Archive of Our Own

“Didn’t you want to work on lyrics, Bin?”

Chan has caught Changbin glancing at his laptop, placed on his thighs and slowly running quite warm, for the umpteenth time now. When Changbin joined Chan on the couch half an hour ago, he’d been adamant about working on a few tracks, telling Chan that he won’t let himself get distracted by him watching reaction videos to some of their Kingdom stages when he asked.

“I’m working,” Changbin insists, or rather complains.

“I’m just saying,” Chan starts with a grin, “we can watch some videos together if you wanna. No point in trying to work when you get distracted all the time.”

“As if it’s my fault when you got your laptop’s volume maxed out.” As he says it, he’s already closing the notes app on his phone and shuffles closer so he’s sitting right next to him, feet up on the couch, to properly join Chan in his spiral down the YouTube vortex.

Probably just to be a little shit, Changbin starts clicking on all kinds of reaction videos to Chan and Minho’s recent SKZ-Player with a teasing grin on his face that’s accompanied by a cackle that drowns out Chan’s complaining groans.

It’s fun, however, to watch other people’s reactions, how they’re always at first grooving along to the song until realisation hits — some catch on quite early, others catch up a bit later during Chan’s rap. Chan can’t help himself but chuckle when most of them unknowingly play along with his own explanation of the song as they assure their audience that it’s obviously a song about driving, haha, what else could it be about with faux innocent eyes that hold way too much smugness to be convincing. It’s not like anyone needs to be fooled, anyway, as Chan and Minho were fully aware of their intentions with that track.

Chan can’t even recall whose idea it was in the first place (it was his but he likes to think Minho isn’t opposed to some shared credit). Writing lyrics with Minho had been fun and their creativity quickly went into overdrive, so much so that they had to cut a lot of lines that were either entirely too cheesy or, to put it plainly, quite tasteless. They did make them chuckle, though.

All in all, Chan is proud of the song and not just because of its mature concept with all its barely disguised meaning but because he knows that Minho and he created a good song, that they work well together, as he noticed time and time again; in everything they did he was shown that they just matched, be it all those ideas and lines that they were bouncing off of each other or something as simple as their voices that mixed beautifully when Chan layered their recordings during the producing process.

The song itself is supposed to be part of the introduction to the next Stray Kids era, one in which they’ve all matured and are confident in themselves, one that allows such maturity and confidence to show. Chan feels more than ready for it.

“If you look like that, you gotta be fucking!”

He feels his body coming to a halt at the current reactor’s words as if someone suddenly pressed a ‘pause’ button. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Changbin throwing him a look.

“You can’t tell me that a dude doesn’t have sex when he’s looking that hot, there’s just no way.”

He blinks a few times, his mood instantly souring as he pokes the inside of his mouth with his tongue before he takes his bottom lip between his teeth. It’s a habit he’s adopted from Felix at some point, as was already pointed out to him several times by the members whenever they tease him into fond annoyance.

Changbin reaches over and closes the video when Chan keeps staring at the screen, showing no longer any response to what’s happening in the video.

“We can watch something else,” he suggests, his elbow softly pressing into Chan’s bicep. Chan only hums non-committedly.

“Hyung…”

“It’s whatever,” he suddenly says decidedly, snapping the lid of his laptop shut, even though he knows he shouldn’t mistreat it like that. The dull sound it makes at the impact makes him wince inwardly.

He hears Changbin swallow, still so close next to him. “You know it doesn’t mean any— “

“I know,” Chan interrupts him and flinches at his own tone; it’s similar to the immediate regret he felt towards his laptop but this time he’s feeling ten times worse. He sighs, wishing he hadn’t spoken so brusquely. “I know, Bin-ah,” he says more softly this time, reaching out a hand to touch his ankle in a small gesture of apology.

Changbin leans a bit more into his side and Chan knows he’s forgiven.

Now that the sounds of the videos and their laughter and loud comments are gone, silence engulfs the room so that all Chan can hear is their breathing as well as his own fucking song that’s now stuck in his head. No pun intended.

