Mischief Managed (Stray Kids Oneshots)

Strength In Harmony - Seo Changbin

The rhythmic thuds of your gloves hitting the punching bag echoed through the gym. Each punch sent a ripple through your muscles, sharp and satisfying. After a few minutes, you stepped back, chest heaving as you pulled off the gloves and flexed your sore hands.

"Okay, I get it now," you panted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. "This is a great way to blow off steam."

"Told you," Changbin said with a grin, tossing you a water bottle. His dark hair was damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead in a way that somehow still looked effortlessly cool.

You caught the bottle and twisted the cap off, taking a long sip. "You were right," you admitted. "Sometimes you just need to hit something."

His grin widened smugly. "I'm always right."

You narrowed your eyes, pointing a finger at him. "Don't push it."

He raised his hands in mock surrender, but the mischievous glint in his eyes remained. Despite yourself, you couldn't help but smile. The tension that had weighed on your shoulders earlier had loosened, dissipating with every punch you'd thrown.

As the playful banter faded, a comfortable silence settled between you. Changbin sat down on the gym floor, resting his back against the wall and patting the spot next to him. You followed suit, sitting close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him.

For a moment, the only sounds were the distant hum of the building's air conditioning and the faint creak of the punching bag swaying on its chain. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. His jaw was set, his expression unusually serious.

"So," you said softly, breaking the silence. "What's been bothering you?"

He let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Just... everything, I guess. The pressure to write the perfect song, to make sure the group stays on top, to keep everyone happy..." He trailed off, his shoulders slumping. "Sometimes it feels like I'm carrying more than I can handle."

Your chest tightened at the raw honesty in his voice. You knew Changbin as someone strong, capable, and driven—a rock for everyone around him. Hearing him open up like this was rare, and it made your heart ache.

"Changbin," you said gently, "you don't have to carry everything by yourself. You've got people who care about you, who want to help. Let them."

He turned his head to look at you, a faint smile tugging at his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I know. But it's hard to let go, you know? I don't want to let anyone down."

"You're not letting anyone down," you said firmly. "You give everything you have to your work, your team, your fans. But you're only human, Binnie. It's okay to take a break. To lean on others."

For a long moment, he didn't say anything. His gaze was fixed on some distant point, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. Then, to your surprise, he reached out and took your hand, his fingers warm and slightly calloused from years of practice.

"Thanks," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "For reminding me."

You squeezed his hand, your chest tightening at the vulnerability in his tone. "Always," you replied. "You're not alone in this, okay?"

He nodded, and this time his smile felt genuine, though still faint. "Okay."

The two of you stayed there for a while, sitting side by side on the gym floor. Slowly, as if a dam had broken, Changbin began to talk. He told you about the creative block he'd been struggling with, how he felt torn between staying true to his artistic vision and meeting the expectations placed on him. How, sometimes, he lay awake at night wondering if he was good enough.

You listened intently, your hand still clasped in his. You offered words of encouragement when you felt they were needed, but mostly you just let him speak. It wasn't often that Changbin allowed himself to be this open, and you didn't want to interrupt the moment.

By the time he finished, the weight on his shoulders seemed to have lessened. His posture was more relaxed, his breaths steady. He leaned his head back against the wall and let out a low chuckle.

"You're really good at this, you know," he said, glancing at you.

"At what?"

"Listening. Helping me make sense of things."

You smiled, a soft warmth spreading through you at his words. "Maybe it's my secret talent."

"Guess I'll have to come to you more often, then," he teased, though his tone was sincere.

"You better," you replied, bumping your shoulder lightly against his. The motion was small, but it felt grounding, a reminder of the bond you shared.

The gym's fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead as the clock ticked past midnight. Neither of you had noticed how late it had gotten. Changbin stretched his arms above his head, groaning slightly as his muscles protested.

"Come on," he said, pushing himself to his feet and offering you his hand. "Let's get out of here. I think we've earned some rest."

You took his hand, letting him pull you up. "Think the punching bag learned who's boss?"

He laughed, the sound rich and full, echoing in the empty gym. "Definitely. But just in case, we'll come back and remind it tomorrow."

You rolled your eyes, but a grin tugged at your lips. He slung an arm around your shoulders as the two of you made your way toward the door. The cool night air hit your face as you stepped outside, refreshing after the warmth of the gym.

Walking side by side, you felt a quiet sense of contentment. The weight of your earlier frustrations had melted away, and Changbin's mood seemed lighter too. You glanced at him, taking in the soft curve of his smile, the way his eyes seemed brighter now.

"You know," he said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence, "I don't think I say this enough, but... I'm really glad I have you."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you kept your tone light. "Someone's getting sentimental."

"Don't get used to it," he shot back, though the warmth in his voice betrayed him.

As you reached the end of the street, you knew one thing for sure: with Changbin by your side, even the toughest battles felt a little easier to face. And if the glimmer in his eyes was any indication, he felt the same.