture toward his ear. 

Listening. They’re listening.

She looked at the wall. She looked back at him, watching him stand up. The way his “angry” stance had him perched on the balls of his feet like a nervous meerkat. He mouthed, slower, exaggerating the shapes.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Play along.

Y/n pressed her lips together. Her shoulders began to shake, hearing footsteps, hushed bumps and faint arguing.

“Christoper, do NOT raise your voice at me! Are you crazy!?!” She responded, jumping to her feet–her hands flying to her cover mouth, stopping the laugh threatening to slip out.  

Chan broke out into a wide grin, his dimples framed his smile seeing her playing along with him. He took a step closer, his voice cracking slightly on the high note, “Are you!?! Letting another man touch you, in front of my kids! In front of–of–CHILDREN!?!”

“Chris—” she started, her voice trembling, stifling her laughter through her hands.

“DON’T YOU DARE INTERRUPT ME!” Chan shouted, his hands shot out to grab her waist, yanking her close to his chest. Her arms wrapped around him, hiding her face on his chest to muffle her laugh. Chan lifted her chin up, his grin turned wolfish as he leaned in close. His nose nearly touched hers, and dropped his voice to a furious whisper that was somehow still loud enough to carry. 

“You… you allowed that… that handsome… tall… dermatologically gifted man to place his… his filthy hands upon your—”

His hand rubbed soft circles on her lower back, “—your person!” he finished.

She bit her lip, hard to suppress the overwhelming urge to giggle. Because Chan—her Chan, who had once fainted because she’d texted him a picture of himself half shirtless. Who stared down waiters and then pout afterwards. Who had to take specifically 8 minutes to reboot after kissing—was currently attempting to be dominant. 

He was trying to yell at her. 

He was trying to be the alpha male.

And he was failing spectacularly.

“YOU are being so damn dramatic–” she started, her voice cracking with suppressed laughter.

He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear, a breathy and desperate whisper, “Babygirl stop laughing.”

That did it. Y/n buried her face in his chest again, her body shaking silently with convulsive laughter. Her shoulders heaved, she made a noise that sounded vaguely like a sob.

From the other side of the shared wall, they heard faint shouts: 

“Did that old ass man make her cry?!?”

“Should we go over?”

“I think we might need to drag his ass out of Tearchr-nim’s–?”

“GUYS! This could possible lead to the best make up sex–”

“His virgin ass would faint.”

“Yah! Shut up you dumbasses! I can't hear!!”

“Do you think they could hear us?”

Chan sighed, mumbling against her hair, “I can not stand them..” He stood with his arms tightening around her waist, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. He pressed his lips on her crown, “you smell really good, princess.”

Her arms slipped around his neck in a gesture to bury her face in his shoulder and muffle her giggles. She pitched her voice high, theatrical, absolutely dreadful acting. “Stop overreacting, drama queen!”

He “angrily” nuzzled his face into her hair to hide his own grin. “I am NOT, you are UNDER reacting. Do you like his poreless skin! And his… his biceps! Which are… are adequate! But not… not superior to mine!”

Y/n sob-laughed into his collarbone. “Yours are… are superior!”

Chan whispered into her hair “Can we move to your bedroom? I think I might pass out if I don’t lay in your arms soon…”

Y/n lifted her head up to look at him, “Take me to the bedroom. So we can… can argue more privately,” she demanded in a teasing tone.

Chan straightened, his face set in grim, dramatic determination. “WE WILL CONTINUE THIS… THIS DISCIPLINE… IN YOUR CHAMBER!”

“Why word it like that–” She laughed into his collarbone.

Without warning, he bent and scooped her up—bridal style, one arm under her knees, one around her back, “I’m committed to my roll.”

“Chan—!” she squeaked, genuinely surprised.

“SILENCE, WOMAN!” he commanded, his voice cracking again. He marched toward her bedroom, “YOU HAVE BEEN… NAUGHTY! AND I MUST… PUNISH YOU! WITH… WITH WORDS! AND… AND LOUD NOISES!”

