among us | minsung

bang chan: control console

Profiles (1,380,051 files) 

[ Profile: Bang Chan ]

➤ Basic Information 
    | Age: 22
    | Birthday: October 3rd, 1997
    | Assigned Color: Black
    | Generation: Third Wave
    | Children: One

➤ Games Won: 263
    | Game 1, duration 39:12
    | Game 2, duration 24:57
    | Game 3, duration 17:42
    View 260 Other Games… 

Chan slammed the end game button with the side of his fist until it burned, and then some. Physical pain hurt less than the shattering of his heart, less than the memory of Felix’s final breath replaying in his head like a fucking horror movie with no end. The lights in the game cut out, and Chan could hear the players scrambling around the ship. He flicked on the ultravision sensors that illuminated everything in an eerie green glow, and spotted Minho’s lime suit creeping into Electrical. 

Minho, for what it was worth, was an excellent player. Chan had the privilege of watching him play multiple times, and was in awe after every successful game. But now all he felt was rage. It festered in his veins like a clot and blocked all other senses. Minho was the reason his best friend was lying on the Navigation floor, staining the metal red with his blood. Minho was the reason a bunch of strangers in safety suits carried his boyfriend’s body out of the game area. All of Chan’s pain was because of Lee Minho. 

He slung his jacket over his broad shoulders and shoved past his father, who was idly spinning in his chair. Chan wanted to kill him almost as much as he wanted to see Lee Minho slaughtered. This man, old and wrinkled, was staring at the game screens like he was watching a TV show from Earth. 

“Where are you going, Chan?” He asked. “The game has just begun.” 

Chan grabbed the back of his father’s black t-shirt and hauled him to his feet. “My friends are not a game,” he sobbed, and the rage clot burst. He slammed his father against the control console, and Dahyun accepted it with nothing more than a pained grunt. The lights in the cafeteria flickered on-and-off as Dahyun was dragged across the buttons, triggering sirens, lights, and making the players' screens glitch. Chan’s hands closed around his father’s throat and squeezed. Violence stemming from pain is said to make the best man a criminal. Nothing, no force on any planet, is stronger than a broken man's first tear, because once the first falls, the rest cascade. 

Dahyun knew that. He felt the same brokenness as his son. Everyday he sat and watched children die for a game that held no meaning other than tradition, and he felt more and more like a monster. So when the hands on his neck tightened like a friendly noose, he smiled. He smiled because for the first time in over twenty years, he was being treated like the monster he was. His only hope was that Chan did better. Chan was a beautiful, caring boy, and Dahyun was proud to call him his son. Chan was the only thing from Dahyun’s life he would ever be proud of, and he died peacefully staring at his son’s face. His precious boy. 

Dahyun’s body fell limply to the ground, and Chan collapsed. Everybody in his life died with a smile, like their lives were so torturous that death made them happy. Like a meeting with Death made them happier than Chan did. 

Changbin smiled at Minho as if he held the Earth in his eyes, even with a knife to his throat. Felix accepted Death’s invitation like it was nothing more than a warm hug. He didn’t fight Death to stay with Chan, to curl into his comforting embrace once more and kiss him goodbye. They left, all of them, without hesitation, and Chan could only wonder what he fucked up so bad that his most important people would rather die than see him again. 

With a weak cry, he pulled himself to his feet and into the chair. The cool metal spine dug into his back, an uncomfortable reminder that there were still three other teenagers being preyed on. Chan could save them. He could save three lives for the three he lost, and Minho could be ejected. 

He flicked on the lights, and the players stopped running. Hyunjin and Seungmin huddled in the corner of Electrical, standing in a patch of Felix’s blood. Jisung paused in the hallway outside of Navigation with one hand on the metal railing and the other shielding his torso. Minho was with him, and Chan’s blood boiled at the sight of him, unharmed. Jisung leaned into Minho’s body like a ragdoll, and something in Minho shifted. He gently pulled Jisung towards Navigation, whispering words Chan couldn’t hear and turning his face away from Changbin's body. Chan watched, tears spilling down his cheeks, as they fell in love. 

It reminded him of the day Felix confessed to him. They were playing charades, Chan remembered, and Felix was pretending to be Mrs. Carman, one of the grouchy cafeteria ladies that served food with hair in it. Chan could hardly breath through his laughter, and Felix was staring at him with his jaw unhinged. He was wearing one of Chan’s battered hoodies, with bedhead that stuck up in thirty different directions. But it was his eyes that made Chan’s heart flutter. The way Felix soaked him in like he wanted to drown in Chan’s body, eyes, smile. Chan, through all his smiles and strength, was being seen. His sadness, the loneliness that crept up on him in the darkness of his bedroom. Felix saw it all, and he still fell in love. This was the type of love talked about in songs and books. The kind that made you smile at their name and laugh at their bad jokes. 

“I love you,” Felix had blurted, and Chan kissed him silly. From the tips of his soft hair, across his starry cheeks, to the most intimate parts of him. 

Chan would kill a thousand men to hear Felix say those words again. But for now, he could only do the next best thing. One tiny step at a time. 

He tapped the microphone with his finger and cleared his throat. “Attention, players. The game has ended. Please report to the cafeteria to be escorted out of the game.” Chan couldn’t leave Minho, not when Jisung looked at Minho like he looked at Felix. Not when Minho smiled, and Chan forgot for a second that this crumbling man murdered people. 

It seemed there was one force more powerful than brokenness, and it was love.