All The Colors Of You || Bang Chan

Chapter Twenty Six - Perrie

When I wake up the next morning, Chan is not in bed.

I find him standing in my kitchen, working away at an omelette with freshly cut bell pepper. He's shirtless, stirring the pan, nodding along to music doodling out of the radio speaker on the window sill. I lean against the doorframe, watching him silently.

Shadows ripple over his back and shoulders with the play of his muscles beneath his skin as he reaches up into a cupboard to find salt and pepper. The curves of his arms burn themselves into my memories, just as I spot the dimples in the low of his back, almost disappearing into the waistband of his shorts.

I bite my lip before I silently sneak up behind him and wrap my arms around his middle.

"Woah," he stiffens for a moment before relaxing into my touch, "Good morning, beautiful. Did I wake you up?"

"No," I answer as I lean my cheek against his shoulder and place my open hands against the flats of his stomach, "You look so pretty in my kitchen. I could get used to this view."

Chan chuckles. I can feel the vibration of it in my own body. He's warm. He leans against me and hums happily. I can feel the warmth bloom in me like a candle flame growing to a blaze, making everything rosy and bright and addicting.

We eat breakfast on the couch with my feet in his lap and his laughter like music all throughout my apartment. He looks so comfortable sitting here with me, it almost feels as if he's always been here. As if this is where he belongs.

When he leaves, I take my time to shower and wash my bedsheets, before I make my way to the atelier. I feel energized and giddy, full of joy, and with an itch in my fingertips to dip my brushes into some paint.

Chan doesn't stay away for long, though. He finds me at the workshop a few hours later, a small bouquet of flowers in his hands. He stays two hours.

This becomes our routine. In the days before the concert, his team and the boys get incredibly busy. Since we can't be seen together like any normal couple would, he comes to visit me at the workshop every day. After practice, between vocal sessions. In the middle of the night, when I work late.

Most times, we talk a lot, share food and drinks, share memories and secrets. Other times, we don't talk at all. We stumble between paintings, roll around between sheets on the floor, over test patches and spilled paint. I've never been happier.

The day of the concert comes quickly, way faster than anticipated.
Chan calls me in the morning, telling me to pack an overnight bag and that he'll send Duke to pick me up for the concert tonight.

The day goes by slowly.
I am too nervous for tonight, stuck in limbo, unable to do anything of significance, so I spend a few hours at the art studio just sketching.
With the Straykids portrait keeping me busy, I've barely been able to gather ideas for my own art show in a few weeks. Time is fleeting and there aren't enough hours in a day.
I do think I've finally settled on a few topics I want to portray, though.
One of them is beauty. Another is love.

Granted, recent developments in my personal life have really pushed me to settle on these two topics in particular.

Bang Chan inspires me.
The lines are flowing from my pen straight onto paper like a swan cuts through water in a lake.
A body takes shape on several pieces of paper, then parts of a face just too familiar to me.
Chan's back and his strong shoulders, the curve of his hip, the muscles of his thighs.
Our hands, intertwined loosely.
Everything is just so much easier with him on my mind.

When I get back to the apartment, I still have two hours to get ready.
Taking a shower, doing my hair and make up, and packing my bag happens quickly.
Deciding on what to wear, however, happens hauntingly slow.
The Straykids fanbase is rather particular about their style. If I want them not to think of me as suspicious, I need to look like them.
I start with a baggy pair of black cargo pants. One of those one-sleeved jackets would be nice, or a pair of plateau high-top Converse. But I don't have either of those.

In the end I settle on a cropped white collar shirt and a black tie, paired with chunky black boots.
It'll have to do.

Soon after I'm done, my doorbell rings.
Duke carries my stuff to the car and drives me across town.
In front of the venue, we get in line with dozens of other cars trying to drop somebody off.
Thousands of people surround us, and it almost feels apocalyptic.
People, most of them my age and dressed to the nines, carrying posters and paper fans with the boys' faces on them. And all of them march towards the entrance of the stadium with a determination like a soldier at the frontlines of a war.

"Oh, Chan asked me to give you this," Duke says then and reaches his big arm behind the passenger seat. "Almost forgot."
He places a bag in my lap, white with black tissue paper.
I throw Duke a questioning look but he's too busy to snake us into the line, he doesn't even notice my confusion.

I open the bag and have to laugh.
Inside I find a paper fan with Bang Chan's face on it. Beneath that is a brand new lightstick still in its box and a paper bag filled with photo cards.
All of them are signed by the people in the pictures.
One of them shows Chan, grinning into the camera, holding up a flower with delicate pink petals.
When I take it between my fingers, I notice it's not really a traditional photocard at all. It's a printed picture.

I turn it around.

Thinking of you. Can't wait to see you.
Enjoy the show!
xoxo
- Chan

For a moment, I stare at the picture with heated cheeks and a giggle in my throat.
Then I store it in my pocket.

Duke finally reaches the drop-off in front of the entrance and turns to me with serious eyes.
"Okay, listen," he says, "This is important. When you're inside, you'll have to find the information counter and tell them your name. They'll know who you are and someone will come to fetch you. They'll get you to your seat and they'll get you backstage to Chan after the concert is over."
I blink, but stay quiet, trying to memorize all this information.
Duke continues, "It's super important that you do not let any of the fans know how close you and Chris are. Listen to me, Perrie, it's imperative they don't notice you're his girlfriend."

I swallow thickly.
Chan and I haven't talked about our relationship like that. We've never discussed what we are to each other.
But has he talked about me like that?
Has he called me his girlfriend?

"Today, you're just another fan, alright?"
Duke pats my shoulder and finally starts grinning.
"And most importantly, have fun!"
Then he waves for me to open the door and I step out, my purse filled with merch, and I make my way into the venue.