I decided that for any random scenes I'd like to do that probably wouldn't fit in any of my stories, it would be good to create this.
So I welcome you all to my Stray Kids One Shots!
Some will be Y/N stories (Member x female reader)
Trigger Warnings...
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
(A/N) 2nd cover because I'm extra
TW: death, devastatingly sad, mentions of self-harm, suicidal thoughts. No comfort, although it does end in a positive note. Ending is hopeful if you squint.
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The Five Stages of Grief
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"Hey Channie!" You entered his studio with a smile plastered on your face, that soon enough turned into a frown when you noticed your boyfriend of almost 5 years hasn't even acknowledged your presence.
He tended to do that a lot, especially when working on new comebacks. His whole focus was on that damn computer which you were sure by now was your life-sworn enemy. It's hard having to compete with a screen to get your boyfriend's attention, but such was life sometimes, and there was nothing you could do about it.
You knew the risks that came with dating an idol, you just didn't know how much worse it could be if you were to date a workaholic, perfectionist idol.
This was Chan.
He spent hours and hours and hours cramped in his small studio, perfecting beats, arranging vocals, switching up different rhythms and trying to figure out what could work out and have the most success between his fans.
"Have you eaten?" You asked, kissing his cheek, and only then did he notice you're there, and pulled out his headphones.
"Oh, hi. Didn't see you come in." Was all he said, his face scrunched in concentration. "Did you say something?"
"Just asked if you've had dinner yet."
He must've, right? It was well past 11 pm, but one of his bad habits was working himself to death, and more often than not, he would skip meal times entirely simply because he wasn't good at keeping track of time.
"I had a protein bar earlier." He shrugged.
"Want me to order you something? Or even better, why don't we both head home?" You asked with a smile, trying to be convincing enough for your boyfriend.
It usually worked.
He would normally laugh off your attempts to be nice and realise that you're just trying to take care of him, and he would comply and go home with you for the night, then resume his work the next day.
Once you'd be home, he would crash immediately, proof of how tired he'd been and how much he'd ignored his body's needs. His sheer determination was scary.
However, none of this happened tonight. He rolled his eyes and muttered a small "There she goes again."
You played it off, though, realising he probably didn't mean for you to hear that. Brave on his part, you thought, in such a small quiet studio.