He kicked her bedroom door open, carried her inside, and set her down with surprising gentleness. Then, with the flair of a stage magician, he slammed the bedroom door shut—click—and turned the lock. The apartment fell silent, Chan pressed his ear against the wood, listening. From the other side of the shared wall, they could hear a faint, muffled thump—Hyunjin falling off Chan’s bed in his haste to press closer to the wall.

Chan held up a finger. Wait. He counted to ten on his fingers, then twenty. 

“I told you!”

“You read too much fanfics.”

Then a collective, “Shh!!”

Chan slammed his hand on the wall, earning various startled shrieks from the other side of the wall. The “furious” mask melted off his face like wax, sliding away to reveal the reality beneath. He walked over to her, red-rimmed eyes, trembling lower lip, and the desperate, exhausted vulnerability.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered—really whispered, barely audible. “I’m so sorry, Y/n…” He trailed off, his shoulders slumping. He looked small, suddenly, despite the broadness of his chest. He looked like a boy who’d been caught pretending to be brave.

“You’re an idiot,” Y/n said softly. She stood up slowly, cupping his face in her hands. His skin was warm from the exertion of his theatrical rage. His eyes fluttered shut at her touch, his breath hitching.

“I know,” he breathed.

“You grabbed me at the play, you growled at Mr. Choi, and then you didn’t even give me a proper kiss goodbye earlier. I thought you were angry at me.”

“I was angry at myself,” Chan said, his voice breaking. He leaned his forehead against hers, his hands coming up to grip her wrists, holding her palms against his cheeks. “I… I saw him touch you, and I saw you smile at him—just a friendly smile, I know, I know it was friendly—but he was so… he was tall, Y/n. And he looked like he sleeps a complete eight hours a night, drinks plenty of water, and has never once had an existential crisis in a studio at 3 AM.” 

Chan paused, pulling away a bit to really look at her, “And I just… I acted like a caveman. And I was so ashamed. I thought… I thought you’d realize he was better. That you’d want a teacher instead of an idol who has anxiety attacks every eight minutes.”

Y/n pulled back just enough to look at him—really look at him. By the way his hands were shaking again, just like that first night in his room, “Christopher,” she said, using his full name like a charm. “I don’t want a man who sleeps eight hours and has good skin. I want you who faints when I send him pictures of himself. I want you who keeps dinosaur stickers in his wallet. I want you who loves getting gold stars to ease his anxieties on dates. I want you who performs ridiculous fake arguments."

Chan’s breath shuddered out of him, “But he was touching you,” Chan whispered. “His hand was on your back. And I wanted to let Minho and Seungmin bite his fingers. I wanted to… to bite you, mark you. Right there. In front of them. In front of everyone. I wanted to be so… undeniably yours.”

“So bite me,” she whispered back.

The air shifted, Chan’s eyes darkened, the amber flecks in his irises catching the dim light of her bedroom. His grip on her wrists tightened—not painful, but grounding. Chan moved—not with the jerky, panicked energy of their first time, but with a deliberate intent. He backed her up against her bedroom wall—thud—but this time it wasn’t for the eavesdroppers. This time his hips pinned hers, his hands sliding down to grip her thighs and hitch her up, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Say you’re mine,” he pleaded. His voice was soft, contradicting the hold he had on her.

“Yours,” she agreed, arching into him.

He kissed her then, and it was nothing like the tentative, trembling kisses of their first night. Of every night since then, with eight minute breaks to calm his libido. His tongue swept into her mouth, claiming, tasting, his teeth nipping at her lower lip with just enough pressure to make her gasp. His hands splayed across her back, pressing her into him, erasing any space where another man’s touch might have lingered.

“Say it again, please baby,” he demanded, pulling back just enough to breathe.

“I’m yours,” her fingers tangled in his hair. Pulling hard enough to make him groan, “I’m only yours, you brat.”

“Hey…” He made a sound like a wounded animal—relief and desire braided together. Then he was moving, carrying her away from the wall and toward her bed. He laid her down with a gentleness as she lay back against the pillows, “I thought about this,” he confessed. His voice muffled against her skin as he kissed her, “You’re so beautiful.” he said.

