#pleasebarewithme

A movie is always playing, always a different genre. Horror, romcom, action. It changes because it goes back and forth between you and your roommate. 

Chan’s always next to you on Friday night movie night. He’s always the one to pick a marvel film. He’s also the one always seen giving the neighbor’s dog a treat in the morning before going on a run.

He’s always there to throw an arm over the back of the couch and in turn behind you. He doesn’t know personal space, barely even knows the concept of it. Chan knew however there is a difference between wanted touch and unwanted.

He never was one to be in your space if you didn’t reciprocate it. 

It’s been a little over 2 years since living together, and it’s a blessing. You were sure an attractive guy like himself had to be a secret serial killer or something and you were his next target. 

But no, he isn’t. He had just moved out of his parents house, a few years after graduation, when you and Chan met. 

A roommate was an obvious choice for you, fresh-er out of college and while the rent wasn’t outrageous enough for you to not be able to afford it yourself; It didn’t leave you any spending money.

So, Chan and you became roommates; And very quickly became friends. 

The copious amount of physical contact didn’t go under your radar, it didn’t necessarily make you all confident either. You just let it happen, let him throw an arm over you casually, let him prop his chin on top of your head to look at whatever you were cooking.

You were too flustered every time to say anything. He never felt sleazy. It wasn’t like he tried to cop a feel any moment he got. 

He was just… weirdly affectionate.

Eventually it rubbed off on you too. Not only was it common to be on your couch together on Friday nights, but it was also common to find yourself seeking out a hug from him right when coming home. 

“Captain America: Civil War.” You mumbled into the speaker of the remote, the sound waves of your voice jumping across the T.V screen before the Movie was pulled up on Disney+.

“We’ve watched this movie like 10 times already.” You added, pressing play with a frown clear on your face. Chan smiled proudly, shamelessly leaning over to have his chin on your shoulder so he could grab a handful of popcorn from the bowl on your lap.

“And? It’s my turn picking.” He chuckled giddily. “I’m sure you have the script memorized by now.” You chidded, slapping his hand away when you noticed it lingering in the bowl despite already having a handful.

He snorted at your attitude, stuffing his mouth. 

The tune of the movie started. Opening scenes blurred together in your brain. 

You didn’t technically hate the movie. If you did, you would veto it like you did already with a few other movies. Chan had vetoed some of yours to make it fair.

After the first 15 minutes of the movie you were already hooked. Despite knowing everything that was going to happen already, you still let yourself get sucked in like all the times before.

It was a full hour and a half into the movie when it was interrupted by a ringing phone. 

Chan grabbed his phone from the coffee table with the intent of hitting decline. It wasn’t new for either of you to get calls in the middle of your movie night.

Work likes to bug you after-hours, family is constantly reaching out to him at random hours of the night because they’re bored. Namely Hannah or Lucas. His mom and dad usually wait until they know it’s a decent hour. 

The contact name makes him pause long enough to make you look over at him. 

You already paused the movie to not miss anything; ironic since you feel like you could write the entire screenplay by memory. It takes away from the movie if you miss a few scenes however. Plus, you know he’ll just make you rewind once off the phone if you didn’t pause.

“Need a moment?” You hummed, guessing this call was a little bit more important than others. He hummed back wordlessly, getting up from the couch with his phone already pressed to his ear. 

You picked up yours from the coffee table, swiping away all notifications displayed on your homescreen. 

It was your way of distracting yourself from eavesdropping on his conversation. Though, it was tempting. Chan is calm, easy going, seeing him a little frazzled is new. His steps were quick, and you can tell from his eyes alone he’s thrown off from whoever is calling him. 

However, you didn’t have to distract yourself for long, because he came back later in a hurry. It alarmed you for obvious reasons.

“Is something wrong?” You blinked in shock, standing up from the couch in case he needed you to follow him. 

“Yes- no!- Uh- I’ll be right back. Please don’t question anything when I get back though.” His tone is high pitched and rushed, eyes avoiding yours in an almost guilty manner. It reminds you of when you were a teenager and was keeping a secret from your guardian(s).

He throws on his jacket hanging on a hook by the front door, hopping on one foot while trying to tug on his shoe. The laces are loose and he has to pause to lean down and tighten them.

His request throws you off, only making you want to do the opposite. 

But this is Chan. He’d never tell you to do something if he didn’t mean it. Whatever was happening in his personal life must mean a lot. Something you’re not invasive enough to inquire about. Though you guess you should have questioned him a little more in hindsight.

“Do you need me to do anything here for when you come back?”  

He looks up, shoe finally all the way on. His gaze darts away just as quickly however, grabbing his other shoe to put on. His head shakes side to side quickly. “I’ll handle everything. Maybe it’d be best if you head in for the night. We won’t be finishing our movie.” 

His words are rushed, panicked. He’s trying to be fast but not forgetful and the combination is never a good one. He’s fumbling around as a physical outlet to let out the nervous energy radiating off of him.

