Archive of Our Own

To the reader: May you find happiness.

Felix wasn’t sure of what in his life was painfully, deadly, utterly boring. In his head, he’s almost always stuck in other lifetimes and different worlds, dimensions he creates and lives in for as long as he can, avoiding the world outside while he crafts yet another moment he wished he had lived, yet another romance he craves to become real. The knowledgeable part of him, the one that manages all of the things his fingertips can meet, is almost as blank and numb as Felix’s eyes whenever he watches the blank pages of his sketchbook fly away, the stubborn whiteness never demeaning under his fixed gaze no matter how much he stares at it, mouth glued shut and eyes heavy. It’s a weird feeling, to think you’re wasting your life when you know the cause is something so deeply placed within yourself, a root and pillar of your few years on the planet that you prefer not to mess with because it would only mean stress and rageful waves to otherwise calm waters. The world around him feels washed away and displayed in grey tones, pastel hued neighborhood sleeping quietly under his sneakers like a comatose induced dream, Felix’s heart sunk as low as the bottom of the ocean when he stirs himself and looks around, eyes burning from the lack of sleep and throat dry, only the small sounds of his breaths clinging to his ears and nothing next to him to make any noise.

The deafness comes from something under his tongue, an overwhelming vibration of quietness that seems to stick on his eardrums like bubblegum on a desk’s under part, a sight he’s seen so many times he could just close his eyes and know exactly what it would look like. It’s his last day of summer break, the sun already rising from its haven as Felix watches slowly, brown eyes following the curves and swells of the light as it paints the street, faint colored walls barely reflecting the abundant brightness coming from the sky. He’s on his pajamas sitting on the grass in front of his house, whole body tickling and chest heavy as he silently plays with the green under his hands, forcing a few pieces of grass off the ground. Felix doesn’t know what he’s going to do from now on, as much as he likes to believe he is. He’s been in Korea for a year or so now, finishing his last year of high school in a place he never lived in with people he never saw before in a language he wasn’t even sure he was fluent in. On top of that, school is ending in less than a year, and he’s not exactly sure with what to do with that silly piece of information.

In a certain way, he’s relieved. School ending means getting to be alone more, means peace and rest and all the things he craves for every other day, something he’s been wishing for so long until now. Felix is happy about leaving because it feels like the right thing to do, like he’s been living for the exact moment where he gets his degree and walks out proudly from a place he was raised in. He’s delighted to come this far, but the feeling is shallow in his chest whenever he remembers that it by no means assures him of a different life than the one he has. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, how recklessly he’s been living ever since he arrived in the country, barely sleeping and being as quiet as he can make himself be. Felix can’t help but hurt at the thought of leaving the only constant thing he ever had in his life, the only place where he’s been practically forced to be and now is being forced out of it to an adulthood he’s not sure he wants to live. Thoughts like these are undoubtedly dangerous in the dawn, when Felix lets his brain flood his body with the loudness he’s been dying to let out, and it gives him a certain itch, makes him wonder too deeply if he’s ever going to make it to his twenties. Time’s knocking on his door loudly, fists full of revenge as it gets closer and closer to wrap its hands around Felix’s neck, nostalgia already creeping in from years of sleeping in late and smelling the scent of new books. It all feels heavier now, the way graduation is at the tip of his tongue and how his hands seem to grasp the clock tiredly, slipping away so easily from his childhood memories and his old best friend’s favorite song.

Something deep in his body knows that if he keeps living in a constant state of metaphorical morphine he’s bound to end in a few years from now on, eyes tired and mouth dry as death gently takes him with an exasperated sigh, murmuring about silly humans who don’t appreciate the lifelong opportunities that are given to them. Even when he leaves the front of his house and gets to his bed to pretend he has slept even a bit, the blanket on his legs doesn’t make him feel anything. The warmth and the softness don’t even tickle the wave of unreliable numbness that comes with years of staring at the ceiling and wondering, wishing, dangerously hanging from a necklace made of rope that seems to get tighter and tighter as the world goes oppositely to Felix’s life, the loud crash of them becoming more expected every time he tries to touch his own skin and is met with unknown paths and cold superficies. The air around him seems to buzz and move viciously, the soft sound of passing cars in the distance every now and then barely managing to get to his ears as Felix sinks lower in his bed, heart sunk so deep he feels as if he couldn’t get up even if he wanted to, legs glued to the mattress and breath hitched. His eyes lose focus gradually, the blue-ish tone of his ceiling becoming just a blur between so many others in Felix’s life.

The clock beside his bed ticks gently, warning him of how little sleep he’ll get before having to watch his life unfold in front of his eyes again while he stares blankly, brain induced to not see, think or feel anything, keeping his body alive as the rest feels undeniably dead more often than not. He sighs, but even the sound of it is too hollow to not get lost in the atmosphere, eyes half closed as he fists his sheets tiredly, limbs seeming unknown to him whenever his thighs touch each other or his hands touch his face delicately. Felix swallows around the darkness of his room with teary eyes, even though he knows he’s not sad - being sad meant having his heart in a flood of cold shades of blue and his colors now aren’t more than grey nuances, stuck in the middle of something he can’t tell exactly how much it hurts, only knows that it does.

He hears steps coming from the other side of the door and lights getting turned on, a sign that the house is awake and alive again, meaning that Felix’s time to rest is officially over. He rolls in bed and turns his back to the door, knees drawn to his stomach as he closes his eyes and lets himself get lost in the darkness of it while he can, hands mindlessly caressing his legs. Felix hears his mom’s voice gently getting closer, his ears not used to the sound yet, and curls himself into a ball, feeling distressed enough to feign sickness so he has another day home, another day where he’s allowed to live by his own rules and not by the circumstances he’s forced to accept. His head hurts and it feels like he hasn’t eaten in days.

