Your name is Elizabeth Rosa Louise Lopez, you're a depressing 25 years of age, depressing because you're halfway to fifty and the time is passing by so quickly, help, and lost in a foreign country's airport with your carry-on held in a tightly held fist doing your best to the panic at bay.

It wasn't that you couldn't ask for help, or didn't speak the language, actually, you spoke it very well thank you, or even that you had social anxiety and hated being in crowds.

No, it was because you were blind.

Not like, one hundred percent blind. More like ninety percent. You could make out the constantly moving blobs that were supposedly the people making up the very crowded airport, but if asked to identify color, shape, size, or distance you'd be totally unhelpful. Particularly with the shades pulled down to keep your unfocused eyes from discomforting anyone. 

You swallow, forcing yourself to take a few deep breaths to calm the anxiety bubbling to the surface. You had plenty of practice. Good job me, you smile softly to yourself, just keep doing that, you've got this.

It had been nearly three years that you'd had to become accustomed to living with such impaired sight. Your eyesight had never been great, but an entirely unrelated accident taking your vision had made you wish you'd never taken even that for granted. 

It had been incredibly difficult to adjust. You'd spent so much time afterward in the worst mental state of your life. Of course you had. Suddenly the things you'd enjoyed all your life were taken away from you, or available but so much harder to do than before. Just the simple act of shopping for clothes couldn't be done without difficulty and help. You were so sick of asking for help. Of having to rely on others for simple, simple things. 

With time and practice, your independence had slowly been restored to you. You'd taken up new things too, like becoming fluent in a language you'd always wanted to learn. You could even read again with braille books. You had a new appreciation for your other senses. You'd found that you were highly sensitive to touch in particular, and derived a great deal of pleasure in just listening. These were the positive things you had to remind yourself of now and then because at times like right now it was all just too much.  

"Miss?"

You startle at the voice coming unexpectedly from your right, a sweet, high-pitched voice teetering somewhere between professional concern and annoyance. It was also in awkward English. Well, no time like the present to make myself at home here, you think.

"I'm sorry," you reply easily in formal Korean, "I'm not sure where I am but I'm sorry if I'm in your way."

You wave the hand not holding your bag in a small gesture while bowing your head politely, showcasing the distinct white and red folding stick to hopefully explain your situation without words. 

"Oh," she gasps softly, and you imagine her eyes widening in surprise at both your blindness and your use of Korean. "Ah, I see, don't worry about it. Perhaps I can help you? Where do you need to go?"

You sigh a breath of relief, quickly explaining your need to get outside and catch a taxi. It turns out you'd headed in the wrong direction after exiting your flight and had quite a trek ahead of you. Once the attendant had gotten you on the right track, you thanked her and insisted you'd be fine to head out on your own, making your way confidently but carefully to the airport entrance. 

That went quite well honestly, you grin to yourself, pleased. It was only a couple of hours in to being in your new home country, you knew there'd be adjustments to make and difficulties to overcome but this was certainly a promising start.  

With newfound courage, you make your way to the entrance, secure a taxi, rattle off an address and prepare yourself for an exciting new future.

-

Chan was tired. So, so tired. That was nothing new, his habit of working all hours of the night in focused music production lent itself to a highly unpredictable and sometimes non-existent sleeping schedule. 

This time, however, he genuinely, truly felt ready to collapse from the strain on his body.

As he began the process of turning off his camera and mic, shutting down his computer, and cleaning up his desk from his vlive, Chan promised himself he'd head straight to bed and sleep a solid eight hours. He sighed. Stays were always on him about sleeping well and taking care of himself, but he knew they also expected great music and moving performances from their idols. Chan didn't begrudge them that, if anything he wholeheartedly did his best to live out those expectations for himself and s on his own accord. Perhaps if he were just a little better at managing his time, or could produce better music, faster, if only he didn't need sleep...

He laughed a little helplessly at his wandering thoughts. It was too easy to spiral into unhelpful thinking and he was well aware it didn't help anyone, least of all him. Of course, knowing and doing were two very different things.   

With another exhausted sigh, he rose from his chair and adjusted his hoody and beanie, preparing himself for his lonely walk back to the dorm. The cool autumn night air was refreshing, helping perk him up enough to enjoy the quiet evening. Well actually it was closer to morning, but whatever. He was just about two minutes from the dorm when a figure down the sidewalk caught his attention. 

The hunched figure was tucked up against the wall of the building next to his dorm's, and the thought that it might be a sasaeng passed through his mind, slowing his approach. Honestly, they didn't have too many issues with crazy fans, and he was proud to be the subject of a more respectful fan base. Bless his Stay's little hearts. The hour and odd position of the figure had this thought flitting quickly from his mind though, and he wondered if they were maybe a trainee or other occupant of the dorm. He'd certainly been in that head-in-hands situation plenty of times as a trainee.

