Mischief Managed (Stray Kids Oneshots)

A Thousand Little Things | Bang Chan

The clock ticked past midnight, the soft hum of the city beyond the studio windows now a distant lull. You were seated cross-legged on the couch, watching Bang Chan tweak his latest track on his laptop. His headphones covered his ears, his eyes narrowed in concentration, and his fingers moved with an expert rhythm over the keyboard. There was something mesmerizing about him when he was lost in his work, fully immersed in his world of beats and melodies.

Every now and then, he'd steal a quick glance in your direction, as if to check that you were still there, and each time he did, a faint blush tinged his cheeks. You couldn't help but find it endearing that even though you'd been friends for so long, he still got bashful around you.

Finally, he took off his headphones, sighing and leaning back in his chair. His eyes found yours, and he flashed you a tired but warm smile.

"Sorry for keeping you here so late," he said, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "I just wanted to get this mix done. I didn't think it would take so long."

You shrugged, smiling back. "I like being here with you, Chan. You know that." Your words came out softly, and for a moment, his expression softened even more, something vulnerable flickering in his gaze.

He looked down, a little shy. "It... it means a lot, honestly. Having you here. It makes it feel a bit easier, like I'm not in this alone."

You moved over to him, perching on the arm of his chair. "You're never alone, Chan," you said, reaching over to gently squeeze his hand. "I know you carry a lot of pressure. But remember, you've got people who want to help lighten the load."

He sighed, leaning into your touch. "I try to remember that, but... it's hard. There's always this feeling that I need to be strong, to lead, to keep it all together for everyone."

His words hung in the air, heavy and honest. You could see the weight of his responsibilities etched in the lines on his face, in the faint shadows under his eyes. You wished he'd take more time for himself, that he'd let himself relax, if only for a little while.

"You don't always have to be strong, you know?" you murmured, your thumb tracing gentle circles over his knuckles. "You're allowed to lean on people too."

He looked at you, his gaze searching, as if he were trying to understand something he'd never allowed himself to fully believe. "You make it sound so easy."

"Because it is," you replied, smiling. "At least, it's easy when it's with people who care about you. People like me."

His breath hitched a little, and his fingers curled around yours, holding your hand a little tighter. There was something in his eyes, something raw and unguarded, as if he was finally letting his walls come down, if only for a moment.

"Can I... ask you something?" he asked, his voice almost hesitant.

"Of course, anything," you replied, giving him an encouraging nod.

"Why do you stick around? I mean, with everything... with my crazy schedule, the late nights, the constant back-and-forth... Why do you stay?"

The question caught you off guard, but the answer came naturally, as if it had always been there, just waiting to be spoken.

"Because it's you, Chan," you said, your voice soft but steady. "You're worth it. Every late night, every long hour... It doesn't matter. I see how much you give to everyone around you, how much you care, and I want to be there for you too."

He looked down, his thumb grazing over your hand in slow, gentle movements. "You have no idea how much that means to me."

You smiled, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead. "You're an amazing person, Chan. And I just wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

He swallowed, his gaze drifting back up to meet yours, and for a moment, you were both caught in the quiet of the studio, the hum of the equipment around you the only sound in the room. His eyes searched yours, as if looking for confirmation, for reassurance, for something he'd been longing to hear.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Thank you for being here. For everything."

You squeezed his hand, leaning a little closer. "You don't have to thank me, Chan. I'm here because I want to be. Because... I care about you. A lot."

Your heart raced as you said the words, wondering if he could hear the quiet confession hidden within them. His gaze softened, his eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and warmth, and before you knew it, he was closing the distance between you.

His lips brushed yours softly, hesitantly, as if he were afraid of breaking the delicate moment. But when you leaned into him, his hand cupping your cheek, the kiss deepened, filled with all the words you'd both left unspoken until now.

When you finally pulled back, you saw a new light in his eyes—a light that spoke of hope, of gratitude, of something tender and fragile that was growing between you.

"I... I didn't know you felt that way," he murmured, a small, shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You chuckled, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. "Well, I guess now you do."

He laughed softly, brushing his thumb over your cheek. "Guess I should've been brave enough to ask sooner."

You smiled, pressing your forehead to his. "There's no rush. We've got time, Chan. All the time in the world."

And as you sat together in the quiet of the studio, his arms wrapped around you, you knew that this moment—this simple, quiet moment—was the start of something beautiful. Something real.