Letters On Our Skin || BangChan

51

The inside of the house is even grander than I had expected.
White walls, high ceilings, gigantic windows. Most of the furniture pieces are a creamy hue of white, only the center pieces of the living room and the chairs around the huge table close to the kitchen are every color imaginable. The couch could fit 16 people, its abundance of soft pillows inviting me to lay down.
Everything is wide and spacious, a wide staircase leading to the upper levels where the bedrooms and more bathrooms.
A few plants in pots and paintings are scattered around the rooms, everything accentuated by the smell of freshly grilled meat and baked bread.
"You got here just in time for lunch," Chan's mom says as we walk through the living room into the backyard.
The terrace leads into a green garden, surrounded on both sides by high trees, but completely open in the back. There is a pool to the left, with chairs and pool seats around it, and behind it all - the beach.
The boys are already running towards the sand when I step past the pool and onto the green grass. I feel a hand grasp mine as Chan slips past me, pulling me along to the water, laughing.
Together, we're racing for the water, my shoes sinking deep I to the soft sand. The sun is bright and I can smell salt and the ocean.
I almost trip over my own feet trying to keep up with Chan, but he pulls me faster and faster until we're knee deep in the cold, fresh water.

"Oh, my god!"
The cold temperature of the water takes me by surprise and I jump back towards the dry land.
Felix, Chan, Changbin, and Hyunjin are jumping, screaming, trying to throw handfuls of water on each other, pulling Jisung deeper into the waves. Minho comes to stand next to me, both hands in his pockets.
He looks slightly wary of the water, as if it might be dirty or could swallow him, and I remember that he had just learned last year how to swim.
Seungmin and Jeongin have fallen back into the sand, baking in the sun with their eyes closed.
"This is incredible," Minho says quietly to me, "I can't believe you planned all this. It must have taken weeks to get all this done!"
"Months, actually," I say and nudge his shoulder, "But it was worth it. Look at them, I've never seen them this carefree."
"You couldn't have chosen something a little farther away from the open ocean?" Minho scrunches his nose and kicks at the sand.
When I look at him, he's smiling at me with a glint in his eyes, and I know he's kidding, making jokes.
"You can always come back to Seoul with me," I chuckle but his eyes narrow.
He asks, "What does that mean? Are you leaving again?"
I nod and look at the boys in the water, "Not today, no. But I'm going back to Seoul tomorrow or the day after. You guys deserve some alone time away from
work, and some time to relax. I don't want to get in the way of their family reunion." I nod towards Chan and Felix pushing each other under water.
Minho smacks his lips.
For a second, I think he'll try to change my mind and fight me on this, but instead he simply says, "Sometimes you're dumber than you look."

"Hey!" I exclaim and turn back to look at him. "Can you be any meaner? Wow."
"It's true," he shrugs and watches Jisung squat down in the wet sand to pile up the sticky mass, "They're not going to like it, and honestly, neither do I. You are part of our family. And the fact that you don't even realize that makes you either blind or stupid. Take your pick."
I swallow thickly. I thought it was for the best to give them some space and time to enjoy with their families, and part of me wants to yell at Minho. He can be so blunt, so honest. Most of the time, I value this quality of his, but right now it makes me sick.
And even worse: it makes me doubt my own decisions.
"It's your choice," Minho says then, "But if you ask Chan if you should stay, he'll definitely say yes. Maybe you should listen to him."
Then he takes a deep breath and wanders over to Jisung, picking up a seashell on the way.
I follow him with my eyes, the breeze suddenly cold instead of refreshing, and I wrap my arms around my own body.

"Hey, what we're you talking about?"
Chan appears next to me, dripping wet.
"Oh, nothing," I lie, before taking him in completely, "God, even your shoes? You're gonna catch a cold! We need to get you into some dry clothes. The others, too!"
I call for the others to get out and away from the water and back inside to change their clothes.
As we walk back inside the house, they're dripping water onto the terrace, the living room tiles, the staircase.
Olivia shows everyone the free rooms, and the boys quickly find their roomies.
Chan and Felix.
Jisung and Minho.
Hyunjin and Jeongin.
Seungmin and Changbin.
Me.
I decide to take this opportunity to wash off the bus ride and take a quick shower, before putting on a pair of blue lounge shorts and a white tank top. I also take my black zip-up sweater with me as I make my way back down to the living room.
When I get back outside, most of the boys are already there, filling their plates with meat.
"Ah, Ollie," Felix' mother calls me over with a salad spoon in her hand, "Try some of this potato salad. It's my mother's old recipe!"
She piles potato salad onto a plate and hands it to me, before adding, "You should also have some of this cucumber salad and the carrots! And take some meat! We made a lot!"
I nod my head into her direction gratefully and do as she says.
Chan's dad holds up a chicken skewer and says, "Ollie, chicken, yeah?"
I nod and giggle when he puts three skewers on my plate.

I feel Chan behind me before he even places a hand on my waist. He's changed into a short pair of comfortable sweats and a simple shirt. He smells like he also took a shower and I catch myself taking a deep breath.
"Dad, she's going to explode," Chan jokes but I can see in his face how much he missed this.
He stands taller, and he's almost the same height as his father. His smile is bright and wide, though there is another tone to it. Something that had been reserved only for his family.
His hand is still on my waist when his dad hands Chan his own plate with steak and skewers, and he curls his fingers into my shirt for a second, nudging me to follow him to a lounging chair by the pool.
We sit side by side on the chair, our bodies slightly angled towards each other. I pull up one leg and balance my plate on the knee.
"Where did you get that salad?"
Chan points to the potato salad with his fork.
I say, "Mrs. Lee made it, it's by the tomatoes on the big table."
Chan purses his lips and forks up a bit to try. I watch him try food off my plate and my breath hitches.
He seems so much more comfortable. Carefree. Not even worried about his parents or the managers, like we're just regular people.
Our legs touch and he places a hand on my thigh, looking over the garden.
Something in me wishes it could always be like this. That we could be like this forever. That we wouldn't have to care if someone sees us touching or cuddling or talking. That we could be like any other person, without fear. How much easier it would be for us. How featherlight it would be to lean over and kiss him or take his hand in mine.
In that moment, for the very first time, I wish Chan would be like me. Not famous. Not an idol.
And even though the guilt following that thought threatens to kill me, I can't deny it's truth. And I don't know what's worse.
Wishing his fame away, or realizing that I did in fact wish away the part of his life giving us the chance to lead this kind of life in the first place.