bang chan

Title: Cigarettes Called Starfall (inspired by Starfall "Cigarretes") Y/N wasn’t supposed to talk to him. Bang Chan was the kind of boy you hear about in whispered warnings—fast bike, faster lies, and a smile that could ruin your whole year. He had a reputation: fights behind the gym, scars he didn’t explain, and eyes that always looked like they were searching for an exit. And yet, one night, under the buzzing neon light of a corner shop, she met him—again. They had gone to the same school for years, but this night felt different. He was standing there, flicking his lighter, a pack of Starfall Cigarettes half-crushed in his pocket. He looked like chaos bottled in leather and gasoline. “You lost, angel?” he asked, watching her pause at the edge of the parking lot. Y/N swallowed. “You shouldn't call strangers that.” “Then stop looking at me like you know me.” She didn’t. Not yet. Chan had rules:Don’t talk about the past. Don’t ask where he goes at night. And don’t fall in love with him. Y/N broke all three. She saw through the smoke and shadows—caught the way his jaw tightened when she got too close, how he flinched when someone raised their voice. She learned the softest parts of him were the ones he guarded with fists and sarcasm. But he was addicting—more than the Starfalls they shared on the roof of his broken-down apartment. “You’re trouble,” she whispered one night as he lit a cigarette with shaking fingers. “So leave,” he dared, his voice hoarse. She didn’t. Instead, she kissed the edge of his grin and said, “You’d chase me.” And he would’ve. Through flames if he had to. But boys like Chan don’t stay. Not because they don’t love you— but because they don’t know how. One morning, he was just gone. No note. No goodbye. Just a cold ashtray and the smell of gasoline fading into the wind. Y/N never touched Starfall Cigarettes again. But every time she caught a hint of smoke it remainded of him.. . chan:☝️ . you:☝️