The door opens slightly, light coming through it forcing him to close his eyes harder, gulping around a dry throat while he waits for the moment his mom’s hands wake him up. Felix hears her whispering but is too tired to manage her words, her voice so faint it could easily be the sound of the TV from downstairs. He waits to be woken up, but it never comes. His mom closes the door again, room filled with shadows in the process as the house gets a bit louder, his sister’s voice being heard from somewhere next to him. Felix doesn’t know why he’s not forced out of his bed, but he grasps his thoughts for a second longer and finds out he doesn’t really care, shoulders letting go slightly from the tension as he finally lets exhaustion take over him, closed eyelids almost hurting from being awake all night. He keeps quiet for a few minutes, sleep never coming easily, and just hears his own breath and feels his own skin, grounding himself on his house to let his body and his head know that it’s real, that he can rest. In days like these it’s very rare of Felix to do anything but trying to tell his body that it’s okay to let go eventually, preparing himself for the day he’ll just don’t get out of bed even if he needs to. His limbs are tired and heavy, but for now he has the chance to wash away the tiredness clung to his shoulders. Felix doesn’t register time or space when he gets himself to sleep, a sigh spilling from glued lips as the shadows creep up and engulf him like a blanket.

He doesn’t dream at all - his subconscious mind is nowhere as grown as he wishes it was, no sight of anything when he closes his eyes. Felix wonders if it’s possible to choke on a certain amount of nothing. Living in his head feels like a glitched television making white noise to indiferent ears, like washed colors and trying to punch concrete; Felix always ends up hurting his knuckles.

When he wakes up again, he knows it’s late. Felix knows how waking up late is terrible for his head, how he tends to spend the day moping around and locked in his room, away from the sun and all of those things he likes to think can fix him. He’s still tired when he crawls out of bed in his clean socks and finds a plate with food in the kitchen with a yellow note glued over it. He’s still tired when he reads it; an explanation as for why he didn’t go to his first day of school after summer break, his mom’s handwriting delicately telling him that she felt guilty about waking him up when his eyebags looked too deep, tiredness evident even when he pretended to sleep. She always noticed things like that, Felix supposed it was just something all moms do; he saw her worried eyes and furrowed brows far too many times to pretend he doesn’t know it all already. Felix finds himself thinking too much like her nowadays, years of childhood coming back to bite him as he sees the same disappointed eyes looking back at him in the mirror. They’re much more alike than they probably should, scarily so, and Felix worries about it too much to understand - he fears being a reflection of his mother, no real personality whatsoever, just the things he’s been conditioned to be like. The thought clings to his head more when he’s alone, making coffee and staring out at the window while kids from his neighborhood walk to school. Felix wished he was one of them every so often.

He sighs, turning on the radio in a swift move as he eats, the song meeting his ears nothing less than lovely in all of its beats. It’s an old song, one of his mom’s favorites, and Felix shares the same endearment for the way Frankie Valli gently serenades his lover, his feet swinging to the beat calmly. He closes his eyes, letting the light dance to the melody while he takes another spoonful of food. It’s a good day, somehow, nothing too big happening but not enough reason to feel bad either. He likes the tiny sensations that life can bring to him, such as the smell of rice and the sunlight resting on his shoulders. It’s not exactly happiness, just content. He has the certainty of not being sad. It’s enough.

He hums along to the beat, wandering around the house with the words stuck in his head even after eating. Felix feels sleepy, something deep in his throat, a feeling he can’t get himself out of. Perhaps it isn’t exactly sleepiness, just a small amount of nostalgia clinging to his eyelids because of the song, the world unfolding as slow as he feels. In his heart, he’s glued to the air and slowly floating through the city, the buildings whispering back the words to an ancient song he wishes he knew about, in an language Felix fears he hasn’t spoken in a long time. The sun outside glistens in his skin, blue veins tracing paths in his wrists almost shining through as if the light tried to travel on his bloodstream, peachy tone hovering over the clouds as it announces that it’s closer to evening than to morning. Felix wants to see it up close, his lifeless stare being mirrored by the cruel sky, too big and proud to care about a small sad human in a sea of other, more important people. Felix wants to get close, to reach out for the world, head already out of the house when he decides - talks himself out of the dark cloud of thoughts that come with the world outside - to take a walk. He changes clothes hesitantly, eyes drained on his window as he questions himself once again about his intentions. There’s not certainty in his steps as he blankly stands on the doorway, watching the street quietly. His hoodie secures his body from watchers, safely tucked into his clothes as he puts one foot on the ground, unsure. It’s been so long since he left the house.

After the first step, the second one seems too easy. After his first impulse, Felix has to hold himself to not go running around. The ground is familiar and steady and everything Felix isn’t, sun never leaving his head as he just walks, keeps moving without a certain direction. He isn’t sure of where or how or when, just knows that he’ll get somewhere because he’s out of the house and it has to mean something, anything. His path is hope mixed with desperation, a streak of unusual energy he knows will just take him down at the end of the day. It feels like he barely ate, like the tasteless food was still trapped at the back of his throat, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched, no treasured land in sight. He goes fast, almost trips over himself once or twice before he gets to a place he’s never seen, eyes meeting something new again after years of living in a harsh nostalgic world. There’s a basketball court trapped between fields of high grass and a few small houses Felix is sure he saw once in a dream, colors bright and too saturated to his unaccustomed eyes. It’s a bit too much, it makes Felix slow down and his head gets out of its high for a moment. His eyes squint under the heavy sunlight, gulping.