From the other apartment, where the seven other men were listening in. Each in ridiculous positions as they tried to listen to the conversation. Minho was starfished against the wall with his ear pressed against it. Changbin sat on the edge of the bed, “It sounds like the issue has been resolved, maybe we should leave.” 

“SHHH!!” Hyunjin and Felix shushed in unison, both with cups pressed against the wall and their ears.

Jeongin and Seungmin stood on Chan’s desk–after clearing it off, they leaned on the wall. Reaching up to be closer to the vent, “The bed is squeaking, I think we should stop listening now,” Seungmin said.

“No wait, what to see if he panics!” Jeongin argued. 

“Do you think we could sample the bed squeaking?” Jisung asked, walking in from raiding the kitchen.

“Y/n,” Chan choked out, “You feel… you’re so… warm… I can’t… I’m n-not gonna last, I’m sorry—”

The seven of them went pale–then red, not from embarrassment of listening in. No, they went red from holding back their laughter. They heard it all, the bed squeaking—loudly. Chan’s groans were loud, carrying through the wall. The rhythmic thumping of the headboard that had Jisung pulling his phone out to record, capturing the exact moment he came with a strangled cry. 

Back in her room, on the other side where the two laid on her bed panting. They heard it very faintly, they heard a thump—then the distinct sound of bodies dropping, followed by distant, muffled cries of laughter.

Chan lifted his head, his eyes still dazed, his hair sticking up in every direction. “I’m going to kill them…” he started, his voice raspy.

“I’ll help you hide their bodies,” Y/n added smiling lazily.

Chan groaned, hiding his face in her pillow. “They’re never going to let me live this down.” He pulled her closer, tucking her against his chest. 

“YAH!! YOU BETTER HAVE USED PROTECTION!!’

“Oh, yeah… I think they made up.”

“Yeah, no shit, Bin.”

“HYUNG YOU BETTER HAVE PULLED OUT!! I WANT TO BE THE BABY!!”

“MY INNOCENT EARS!!”

“I KNEW FANFICS WERE REAL!!”

“YOU NEED TO TOUCH GRASS!!”

━━━━━━━━

A. JEONGIN: He tripped again Attachment: 1 video Attachment: 20 images

A. CHANGBIN: Was that documentary necessary?

A. HYUNJIN: A SHOT BY SHOT OF CHAN BRINGING TEACHER NIM INTO HOS ROOM !???

A. HAN: I WANT A NIECE

A. FELIX: ME TOO HOP TOO IT NOW

A. MINHO and A. SEUNGMIN has left the conversation.

The lock on Chan’s bedroom door clicked shut with a finality that echoed through the silence of the shared apartment. Sealing them inside a cocoon of warm amber lamplight and the faint, lingering scent of his cologne and body wash. The sound was a silent exclamation mark on a sentence Chan had never intended to write. He stood with his back pressed against the wood, palms flat against the surface as if he could physically hold back the mortification that was currently liquefying his spine.

Why?

Y/n—the woman who had just inadvertently caused him to fall out of bed, moments before her arrival—stood three feet away. She was clutching her phone and looking at him with those wide, caring eyes that he both worshipped and feared.

“You sure you’re okay?” she asked, stepping closer. Her voice had that particular cadence it got when she was slipping into teacher mode—soft, reassuring, the vocal equivalent of a Band-Aid and a juice box. And like the soft melody of ‘Cover Me’, to Chan’s ears.

“That was a really loud thud, Chris. Like, unsettlingly loud.”

Hearing his name slapped him across the face with the force of a wet fish—as it did each and every time. He felt his knees buckle, the memory of his recent unconsciousness flickering behind his eyes in high definition.

He’d fainted.

Like a Victorian maiden.

Because she’d texted him a picture of his own abdominal muscles—a picture she’d deliberately saved from the fan page from the fanmeet. His brain had simply blue-screened. One minute he’d been standing to leave his room to grab water, then the darkness. Now she was here. In his room.

