Y/n stood by the house phone, her expression tense with worry, while Chan hovered nearby, concern etched on his face. Meanwhile, Changbin sauntered downstairs to the kitchen, clad only in his underpants and a black shirt, exuding an air of nonchalance. "Morning, daring ones," he greeted with a thumbs-up to Chan, who promptly shooed him away. Despite Y/n's obvious distress, Changbin seemed oblivious, buzzing with excitement over what he perceived as a successful outcome.
Y/n's voice rang out with a mix of dread and frustration as she spoke into the phone with her manager. "It's Y/n. The press is here. No, there are hundreds of them. My brilliant plan was not so brilliant at all. Yeah, I know, I know. Just get me out then." Hanging up, she muttered a curse loud enough for Chan to hear, her agitation palpable.
As Y/n headed upstairs, Chan followed closely behind, pausing briefly to caution Changbin. "I wouldn't go outside."
"Why not?" Changbin's curiosity was piqued. "Just take my word for it."
Once Chan ascended the stairs, Changbin, driven by curiosity, ventured toward the front door. From outside, his figure framed in the doorway, he initially appeared shocked and confused by the throng of paparazzi. However, seizing the moment, he struck a pose, soaking in the attention and flashing cameras.
Later, back inside, Changbin inspected himself in a mirror, pleased with his appearance. "How did I look?" he mused, admiring his physique. "Not bad. Not bad at all. Well-chosen briefs, I'd say. Chick loves black. Mmmmm. Nice firm biceps."
Meanwhile, Chan entered the room, his expression betraying his concern for Y/n. She was now dressed appropriately, though her demeanor remained tense. "How are you doing?" / "How do you think I'm doing?" Y/n's frustration was evident as she buttoned up her jeans, her gaze fixed on Chan. "I don't know what happened."
Chan sighed, attempting to diffuse the tension but it wasn't working. Y/n mind is too crowded on her image now. "I do. Your furry friend thought he'd make a buck or two telling the papers where I was."
"That's not true," Chan interjected, defending Changbin, but Y/n's skepticism remained.
"Really? The entire British press just woke up this morning and thought, 'Hey, I know where Y/n Scott is. She's in that house with the blue door in Notting Hill.' And then they go out while you're dressed in goddamn sweats?" Her tone, though not raised, was laced with bitterness.
Just then, Changbin entered the room, his enthusiasm grating on the already tense atmosphere. "I went out in my goddamn underwear too."
"Get out, Bin!" Chan's frustration boiled over, and Changbin, sensing the tension, promptly exited. Chan turned back to Y/n, offering an apology for his friend's behavior. "I'm so sorry."
"This is such a mess. I came here to protect myself against more gossip, and now I'm landed in it all over again. For God's sake, I've got a boyfriend."
"Still? I mean, you do?" Chan's surprise mirrored the emotion he felt the night Y/n went on their first date together, a moment fraught with uncertainty. "As far as they're concerned, I do. And now tomorrow there'll be pictures of you in every newspaper from here to Timbuktu."
"I know, I know... but... just... let's stay calm..."
"You can stay calm... it's the perfect situation for you... minimum input, maximum publicity. Everyone, you ever bump into will know. 'Well done you... y-you slept with that actress... we've seen the pictures.'"
"That's spectacularly unfair."
"Who knows, it may even help business. Buy a boring record song about war from the guy who screwed Y/n Scott."
Y/n grabbed her coat and sunglasses, shooting Chan a glare before storming out of the room. Chan followed closely, the two engaging in a heated exchange as they navigated the house, their words stinging with unintended hurt.
"Now stop. Stop. I beg you... calm down. Have a cup of tea."
"I don't want a goddamn cup of tea. I want to go home!"
As the doorbell rang again, Chan's frustration mounted, and he called out for Changbin's assistance. "Bin, check who that is... and for God's sake put some clothes on!" Changbin leaned merrily out of the window, unfazed by the chaos, his carefree demeanor a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere inside. "Looks like a chauffeur to me."
Y/n moved from the kitchen into the corridor, prompting Chan to follow suit. They stood together in front of the door, their conversation now taking on a calmer tone, tinged with the weight of uncertainty.
"And remember... Changbin owes you an expensive dinner. Or holiday... depending on if he's got the brains to get the going rate on betrayal," Y/n remarked, a hint of resignation in her voice.
"That's not true. And wait a minute... this is crazy behavior. Can't we just laugh about this? Seriously... in the grand scheme of things, this stuff doesn't matter," Chan pleaded, his hands gesturing frantically. Changbin, ever the eavesdropper, peeked into the conversation from a safe distance, anticipating Chan's next move.
"What he's going to say next is... people are starving in Sudan," Changbin interjected, earning an exasperated glance from Chan. Knowing Changbin's harmless intentions, Chan attempted to steer the conversation away from his unwanted input. "Well, there are. And we don't need to go anywhere near that far. My best friend slipped, he slipped downstairs, cracked his back, and now he's in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. All I'm asking for is a normal amount of perspective."
Y/n, visibly frustrated, roughly tied her hair back and adjusted her sneakers before turning her attention back to Chan. "You're right: of course, you're right. It's just that I've dealt with this garbage for ten years now... you've had it for ten minutes. Our perspectives are different," She admitted, her voice tinged with exhaustion.
"I mean... today's newspapers will be lining tomorrow's waste paper bins," Chan attempted to reassure her, but his words only seemed to worsen the situation. "Excuse me?" Y/n's frown deepened, her glare piercing through Chan's attempt at comfort.
"W-Well, you know... it's just one day. Today's papers will all have been thrown away tomorrow," Chan stumbled over his words, realizing the gravity of the situation.
"You really don't get it. This story gets filed. Every time anyone writes anything about me... they'll dig up these photos. Newspapers last forever. I'll regret this forever," Y/n's tone was heavy with resignation, her frustration palpable.
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