Felix sees a strand of orange fall in front of his eyes. He forgot his hair wasn’t dark anymore. There’s a chance he forgot how his face used to be like too. Felix stood there for a few minutes, no contact with the ambient around him as he stared, a bit confused.

“Hey! You!” he hears someone call from the distance, back turned as Felix just watched the field. His breath got stuck in his throat, sudden nervousness bubbling up in his chest as he exhaled loudly, already regretting coming out of his house. Felix forgot there were people in the world besides him. “Yah, cheetos! I’m talking to you!”

The person’s voice was rough, and harsh, what made Felix cower slightly under their tone. He felt as if he was in his bed again, curled up in a ball while his family began to move around him; out of place and too dead to be in such a lively environment. Nature made him feel like that too, even if Felix appreciated being next to it most of the times - being next to flowers reminded him of how ugly he looked in comparison, but Felix has let go of things like vanity quite a while ago. He sighed.

“Yes?” his voice wavered slightly, coming out a bit weaker than he intended it to. He gripped at his hoodie’s sleeve tightly, the same fake braveness he uses at school slowly building up on his body language.

A figure approaches him with clumsy footsteps, beanie tightly wrapped around brown locks as a boy came into his field of vision, delicate eyes contrasting with harsh features and a small scowl on his face. He was dressed just like Felix, but in darker colors - his face was so long, he couldn’t help but feel a bit intimidated. “What are you doing here?”

“None of your business.” Felix clicked his tongue slightly, chest puffing out like his father told him to do years ago when bullies started to pick on him during middle school.

The boy’s eyebrow lifts up a bit, a smile pushing at the corner of his lips as he buries his hands in his hoodie pocket. He has pretty eyes, Felix observes quietly. It’s a pity they’re so hostile.

“Well, this field belongs to my father. And the basketball court too. It’s private property, cheetos. So yeah, it’s my business.” His voice was rough, annoyed even, treacherous smile threatening Felix just a bit to walk a few steps back, the boy’s sharp jawline clouding his vision as the stranger locked it, watching intensely. He studied Felix with dead eyes, watching him up and down like he’s a dirty weed standing out from perfectly grown flowers. Like he’s not supposed to be there.

Felix gritted his teeth. “Pretty capitalist for a boy wearing anarchist propaganda on his hoodies.”

“The system is the system whether I accept it or not. And don’t change subjects, cheetos, I still have no idea who the fuck you are.” He chuckles a bit, looking down at his clothes like he just now realized he’s wearing the anarchist symbol on it.

Touché, Felix mentally pats himself on the back. He’s self aware.

“I’m Felix.” The invader tells him quietly, forcing himself not to laugh at the other’s expression. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

“Well, aren’t you a bit quirky, cheetos?” the boy asks, head tilted a bit showing a piercing on his eyebrow that Felix didn’t notice before because of his fringe. “I’m Changbin.”

Felix frowns, unsure of what to do with that. He didn’t ask for Changbin’s name, nor he thought he said anything quirky. During their encounter, Felix just managed to keep a cold facade until the other leaves.

“Uh? Okay?” he stumbles on his words a bit, slurred english spilling from his lips as his accent gets thicker.

“Do you want to play, Felix?” Changbin asks again after getting slightly flustered, hand on his nape. His elbows are bruised, Felix notices absentmindedly.

Felix grips his own right upper arm, a bit distressed by the interaction. Part of him is extremely unbothered - Changbin could be just anyone anywhere, and their meeting didn’t really had to end up in a bigger thing than it is, given to the fact that Felix probably would never cross paths with him again if he were to leave. The other part, though, a bit desperate and annoyed with Felix’s usual unenthusiastic behavior, clings to the idea that maybe it meant something could change if he followed the path that lead to a close relationship of any kind again, his head tired of dealing with loneliness for about a year now. They both clash with each other when he looks around again, air getting thinner and rarer the more Felix gets a grip on reality, suddenly hyper aware of his sunken cheeks and somehow weak stature, skin unhealthily pale next to Changbin’s. He slumps his shoulder, curling in on himself to appear smaller, less exposed.

“Play what?” he asks, gaining time to will his panic down as his rude demeanor runs out. He could deal with people looking down at him, but good intentions didn’t seem fitting. Felix didn’t feel like he belonged to it.

Changbin blinks, saying it like it’s obvious. “Basketball.”

“Oh.” Felix pretends to realize just now, fondling the waistband of his sweatpants nervously. He stares down at his feet for a few minutes, awkward silence creeping in easily and making him even more anxious to look up. He felt as if his lungs were burning, gasping for air and quietly dying in the corner of a movie scene.

He risks looking up, seeing Changbin totally unbothered. Rather than that, he looks absolutely bored and there’s a hint of fun in his eyes, watching him like Felix is just a funny thing to look at, almost as if he were a particularly weird bird or a ugly graffiti on the wall. Felix squirms under his gaze, uncomfortable.

“So?” Changbin speaks up, voice lower and almost whispering.

“Huh?” the younger trails off awkwardly, hands in his pockets and a pained expression on his face.

“Do you want it or not, cheetos? It isn’t a hard question.” He cringes at the stranger’s embarrassment, trying not to laugh at Felix’s antics.

Changbin almost felt sorry.

“I don’t know how to play.” Felix deadpans, eyes getting wider and cheeks flushing heavily, whole face hot and feverish when he realizes there’s no going back. Changbin smiles again, this time a tad bit warmer.

