#rahrahrah

It was a sad truth that channie didn't find himself attractive. It was one of the worlds greatest mysteries as to how when he had a body sculpted by the greek gods themselves, and a face card that literally never declined.

But the fact still remained, Bangchan; the leader of stray kids. The kindest and most fatherly man you could ever meet - the man who made sure everyone around him realised just how pretty they actually were - didn't think he was pretty.

You, naturally, saw that as a challenge.

He didn't notice it at first, the subtle changes. The way you started kissing him more whenever he stopped wearing makeup for a short while, to let his skin breathe. The way you started complimenting him far more when he was simply lounging around the house, taking a much needed break rather than working his (round) ass off until well past midnight.

He didn't even notice when you started leaving him sugary treats in his gym bag. Okay, maybe he did notice that one, but he didn't pay much attention to it in this context at the time. This was just you being your sweet, lovable self, always trying to make sure that he was happy.

He only started to notice when he saw your lockscreen. A high definition picture of him at the airport after a particularly long tour - recent too, having been captured by press as he was leaving, barefaced and all, the flash lighting up the shadows of his face in a way he just... hated. He hated it, didn't think it was worthy to be on your lockscreen. But to you?

It was liquid gold.

The picture had that honeyed skin you loved to see on him after a long tour in some particularly sunny places, the skin that didn't quite fit into korean standards. You could see his freckles, too, dotted across his cheeks like stars. A feature you rarely really got to admire at home, as sad as that was.

His eyes had deep bags beneath them. He hated it. He hated how weak and exhausted it made him look, he was the leader for christ's sake. He was supposed to be strong - not look one second away from falling asleep. You just adored how human it made him look, a fact he seemed to stubbornly try to ignore, considering how much he pushed his body past the brink and expected to be fine the next day.

His lips were red and slightly chapped, likely bitten raw from stress. A habit you found oddly adorable - even if it was disturbing to see him chew on his lips until they were swollen. (You'd started to find other ways to occupy his mouth in these times. Most of the times by climbing into his lap and pouting until he gave in and finally kissed you)

Overall? He hated this picture with a burning passion. It was everything he didn't like about his face, all wrapped into one god forsaken image.

You, on the other hand, adored this picture so much that staring at it for too long made you - for lack of better words - ravenous for your boyfriend.

His suspicions only rose further when you'd started asking to help him take off his makeup. Naturally, he wasn't about to refuse that offer. Suspicions be damned. Any chance to have your hands on him, he was going to take.

It got to the point where you didn't even have to ask anymore. He'd just walk in, with wipes and clenser in hand, lay his head across your lap no matter what you were doing, and close his eyes to let you work. He nearly tried doing this once on a tour. Walking out into the hotel bedroom, only to remember with a whine - a literal whine - that you weren't with him. He cried that night and did not, in fact, take his makeup off.

Eventually, he did bring it up to you. On a night where you were sat on his lap, pressing soft kisses into every inch of bare skin on his face, muttering compliments into his skin that he couldn't quite catch.

"Why do you love my bare face so much?"

It was an abrupt question, one that made you draw away to think, that adorable little pout on your lips.

"Because it's pretty," you had whined back before returning to pressing kisses into his cheeks, decidedly not having finished yet.

"It's really not," he'd retorted. And you stopped again to glare at him, lips turning into a frown. Now that tugged at his heart. He hated seeing you upset because of him

"Yes, it is. It's gorgeous. Every time i see you like this - natural. I just - i just want to eat you"

"Eat me?" He laughed, hands tightening on your waist ever so slightly.

"Yes, eat you. You're very edible" Bangchans chuckle died out after a moment, and he tilted his head in thought, eyes searching yours for anything that may hint at a lie. He saw nothing, just pure, unadulterated love and adoration.

He looked away. Somehow, that gaze - one he'd been subjected to for this entire relationship - felt like too much right now.

"I just dont understand what you see here. It's nothing special"

His words made you pause, eyebrows furrowing.

"You really don't see it?"

"See what?"

You just stared at him for a long, long moment. Taking all of him in. He looked confused, genuinley confused.

"I didn't fall in love with your stage persona or some stupid photoshoot where you sat for hours just to have your makeup done and hair styled. I fell in love with you. This version of you."

"The version of you that's soft, that lets me sit in your lap and kiss your bare face for hours without complaint because i think it's pretty - even if you don't."

Channie didn't know how to respond. He just blinked, mouth parted like he was going to say something, but the words never left his throat.

"I love every version of you... but if i had to chose, i pick this version. Because its real"

"Really?" He just sounded small now, hands gripping tighter like he was scared you'd say no and abandon him whilst he was vulnerable.

"Really" you agreed.

No more words were spoken that night by him. He just closed his eyes and let you press kisses over his face once more. Those murmured compliments easier to hear this time. Whether because you were speaking louder, or because he finally let himself hear them ; well that wasn't important.

---

It wasnt just you who changed things after that. Chan started adjusting his schedual unknowingly. He stopped contemplating which hoodie looked best in the mornings where all he was doing was practicing in the studio for hours.

The most noticable thing he changed without noticing though, was that - whenever he was done with his schedual, and knew he wasn't going to be outside - he'd run home to take off his makeup. And in return, you'd sit and kiss him until the hours blurred together.

In all fairness, you hadnt picked up on it either, you were too happy about seeing his bare face to realise thay it was happening far more often than usual. The both of you only realised when he'd invited Minho over, immediately excusing him once he'd emtered his own house to wipe off the makeup he'd been sweating in all day.

Minho followed behind, not to take off his own, but to just lean against the doorframe and watch as chan cleansed his skin.

"You know they've totally pavloved you, right?"

"What?" Chan blinked, reaching for the towel to pat his face dry.

"Your partner, they've pretty much got you trained now" Minho chuckled gesturing to chan with a hand like it was obvious.

"You run to take your makeup off like its some sort of war mission."

"I do not, i just have a routine" Chan protested, hanging the towel back up on the rack and cleaning up the sink.

Minho just hummed, unconvinced. That made chan think for a second, becauae maybe the others words held some sliver of truth in them.

"Oh my god-" Chan realised, mouth falling open comically.

"Mhm, there we go" the younger grinned teasingly, pushing off the doorframe to make his way to the living room.

You'd fully pavloved your boyfriend without knowing.

Okayokay, done. This whole thing is totally not proof read, ill do that some other time. But at least its finally finished.

Im exhausted.