Chan's POV
The hotel room door clicked shut behind him.
Chan dropped his bag to the floor and collapsed face-first onto the bed, arms outstretched, body buzzing with the weight of everything that had just happened.
She was gone.
The silence pressed in immediately—thick, unfamiliar. The room, once filled with the sounds of her laughter, her voice, the soft rustle of her moving around, was now still.
And cold.
He turned onto his back, eyes on the ceiling. The only thing louder than his heartbeat was the way his skin still felt hers—like a phantom touch he didn't want to shake off.
Her hands. Her kiss. The way she looked at him like he wasn't just Bang Chan, leader, performer, idol—but a man who could be loved, held, known.
He pulled the pillow closer to his chest, closed his eyes, and imagined her next to him.
Just for a moment.
**********
Morning came too fast.
The group was already shuffling through the hall, voices low and sleepy, bags zipping shut and suitcases rolling across tile.
Their next stop: New York.
Chan sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to shake the fog.
His first instinct was to reach for his phone to check if she'd made it home safely. To see if she missed him even half as much as he already missed her.
But when he patted down his jacket pocket—nothing.
Checked his backpack. Still nothing.
His stomach dropped.
He groaned softly, running a hand through his hair. "You've got to be kidding me..."
"I think I left it in the car last night," he muttered to no one in particular.
The others moved around him, giving him space—not just physically, but emotionally too. They'd seen the look in his eyes when he got back last night.
No one asked questions. Except Felix.
He passed by with his suitcase and gave Chan's shoulder a gentle pat. "It'll all work out, hyung. You'll see."
Chan only nodded.
They headed downstairs, tired but used to the rhythm of travel by now.
As the group loaded into the airport shuttle, the driver from the night before approached with something in his hand. "Mr. Bang?" he said. "You left this in the back seat."
Chan's eyes lit up. His phone.
He took it, whispering a quiet "thank you," and turned it over in his palm. Dead. Of course.
He clenched it tighter than necessary. There wasn't time to charge it. Their flight was already boarding soon.
His stomach twisted—not just from the delay, but from the growing fear that maybe...
Maybe she'd reached out. Maybe she'd said something. And maybe she thought he hadn't answered because he didn't want to.
The thought made his chest squeeze.
**********
At the airport gate, Chan finally plugged in.
There was a charging station in the corner, and he hovered nearby, impatient. He didn't care about checking group messages or emails. There was only one thing he needed to see.
But before the screen could even finish loading...
"Final boarding call for Flight 927 to New York City..."
"Hyung, come on!" Seungmin called.
"Just—one second," Chan mumbled, still watching the battery icon slowly crawl to life.
He unplugged it and slipped the phone into his pocket just in time to board.
**********
The flight was uneventful—at least for everyone else.
Chan fidgeted with his hoodie string the entire time, chewing on his thoughts, staring out the window, replaying every second of their last night together.
It wasn't just the goodbye. It was her. The way she let him in. The way she trusted him.
The kind of connection you didn't just stumble into. The kind you fight for.
He shifted in his seat, glancing down at his phone every five minutes, waiting for the signal to kick in. Waiting to know.
The wheels touched down at 3:45 PM.
Chan's phone buzzed the moment the plane rolled to a stop.
Once. Then again. Then a third time.
He jolted in his seat, scrambling to wake the screen.
Hyunjin blinked beside him. "Hyung, what is it?"
Felix leaned forward with raised brows, instantly alert.
Chan's eyes widened as he read the name glowing on his lock screen.
His heart stopped. Then started again—hard.
He unlocked the phone with shaking fingers and read the message.
His breath caught.
He read it again. And again.
His lips parted, but no words came. Just that ache in his chest, full and real and alive.
Felix watched him carefully. "That from her?"
Chan nodded slowly. "Yeah."
He didn't try to hide the way he smiled or how glassy his eyes had become.
Felix nudged him. "So... are you gonna write back? Or are you gonna sit there and fall in love again in front of us all?"
Chan laughed softly, wiping his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. "Maybe both."
Then he started typing.
He wrote: "I've never wanted to check my phone more in my life. I left it in the car and didn't get it back until now. But I swear, you haven't left my mind for even a second. I keep replaying the last time I saw you. You're not a dream. None of it was. You're the realest thing I've ever felt."