PSYCHO | BANG CHAN [✓]

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Chan was convinced he was in heaven. Everything he could have ever wanted, was finally his. Misun was finally his. All of the waiting, all of the pining, it was all worth it. He would have waited forever for her.

The best part about it was that nothing had really changed. They acted mostly the same, their routines were the same, now there was the added bonus of non-platonic skinship, sweet nothings and kisses. God, the kisses.

Chan couldn't get enough of them. When he had woken up the day after their first kiss, he was worried it would be the only one he would get. He feared she would wake up regretting her decision, given she wasn't completely sober, and would have led to an awkward conversation about how she wished she hadn't and asked him to forget about it.

But, when he made the decision to bring Misun breakfast the next morning, he was met with the brightest smile he had ever seen grace her lips. When her lips found his for the second time, it took everything in him from dropping the tray of coffees and pastries on the ground.

They spent that day lazing around at her house. Nothing but eating, cuddling on the couch, and squeezing in as many kisses deemed appropriate.

Chan found himself wandering around, looking at what she kept on her bookshelves, asking about photos she had on display, the random knickknacks lining the shelves. He listened intently to every story she shared about them, where they came from, why she kept it, who everyone was in the pictures.

When Misun brought up that they needed to take pictures together so she had a picture of him to add to her shelf, he jumped on the opportunity. They took dozens, and she looked beautiful in all of them. She picked out her favourites to print out, but if it were up to Chan he would have printed out all of them.

He learned more about her that day than he ever had since they met. He made mental notes of everything she had said, even the most mundane answers to the blandest questions. He wanted to know everything. Everything about her was intriguing, even when she explained what her favourite colour was. Yellow — not too bright, not too pale, the perfect yellow. Chan had no idea what the perfect yellow was, but he figured he would know once he finally saw it.

Chan had never felt so safe and content in his life. The feeling of Misun's head resting on his chest, one hand in his and his other hand ran through her hair. Soft kisses left on the top of her head every once in a while. This was a feeling Chan could only imagine calling home.

He could stay in this moment forever, let the days and world move past them. They could build their own world inside this room, what happened outside of himself and Misun, wouldn't matter. His world would be nothing but her, his world already was nothing but her.

And he would do anything to keep it that way.