He doesn’t relent, only grabs Felix’s sleeve roughly and guides him to the court, long fingers coldly brushing against his warm skin. Felix sighs, already tired and they didn’t do anything yet. He didn’t mean to make their interaction longer, he just really wanted to go home and Changbin was too open to the idea of playing basketball with a total stranger. Felix regretted getting out of the house, but even more than that, he regretted letting his guard down for a second. Only a few minutes of it and now he’s going to do something he doesn’t want with someone he’s not sure he’ll like. Felix wants to complain, but he presses his lips shut - if he endured it, then he’d eventually get home and Changbin would forget his existence. Hopefully.

Except Changbin doesn’t. He teaches Felix everything he knows about basketball, and it shouldn’t have taken so long but he learned quick enough that the other was too fond of sarcastic remarks every now and then. Felix found out that Changbin wasn’t exactly likeable - he was energetic and made a lot of jokes, much to contrast with his black clothes and the small tattoo he has on his neck, awfully close to his jawline, but Felix wasn’t one to appreciate outgoing people. He’s older, one year at that, and he likes skating. These are little facts Felix grasped from their conversation, most of it being him quietly following Changbin around and the older talking nonchalantly, so bright it hurt Felix’s head. He managed to scratch his hand while trying to dribble Changbin, who despite being shorter kept tiring Felix’s defenses until he gave up, more annoyed than tired at that point, and the older made him put a bandaid on it even if Felix said that it wasn’t necessary. He was sort of nice, kindness easily shining through his malicious stares and provocations.His company wasn’t quite a problem, but Changbin did had a few small quirks that didn’t help to save Felix from the great deal of liking him, such as the way he seemed to get smaller when he laughed or how his hands were never really quiet. The older was everything a person is expected to be, Felix’s own weak personality vanishing under the boy’s vicious light, his face open like the sky where it lazily got darker, peachy tone gradually changing to Changbin’s skin tone. Felix admired those who managed to act alive, but he quickly discovered that having the option to be like that was a privilege he didn’t have, what spiraled him into thinking that Changbin was one of the rare excessions of bright and clean in a massive path of dirty concrete.

He was sitting on the court cross legged while Changbin was stirred next to him, limbs open and face looking up at the sky as he breathed heavily, his sleeves pulled up to his biceps reminding Felix of the purple spots on his skin, the color blooming sickenly on his toned arms. Felix wasted a bit of time watching him, curious and inevitably wondering about what he should think about Changbin. He supposed the older was a sight to see, or something near that, but Felix wasn’t really sure if he cared about anyone’s appearance at all, even if Changbin had the prettiest eyes Felix remembered seeing in so long. He was kind to the eye, features long and almost never ending as his presence makes itself a constant in Felix’s mind, head spinning in doubt. He couldn’t help but think about what Changbin thought of him too, the feeling of being judged unsettling on the bottom of his stomach but still exciting - as exciting as Felix can get, anyway - since he wasn’t used to being around people long enough to care about their thoughts. Changbin wasn’t like that; he seemed to make up for the color Felix lacked, and it was a odd feeling to watch him talk so freely, even if he didn’t seem to care if the younger was engaged on it or not. Felix wondered what the older thought about him too, but eventually he let that go as well. Changbin had the same idea everyone had of him - weird kid, loner, awkward - because Felix purposely didn’t gave him space to think anything else.

He coughed awkwardly, looking down at his hands. “Changbin-ssi, are you usually this open to people?”

The older laughed quietly at the honorific, rolling over to watch Felix closely. His eyes are a brighter shade of brown than usual, arched ever so slightly, the shape of the world bowing to Felix whenever he blinked. It was so pretty, the younger wished he could keep the memory of them for a while, carrying the scenery forever like when he saw cherry blossoms for the first time. Everybody is fond of pretty things, and even Felix couldn’t be an exception.

“What do you mean?” his tone was always playful. He never sounded serious.

“Uh,” Felix adjusts his sweatshirt on his collarbones, suddenly ashamed. He wasn’t particularly good at expressing thoughts, worrying more about pronouncing words carefully than to think about their meaning. “I’m a stranger but you stayed the whole afternoon teaching me basketball. Why is that?”

“I don’t know. You looked confused. And lonely. And lost.” He speaks, listing his words with his fingers as he looked up at Felix. “I just thought I should watch you closely, because I’m sort of all that too.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” The younger answers, slumping his shoulders. He isn’t sure of what to say - would Changbin prefer if he said the company was nice?

But then it would be sugarcoating the fact that Felix felt obliged to talk to him, even if it ended up in a good way. It would be pretending that Felix was someone who liked people right away, and he couldn’t find it himself to lie to him. Changbin was charismatic and gentle, Felix didn’t wanted to make him believe anything that wasn’t true. The older kept quiet, still staring up but this time a bit softer. He looked warm to Felix, weirdly so, like he could feel the texture of his shirt in his fingertips only by looking at him, nice and cosier than the house he lives in. It tickled his mind faintly, the way Changbin was laid down and coexisting with him, the silence filled up with his own thoughts dancing around the court. He wasn’t really thinking about anything - in his mind, the subjects changed easily, with little to no consistency. He thought about his last exam, about his cousin back in Australia and about the homework he’d have to catch up on the next day. His mind traveled to the colors in the court, slightly damaged and dirty enough to look almost blue-ish under the fading sun, wondering about Changbin’s opinion on them, since he seemed to be the only one who used the place oftenly. He closed his eyes for a minute, willing away the scratched feeling at the pit of his stomach, reality sinking in a few times and leaving Felix to battle against his urge to go home and lock himself in his bedroom. He’s always wishing to be away, but there were exceptions - that afternoon, Felix really talked himself off of it to stay with Changbin. A thing he did only when his sister asked him to go somewhere.