For a few moments, they just sit like that, making Chan all too aware of the dripping faucet in the kitchen, the faraway noises of the streets outside, the odd, muffled shout coming from some bedroom where Seungmin and Hyunjin are playing a video game. That last one feels comforting to him at least, as does Changbin’s weight at his side.

He can tell the quiet is not going to last, fortunately, when he senses Changbin starting to fidget ever so slightly.

“People are narrow-minded, you know.” He has pulled the sleeves of his sweatshirt over his hands and waves them around uncoordinatedly until he’s mostly just knocking them against his own thighs.

“Yeah.” Chan wants to huff out a laugh, to shrug the whole thing off, but instead the sound that escapes him bears more resemblance to a sigh.

“Hyung…”

One of the bedroom doors squeaks open, quickly followed by the sound of shuffling steps and a low voice muttering in a tone that’s too monotonous to be a chant and too rhythmic to be simply spoken words. As Minho comes into view, passing through the living room, the unintelligible noises morph into actual words.

“...our tired, sloppy dwaekki Changbinnie — forgetful, nasty Changbinnie, what should we do with you…”

Seemingly not taking note of them, he makes his way into the kitchen, still muttering to himself as their eyes follow his retreating form.

Chan snorts in amusement which turns into small giggles when Changbin lets out a loud, drawn out “yah!” in Minho’s direction. Upon hearing him giggle, Changbin looks back at him with mock offense and the hint of a smile on his face. “That’s so uncalled for!” he tells Chan, a whine lacing his voice.

“Awww, poor dwaekki Changbin.” He pats his knee consolingly, his mind momentarily lighter.

“He’s a forgetful piggy— dwaekki,” Minho suddenly reiterates, walking back into the living room, a mug in his hand.

“I’m not!”

“So you just ignored how you lost rock-paper-scissors today and now owe Iyen-ah, Hannie and me a drink and some snacks?” Minho asks in a curious, mocking tone that only makes Changbin whine louder.

“Pay up, dwaekki,” is his only response as he takes a drink from his mug before bringing it back to the kitchen. As soon as he walks back out he’s calling out to Jeongin, telling him to come along.

In the midst of all the shouting and bickering that Chan overtly winces at but secretly enjoys, Changbin turns back to him, his expression sobered up once more. “I can tell them off and let them whine at me,” he says, his eyes sincere.

“Nah, it’s okay.” He finally lifts his laptop off of his legs and puts it on the coffee table. “You better get the kids their snacks before Minho goes after you.”

Changbin rolls his eyes and unfolds his legs but the way he holds his body is still hesitant.

“I’m okay. Really,” Chan assures him with a smile that doesn’t come as easy as he would like it to.

“Alright,” Changbin says, standing up. He takes a moment to just look at Chan, before he reaches out a hand to bury his fingers in Chan’s hair at the top of his head, pressing his fingertips lightly on his scalp in a way that feels nothing but soothing and affectionate. Chan’s smile widens.

“You want something as well?” He retreats his hand and slowly makes his way to the hallway. Chan just shakes his head as Minho’s voice rings loudly through the dorm once more.

“Han-ah! What do you want from the store?” His mask is tucked under his chin and he fiddles with it as he waits for a reply that doesn’t come. As soon as he realizes as much, he huffs out an impatient breath. “Okay, so I’m just gonna have more for myself then,” he says more quietly but Chan knows it’s an empty threat, he’s just in one of his moods today. Minho goes to put his shoes on, while Jeongin is already waiting by the front door for his hyungs, and after some more nagging, the door falls shut behind them, drowning the dorm in more silence again.

With the members’ turmoil gone, there’s room in his mind now to be taken over by those words that made his evening quickly go to shit.

If you look that hot, you must be fucking.

Yeah, sure. He rolls his eyes at the words that are still ringing through his mind, his smile long gone now and instead replaced by a frown. Most of the time he can handle people’s speculations about him, or rather about his sex life, because at the end of the day they’re just that — speculations.