“I’m fine,” Chan wheezed, sliding down the door until he was sitting on the floor, knees drawn up, face buried in his hands. “Perfectly fine. Just… had a momentary… gravitational disagreement. With my center of mass.”

From somewhere beyond the room—specifically in Jeongin’s room. The maknae pressed his ear to the wall, his eyebrows pushed together in a judgmental upturn. His thumbs typing a mile a minute:

A. JEONGIN has removed BANG CHAN from the conversation. A. JEONGIN added A. MINHO and A. SEUNGMIN in the conversation.

A. JEONGIN: OKAY HYUNGS TEACHER-NIM IS IN THE ROOM AND I THINK CHAN SOMETHING ABOUT HIS ASS?????

A. CHANGBIN: WHAT?!?!?

A. HYUNJIN: AS HE SHOULD ⁉️⁉️ HAVE YOU SEEN IT ⁉️⁉️

The two locked in the room were blissfully unaware that their every word was being wrongly transcribed into a group chat. She crouched down in front of Chan. Her hands accidentally brushed against his shins. She smelled like lavender hand sanitizer and a specific scent that he couldn’t place. But the scent compromised Chan’s blood pressure.

“Let me see your head,” she commanded gently, reaching out.

Chan’s survival instincts screamed at him to retreat, but his motor functions had apparently decided to unionize against him. He let her tilt his chin up with cool fingers, her thumb brushing along his hairline where a tender, egg-shaped bump was already forming.

From the neighboring room, Jeongin went slack-jawed:

A. JEONGIN: SHE JUST SAID “LET ME GIVE YOU HEAD” ⁉️⁉️⁉️

A. FELIX: WHAT⁉️⁉️

A. HAN: SHES SLUTTING HIM OUT⁉️

In the room, Y/n’s touch was clinical, kindergarten-teacher-checking-for-injuries clinical. Chan’s hindbrain was screaming that a beautiful woman was touching his face… In his bedroom… At midnight while he was vulnerable.

“You’ve got a bump,” she murmured, leaning in. Her breath ghosted over his cheek. “You really took a dive, huh? All because of… this?” She held up her phone. The screen illuminated her face in soft blue light, and there, in high-definition, soul-scarring clarity, was Chan.

Chan made a noise that was not human. It was the sound a teakettle made when it was being strangled. Like one of the adlibs 3RAHCA would add onto a track.

“I didn’t—You—I told you, that Chris is an imposter!” he stammered, trying to look anywhere but the phone. “STAYs posted plenty of photos—you’re not supposed to look at the ones like that! I mean, you can! You’re allowed! But I’m not prepared! I need notice! Like, a two-week notice! For my emotions!”

Y/n laughed. It wasn’t a cruel laugh; it was the laugh she used when one of her five-year-olds tried to explain an argument in elaborate detail, complete with hand gestures. She tucked the phone away and shifted closer, her knees knocking against his. “You’re ridiculous,” she said softly. “You perform in front of thousands of people wearing less than that. I’ve seen your fancams, Chris. I’ve seen the ‘Railway’ performance—I’ve seen you half naked coming from the gym.”

“That’s different!” Chan protested, his voice cracking in a way that would have gotten him bullied by his own members for the next decade. “That’s…This is—It’s different! And you’re…”

A. JEONGIN: OKAYYY idk if he’s getting head but he’s yelling “THAT’S DIFFERENT” And I think he whimpered— 👀🤷.

A. SEUNGMIN: Is Topher a virgin?

A. MINHO: That makes so much sense.

Chan sighed, he’s head falling back against the door, you’re here, he didn’t say aloud. You’re real. You’re touching me. You’re looking at me like I’m something precious instead of something staged, and I can’t handle it because I’ve wanted you to look at me like that for almost two years and now that you are I’m going to die.

