fragments | bang chan

ix.

Had it really been just a week since that happened? You swore it felt like a lifetime ago, watching the sun rise through the window, crying to yourself as you realized that you no longer loved him. As you woke up alone again, you found yourself reminiscing, acting as if that last night you had spent together was years and years ago, not a number of days you could count on your hands.

You felt a pulling in your chest that urged you to get out of bed, even though you had barely slept. You felt oddly well-rested even though you should realistically be more tired than ever, and you were able to get out of bed after just a few quick stretches. After you made the bed, you started making coffee, and then washed your face and brushed your teeth. You even put on makeup, something that you hadn't done in several days. It was strange, to feel so high-functioning again after such a long period of depression. You sat down at the coffee table in clean clothes, munching on a piece of toast and sipping your coffee, sweetened with cream and sugar.
It had been a week since you and Chan had fallen asleep on the couch together. A week since you realized you needed to end things. A week since he had woken up and made you breakfast, and then left without another word. A week since you had last seen him or had any contact with him. A week since you worked up the courage to be the bigger person and cut him off, and a week since he had taken yet another thing from you: the chance to end it for good.

Chan had woken up early, feeling you curl up into his chest, your breathing steady and calm. His heavy eyelids were begging him to just fall back asleep and ignore everything, to just wrap his arms around you and pull you closer. But he knew he couldn't do that. He had things to do.

Carefully, he shifted his body out from under you, freezing when you almost awoke. Luckily, you weren't conscious enough to realize what was really going on, and you fell back asleep right away, allowing him to finish moving himself off of the couch.

As quietly as possible, he tiptoed to the kitchen. He knew this alone wouldn't be enough to make everything up to you, but it was a start. He pulled out your waffle maker and started delicately mixing together ingredients, knowing the recipe by heart from so many lazy Sunday breakfasts the two of you had made together in the past. His heart throbbed painfully at the many memories you two had made together, the simple action of pouring waffle mix into the machine stirring up the past. He plated a few of the waffles as neatly as possible on a plate, arranging fresh berries on top of the stack. He carried the plate to the table and put out all of your favorite toppings, and made sure that he turned the coffee machine on so that when you woke up, it would still be hot. He stuffed a leftover waffle into his mouth as he washed the dishes, and then crept back to the bedroom to get dressed.
He left the apartment soon after with his wallet, keys, and phone, and not much else. He had texted Jisung and Changbin twenty minutes prior, and they reluctantly agreed to meet up with him, although they had exchanged concerned looks upon learning about the situation that had taken place the day prior.

It was obvious: Chan was panicking. And when he panicked, they knew he resorted to desperate measures to get what he wanted.

---

"So... Are you planning on buying (Y/N) some more expensive jewelry to make up for everything, or what?" Changbin asked, jerking his hand towards the jewelry store the trio was standing in front of.
"Kind of?" Chan said, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. His breath escaped him in white tendrils, the temperature contrast extreme even for December.

"Well can you hurry up and explain? I'm cold," Changbin grunted, pulling his black beanie over his red ears.

"Why couldn't we have discussed this in a café or something?" Jisung complained, agreeing with Changbin.