𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒊𝒕'𝒍𝒍 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆.

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒊𝒕'𝒍𝒍 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆.—-𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒚-𝒕𝒘𝒐

Playing Always Forever by Cults

Change.

He needed change.

Every look in the mirror and it's remembering instead of forgetting.

Make a change.

He wants one.

He hates seeing it. She loved it but he hated it.

Make a slight change.

Maybe even cut it.

Hair holds memories.

After the meeting, chan had excused himself upstairs, giving himself time to fully process what he had just done.

What had he done? He'd put trust in someone else but himself. Shared the burden if you will. And it was rather freeing. Though he still felt the weight on his shoulders, it wasn't as heavy.

He was still scared, that never really left. Their reactions was something he had only hoped for. They were supportive and instead of judgement or pity, he saw looks of understanding.

It was hard to open his mouth at first but he did it. He confessed.

He really did and he was so proud of himself. Jihyo would be proud of him. He still worried for how or where she was. If she was still alive or if the virus got to her.

"Chan?" A voice rang out through the door of the bathroom. He was stood in front of the mirror, a discomfort still present in his chest as he stared into his reflection.

Apart of him wanted to be left alone. But the biggest part wanted comfort. So if he was opening the door in the next second and pulling the person on the other side in, he was moving unconsciously.

Changbin stood in front of him, a certain sadness lingering in his gaze. Chan would ignore that for now.

He could see his own reflection in the mirror, his face twisting into a grimace upon seeing himself. It was something he'd always felt but reliving his past made it the feeling larger.

Today his mouth was opening with no resistance and he couldn't help but let it happened.

"I can't stand looking at myself...I don't—no I know why..." he muttered, turning away from the other, not bothering to see what his expression was.

He knew why now. He always knew why he felt like this if he's completely honest. But there was a refusal to admit because a part of him loved his hair.

He loved his curls, he loved it because it was the last thing his mother complimented him on. She loved his hair, treasured it because it was a feature of hers he had.

"Your hair..." chan nodded to Changbin's quiet answer. He knew. He knew Chans discomfort with the sight of the hair his father so desperately hated. Something he loved to pull and degrade as a flaw of his.

"I love my hair. My mother—the curls! But I can't...without hearing his words. I need a change—but I don't want to cut—!" Chan was rambling, a certain anxiety at the thought of cutting his curls. He didn't want to. But it was almost nauseating to look at the same brown curls he used to drag him by.

He was cut off by two arms eloping his into a hug, comforting as two hands found their way soothing his back. "Chan. Chan calm down. We won't cut your beautiful hair." His tone meant to reassure, his voice quiet in his ear. "Breathe Channie."