But there’s something about a stranger voicing such a speculation by framing it as fact purely based on the way he looks that ticks Chan off for some reason. It’s like a dense, grey jumble of messy thoughts, entangled by anger and aggravation that makes his eyebrows furrow and his shoulders tense up.

Though an unpleasant sensation, he finds that he very much prefers this over the doubt and self-contempt he had to fight with before. It makes his hackles rise even more when he notices that all too familiar doubt from years ago wanting to creep up his spine once again when he recalls those words.

Breathing out harshly, he gets up from the couch and consciously leaves his laptop behind when he makes his way towards his bedroom with hunched shoulders. He knows what he needs right now, and it’s definitely not letting this eat away at him on his own. The door to his shared room isn’t shut all the way, but he still raps his knuckles against the doorframe to announce his arrival.

As soon as he walks in, his eyes land on Felix, lying on his bed with his phone in hand and earbuds in and Chan pauses where he stands in the door to just look at him: His hair is in disarray, smooth strands springing in every which way, and his face is bare, showing off every single freckle of his but also the slight shadows under his eyes as well as the odd reddish mark on his forehead. He looks so real and touchable and absolutely perfect.

Felix catches his eyes and his lips tug up in a lazy smile, harbouring that certain kind of warmth that comes from being with someone for so long that the mere sight of the other person is enough to make comfort settle in your bones.

He flicks one of his earbuds away and lowers his phone. “Hi.” His voice is gravelly and calm and instantly, Chan feels safer, more comfortable.

“Hi.”

Neither of them says anything for a moment as Chan keeps standing in the doorway but it doesn’t feel awkward. Chan thinks he’s forgotten how to feel awkward around Felix a while ago.

“You good?” Felix asks but it doesn’t feel like he’s rushing him, like he expects a quick answer.

Chan just shrugs and takes a step forward to close the door behind him with a soft ‘click’ and leans against it. Felix regards him for a bit longer, letting his eyes roam over his form, and Chan thinks that it’s only fair to let Felix look his own fill.

When he takes his eyes off of him, it’s only to put his phone on the nightstand along with his earbuds before shuffling a bit around on the bed to get more comfortable and eventually stretching his arms out in an all too familiar gesture.

Chan smiles fondly and makes his way over to him, climbing into his bed and on top of him without hesitation. He settles between Felix’s legs with practiced ease, Felix wordlessly spreading them a bit more to accommodate him and for a short moment he rests them on the back of Chan’s thighs, securing him in place. Chan reaches his hands under Felix’s shoulders to hold onto him and lays his head down on his tummy. Felix’s t-shirt is soft where he nuzzles his cheek more into the fabric and he lets himself breathe in the scent he’s come to associate with nothing but care and comfort.

Nimble fingers weave through his hair once he’s settled, drawing a long, content hum out of Chan and he closes his eyes to try his best to lose himself in that sensation.

“Rough day at work?” Felix asks in a low voice. It’s light-hearted enough to hear the joke in his tone but the way it tilts up at the end hints at some hesitant concern as well. Chan hums once again, not quite sure yet how to word the muddled haze clouding his mind and he wants to enjoy the moment a little bit more before he will eventually disrupt their quiet bubble.

“Your tummy makes funny noises,” he says instead because — well, because it’s true and, not for the first time, he’s greatly entertained by it. Apparently, some things will never fail to amuse him. He feels Felix’s muscles restrict and loosen up again when he lets out an airy laugh that, in turn, makes Chan smile as well. Being with Felix like this is easy and only few things are able to put his mind to rest quite like this, with his warmth and scent and care all around him.

At some point, Chan has stopped caring to define what they are, has realized that calling Felix his little brother doesn't quite cut it but that "friends" somehow does not feel quite right as well. He doesn't know what connects them, something intangible that's more than mere romance, something that feels world-shifting and warm and familiar all at once. So by now he doesn't care all that much what people call them; lovers, friends, brothers, soulmates. Maybe they're somehow all of that, some kind of niche that connects all of those that they have made their own. The most important thing he knows about them, though, is that, to each other, they're home.

