The dorm was quiet, lights dimmed except for the warm glow of Chan’s phone balanced against his water bottle. Midnight lives always felt a little more intimate, fewer comments flying by, more familiar usernames lingering. He smiled as he scrolled, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands.

“Hi, stays,” he murmured, voice low and gentle. “It’s late. Are you all taking care of yourselves?”

Across the room, Minho was sprawled across a pristine hotel bed, one leg hanging off the side, TV murmuring quietly in the background. He wasn’t really watching it. His phone was propped against a pillow, Chan’s live filling the room instead. Minho flipped channels absentmindedly, eyes drifting back every few seconds, like he was checking that Chan was still there.

Chan laughed softly at a comment, dimples appearing. He read another one, eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“Chan, what name does Minho call you since you’re his only hyung?”

Minho froze. The remote slipped from his fingers, thumping softly onto the carpet.

On screen, Chan’s lips curved upward, not teasing, fond. He leaned closer to the camera like he was sharing a secret.

“Ah… that?” He chuckled quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Actually, he doesn’t even call me hyung.”

The comment section exploded immediately, hearts and question marks flooding in.

Chan’s smile softened even more. “He calls me… Chan-ah.”

Minho scoffed under his breath, ears warming despite himself. “You didn’t have to say it like that,” he muttered, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

Back on the live, Chan looked a little shy now, eyes flicking away from the camera for a split second, like he could somehow see Minho watching.

“I think it suits me better,” he added quietly. “Coming from him.”

Minho’s phone buzzed almost instantly.

🐰 Chan: You’re watching, aren’t you?

Minho didn’t hesitate.

🐱 Minho: You’re loud.

Chan laughed on live again, sudden and bright, and stays immediately noticed.

“What? Nothing,” he said, still smiling down at his phone. “Just… someone important.”

Minho lay back against the pillows, turning the TV off completely now. He stared at the ceiling, Chan’s voice filling the silence instead.

“…Chan-ah,” he murmured, testing the name again, softer this time.