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Back To Y/n's POV
As the room buzzed with the hurried activity of people collecting their bags to leave, a nagging curiosity gripped me. What had Chan orchestrated during this seemingly routine departure? With a deep chortle that reverberated through the room, Chan's response hung in the air, leaving behind a sinister undertone that didn't escape anyone's notice.
Amid the collective unease, Minho couldn't contain his frustration and was the first to demand answers from Chan, cutting through the tension with an impatient tone. "What do you mean by 'switch'? What exactly did you plan?"
Chan's eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and secrecy as he casually explained, "I knew they'd come back after we left. James knows I keep my medical stuff around, maybe even a journal or notes. So, I switched them."
Switched? The ambiguity of Chan's words fueled the growing tension in the room, leaving us hanging on the edge of understanding.
It became apparent that my feelings of frustration weren't unique, as Minho pressed Chan further, refusing to wait any longer for an explanation. "Are you saying you left things in the house that will worsen their illness?"
Chan, unfazed by the brewing tension, confirmed with a calm demeanor, "That's right, Seungmin." The room fell silent as we watched him methodically wipe off jars of organs, not offering even a glimpse of remorse.
Suddenly, it hit me like a wave. James and Arthur were destined to meet a fate that would grant not only our freedom but potentially save other children out there. A surge of questions flooded my mind, and I couldn't help but voice my concerns. "Chan, how long until we can return home?"
Chan's eyes gleamed as he looked up, acknowledging my presence. Walking over to the radio, he turned it back on, drowning the room in the continuous chatter of a news reporter. "I talked with Miss Peregrine, and we've decided to move to a new mansion in a few days, once the case settles down a little. Until then, we'll have to bear with it."
As the room emptied with people processing Chan's revelation, I found myself alone with Chan, our eyes locked in a silent exchange. Despite a twinge of hurt that he had kept this plan from me, a deeper understanding prevailed. Without overthinking, I rushed to him, pulling him into a heartfelt hug, and burying my face in the comfort of his neck.
Chan, initially caught off guard, responded by embracing me in return. In that shared moment, words weren't necessary. "Thank you," I whispered, my gratitude echoing through the quiet room. Chan, with a rare vulnerability, admitted, "Then I should be thanking you for coming into my life, Y/n."