There’s something about being around Felix that makes him feel more honest, more raw as a person, and Chan was proven time and time again that Felix accepts that honesty, treasures it and returns it without a second’s hesitation. Which is why he always feels safe enough to voice those thoughts of his he would normally be too scared to burden anyone with.

“Do you think I’m leading people on?”

Felix’s fingers pause ever so slightly in his hair and Chan can basically hear the frown in his voice when he asks, “Where is this coming from?”

Chan shrugs as best as he can in that position. “Just… I know the way I look. So people assume stuff, you know. Stuff that’s not true.”

“Well, they’re dickheads then,” Felix says with more than a hint of malice in his tone, his words make Chan chuckle nonetheless. Felix lets one of his hands trail down his head, along his neck and beyond the collar of his shirt to lightly massage his skin there. The sensation makes Chan quietly moan under his breath. “But just for the record,” he continues earnestly, “you’re not leading anyone on just because you look the way you do. People have no right to make assumptions about you just because of your looks.”

“Yeah, I know,” Chan says around a breath and almost whines when Felix’s hand retracts but he’s quickly placated when Felix strokes his fingers over the back of his neck instead. He revels in it for a moment before he takes a deep breath and opens his eyes again.

“I know that,” he repeats, this time with more emphasis. “I don’t know why it still bothers me so much sometimes.”

“You’d think all that lurking on the 'not safe for work’ side of Twitter would have desensibilized you by now.”

He huffs out a laugh at that and Felix pats his head more softly to tell him he doesn’t make fun of him or his frustration. “That’s different, though,” Chan starts despite knowing that Felix is already aware of how he thinks about it. “Most of the time when I see stuff, I feel like I’m more like a character there, someone to thirst over that you can use as an outlet or something for fantasies. Usually people don’t spit out shit like I should be having hot, sweaty sex at least once a week because I can look and act the part.”

It used to make him second-guess himself, especially back then when he was just figuring out all that sexuality stuff, because he’s known how to act “sexy”, has known that people think he looks hot. And if he’s completely honest, it’s fun. When he’s in the moment, he enjoys acting in a way that people regard as sexy and sensual if their group’s concept calls for it (sometimes maybe even when it doesn’t call for it). He got it all down to a T as well — the bedroom eyes, the tongue wetting his lips, that certain way to roll his hips. He enjoys acting like that because at the end of the day it’s just that, an act.

“As if hot, sweaty sex is the end-all be-all…” Felix murmurs, scoffing.

“Yeah, exactly.”

Despite the still simmering anger in his gut, his chest feels warm upon hearing Felix matching his frustration. It’s something that reassures him time and time again because whereas Chan has no clue what sexual attraction is supposed to feel like, he knows that Felix does experience it, that he actually enjoys it; and yet somehow he just gets him, and not only that but the bigger picture as well.

With the next breath, though, his mind circles back to that stranger’s words. “I’m just so done with how… how normal people think it is to have sex. Or to want to have it, with other people no less, like... “ He trails off, having one hand tugged out from under Felix’s shoulder to wave it around aimlessly, before dropping it on the mattress.

That’s what baffles him most about that whole thing. He gets the feeling of being horny and why people would want to do something with that but he doesn’t understand what it is about other people that he should be attracted to in a way that makes him want to have sex with them. He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to be attracted to their body or their charisma or whatever, he just knows that he’s not.

“I’m so done with how people saying stuff like that throws me for a loop while they have no idea how fucking… how mindless comments like that can just make you feel… “ He cuts himself off and buries his face in Felix’s shirt, letting out a loud groan. Gently, Felix threads his fingers all the way from his fringe over to his nape and back again before massaging his temples with his thumbs.

“I’m okay,” Chan says at last, his voice muffled in the soft cotton, and he brings his free hand up to grab one of Felix’s. Immediately, Felix squeezes his fingers softly. “Really, I’m okay.”

After a moment, Chan turns his head back, his eyes quickly flitting over to where they’re still holding hands. Felix’s other hand has gone back to raking his fingers through Chan’s hair.