He gestured helplessly at her instead, his hand flopping in the space between them like a dying fish. Y/n caught his hand. She did it so naturally, so like she was stopping student from grabbing a crayon to eat it. Chan’s brain short-circuited for the second time that night. Her fingers interlaced with his, inspecting his knuckles for injury—

Chan felt his soul attempt to astral project through the ceiling.

“Come on,” she said, tugging. “Up. You need to lay down. You might have a mild concussion. I’m putting you to bed, mister.”

'I’m putting you to bed.'

Those five words, delivered in her sweet, slightly bossy teacher voice, detonated in Chan’s spinal column. He let her pull him up—he was a literal bag of flour with anxiety—but allowed himself to be guided toward his bed. Chan realized with sudden, stomach-dropping clarity that he was about to be horizontal.

In his bedroom.

With her.

While Jeongin was definitely listening through the wall with a glass pressed against the drywall.

A. JEONGIN: SHE SAID SHES GOING TO BED WITH HIM OMG IM SUCH A MIRACLE WORKING THE BEST WINGMAN EVER

“I can’t,” he whispered, panic mounting. “Y/n, I can’t lay down with you here, I can’t—”

“Why not?” She turned, hands on her hips, and in the lamplight she looked like an avenging angel of domestic care. “Are you afraid I’ll take advantage of you? After you fainted like a damsel in a romance novel?”

“I’m not a damsel!” Chan yelped, then ruined it by swaying on his feet, the blood rush from his earlier faint making the room spin. “I’m just… I’m… you’re…”

You’re everything, he thought desperately. And I’m going to ruin this by vomiting affection all over you or by actually vomiting because I’m so nervous… Again—

She took mercy on him, or perhaps she was just tired of watching him vibrate with anxiety. She placed both hands on his shoulders and pushed. Chan collapsed backward onto the mattress with an oof, bouncing once on the springs, and before he could scramble away in shame,—Y/n was kneeling on the bed beside him, leaning over him with that infernal, patient, loving expression.

“Stay,” she ordered, pressing a hand to his chest to keep him down. Her palm settled right over his heart, which was currently attempting to break the land speed record. “Breathe. In, two, three. Out, two, three. Good boy.”

Good boy.

Chan’s vision tunneled. He was simultaneously dying and having the best moment of his life, which felt like a very on-brand way for this night to go.

A. JEONGIN: SHE CALLED HIM A GOOD BOY AND THE BED SQUEAKED

A. HYUNJIN: OH HOW I YEARN TO BE HIM

A. CHANGBIN: He’s going to vomit on her, I feel it in my biceps

A. HAN: SHES TOPPING HIM

A. FELIX: Mate abot to get pegged and start cooking her dinner

A. MINHO: He already cooks her breakfast

A. SEUNGMIN: Hyung acts like an alpha but is an omega

He stared up at her, at the way her hair fell in a curtain around her face, at the way her pupils dilated, in a way that overtook the color of her irises. She was so close. So close. He could count her eyelashes. He could—

He reached up without thinking. His hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth, and they both froze. The air in the room shifted. The lamp seemed too dim. Outside, a car rattled past, but inside, there was only the sound of their breathing and the distant, faint bump against the wall. (Jeongin trying to get closer to the wall—as if that was possible.)

“Chan,” Y/n whispered. Her lips moved against his thumb. “Your hand is shaking.”

“I know,” he breathed. “I can’t stop. You’re… you’re here. And I’m… I really like you. I’ve liked you since you gave me that sticker when I helped you carry your groceries. The dinosaur one. I kept it. It’s in my wallet. I’m pathetic. I’m so pathetic. I-I’m—”

She kissed him.

It wasn’t a dramatic kiss, it wasn’t a K-Drama kiss with swelling orchestral music and took three seasons. It was soft, and tentative, and tasted like the peppermint tea she’d been drinking earlier when she’d been looking over art projects on her couch. It was gentle, reassuring, but with a current of something deeper running underneath.

Chan’s brain emptied out like someone had pulled the plug on a bathtub. His hand slid from her cheek to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair, and he made a noise against her mouth that was half-sob, half-prayer. First base. They were at first base. In his bedroom. At midnight. And he was definitely going to slip into a coma…—

What a way to go.

