COMFORT PLACE | bang chan.

[ 11 ] it was at this moment he knew

Chan's at the studio when I call him, working on a track as usual. It's been two weeks since Kevin and I talked at the café, and my poor brother is still confused more than anything, continuing to pester me about it even as he goes through his end of term exams (which he aced because he's so smart I begin to realise where all the intelligence went). I had promised him I'd explain everything to him tonight after dinner during a game of UNO, which only made him narrow his eyes at me in suspicion, before he finally gave in and retreated to his room.

I'm in my own room now, looking through my lecture notes as Chan answers my facetime call. He's already grinning when he appears on the screen, leaning over and adjusting his phone to lean on something so that I can properly see him as he continues to work on the track.

"Hi, Chan," I greet him, happily.

He's in a black tank top today (how dare he), his arms exposed (dammit) and a baseball cap propped on top of his head. I wonder almost every hour of the day how someone could be so perfect, but life's mysteries, I guess.

"Hey, angel," Chan says, his gaze already flickering back up to the screen of his studio, his hands returning to his MIDI keyboard controller sitting in front of him. "What's up?"

Chan doesn't seem to notice what he said, but I certainly did. At the sudden nickname, my jaw unhinges, and my pulse instantly picks up its pace.

When I don't answer him, Chan tears his eyes away from the screen to look back at me, blinking and confused, before seeming to notice my blown eyes and gaping mouth. He says my name, questioning.

My mouth is suddenly as dry as a desert, finding it extremely hard to process anything with the loud beat of my heart drumming in my ears. I swallow, gathering my bearings.

"What did you just call me?" I ask slowly, trying to pick apart Chan's expression.

He seems confused for a moment, eyebrows pinching together, regarding me with a clueless stare, and then all at once, it dawns on him, his expression slowly contorting into a look of horror as his face goes a bright shade of red.

"Oh," he starts, before he's immediately backtracking, his hands flying off the keyboard as he begins to adjust the cap on his head, extremely embarrassed. "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry. It's—It's a lyric in the track I'm currently producing right now, and it just slipped out—" He avoids my gaze, completely frantic and bashful. "I didn't mean to, I swear—" He doesn't even finish explaining himself because he then starts to mumble to himself in Korean before I even have the chance to say anything.

Chan is lost in thought now and very clearly embarrassed, but my heart only swells in my chest. Angel. He gave me a nickname. There's a sharp and hard tug on my heartstrings as my own face blushes a bright red. In an instant, I have a sudden sense of happiness wash over me, a smile slowly beginning to bloom across my face as laughter bubbles from my lips.

At the sound, Chan snaps his gaze back to his phone screen, still red and flustered, but confused at the sudden reaction. If it's even possible, he reddens even more and leans back in his chair, raising his hands to tug at both of his bright red ears, whining my name. "Don't make fun of me!"

"I'm sorry," I snort, covering my mouth and giving him a warm look. "It was cute."

I can see Chan visibly tense for a moment, and his jaw drops slightly, caught by surprise at the sudden compliment, before a boyish and dorky grin slowly spreads across his face, exposing his dimples. Then he's covering his face with his hands and using his legs to push his rolling chair away and out of view of the camera.

"Don't say that," he calls to me, voice high and it only makes me laugh even more. "Ah, please don't do this to me!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I say again, my heart soaring. "Chan, aww, come back!"