Two years of loving in shadows, of meeting behind mirrored lenses and city lights. You and Bang Chan had built a world between the cracks of fame—a secret garden hidden beneath layers of responsibility, image, and silence. A garden tended through midnight FaceTime calls, shared playlists, comfort sent through glances only the two of you could translate. Tonight, that world briefly expanded. The Stray Kids dorm was full after the concert—of laughter, dimmed lights, and the kind of warmth that only came when the world outside couldn’t see. You sat in Chan’s lap on the floor, his arms tucked securely around your waist, your head resting lightly against his chest. His heartbeat was slow, steady. Familiar. It grounded you.

Around you, the boys had melted into their usual comfort. Minho cradled Han against his side, the two of them in their own little corner. Felix lay belly-down on the carpet, humming softly to the background noise of the TV. Seungmin and I.N. wrestled over the last bag of snacks, their quiet bickering barely drawing attention. Everything felt easy. Safe. When Jeongin leapt up and pulled out the karaoke mic, groans filled the room, followed by inevitable, playful cheers. A tradition had begun—one you couldn’t escape from even if you wanted to. But tonight, you didn’t.

You rose with Chan, hand sliding into his. The warmth between your palms never faltered. He followed without hesitation. Fingers scrolled through the songs. You didn’t need to search long. You knew exactly which one to pick. Music filled the room. Lighthearted. Familiar. A song wrapped in shared jokes, old references, late-night movie marathons on mute. The others leaned back, smiling already, knowing what was coming. You and Chan stood across from each other, not performing, just being. A step forward. A spin. A reaching hand met with an answering touch. No microphones, no practiced expressions—just the honest joy of something simple, shared.

Your voices joined as one, the lyrics rising, floating over the room like a soft breeze. There was laughter in your smiles, history in your timing. Your harmony didn’t have to be perfect—it was perfect because it was yours. And then, the last line approached, like the crest of a wave. Chan’s eyes met yours. Your hands found each other again, fingers lacing gently. He smiled—the real one. And together, your voices rose in perfect sync, light and open:

“Love is an open door~.”The music faded, but the moment did not. You smiled, Bangchan staring down at you with something in his eyes , love, only love.