bangchan –

The studio door creaks open — no knock, no hesitation — and Chan doesn’t need to look up to know it’s you.

your sigh fills the space like it belongs there. You kick off your heels, glitter from today’s shoot still clinging to your cheekbone, and drop onto the couch face-first — right into the hoodie you stole months ago and never returned.

He leans back in his chair, laptop glowing with unfinished beats, and watches you settle in like you live here. Honestly, at this point, you kind of do.

You’re best friends. Have been for years — through training hell, the chaos of debuting in your own separate groups as leaders, heartbreaks, wins, and way too many 3 a.m. takeout runs. You’re his person. Which is exactly why what he’s about to say sounds so stupid.

He clears his throat. “My mom called earlier.” You grunt in response. Encouraging.

“Family dinner this weekend. In Seoul. Everyone’s gonna be there.” A pause. He spins slowly in his chair to face you.

“…So I might’ve told them I’m dating someone.”

You turn your head just enough to look at him. Blank stare. No words yet.

“…You.”

He winces.

“Please don’t kill me. It just kinda… slipped out.”

And just like that, he’s asking his best friend to fake-date him in front of the entire Bahng family.