The morning light creeps into the bedroom, slipping across the rumpled sheets and the faint warmth still lingering in the air, remnants of everything you and Bang Chan shared last night. It had been intense; he’d held you close, whispered things only meant for you, loved you with a tenderness that left something deep in his chest aching in the best way.

But when Chan’s eyes blink open, the first thing he feels is the cold.

Your side of the bed is empty. The blankets are pushed back. Your body heat is already fading.

He reaches out instinctively, palm brushing the mattress where you should be and the moment he feels nothing but cool fabric, something in him sinks.

His jaw tenses. His stomach twists.

Did you… leave?

The thought hits him harder than it should. He sits up slowly, running a hand through his messy hair, replaying last night in his head, the way you held onto him, the way you whispered his name, the way he kissed you afterwards like he couldn’t stop.

No part of it felt wrong but fear has always been Chan’s weak spot.

He gets out of bed, pulling on sweatpants and a loose shirt, trying not to let the ache in his chest grow. The dorm is quiet, the members are still asleep, and every step down the hall feels heavier.

As he reaches the kitchen entrance, he prepares himself for the worst, for the possibility that you realized last night was too much, or too intimate, or too-

His thoughts crash to a stop.

Because you’re there.

Standing in the kitchen, hair messy from sleep, wearing one of his shirts that hangs a little too big on you, pouring coffee into two mugs like it’s the most natural thing in the world.