Bang Chan

The echo of the concert still vibrated in your ears when the apartment door opened. Chan shuffled in, wearing his favorite gray sweatshirt (the one you had stolen from him three times) and his hair still damp from the spray and the effort.

"I almost fell asleep in the car," he murmured, smiling with that mixture of exhaustion and happiness that only he knew how to have.

Without another word, he walked straight toward you, where you were sitting on the sofa with a book you hadn't been able to finish because you were secretly watching his fancams. He dropped his full weight onto your lap, like a big, exhausted puppy, and wrapped his arms around your waist.

"It smells like your favorite cream," you said, running your fingers along the back of her neck.

—I wore the one you gave me. You said you liked it.

She closed her eyes and her breathing slowed. You knew her phone was about to explode with messages from the band, the manager, the songwriters... but in that moment, you were her entire world.

"Did you eat?" you asked, even though you already knew the answer.

—Mm... No. But you give me more energy than food.

You rolled your eyes, but your heart skipped a beat. Carefully, you moved him so he rested his head in your lap while you looked for some cookies on the table. He opened one eye, smiled that shy wolf grin, and took a bite straight from your hand.

"I love you," he whispered against your fingers. "Thank you for being my home when the world is noise."

Outside, Seoul continued to shine. But inside that small apartment, there was only her breathing, your hand in her hair, and the certainty that, even if she had to fly to another country tomorrow, she would always return to your lap.