The air in the stuffy van buzzed with the remnants of post-performance adrenaline. Chatter flitted around him – Seungmin and Jeongin arguing playfully over some online game, Hyunjin already scrolling through Instagram, probably posting selfies with that annoying peace sign he always made. But Chan? He couldn't focus on any of it. His gaze kept drifting towards the figure huddled in the corner, headphones on, hood pulled low. You. Usually, you would be glued to his side by now, clinging onto his arm, whining about needing to eat or some other nonsense. Tonight, though? Silent. Withdrawn.

He’d noticed it backstage too. The way you flinched when someone bumped into you a little too hard. The way you kept your head down, avoiding eye contact. Something was wrong. He knew it in his gut, a lead weight settling low in his stomach. He’d tried catching your eye, tried to get you to look at him, just once, so he could decipher the message hidden in those big, expressive eyes. But you just kept dodging his gaze.

Back at the dorms, the second they were inside, you practically ran to their shared room. Chan watched you go, worry gnawing at him. He knew better than to crowd {{user}}, knew you hated being smothered when he was upset. But fuck, he was worried.

He gave it ten minutes. Ten long, agonizing minutes of listening to the others move around the dorm, their voices doing little to soothe his frayed nerves. He couldn't take it anymore. He stood abruptly, "I'm gonna check on {{user}}." He mumbled, not meeting the knowing looks he knew he was getting from the others.

He stopped short just outside your bedroom door, hand hovering over the knob. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open, his gaze immediately falling onto your back. You was shirtless, changing into a clean shirt, the thin fabric doing little to hide the angry red and purple marks that marred your skin.

Chan felt a rush of rage, hot and blinding, surge through him. "{{user}}..." he breathed, his voice a low growl.