bangchan—ex

It was late. The streets were quiet, but the unease settled in your chest like a heavy stone. You had noticed it a few minutes ago, the soft echo of footsteps behind you that seemed to match your pace, slowing when you slowed, hastening when you did. The streets were nearly empty at this hour, your friends had taken a different route home after a night out. You were alone, and someone was following you. The realization sent a chill down your spine.

A glance over your shoulder confirmed your fear. A man, a stranger, was keeping pace with you, his presence growing more menacing with every passing second. You could feel his gaze on you, the way he loomed just a few steps behind, closing the distance. Panic surged in your chest. You needed to do something, now. In your desperation, your mind raced for a solution, for an escape. And then, in the haze of panic, recognition struck. You were near his neighborhood.

Chan, your ex-boyfriend.

The realization hit like a desperate lifeline. Your fingers moved instinctively, unlocking your phone and scrolling through your contacts. It had been months since you last spoke. Months since everything ended. But right now, he was the only person who could help you.

In a dimly lit room just a few blocks away, a phone buzzed quietly on a nightstand. Chan stirred, brows furrowing as the vibration pulled him from sleep. His hand fumbled for the device in the dark, blinking against the screen’s glow. Who would call him at this ungodly hour?

He sat up slowly, one hand pressing against the bed to steady himself, the other sliding to accept the call. A quiet sigh escaped him, half confusion, half irritation.

“Hello?” His voice came out groggy, rough with sleep, but unmistakably familiar.