fragments | bang chan

vi.

What kind of person gifts a glass soap container to someone? You grumbled under your breath as you continued sweeping the tiny glass fragments into the dustpan, annoyed that you were clumsy enough to knock over the stupid soap bottle. Of course, you had just refilled it as well, and slippery liquid was everywhere, creating bubbles as you raked the brush into the liquid over and over again to get all the tiny smithereens of glass. "Now I'm gonna have to wash the fucking brush and everything," you muttered under your breath, wanting nothing more than to hurl the dustpan against the wall. But you knew that would create more mess to clean up, and you were absolutely not in the mood.

After sweeping up a majority of the glass, you spotted a larger chunk in the corner. It seemed to be the only large chunk that remained of the bottle, and you gingerly picked it up, being careful not to let your soft fingertips touch the sharp edge of the shard. The bright light from the ceiling shone through the dark brown bottle, and you frowned, still feeling slightly guilty that you had broken Chan's mom's gift to the both of you, even if it was just a stupid soap bottle.

Which in turn, brought your mind back to Chan, which made your anger flare up again. You closed your fingers around the shard, and without thinking, hurled it against the bathroom wall. You just so happened to throw it at the shower wall made of tile, and it bounced off the stone and made its way back to you twice as fast. Your eyes widened for a fraction of a second before you shut your eyes tightly, but you felt the glass graze your cheek.

Just your luck.

You opened your eyes and immediately spotted the shard sitting next to you on the ground. You sighed and picked it up, placing it into the dustpan rather than hurling it at the wall again. You then stood up and looked in the mirror, hissing quietly as you ran your fingers over the frighteningly large slit the glass had made on your cheekbone. Small drops of blood gathered in the cut and began to fall. Tears brimming your tired eyes, you wet a clean washcloth with warm water and dabbed at the stinging cut.
You were so pissed that you were crying, and you hated crying. It felt weak and useless, especially when it was the result of something that was your fault anyways. You held the cloth to your face and hung your head in shame. How strange that physical pain hurt less than the emotional pain that this boy put you through sometimes.

"So, what's 3RACHA anyways?" you asked, twirling a piece of your hair on your finger and pouting. "I know it's what your group is called, but what does it mean?"

"There's not really any deep meaning to it if that's what you're asking," Chan chuckled, slipping on his beanie. "We just liked how it sounded. Plus, Han is basically in love with Sriracha. It just fit."

You hummed in approval while chewing on a bite of toast.

"Anyways, I'll see you tonight, okay?" he said, pressing a quick kiss to your temple.

"Wait, tonight?" I thought that you were coming home early today?" you put down your toast, distraught at the idea of Chan overworking himself. "You've stayed at the studio after hours five times this week already. It should be the weekend. You should be home and resting." You frowned.

"Baby, I promise I'll be okay," he said, his usually kind voice slightly annoyed. "And it's only for a little while anyways. Changbin has some really great ideas that we've gotta get down. And after that it'll be me and you again on weekends. Okay?"

"Okay..." you said, hesitantly. You hadn't tried to make it seem like you wanted him to be home to spend time with you, you were beginning to get genuinely worried about his health, and you didn't like the tone of his voice. But you knew he was stressed, so you kept your mouth shut.

"Come on, cheer up," Chan said, hugging you from behind. He nuzzled into your cheek, trying to make you smile, and you managed, although it was a weak one. "Don't worry too much, okay?"