With a healthy amount of caution, he approached the figure, being sure to scuff his shoes on the way to avoid startling the figure. Sure enough, within a few steps he had attained the figure's attention, their head popping up and tilting his way with an almost scary speed. His heartbeat kicked up a notch and he laughed internally at himself for getting spooked. By such a small, clearly harmless girl. Well, woman would be more accurate, he thought with a quick intake of breath. A beautiful woman, if his night-blind eyes could be believed.

What little light shone on her from the closest streetlight highlighted a sweet oval face, long wavy dark hair, a wobbling chin beneath a small but plush mouth, and...sunglasses?

Now he was no expert, but one of them clearly need to be safely abed. Either he was experiencing sleep-deprived hallucinations, or there was a crazy woman running around at a god-forsaken hour of the early morning thinking that sunglasses were an appropriate accessory. 

"Um," he stuttered out a little breathlessly (crazy or not, she was still a pretty woman, dammit) "do you need help or..something?"

She hiccuped, clearly in the middle of a little cry sesh, and wiped her tears away with frankly adorable sweater paws. Get it together Bang, she clearly needs help from a levelheaded human being, not a twitterpated idiot.

"S-sorry, I'm okay, I'm j-just a bit frustrated with myself right now."

Relateable. 

"Oh, well. Maybe I can help?" Suddenly realizing that he was a man speaking to a lone, vulnerable woman on an unpopulated street in the middle of the night, he quickly backtracked. "Oh my gosh, wait, no, I swear I'm not some creep, I can call someone for you but I'm not gonna kidnap you or something, crap let me just stay over here, ,"

A giggle cut off his panicked rambling like a blow to the skull, the vibrant if somewhat wet sound instantly making him soft like goo. 

"Thank you," she half laughed, half sniffed. "I appreciate that. Um, it's just that I missed the last train home and I've been trying to find my way on foot for the last two hours. Ugh, this is really embarrassing," she added deprecatingly, shaking her head. "My phone died and now I have no way of knowing where I am."

"I can help with that at least," he answered sympathetically. She was clearly a foreigner by her accent and he'd certainly had experience with being lost in an unfamiliar country. In more recent memory, Felix had had such a difficult time adjusting after arriving in Korea. It was a soft spot of his, and he couldn't help his need to come to her aid, pretty face notwithstanding.

He gave her their location, using the JYP building as a reference point. "Where are you trying to go?"

"Oh," she replied, thoughtfully, "my apartment is in Yongsang. Close to the overpass."

He wondered where she'd been to end up on the wrong side of the river but dismissed the question as none of his business. 

"Well," he pondered aloud, "you're not actually that far away by car, but it'd be a long way to walk. Is there anyone you could call to pick you up?" 

"No," she answered quietly, "I don't know anyone here."

His heart twinged further. "I'd be willing to walk you home," he offered honestly, "it's too late to be out by yourself and I can make sure you get there in one piece."

"Oh, no, please that's too much to ask from you. You must be on your way home to sleep," she urged with a sweet smile. "Just knowing where I am helps, Thank you so much!"

She rose from her crouched position and brushed herself off with her free hand, clearly prepared to walk herself away without bothering him any further. It was at this point that Chan, already struck with worry for the young woman, noticed the folded cane in her left hand and suddenly his tired brain put together the entirely odd pieces of mystery this woman presented.

No. No way. His mother had raised him to be a gentleman. His father had taught him chivalry, his sibling had taught him responsibility, s had taught him leadership, and in no universe was Bang Christopher Chan allowing a pretty, single, vulnerable, lost, blind woman to wander the streets of Seoul at who even knows what time of the morning. Absolutely not. 

"Hey, hey, wait," he pleaded, attempting to keep from sounding like some preying creep. "look, you can't just wander around hoping to get where you're going at this time alone, okay?" He got a little closer, making sure he left her a bubble of space to hopefully feel safe from him. You know, just in case. "Look, I can either walk you home, or you can stay here while I get my manager to drive you, or, hell, I'll call a police officer to you home, just don't put yourself in danger like that, please."

He knew he sounded like a terrified dad (hopefully, the alternative is a crazy random stranger that had less than honorable intentions and that's the last thing he wants) but what else could he do?

She had frozen at his little rant before bristling slightly, oh no what did he say wrong, then seemed to calm again.

"Manager?" She questioned with pouty lips, head tilted in curiosity.

"Uh," he responded eloquently, heart stuttering at the cute vision standing in front of him before registering her question. "Oh. Yeah. Our manager. Stray Kid's manager. He has a van." He provided helpfully.

He watched stray kids slowly before letting hang gaping. Her head tilted again.

"Bang Chan Oppa?" She all but gasped.

"Um," wow, he should really work on his responses here. "Yeah. Hi. I guess I should have introduced myself first, haha. Hello, my name Bang Chan."

He really did try to ignore the curl of pleasure that rose at the realization that the pretty woman knew him. Knew his voice. Really he did. 

-Author's Note-

Okay guys, I really need your feedback for the first chapter of this story. I want to write the fluffiest story in the history of ever so tell me what you'd like to see here, and also if you have any constructive criticism for my writing I'll do my best to improve. Please comment your love for protective Bang Chan as well. Chan appreciation hours are now open.