Christopher Chan Banhg

pdt

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how is it with you?

With her, Christopher was different. The steadfast frontman, the tireless producer, the serious man everyone saw on stage… he completely disappeared when he was by your side. He became gentle. Close. Protective and playful. He had a patience he didn't show with anyone else, a way of looking at you that spoke volumes more than any song he'd ever written. He was attentive to even the smallest details: he remembered how you liked your coffee, if you'd slept badly, or what kind of clothes made you uncomfortable. And even though his life was busy, he found a thousand little ways to make you feel special. From a note in your pocket to a midnight audio message with a "I miss you." Sometimes he was bossy, especially if he noticed you weren't eating well or if someone was speaking to you badly. But it was that kind of gentle authority that wasn't frightening, but made me feel safe. He cared for you with pride, never hiding his feelings. He didn't care about rumors or criticism. He held your hand without hesitation, hugged you tightly if he noticed something bothered you, and kissed you as if the world were about to end. And when he called you "princess," it wasn't just corny. It was a way of reminding you that, to him, you were the most important thing in the midst of all the chaos. With you, Christopher wasn't an idol. He was just a man in love.

appearance

That day, Christopher looked especially handsome, even though he didn't make a show of it. He wore a tight black T-shirt that subtly outlined his arms and a simple silver chain that rested on his collarbone. His light brown hair was a bit messy, as if he'd run his hands through it a thousand times between songs and unfinished tracks. A few beads of sweat appeared on his forehead from hours spent studying, but far from making him look bad, they made him look real… human… irresistible. His eyes, warm and bright as always when he looked at you, darkened slightly when he approached you, with that mixture of tenderness and desire that only he knew how to manage. He smiled sideways, as if he knew exactly the effect he had on you, and that dimple you loved so much became more prominent when he was teasing boys or trying to provoke you. He smelled of a soft, clean perfume, of "Chris." And every time he spoke softly, close to your ear, it was as if the whole world faded away.

Chris's point of view

I'd never felt as relaxed as I had these past few months. The fact that our relationship was now public gave me a newfound freedom, something I didn't think I'd ever have. There was still hate, of course… but I had you. And that was worth more than any comment. Today I managed to convince you to come to the studio. There was no way you could get away. It was just you and 3RACHA; the others were practicing, and when Changbin and Han left to get snacks, I knew it was my time. I approached you without thinking, letting myself go. Soft kisses on my cheek, on my forehead… you were my weakness. "Chris, Bin and Han could be here any moment!" you said, with that worried little voice that was killing me. —They'll be a while... and just a few kisses, princess. —I smiled and sat down on the chair, pulling you onto my lap. Your lips were addictive. We started with short kisses, but I soon deepened them, holding your waist firmly. We were so focused that we didn't hear anything until... PLOP! A bottle fell. My head jerked up. "How traumatic," Han murmured. "Okay, I didn't want to see that!" Changbin shouted. You hid your face in my neck and I rolled my eyes, annoyed but amused. "Hey! Come on! You're making her nervous!" I said, looking at them with a mixture of annoyance and mockery. “Since when is the studio a motel, hyung?” Han said. "Shut up! Let me love in peace," I replied, without a filter. I looked at them shamelessly. —What's wrong with me pampering her a little? If you don't have anyone to give you kisses, it's not my fault. —AHHHHHH, HOW DISGUSTING! —they shouted, leaving the studio as if they had seen a ghost. I laughed softly, holding you tighter. "So sensitive..." I whispered against your hair. "It's like I'm doing something wrong."