He digs his hands into his pockets, looking for something. His eyes dart around as soon as he doesn't find what he needs. 

You know what he’s searching for, you’ve seen him look like this when late for work and he can’t find his keys.

You grab the shiny keychain off of the coffee table, flinging them up into the air because you know he’ll catch them. It’s something you two jokingly refer to as his “spidey-sense”. No matter what you throw at him he seems to catch them without much thought.

He sighs in relief when hearing them jingle, catching them one handed. His attention once again darts to you and this time it lingers. The guilt is more palpable now that your gazes are locked. His lips part.

“I’m sorry.” 

Sorry for suddenly running out, sorry for being so all over the place, sorry for worrying you, sorry for not being able to tell you everything at the moment.

You smile gently, able to read all of this just by his face and tone. “Go.” You nod towards the door, a silent assurance behind your own tone and expression that he’s able to just as easily read.

I understand.

He sighs again in obvious relief, leaving with a bang from the door slamming shut and hurried steps down the apartment hallway.

You don’t hear when he comes back. You don’t hear the grunts of pain from a second person that is being helped into your shared apartment. Chan’s arms hooked under the honey-brown haired guy, though you weren’t even awake to see the scene.

You don’t know why Chan had to suddenly leave with fear and a tinge of frustration written all over his face. Not until the next morning.

You don’t know why there is a stranger on your couch without a shirt and gauze wrapped around the left side of his torso. A very obvious splotch of dark red seemingly bleeding through the white bandages.

“Chan!” You called out, voice vibrating off the walls, taking a few steps back until you're close enough to his bedroom to lay rapid knocks against his door.

It opened quickly, his eyes wide and glazed over in an obvious sign of just waking up. “What’s wrong!? Are you hurt?” He fumbles over his words, hair sticking all over the place.

He blinks away any remaining blurriness in his eyes to focus on you, hands on your shoulders as he inspects you for any visible injuries. There better be any injuries with the way you yelled.

“Who is on our couch?” You glare, watching as he tenses up once reminded of the fact. 

He sighs out, a mixture of relief that it’s nothing serious and the fact he has a lot of explaining to do. 

For now though… “I thought I asked you to not ask any questions.” 

“That was before I found a stranger on our couch who looks like he needs to go to the hospital- Chan! We’re not medical practitioners, what if whatever wound he has gets infected!” 

He knows you’re right. You’re always right. Logic isn’t always forefront in his mind like it is in yours.

“I know him, ok? He’s an old friend and he wouldn’t have called me for help if he didn’t need it desperately. It’s a lot, too much for you to understand. I just need, at least, a sliver of the usual faith and trust you have in me. Ok? Please.”

It’s hard to deny him when he leans against the door frame of his room, side muscles flexing with the movement. His tone is almost whiney, still a little slurred from not being 100% awake. 

Your mouth opens to speak, but everything you want to say dies on your tongue.

Who is he? What happened? How serious is the injury? Are we in danger because whatever or whoever did that to him is going to find him to finish it off? Are we now involved in something extremely sketchy?

You shake your head at the amount of “we’s” you use in your own thinking. 

“I wouldn’t have brought him here if I knew it would bring danger.” He adds, knowing it’s a worry of yours without having to hear your inner monologue. You sighed deeply, even if his words did provide you with some sense of comfort; It didn’t eliminate all the stress in you.

“Can I look at it?” You instead ask, hoping it was a question permitted. It’s obvious he mulls over it, hesitant to show you mainly because the person is unconscious. It’s also because he’s seen it himself and knows you’ll freak out and try to get the man to the hospital.

Just give him a few more hours and the wound should be closed up enough by then.

“When he wakes up you can ask him.” He instead settles on, patting you on your shoulder gently. You glance over said shoulder, absentmindedly biting down on your bottom lip in thought. His hand slides down from your shoulder to your lower back, bringing you in without much resistance on your part to a hug.

He’s warm, as usual, too warm. It’s no secret Chan runs warmer than most people. You had taken notice of it the first time you shook hands, the day you two met. He had laughed it off. His father runs hot too, he had said.  

Chan always smells like smoke, not cigarette or marijuana, like good old city smoke no doubt from the factories littering the earth. Similar to gasoline, but heavier. Whatever alleyway he rescued this friend from, it must have been a dingy one. “Can you at least tell me who he is?” Your words were muffled by his searing skin but he was able to understand you easily.

“I knew him back in high school, him and a few other friends. We split after I graduated. Not so sure if they’re all still in contact. His name is Jisung, Han Jisung.”

It’s not a name you remember. This Han Jisung isn’t someone who’s still an active part of Chan’s life if you don’t know his name. Chan isn’t someone who keeps the people he loves a secret. A friend he’s willing to bolt to in the middle of the night is no doubt someone he loves.

“He’s cute.” You drawled out after a few moments, grinning to yourself when you feel the familiar vibrations of a chuckle in his chest. “Like a squirrel.” Chan added and this time you chuckled in agreement.

