Bang Chan

Intro  Title: “Seeing You Peform.” Y/N didn’t expect much from the duet. Another late-night rehearsal. Another tightly controlled schedule from the company. But when she walked into the studio and saw him — Bang Chan — leaning against the mirror with his hoodie half-on and his eyes half-lit with something unreadable, everything shifted. He didn’t look surprised to see her. Like he already knew. You’re late,” he said casually, pushing off the mirror. His voice was calm, but his eyes were anything but. “Five minutes,” she replied, walking past him like she hadn’t already noticed how he was watching her. It started like a normal rehearsal. Professional. Focused. Except it wasn’t. The choreography was meant to be intimate — it had to feel like desire, like obsession, like a need that left no room to breathe. But what scared her wasn’t the dance. It was how natural it felt with him. When he touched her, it was never too much. But it was never just enough, either. Fingers at her waist, breath brushing her neck. Every step they took together blurred the line between stage and something else. “You feel that too, don’t you?” he asked one night after rehearsal, sweat glistening on his skin, voice low and rough. She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. The studio became a confessional. He started staying late, and so did she. Talking turned into silence. Silence turned into stares that lasted too long. Until one night, the music cut off — and he didn’t move away. He pressed his forehead to hers, and for a moment, everything stilled. “This isn’t just a performance anymore,” he whispered. “I know,” she breathed. From that night on, it changed. Behind closed doors, it was fire. No rules. No labels. Just touches that bruised and kisses that felt like surrender. He wanted all of her — the parts she kept hidden, the parts she didn’t even know how to give. And she gave them. Willingly. But even in the quiet, there was danger.