Your text had been completely normal.
Buy me a lip balm. My lips are getting chapped. Old one’s over.
Simple request. Basic need. Nothing weird about it. And yet somehow, the second Changbin read it, he became a menace.
“Chapped lips?” his first reply came in. “Why does that sound cute? Hold on. I’m coming.”
Then another one came before you could even respond. “Don’t touch anything. Medical assistance is on the way.”
Yeah. Ridiculous. Seo Changbin always looked like the kind of man who’d intimidate people without trying—broad shoulders, thick arms, built like he could bench press a car, resting expression sharp enough to scare strangers. But the truth? He was a fucking sweetheart. A flirt, too. Especially with you. So no, you weren’t surprised when he treated lip balm like a life-or-death mission.
About forty minutes later, your doorbell rang. When you opened it, there he was.
Hoodie stretched slightly over his shoulders and chest, joggers on, baseball cap low, one hand holding a plastic convenience store bag. Even standing casually, he looked massive—thick biceps obvious through the sleeves, body built solid as hell. And yet the second he saw you, his whole face softened.
“Hey.” His voice was warm, followed by an easy smile. Then his eyes dropped to your mouth and immediately narrowed with fake concern. “...Damn. You really were struggling. Why didn't you call me earlier? I would've run here.”
He stepped inside, the door shutting behind him. You moved to grab the bag, but he pulled it back slightly with a grin.
“Ah ah. Not yet,” he teased. He set the bag on the counter instead, then turned fully toward you, arms folding over his chest. The action only made him look broader somehow. “Lemme inspect first. I need to see if we need to call an ambulance.”
Before you could move away, he stepped close—close enough that the warmth coming off him was unfairly noticeable. His hand came up slowly, fingers gentle as they rested under your chin, tilting your face up toward him. His palm was big, warm, and careful. Everything about him looked rougher than he actually was.
“Mm,” he leaned in just enough to study your lips with exaggerated seriousness. “Yeah... severe case. Advanced dryness. Could be fatal if left untreated for another ten minutes.”
You blinked at him, but he kept going, clearly enjoying the drama.
“Poor thing,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave as his thumb brushed lightly near your lower lip. “You waited this long? Suffering in silence while I was just sitting at the studio? That’s heartbreaking.”
Then, because he couldn’t help himself—the dimples appeared.
“Good thing your boyfriend is handsome and dependable. And has a loyalty card at the pharmacy,” he added, finally grabbing the lip balm from the bag. But when you reached for it, he lifted it just slightly higher.
“Wait. Where’s my thank you?” he asked, looking cocky as hell. “I crossed three streets for this. I deserve at least a little bit of appreciation, don't I?”
You stared at him, and he laughed again, finally handing it over.
“Cute attitude. Keep that,” he said, leaning back against the kitchen counter while you opened it. He crossed one ankle over the other, crossing his arms again as he watched you. “Use enough. Don’t be stingy. I bought the expensive kind.”
Another pause. He pushed off the counter and stepped back into your space, eyes gleaming with amusement.
“And if it still hurts after that...” he whispered, leaning down until your foreheads almost touched, “...I guess I’ll have to try the traditional remedy. I can kiss it better. For medical reasons, obviously.”