#skznet

You don’t remember when your eyes opened—only that something felt… off.

The bed was still warm, sheets tangled around your legs, but the space beside you was empty.

“Chan…?” Your voice comes out soft, barely there, like it might break if you try harder.

No answer.

You sit up slowly, blinking against the dark, your body still heavy with sleep. For a second, you consider just waiting—he’ll come back, he always does—but the quiet stretches too long, too unfamiliar.

So you slip out of bed.

The floor is cold under your feet, and you don’t bother fixing your appearance—just a loose tank top and panties, hair messy, eyes half-lidded. You don’t even think about it. You just… miss him.

The faint light from his office pulls you down the hallway.

You push the door open gently.

Chan’s there, exactly where you expected—curled slightly forward in his chair, headphones pushed halfway off, one hand resting against his temple as the other hovers over the keyboard. The screen casts a pale glow over his face, highlighting the exhaustion he tries to hide.

He doesn’t notice you at first.

You lean against the doorframe, watching him for a moment, the soft clack of keys filling the room.

“…Chan.”

That does it.

He turns instantly, like your voice is something he’s wired to respond to, and the moment his eyes land on you, something in his expression shifts—softens, melts, completely undone.

You don’t even realize how you look.

But he does.

And to him, it’s everything.

“Hey… baby,” he murmurs, pulling off his headphones, voice low and warm despite the fatigue. “Why’re you up?”

You rub your eyes, stepping closer, your voice small and sleepy. “Woke up… you weren’t there.”

He exhales softly, guilt flickering across his face. “Couldn’t sleep again. Didn’t wanna wake you.”

You stop in front of him, swaying just slightly, and he instinctively reaches out—hands settling on your hips to steady you.

“Come back to bed,” you mumble, barely coherent, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “Please.”

There’s a pause.

Not because he’s unsure.

Because he’s completely, utterly gone for you in that moment.

You—half-asleep, careless, soft in every possible way—asking for him like he’s the only thing that makes sense.

“Yeah,” he breathes, almost like he forgot how to speak for a second. “Yeah, okay. I’m coming.”

He doesn’t even save his work.

Just slips his hand into yours, guiding you gently back down the hallway.

You don’t let go.

Not even when you crawl back under the covers, tugging him with you, wrapping yourself around him like it’s instinct.

He settles behind you, arms circling your waist, pulling you close—closer than before.

You sigh, already drifting again.

And for the first time that night…

Chan feels like he might actually sleep.

Because you’re here.

Because you asked for him.

And because nothing—not the music, not the silence, not even his restless mind—matters more than this.

⸻