Felix had trouble enjoying things, even more if they were relatively new in his life, but by his experience it could only mean Changbin was good enough. Felix didn’t feel particularly threatened by him, what was nice for a change; he felt a tender curiosity blooming in his chest when he looked at the other. It felt like being interested in a manga, or like watching people at the bus stop. Felix doesn’t remember the last time he felt truly interested, connected and willing to invest his time in something he - sort of? - liked. He knew he was too full of doubts to ever be sure he really enjoyed someone’s company, but Changbin made him want to know, and that was almost a first.

“Felix, do you ever speak?” the older teases him, familiar smirk in his face as he pulled his beanie down.

Felix forced a smile, managing to make it look half decent even if he knew it looked more like he was flinching. “Not really.”

“Then today must have been a pain in your ass.” Changbin guesses, one eyebrow raised. He seems to watch Felix intensely, studying him like someone would study an unicorn if they ever saw one for the first time. The younger felt out of place, but he was used to it by now.

“It has.” His answer came too dull, too straightforward, and Felix’s eyes widened after he realized what he said. He added quickly: “But you were nice!”

“Oh, was I?” Felix could hear Changbin’s laughter in his tone. Part of him wished he could hear him laugh out loud - it would be another thing about him for Felix to register, and it made him wonder how would it sound like. If forced to guess, he’d say Changbin’s laugh would sound like eating raspberries and sleeping after a long day of having fun with friends.

“I guess…” he trailed off slightly, staring at the sky and watching as clouds towered his vision to the sun.

Felix’s voice was rough, accent thick as he tried to see himself in something as he saw others. He’d say his laugh was like rolling in the dirt, fingernails with brown spots and playgrounds; something undeniably dry but fun if you’re on a good day. Something in his core burned slightly - Felix warned himself to remember that, because it was him outside of his creation, and moments of self clarity like these were strangely rare. Perhaps too rare, and the thought always made him nervous, so Felix focused on Changbin’s tattoo, swallowing sourly the reality he lived in. The words were tinted black and wrote in pretty lettering, amor fati. The phrase was familiar, probably something he learned in class, but Felix couldn’t connect a meaning to it, watching closely as the tattoo moved when Changbin changed his position. Felix found himself wishing his skin was more like Changbin’s - he’d look less miserable if he were tanned. It would stop making the kids from his neighborhood scared of him.

“You’re staring, Felix. Do you have any questions?”

Felix shuffled nervously, pulling the sleeves of his sweatshirt over his fingers as it got gradually colder, the gold in the sky switching to a deep shade of blue. There were no stars.

“I- I’m sorry?”

“I said,” Changbin rephrased it, not really annoyed but mocking him a bit. Felix forced himself to understand that it was good natured. “You’re staring at me too much. Do you have any questions? You look curious.”

“I… I do, actually.” Felix looks at him expectantly, playing with his own earlobe. “What does amor fati mean?”

Changbin blinks, quite surprised. He hasn’t expected Felix to notice the tiny words in his neck, but it was a pleasant surprise, given that he came to like the tattoo despite the fact that its motivation had been a drunk slumber he had at a party. Unconsciously, Changbin fidgets with it, thumb sliding down the ink distractedly as he sighed, already embarrassed.

“Uh, it’s like… It’s sort of emo. I did it when I was drunk.” He expects Felix to giggle, but gets nothing in return. The younger’s face is as blank as a rock, eyes attentive but not necessarily reacting to the story. “I didn’t like it the first time I saw it but after a while I realized why drunk me wanted to tattoo that so bad. It’s Nietzsche.”

“Oh. Emo indeed.” Felix agreed, blinking heavily. “But what does it mean?”

Changbin almost flushed at realizing he didn’t answer Felix. “It means ‘love of fate’. It’s when you believe that everything that happens in your life is good, or at least necessary.”

“That’s… Sort of dumb.”

The older snorts, sitting up straight and weighing himself on his hands, face still up to the sky as he let out a laugh, a real one. Felix was extremely shocked to see that it did sound like raspberries in the summer, but sprinkled with something more than that. He couldn’t exactly put his finger on it, but it made him want to get up and dance, and a swell of pride startled in his chest when Changbin laughed at his joke. He tried a smile of his own, gathering all the honesty he had in his heart, but it probably made him look like he was frightened.

“Why? I think it’s smart. It’s a state of loving and accepting everything that comes to you, whether it does you good or not. How is that dumb?” And he looks in deep thought, willing to share his mind with Felix. The younger panicked.

Changbin seemed to always do that - no topic to him was a waste of time, and he made sure to ask Felix’s opinion every now and then. It wasn’t much, but it still made Felix sigh tiredly, not knowing what to say since most of his thoughts are borrowed from others, his opinion not truly mattering because he didn't care enough to think it through. His head hurt a bit, and Felix stared at the ground. What should he say? It could be easy to agree with him right away and pretend he changed his mind. But wouldn’t that be dishonest of him? Changbin could get disappointed. Part of him wondered why would it matter if Changbin gets disappointed.

“It’s just- Well, isn’t it… Too general?” Felix starts, unsure. “There are a lot of things you can’t love and accept about life. About the world. Isn’t that… Conformist?”

Changbin hums, eyes urging him. “Elaborate that. Deeper.”

