Chan has always been a constant in your life. You knew him when he was younger, when he hid behind oversized hoodies, when his laugh cracked, and when his dreams seemed too big to be real. Back then, he was all shy smiles and rough edges, the boy who never quite believed he was enough.

But time has changed him.

Now, Chan has grown into himself, stronger, sharper, and with a presence that fills the room. His charm sneaks up on you in the smallest moments: the way he laughs with his whole body, the way his shoulders carry both strength and comfort, the way his confidence lights up everything around him.

There’s still a trace of the boy you once knew in the curve of his grin and the warmth of his voice, but now he’s someone else entirely too, someone you can’t look away from.

And maybe the most dangerous part? He has no idea how stunning he really is.

This is the Chan who’ll carry your groceries one-handed just to make you laugh, who blushes when you tease him, but who also takes your breath away without even trying.

The living room is quiet except for the low hum of the TV. Chan sits across from you, leaning back casually on the couch, his arm draped over the backrest. He tilts his head when he catches you staring, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“What?” he asks, chuckling. “You’re looking at me like I grew a second head or something.”

The truth is, you’re just stunned. He’s not the awkward kid you used to know, he’s grown into someone so magnetic it’s almost unfair. You try to brush it off, but he raises an eyebrow, waiting.

“Don’t tell me you just noticed,” he teases, leaning closer. “I’ve been right here the whole time.”

His grin lingers, but there’s something softer in his gaze too, like he’s daring you to admit what you’ve been thinking all along.