stray kids imagines

bangchan | a place to rest

ʳᵉᵠᵘᵉˢᵗᵉᵈ ᵇʸ @Izzy_006
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slight angst. fluff / 680
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it had been one of those days.

the kind that sits heavy on your chest, pulling at your limbs like gravity decided today it wanted to work twice as hard.

everything felt like too much - too loud, too fast, too sharp. so you did what you always do when the world becomes too much to carry: you shut it all out.

messages went unread. your phone stayed face down. even the silence in your apartment felt loud, but at least it didn’t ask anything from you.

when the knock came at your door, you thought about ignoring it. maybe if you stayed still, it would just go away.

but it didn’t.

instead, a familiar voice, soft and careful, came through the door.

“...it’s me. can I come in?”

chan.

your heart ached and warmed at the same time. you didn’t say anything, just pulled yourself off the couch, heavy and slow, and shuffled to the door.

you didn’t check the mirror. you already knew what you’d see - tired eyes, a face that said i’ve been trying my best and still feel like i’m drowning.

you opened the door.

chan stood there, hoodie up, bag over his shoulder, his face a quiet kind of worried. the second his eyes landed on you, the tension in him softened. he didn’t smile. not the full kind, just a tiny one, like he was saying hey. I see you.

“hey,” he said gently, like the word was a hand reaching out.

you stepped aside. no words. not yet.

he came in, kicked off his shoes, and set his bag down. then he turned to you, really looked at you, and you saw the way his shoulders shifted like he wanted to pull you in but didn’t want to overwhelm you.

“I got worried,” he said, voice quiet. “you weren’t answering, and I just… I didn’t want you to be alone tonight.”

you opened your mouth to say something - anything - but nothing came out. your throat was thick, your chest tight.

he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you.

it wasn’t a desperate hug. it was steady, grounding, the kind of hug that tells you it’s okay to fall apart because someone else is going to help you hold the pieces. your arms came up slowly, wrapping around him as your forehead pressed into his shoulder. he smelled like clean laundry and warmth.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, barely audible.

he shook his head, his hand cradling the back of yours. “don’t be. you don’t have to be okay all the time. you’re allowed to have bad days. I’ll be here through all of them.”

and just like that, your walls cracked.

not with sobs. not with shaking. just soft, silent tears that slipped down your cheeks as you let yourself feel. chan didn’t say anything. he just held you tighter, like he was trying to tell you, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.

later, he coaxed you to the couch, pulled a soft blanket from his bag and wrapped it around both of you. he brought your favourite snacks and a bottle of water - because of course he thought of everything.

the tv played something calm, but you didn’t really watch it. your head was tucked under his chin, and his fingertips traced quiet shapes on your arm. the world felt a little less sharp with him beside you.

after a long silence, he asked, “do you want to talk about it?”

you paused. “not yet.”

“okay,” he said, without hesitation. “then we don’t have to.”

he didn’t press. he never did. he just stayed.

he hummed sometimes - soft melodies you barely recognized, just enough to fill the quiet without breaking it. eventually, your body started to unclench. your breathing slowed. you felt… safe. not fixed. not perfect. but safe.

when you finally whispered, “thank you for coming,” his lips brushed your temple.

“always,” he murmured. “you don’t have to go through anything alone. not when i’m here.”

and for the first time in days, you believed that maybe you really didn’t.