Felix almost rolls his eyes, stressed. “It’s like saying that, I don’t know, if you’re really poor you should love that life, even if you know it’s not destiny. Even if you know you’re being exploited in your job. Isn’t that a way to make people conform to their shitty lives?”

“More, Felix. Take it to the deepest point of your brain. The last layer of this thought.” The older presses further, watching Felix make tiny distressed sounds while he forced his mind to think.

“I think it’s… Bullshit. How can I accept harm from others and deem it as fate? How can I let the world crash and burn over me and say it was all supposed to happen? It’s conformist.” He is a little bit angry when he finishes, bawled fists between his crossed knees as he tried to numb away the pain in his head.

“I agree.” The older answers shortly, watching Felix with an intense gaze. “But at the same time, you can’t think about this without questioning what is fate to you. Is destiny something that you create? Or is it just a reaction to a whole chain of moments that lead you to the exact moment where you started getting harmed?”

“I… don’t know. And I don’t care.” Felix mumbles, annoyed. “I stand by what I said.”

“Then I stand by what I said too. Debate officially finished.” There was some humor in his voice, like he knew something Felix didn’t.

Changbin looked at him as if he saw Felix; like he saw the lack of self in his brain and the holes where his deep thoughts and feelings should be. He looked at him as though as he sees it all - sees his sleepless nights and dead stares at school, all his colorless thoughts and the way every food seems to be completely tasteless no matter how much Felix used to like it. Felix doesn’t like it, heart tired as he tried to make himself comfortable in his presence again, suddenly worried about a rejection he didn’t know that it could mean something, specially from a stranger. He breathes deeply.

“It’s late. You should go home.” He hears Changbin say and tunes in to his voice again, disappointed in the slightest. Felix felt the anxiety bubbling up in his chest at the thought of saying goodbye. “Do you have a phone, Felix?”

“For what?” he asks, biting the skin in his bottom lip. Felix feels a bit out of breath.

“So I can… Text you?….” Changbin answers him hesitantly, voice soft as the sky around Felix seemed to get darker and darker, his freckles like rose petals over grass, no star in the darkness brighter than the tiny dots in his face.

It made sense, but more than that, Changbin’s words spreaded a warmth Felix didn’t felt for about a year or so, ever since he left Chan in Australia to live in Korea. He’s so used to being invisible, that whenever Changbin grins at him or makes an effort to hold conversation, Felix can feel his own body starting to show again, his skin filling up the blank space he once was.

Felix told the older his number with a shy smile begging to tug at his lips, chest light even if he kept quiet in his spot. Parting ways has never been so hard. Changbin giggled as he repeated his number out loud, tapping it in his phone. “Make sure to keep safe, cheetos. I’m coming back for you.”

“I doubt that.” Felix grins - actually grins. It’s a foreign expression, mouth opening lazily and eyes curving softly, a split second of light cracking between two everlasting periods of darkness. It’s weird, but welcome enough for Felix to not question it; he just knew he felt… Satisfied. Excited. He remembered that feeling from before. “Bye!”

“Bye, Felix!” he heard Changbin chirp back as he got up and made his way to his house, path covered by dark shadows. He smiled, a bit tipsy from the feeling of being out of the house, and the deep sky rolled around him like a blanket, the vastitude welcoming rather than intimidating for the first time in a while. If Felix knew better, he’d say that day made up for all of his sleepless nights, even if he didn’t thought it back when it was happening.

He contained himself, though, because one good day always made him want more, made him greedier and hungrier for a happiness he couldn’t depend on. He’d easily choke on it if he became too attached to the idea of living a better life, so he tried to argue himself out of his euphoric state. Felix tried to bite his cheeks and think of sad things, tried to remember that the next day he’d have to go to school again, but the small spark of hope in his heart wouldn’t go away despite his best efforts. It kept steady and almost tangible, the brightest it ever burned; Felix couldn’t believe his chest. Even the folds of his brain were smiling.

He got home not long after that, his mom’s presence weighing him down a bit after floating the whole way to his house, but not enough to make Felix stop smiling. When he eats dinner, he’s forcing himself to not laugh at one of Changbin’s joke from earlier. When he sits on his bed, he’s listening to the songs he used to listen to before he came to Korea. Even when he woke up the next day after mere four hours of sleep, his heart wasn’t let down at all whenever he remembered Changbin texted him good morning. He’s been starving for attention for so long, dying to be seen, to be heard; Felix forgot how good the validation felt. He managed to squeeze those little moments of happiness between eyebags and cups of coffee, mood surprisingly sweet, much to his family’s curiosity.

“What is it, Felix? Why the good mood so early?” his father asked, sitting across him on the table with a bagel in his hand.

Felix sipped his coffee gently, eyes looking up at the man before going down again, fingers touching around the cup. “Nothing.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, school uniform wrapping around him tightly because it was starting to get too small. There wasn’t a point in buying a new one, anyways - in a few months, he’d never had to wear it again.

His father looked at him curiously, not really buying Felix’s antics but not caring enough to go further. Being caught in a happy mood sitted wrongly in Felix’s gut because it made him feel like a deer caught in highlights; like he didn’t were supposed to be happy in his life,and it washed down his good mood just a tiny bit. Three pairs of eyes stared at him, all of them questioning in their own way: His sister’s was a soft plead, his mother’s was hopeful, and his father’s accusing. Felix felt like a freak show, being watched so closely for having simple human emotions.