They stay like that for a few breaths as he tries to organize his thoughts because now that he’s started talking it’s like he’s pulled on a thread, causing individual fibres of that tangled mess to unravel.

“I’m just so frustrated, you know,” he tells Felix tiredly. “I know it goes with the job to entertain a certain image or a certain, like, persona and I’m fine with that. I was prepared for that, I’ve been prepared for that for a decade now. It’s just…“ As he tries to find the right words to describe what’s going through his head, he keeps fiddling with Felix’s fingers as best as he can given their position. “You just don’t really get prepared for this specific kind of situation, you know.”

Felix hums, and it’s a sympathetic sound that Chan feels reverberating in his body, right under his cheek. “JYP might be leader in entertainment, but they’re definitely not leader in sex ed.”

Chan lets out a surprised laugh and feels Felix’s warm chuckles more than he hears him. “Yeah… definitely.”

“For real, though,” Felix continues, the humour in his voice quickly ebbing away. “It wouldn’t hurt anyone if they covered education about asexuality as well in at least some of those mandatory sex ed lessons. On the contrary, even.”

“Yeah… then again, I doubt they’d get a sex educator that actually knows what it is and I don’t know what would be more harmful after all.”

“True.”

“That’s the thing, though.” He stops abruptly. He knows he’s about to pull on that thread some more but he already has an inkling he’s going to be overwhelmed with what he will detangle. “It’s not just me. There are so many more people who…“

It’s not something he has actively thought about yet because, frankly, the thought of people not only going through the same but even so much worse than he does renders him so helpless he’d rather distance himself as much as possible from that particular kind of heartbreak.

“Who struggle… and who need to be supported. And it’s so incredibly frustrating that, theoretically, I’m in a position to help or at least, like, raise awareness or something but…“ He can’t ever out himself as queer in any way. That’s just one of the many impossibilities in this industry, and usually, he can live with that — what’s one more lie for his job anyway. But this hurts differently, makes him feel lost and useless and he knows that he’s not the only one to experience this. Felix squeezes his hand.

“Wow,” Chan says a moment later in a deadpan tone. “This got depressing real quick.”

Felix snorts but his fingers keep up their gentle ministrations. It feels soothing but not placating because he just knows Chan too well, he knows that sometimes he has to vent out his frustrations and doesn’t need coddling. More often than not, all that Chan needs is a safe space, usually in the form of a person, where he can talk freely without worrying about judgement.

He lets out a frustrated huff. “How the hell did we get here? All I wanted to do was write a song about sex, I never said it’s autobiographical, what the fuck.”

Obviously he’d expected people’s reactions and he had known what kind of conclusions they would jump to. But somehow, he reckons, he had thought people would be more focused on the song quite blatantly talking about sex and not on whether it’s inspired by personal experience or not. And perhaps he was also just a bit too cocky, a bit too confident in thinking that he could deal with whatever people would have to say about it.

“I guess most people are still stuck on that idea of ‘write what you know’,” Felix muses, tracing his fingertips along the contours of Chan’s ear as he lets out an agreeing hum. After all, he’s heard enough stories from his friends and has listened to plenty of other songs about fucking around and has encountered more sex scenes in movies or shows than he can count. He’s got experience by proxy as well as his own imagination, and considering how their SKZ-Player turned out he dares to think that he can definitely rely on those.

And besides, making music is sometimes not all that different from cooking, for instance — there are sort of recipes that you can follow, full of guidelines and certain attributes and other elements that elicit different responses from people. Just how well-made it will turn out is up to you, and of course you can consciously deviate from that to try and spice it up; Chan is no stranger to that since they’ve been doing that in their music more than a handful of times. So, really, it’s not that hard to figure out how to make a simple ‘sexy’ song.

“But for some reason they don’t expect people who write thrillers or something to have killed someone.”