“Exactly like a squirrel.”

The silence fell over you two again.  

Jisung was on the couch all morning and most of the afternoon, not once shifting around or moving. The only signs of life coming from the man was his chest rising and falling with each breath. You weren’t sure when he’d wake up, and Chan couldn’t say either.

Still, you ordered an extra large pizza in case he would be awake for dinner. You hesitated when ordering, would greasy carbs be the best for someone who woke up from a gnarly injury? 

Whatever, you’re sure that he won’t be too picky when he wakes up. Most people when disoriented just want to fill their growling stomachs. Eventually you placed the order anyway and it would be close to half an hour later when it showed up.

As if on cue, movement from the couch could be heard as you were busy placing the pizza boxes in the kitchen. 

Chan’s door opened just as soon as he heard the shifting in Jisung’s breathing pattern. The older was by his side immediately, helping him sit up when he deliriously reached for the back of the couch to pull himself up. “Chan-Hyung..?” The man croaked out, voice in need of water.  

“I’m here, I’m here.” Chan assured him, kneeling next to the couch. He turns and grabs the bottle of water you left there for when he woke up. Chan swiftly hides the pain meds you also placed. Jisung’s natural healing abilities worked better than the manufactured stuff. 

Jisung shakily accepted the chilled bottle from Chan, greedily gulping the refreshing beverage quickly. 

His throat felt way better afterwards, and his mind started filling in the events that happened the prior night. Before he could ask Chan what had happened after he passed out, you come in with two large plates.

Any questions die on his tongue at the sight of you. He glances to his past pack Alpha, but the man doesn’t look his way. Instead, he smiles appreciatively up at you from your spot on the floor. You hand the two a plate each, and the smell makes Jisung realize just how empty his stomach feels.

Still, where was he? What had happened after he made the panicked call to his old leader? A few rogue werewolves had been looking for a fight to relieve some tension, Jisung was at the wrong place at the wrong time.

 “I hope you don’t mind cheese and margarita pizza.” You mumbled, settling into an arm chair across from the couch Jisung took up. “Of course not.” He quickly shook his head, showing his appreciation by taking a large bite out of one of the slices.

Chan still hadn’t looked his way, happily eating the pizza you grabbed for him and Jisung. The man looked absolutely smitten by you, and you just smiled nervously at poor injured Jisung. You could understand not only would he be confused after getting into an altercation but he also just woke up in an unfamiliar apartment. One person he knows, the other a complete stranger.

Eventually the oldest did take charge, placing down his now empty plate on the coffee table with a satisfied sigh. He turns to Jisung and laces his fingers together on his own lap. “Sorry for bringing you here, I don't exactly know where you live right now.”

The beta boy shook his head, cheeks stuffed with food. When he did finally swallow he immediately started apologizing too. “I was the one that called you out of nowhere; I’m sorry. Suddenly rogues-”  

“How’s your side doing?” Chan cuts Jisung off. The younger pauses in confusion, glancing down where he remembers being swiped at. The gash hadn’t been deep from what he heard Chan mumbling about before he fully blacked out.

“Doesn’t hurt anymore.” He was confused for more than one reason. Chan knew that Jisung healed quickly like all werewolves. He also usually was never the type to interrupt unless it was extremely important. 

His eyes glanced at you for a brief second. Of course he realized you were a human the second he saw you, you didn’t carry the regular wolf scent markings. That didn’t mean you didn’t know about them. Did you? He swallowed a lump in his throat nervously.

“All I remember were some drunk guys trying to pick a fight.” Jisung added smoothly, fixing the story to mirror a human’s world. 

Chan seemed to appreciate his quick pick up on the situation and nodded back. “Sucks, but it happens unfortunately. Is there anyone I need to call that can pick you up? I’m sure it will probably bother you, yeah?”

He points at Jisung’s side and the man nods back. If he was human then he’d definitely still be in a lot of pain. Then he frowns and rubs the back of his neck. 

“I actually only recently moved back to Seoul, I was staying at a hotel near where you found me.” Chan perks at that, surprised and concerned at the same time. Your own actions mirror his.

“What about the others?” Jisung doesn’t miss when Chan avoids the word pack, it practically confirms that you truly have no idea about them. “We’ve all sort of split up. Last I heard Seungmin and Felix still lived together but that was two years back.”

You look between the two with pity. Mostly for the man’s situation. Alone in Seoul and he gets himself attacked out of nowhere. If he lives in a hotel then that means he probably doesn’t have much to his name either.

“Do you work?” You asked curiously, hesitating at first in case you were overstepping. He nods and you sigh. “My work is online, but I've been saving and it’s still relatively new. It's only been two months.” 

Two months is nothing in Seoul. Even renting a room is pricey. 

Chan and you lock eyes accidentally, but it’s clear the same thought floats in your minds. Now that you know his injury wasn’t because of anything sketchy and just bad luck, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to help the guy out.

A friend of Chan’s must be trustful. Right?

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