The truth was: He hasn’t had a moment his life where he wasn’t being watched carefully. Felix feels the stares on his back every time he does as much as pour a cup of coffee to himself; he physically carries the weight of six eyes over him all the time. When he studies, he’s being antisocial, but when he doesn't, he’s lazy. When he gets out of the house, he’s burdening people around him, but when he’s locked in his bedroom he’s an angsty kid who shouldn't be taken seriously. He guesses it’s just the result of not being exactly a kid, but not exactly an adult either - no matter what he does or how he says it, people never know what to do with him. Felix understands, lives with it because it could be worse, but a tiny place in his mind gets constantly afraid of it never stopping, of feeling judgeful stares because he’s breathing too loudly or walking with steps that are too heavy for all of his life. When he reaches out to take a piece of bread on the other side of the table, he makes himself even smaller and quieter, eyes focused on his hands and avoiding the other’s curious glances. He feels like an animal in a zoo, like a bomb no one knows when it will stop ticking, and he sighs gently, avoiding the frown on his face.

At least there’s memories from Changbin to make it better. No one could take those away from him or make him stop thinking about it, for his mind belonged to himself only and not to the people who seemed to want to study it more than to understand it. He gets out of the table with a blank expression, indifferent, and grabs his backpack, phone in his hand buzzing with a new text. Felix opens it, weight on shoulders lighter as he sees Changbin’s name, a dumb japanese emoticon appearing on screen immediately.

changbin: yah ψ( ` ∇ ´ )ψ

changbin: go to school kid

changbin: i dont care what you think btw goku would be the hottest skater ever

Felix giggles, endeared. His fingers tap quickly, excited to talk to him.

lix: I'll go to school soon… (￢_￢;)

lix: I’m just waiting bc I got up earlier than expected.

lix: What are you doing awake this early, anyway? Have you slept well?

lix: Also, Naruto would be a hotter skater than Goku.

changbin: fucking naruto bitch what the fuck this is some gen z shit

changbin: i didnt go to sleep yet im a grown ass adult i dont have school anymore

lix: You’re only a year older than me. Perhaps even less.

lix: Go to sleep. (＃`Д´)

lix: And please never say anything bad about Naruto again. You sound like an edgelord emo kid.

changbin: extremely bold and unprofessional of you to assume that im not that

lix: ...Have a good day, Changbin.

He shuts off his phone with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, placing it in his bag and heading towards the door, mouth only stretching in a grin when he’s met with the cold morning air in the street. Felix secures the bag’s strap with one hand while the other swings around, feet moving on their own as his mind shuts off, not really registering the world around him. He feels… Fine. There’s no other word to describe the normality of how he feels, not jumping in joy but not sunk into sadness either. It’s comfortable when he’s out of the house, no eyes on him, blended into the mundane reality as one of the thousands students in Seoul. It feels like he could be just anyone while waiting for the bus, surrounded by other kids with the same dark eyebags and the same coffee stained uniforms. They don’t know him and Felix doesn’t know them, but they’re all gentle to each other because they’re going through the same thing, even if they’re not quite sure what it is; Felix feels a little less lonely because of their kind gazes and rushed laughs whenever he raises his eyebrows at a teacher’s questionable commentary. When it comes, the bus smells like toothpaste, notebooks and something really close to the scent of clouds, and it’s so welcoming Felix almost lets himself drift away in sleep as he lays his head on the window, the only thing not letting him do it being the sudden memory of how Changbin told him that he loved graffiti.

He gets his phone from his bag’s front pocket with a small smile, snapping a few pictures from the street as other students watch his unusual behavior with a soft chuckle, Felix’s excitement contagiating the whole vehicle. He sends them to Changbin without even thinking

lix: Hey, I took some pictures of the graffitis in my neighborhood. You mentioned liking them yesterday. Do you know any of those?

lix: [Photo attached]

He waits for Changbin’s reply, but eventually lets it go. Felix doesn’t have the heart to keep checking it with a smile on his face - he might combust at any given time if Changbin keeps seriously talking about Goku as if it’s the most important thing he thinks. He disconnects, instead letting himself swim away from the seat under his body, the city he lives in passing by like a blur on the window, a moving painting filled with clear blues and pale yellows. It’s not the best place in the world, but Felix finds himself aching to press his hands on the walls, unable to stop himself from wanting to breathe deeper into the world he’s been so harshly thrown into. Being a foreigner felt weird, even if he didn’t looked different from people; he gets nostalgic of it all too easily, eyes scanning the highways on his hand and not finding his own house in it. Australia was never that good when he lived there, and leaving was so easy - it didn’t took Felix time, it didn’t rip his heart in two. Instead, he felt emptied out, thorn open like a purse and turned upside down, no resquicy of the life he used to hold inside. If forced to compare it with an object, Felix would say he felt as though as an old book: Read to the deep end, adored for a few days, and completely bared off of information, deemed to be thrown into a shelf and forgotten over the years.

It didn’t exactly hurt. Felix thought about it too long to continue feeling the burning agony that used to take over his head, so now it felt more as if the pain was a tiny needle constantly picking at him, not too deep to be unbearably painful but enough to break skin, an insistent bother at best. He was so used to it that sometimes he forgot it was there in the first place, because it truly never goes away. It’s a hole, a small patch of skin that never truly had anything under it, no blood or muscles to make it a living part. Carrying it was like going to every place with a corpse on his back, coldly mixing up with the few alive parts of his and latching Felix to an unpreventable tragedy, a cloud of iminent melancholy sitting at his shoulders. It’s the feeling of wearing a small necklace with a ghost on it - no matter how much Felix tried to make the dark breeze go away, the curse was already set, and the iceness spreaded through his body alluringly, not giving him the chance of a fight. Eventually he got used to it, but it never mean it went away. Even with Changbin, even with his old best friend, even when Felix is undeniably happy; no amount of love can kill off the feeling of having no insides whatsoever, his core so hollow it made Felix’s skin feel like plastic, a doll waiting to be filled up with another person’s expectations and dreams.