A. JEONGIN: OMG ITS TOO QUIET HE EITHER PASSED OUT OR—

A. MINHO: Damn we’re literal stray kids now…

Y/n pulled back just enough to speak, her forehead resting against his. “You kept the sticker?” she asked, breathless.

“The T-Rex,” Chan confirmed, delirious. “It’s in my wallet. Right now. I can show you. It’s... It’s my most prized possession. I’m not weird. I’m normal. I’m so normal.”

“You’re… So normal,” she said playfully. Kissing the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, then the bruise on his forehead. “You’re my favorite neighbor. My favorite idol. My favorite…”

She trailed off, but Chan didn’t notice the hesitation, the almost-confession that hovered in the air like dust motes. He was too busy panicking, because her hands had migrated from his shoulders to his waist. Slipping under his hoodie to rest against the bare skin of his sides—the same abs that had caused this entire catastrophe.

Second base had arrived like a freight train with no brakes.

“Wait,” Chan gasped, his back arching off the bed as her thumbs traced the lines of his hip bones. “Wait, Y/n, I can’t—I’m going to—this is too fast—I’m not prepared—I need a permission slip—I need—”

“You’re panicking,” she observed, not stopping. Her hands were warm, possessive in a way that made Chan want to crawl out of his skin and also never leave this bed. “You’re panicking, Channie. Breathe. Remember? In, two, three…”

“Out, two, three,” Chan chanted automatically, gripping her wrists but not pulling her away.

“Oh god. Oh my god. Your hands. Your hands are on my—why are they on my—I didn’t agree to this—I mean I did! I do! But I’m going to embarrass myself! I’m going to do something stupid! I’m going to tell you that I think about you when I write lyrics and that last week I wrote a song about your hairclips and it’s probably terrible because I can’t stop thinking about how you smell like—like—”

“Like what?” she suggested, leaning down to press her nose into his neck. Her hands slid up his torso, mapping the muscle there with devastating curiosity.

“I don’t know,” Chan whined, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m 60% panic right now. And 30% arousal. And 10% genuine fear that Jeongin is live-texting this.”

From the other side of the wall, as if on cue, something thumped—likely Jeongin dropping his phone in shock at whatever he was hearing.

A. JEONGIN: HE JUST SAID “THIS IS TOO FAST” BREATHING EXERCISES AND HIM BEGGING???? THERE WAS ABOUT FIVE “OH MY GOD’S”

A. SEUNGMIN: I NEED MORE CONTEXT

A. FELIX: SHE PEGGING HIM I KNEW IT

Back in the room, Chan was currently in a freefall. His hands had flown to Y/n’s waist, gripping her in a desperate manner. He was making a sound that was genuinely pitiful—half-moan, half-wail—as she tried to calm him down. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her hands on him; it was that he wanted it so much that his body didn’t know how to process the information.

Resulting in a full-system shutdown that manifested as trembling and verbal diarrhea.

“I’m sorry,” he wheezed, face buried in her shoulder, his hoodie rucked up to his ribs where her hands had wandered before he’d seized up. “I’m so sorry. I’m broken. I’m malfunctioning. You’re too pretty and your hands are too soft and I’ve never done this with someone I actually—actually—”

“Actually what?” Y/n asked, stroking his hair. She’d shifted to sit properly on the bed, pulling him into her lap like he was one of her bigger, more emotionally distressed kindergarteners. Chan’s head rested against her chest, her chin on his hair, and one of her hands rubbed slow circles on his back while the other held his hand—his sweaty, traitorous hand—against her heart. “Actually liked?”

Chan nodded frantically, the movement jostling them both. “Yes. That. Exactly. I’ve only ever done this for work. For… for fan service, I guess. But you matter. You matter so much that I can’t even kiss you without feeling like I’m going to explode. And I really want to kiss you. I really want to do more than kiss you. But I’m going to faint again, or cry, or possibly both, and it’s not very sexy, and I want to be sexy for you, I want to be—”

“Shh,” Y/n interrupted, pressing a kiss to his temple. She could feel his heart hammering against her palm where she held his hand to her chest. She could feel her own heart doing something similar—something tender and terrified and overwhelming. “You don’t have to be sexy, Chris. You just have to be here with me. I’m not going anywhere, you know. I’m right here.”

