You sit at your mirror, applying setting spray over your carefully crafted makeup. Closing the makeup tutorial that's been playing on repeat for hours, you sigh. If only you were talented enough to do this whole look without it.
When your phone dings, your heart flutters. You already know it's Chris—it has to be. No one else would be texting you at this hour. You giggle to yourself as you read his text via the notification.
It's my birthday today!
You clear your throat, trying to compose yourself.
"Calm down, it's just a guy," you mutter to the mirror before typing back:
Oh? Happy birthday!
Should I get you a gift?
You glance at the calendar. October 3rd. He's a Libra? You shake your head. Does it matter? No.
The gift of seeing your face, maybe? xD
Your heart skips a beat.
You mean you want a pic?
You quickly browse through your camera roll, searching for a decent photo. You find one, but as you stare at it longer, all you see are flaws. A tiny zit on your forehead. Your hair looks more wavy than straight—what if he prefers straight hair? You shake your head.
"Stop it. It doesn't matter," you whisper, trying to convince yourself.
Or
You pause at his one-word reply. Or what?
That's when the video call notification pops up. Your eyes widen so much that your own reflection startles you. Should you answer?
At least you already have makeup on and your hair's done. There wouldn't be any harm in it, right? After a moment's hesitation, you click the answer button, adjusting your angle for the best possible view.
But the second you see him, time stills.
Chris' raven-black hair falls perfectly into place, brushing against his eyes like a shadow. Those deep, almond-shaped eyes, intense yet gentle, seem to draw you in, as if he can see right through you. His plain white tank top stretches across broad shoulders, hinting at strength beneath, while his casual jacket hangs loosely, softening his sharp features. And his earrings—just a small touch, but bold—give him an edge, like a quiet rebellion. You can't look away.
He isn't just handsome. There's something about him. Something dangerous. The kind that pulls you in, tempting you to get lost in him. And even if you risk never finding your way back, it feels worth it.
"Hey, Y/N," Chris grins, revealing a single dimple on his cheek. "You alright?"
The sound of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. An Australian accent. Of course.
"Yeah, I'm fine," you attempt to sound casual, then clear your throat. "Happy birthday, by the way."
His face lights up, and he nods. You swallow hard, silently telling your heart to calm down—it's just a guy.
"I see you like anime," he comments, glancing at something behind you. You turn, spotting the poster. A shiver runs through you.
"That's actually my sister's," your voice comes out tighter than you intended.
"Your sister has excellent taste," he says playfully, his eyebrows raising in curiosity.
The words "don't ask" replay in your mind, panic stirring in your stomach. Is he going to ask about Ella? Should you tell him?
YOU ARE READING
Wrong Number (Y/N x Bang Chan)
Fanfic"Why are you still texting me? It's the wrong number." "I'm starting to think it's not."