Felix laughs at that, squeezing his fingers a bit more. Amongst all the songs he’s produced, all the unfinished demos stacking up on his harddrive, he doesn’t think he’d ever get close to the perfect sound that is Felix’s laugh. He knows he’s cheesy, which is why he won’t ever tell anyone as much, he can save himself the infinite teasing he’d get for it. Nevertheless, he lets himself get wrapped up in the happy sound until he joins him, feeling lighter than when he entered the room however long ago that was.

That lightness doesn’t go away once their laughter fades away and he thinks Felix might notice this as well since Chan feels him tugging lightly at his hair and his hand, silently telling him to come closer. Chan follows him readily, and he lets go of his hand to move up on the bed until they’re face to face, chest to chest. In the same motion, he props himself up on his elbows so he can look at Felix more easily without his vision blurring and is immediately greeted by a soft smile. It’s bright enough to make his cheeks bunch up and the skin around his eyes crinkle and Chan feels himself overcome with the pure feeling of home home home.

Without a second thought, he reaches up to let his fingers card through Felix’s hair, applying pressure every now and then, already knowing exactly what kind of effect it will have. Felix’s reaction is instant; his eyes flutter shut while his mouth drops open a tiny bit, letting out a small, pleased sound from deep down in his throat. Even though he expected as much, it still makes Chan smile fondly as he looks down at his blissed out face and he lets his eyes trace over his freckles, undisturbed. Felix hums appreciatively, and although Chan knows he cannot actually sense it from his position, he can feel a familiar warmth thrumming through his veins.

They stay like this for a short while, with Chan’s fingers in his hair and Felix’s hands sliding along his exposed arms and Chan lets himself get swept up in the moment. All he has to focus on right now is Felix and the space they have created for themselves.

It doesn’t take long, however, for Felix’s hands to wander, to move higher, over his shoulders, and eventually through the holes of his sleeveless shirt where they start roaming over his back. Chan raises an eyebrow even though Felix can’t see it but he hopes it will bleed into his tone.

“Sneaky.”

A cheeky grin blooms on Felix’s face before he can rein it in, eyelids fluttering open so that big, innocent eyes stare back at Chan. “My hands were cold.”

In response, Chan tugs at a few strands of hair a bit harder than before, making Felix’s eyes droop once more. “Mhm,” he hums slowly. “Sure they were.”

Felix chuckles under his breath and just looks at him, his eyes flitting over his face while Chan waits for him to find whatever he’s looking for. He takes the time to take in his face in turn, from the creases on his bottom lip to the stray freckles spattered over his temples and just below his brow bone.

He remembers how insecure Felix used to be about his freckles, how he looked into the mirror with a frown whenever he was barefaced, how he squirmed whenever Chan used to poke the odd, tan spot, calling it pretty. But he also remembers how Felix’s frown became less and less when he took his makeup off as he slowly started to accept them, how he grew to be comfortable with them until he was glowing every time someone complimented them, how he’s now wearing them with confidence and pride.

He’s dragged out of his thoughts when Felix wets his lips before he tells him, his voice hushed and intimate, “I’m glad you feel safe enough to talk with me about this now.”

Now. Chan knows what he’s referring to and he averts his eyes. Flashes of memories weave their way through his mind, memories of a time when Chan kept all of his colours close to his chest, not daring to let even his closest friends see all the shades that make him who he is. It was fear and insecurity and a strange speechlessness, of not knowing how to properly express himself, that dictated the way he acted back then. In hindsight, he thinks back to that time with shame — he feels ashamed and embarrassed of not having trusted the people he keeps close to his heart, of not having trusted himself.

Soft hands slip out of his shirt and swiftly move up to cup his face, prompting Chan to look back at him.

“We’re okay.” For the way he almost whispers the words, they don’t lack conviction; his voice is filled with the same confidence that Chan has watched him grow back into over time. A slow smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You can always come talk with me about this. About everything. ‘Always find me’, right?”

Chan can’t control the wheezing chuckle escaping his lips upon hearing those familiar words, words that he had never thought would tie them together like this when he uttered them back then, years ago now.

“Yeah, okay. I will.”