Chan stilled, the trembling slowed as he lifted his head from the sanctuary of her chest, his eyes red-rimmed and wet and devastatingly earnest. “I know,” he whispered. “I noticed the first day you moved in. You had a box of books and a box of stuffed animals, and you smiled at me and I forgot my own name for twenty minutes. I’ve been noticing every day since. That’s why I can’t… that’s why this is so hard. Because I don’t want to mess it up. I don’t want to be the idiot neighbor who hits on you and gets rejected and then we have to share a hallway for the next three years while I die of shame.”

Y/n’s expression softened into something Chan couldn’t read—something sad and fond and frustrated all at once. She cupped his face in both hands, wiping his tears with her thumbs with a gentleness that made Chan want to crawl into her pocket and live there forever.

“Channie pabo,” she said lovingly. Chan blinked, his brain, sluggish with emotional exhaustion and the lingering adrenaline.

“I have anxiety,” Chan offered weakly.

“I know,” Y/n said. “That’s why I’m comforting you instead of making fun of you. Though Jeongin is probably doing enough of that for both of us.”

As if summoned, the wall rattled with a loud thud following with a ‘ssibal’ from Jeongin (he hit his head on the wall.)

A. JEONGIN: False alarm, she was comforting him because he panicked again. Grab the stones.

A. CHANGBIN: Poor hyung

A. MINHO: Is he really tho?

A. FELIX: YK there’s a book called ABCs of love, I feel like if he read it… It might help—

A. HAN: OR WE WRITE A SONG THAT HELPS HIM A IS FOR ACCEPTING THE ANIXTEY

A. HYUNJIN: B IS FOR BUILDING UP THE SLOW BURN

A. SEUNGMIN: C is for Comforting Chan when the anxiety crashes

“Also,” Y/n added, leaning in until her nose touched his, “I really, really like you. Even when you’re a disaster. Especially when you’re a disaster. It makes me feel less alone in my own disasters. Plus you know… You are only human Chris, don’t be too hard on yourself.”

Chan’s breath hitched. He overlooked confession—the one he’d been too busy panicking to hear properly. The one she’d slipped in like a secret between the lines—sailed right over his head, lost in the static of his relief. He heard her last sentence, ‘you are only human Chris, don’t be too hard on yourself.’

He focused on the immediate, tactile reality: her hands were still on his face. Her body was warm against his. The door was still locked and the panic was subsiding, replaced by a giddy, floating sensation, like he felt when he gave Jeongin a surprise kiss on the cheek on during the Maknae's birthday live.

“Can I try again?” he asked, his voice small but steadier. “The kissing? Without the… the meltdown after?”

Y/n smiled, the one that crinkled her eyes and made his ribs ache. “You can try. But if you faint again, I’m calling an ambulance.”

“I won’t faint,” Chan promised, and leaned in.

This kiss was different, it was still soft, still careful, but there was intent behind it now—the intent of a man who had survived the first wave of battle and was ready for the second. His hands settled on her waist more confidently, thumbs hooking into the belt loops of her jeans. Y/n responded by sliding her fingers into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. Chan sighed into her mouth, a sound of pure, exhausted relief, and let himself be guided down onto the pillows, Y/n following to lay half-sprawled across his chest.

They stayed like that for a long time, trading kisses that slowly lost their desperation and gained a lazy, exploratory sweetness—learning the shape of each other’s mouths. The way Chan liked to nip at her lower lip when he got overwhelmed, the way Y/n hummed when he kissed her jaw. The panic didn’t return, though Chan’s hands did shake a little when he traced the curve of her spine. He did whimper when she tugged his hoodie up to access bare skin again, but he didn’t freeze. He just held her, and let her hold him, and tried to believe that this was real.

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