A soft smile plays around Felix’s lips, seemingly satisfied with his answer, and he closes his eyes, his tender hold on Chan’s face never wavering when he leans in unhurriedly and kisses him. That’s a recent development, and it was scary at first; to Chan it’s a sort of intimacy that had always been tinted with expectation, most times when he’d kissed someone in the past, there had been this underlying feeling of not enough that had never failed to make him feel queasy.

Like this, however, it’s comfortable, like it’s just one more thing that he now shares with Felix. It’s just a warm press of plush, smooth skin, and it makes Chan feel nothing at all and everything all at once.

They don’t move fast yet they don’t linger either and soon enough, Chan opens his eyes again and is met with Felix’s gaze that is just as warm as his lips. Languidly, he starts circling his fingertips against the roots of Felix’s hair, causing him to let out a content hum.

“I’m really…“ Chan starts, slowly piecing together how to voice his emotions right now. “Thank you. That I can be like this with you.”

Felix’s smile brightens a fraction. “I like being with you… no matter what. I’m really happy I get to have you like this.” He smooths his thumbs over Chan’s cheeks and, even after all the comfort he was already shown tonight, it makes Chan feel utterly cared for.

After a few heartbeats, Felix’s eyes narrow suspiciously and his lips quirk up in a telling way. “You know, you might even say… ‘the stars are jealous knowing that you’re by my side’?”

Scowling, Chan moves away a bit. “Ugh, forget it, you’re the worst.”

Felix positively cackles and tries to hold on to his face as Chan tries to get away. Gleefully, his hands travel to the back of his head to keep him close and he laughs while also trying to purse his lips in Chan’s direction.

“Nope, you don’t get a kiss for that!”

“Ohhh, it’s Yongbokie’s kissing time again?” a new voice asks and before Chan can turn around to face their sudden intruder, Minho has already moved over and starts climbing on top of Chan. He grunts as Minho leans over his shoulder, pursing his lips provocatively towards Felix who drops his hands down to Chan’s arms. When Felix moves closer to him, though, a mischievous glint in his eyes, Minho jerks back with a shout that’s not only considered too loud indoors but especially right next to Chan’s ear. Chan winces, leaning his head to the side but instead of moving off of him, Minho gets comfortable on his back and drops a small green plastic bag next to Felix’s head that Chan hasn’t noticed before.

“We got you some more seaweed snacks since you seem to be obsessed with them at the moment, hyung,” Minho says neutrally, probably sensing Chan’s confused expression. Tentatively, he rests his cheek against Chan’s head, almost imperceptibly nosing at his hair. Waves of affection rush through him.

“Thank you… Still, you could have knocked, you know,” he tells him just to have said it, he’s not actually being serious right now, but he also knows Minho doesn’t always like them addressing those small moments of softness of his.

“I did but Yongbokie’s laughter was too loud!”

“Yongbokie!”

An excited Changbin treads into their room and, upon seeing them, apparently decides he wants to be part of their unplanned cuddle pile and quickly climbs on top of them. Then everything turns into a cumulation of loud yelling and general noisiness and Chan moves his weight more onto his elbows so he can push himself up so as not to crush Felix under their combined weight.

He hears Minho bicker atop of him, loudly but not earnestly complaining to Changbin about supposedly suffocating him, but Changbin just lets out a triumphant cackle in response. A moment later, when his overly loud amusement dies down but their general noisiness doesn’t, Chan feels a hand briefly stroking through his hair before he hears Changbin’s voice, telling him in a tone that’s laced with fondness, “Knew I would find you here.”

Among the sheer volume of Minho’s yelling and Changbin finally taking the bait and shouting back at him, Chan looks down at Felix, whose face is scrunched up in happy laughter that only serves to feed the racket they’re making.

Still laughing, Felix opens his eyes and looks back at him. The skin around his eyes is creased in all the right ways and he tightens the grip that he has on Chan’s by now slightly quivering arms the tiniest bit. Involuntarily, Chan smiles back at him, trying to match his brilliance.

There’s no place he’d rather be.