It’s a cold reality to face, but Felix has had a year to find the antidote, and he’s proud to say that he can manage it. He doesn’t ask for help - not because he doesn’t want to, or doesn’t need it, but simply because he can’t afford it. Whether it was because of his parents, his fragile emotional or the massive school hours, Felix tells himself that if he could he’d gladly ask for it. Things didn’t depend upon him, and his life was not even near to be in his hands to do as he pleases, so Felix never really lets himself think about it. It’s a certain no, not open for debates or exceptions, for the circumstances had proved it to him many times before. He sighs, but there’s no fight in it, arms shivering and weakly battling against the deadly gravity keeping them down, pressing Felix on the ground and stealing his breath right out of his throat.

Felix read his first book by the age of twelve, not so long ago considering his not so well lived seventeen years of existence, but he recalls it somehow fondly anyway, the memory too far to be a recent experience. Five years. The human mind takes a few days to get used to something, but Felix’s never really needed that when there was nothing new to fear; the only reality he seemed to have recently inserted himself in was between pages and pages of Harry Potter’s troublesome life, a boy just like anyone else who seemed to persist even when he wasn’t supposed to, even when he didn’t need to keep going. Back then, Felix’s mind took much less than days to accept the fact that he really liked Harry Potter’s eyes, as he imagined them to be. He used to read it all the time - in the bathroom, in school, during classes and even at late night, when the whole house was terribly calm and devastating quietness fell upon him like a curtain after the play ends. Felix got to the fourth book in two months or so, pace getting eventually slower because, well, he was twelve. He remembered reading about patronuses that time, a creature made of light and happy memories that protected the wizardry society from the incoming darkness of dementors, creatures who sucked the life out of people. Felix remembers being strangely fascinated with it - when he wasn’t in classes or reading, the only thing he seemed to wonder about was the act of conjuring so much light you get to scare off death itself. He reminisces it gently now, heart weighting like a tiny faerie in his chest as he cracks a tiny smile, almost imperceptible, at the memory of what he believed would make him conjure a patronus when he was twelve.

At that age, back in the day, Felix wasn’t exactly sure of what made him the happiest. He remembers thinking about all the things that ever made him smile and getting lost in the count, even ranking them being a hard task to his previous hopeful heart, naive and untouched. Felix’s smile grows bigger when he thinks about it, a dreamy sigh escaping his lips as he lets the memories of Chan’s big smile and his eleventh birthday party shower him in soft nostalgia, drenched in the sweetness that comes along with it. Twelve year old Felix was convinced his best memories were Chan’s laugh and the taste of chocolate cake. Seventeen year old Felix is convinced his best memory is the hug Chan gave him at the airport before he left.

It makes him so helpless, so overwhelmed, it’s hard to get up when the bus finally gets to his school. It’s hard to walk when he feels stuck between the life he had and the life he has now, cuffed to what he knows and what he so desperately wants. Felix feels like he’s out of orbit, out of breath, the clear image of Chan’s pale hands resting over his playing in his mind like a child on a summer day, so close Felix could almost hear him laugh. He’s far away, yanking his hand out of Felix’s quickly and running around with a smile, eyes curving like they do and arms open, mischievous, happy, a thought. Felix flinches unconsciously. A thought. He’s a thought. Everything Felix loves seems to be just a thought these days.

He felt his phone buzzing in his pocket, eyes lost when he takes a few minutes to realize he’s in no danger and it’s just his phone. He takes a few more minutes to convince himself to look at it, the expectation and anxiety of Chan contacting him almost crushing again even if Felix knows there’s no point to it.

changbin: thats?!?!?!?! so cool

changbin: thanks for showing me this

changbin: i appreciate it. i really do

changbin: ur great lix

changbin: mwah (￣ε￣＠)

Felix smiles at the silliness, even if it feels like it hurts to do it. He feels guilty, but wills it down quickly, nagging at his own mind for bringing up already solved bad habits.

lix: Gross.

lix: I’m happy you liked it, hyung. (─‿‿─)

He hears the bell ring and puts it back in his pocket again, feeling it buzzing a few times but opting to ignore it as he makes his way to his first class of the day.

Felix doesn’t remembers Changbin’s text until lunch, when he goes to the cafeteria and realizes he’s not even going to eat. It’s not that Felix doesn’t like to eat in front of people, he tells himself, it’s just that he doesn’t enjoy the food in the cafeteria. Just that. Nothing more. Except there is something more, a sense of shame he doesn’t like to taste, a way of escaping cringey situations and being made fun of. Felix knows it’s dumb, and it’ll probably wanish under the weight of time like everything does, but a part of him wishes he could be invisible more often than not. Part of him wished he didn’t ate, slept or made sounds, the feeling of being ashamed of his own footsteps too familiar to describe it. Felix had trouble with stepping too loudly and breathing too harshly, was embarrassed even by the way he drank water, and it always made him hurt just the tiniest bit more. How does one find pride in who they are if their whole existence is a complete shadow?

He sighs, tired, and goes back to his classroom. Felix is even more ashamed of that, the notion of backing down against the crowd ringing in his head like a warning, voices in his ear merely holding back the word “coward” as they get gradually louder, grumpier. The core of Felix, the mushy and disgustingly soft core of his, makes itself even smaller than before as the other, more superficial parts laugh in disdain. It’s a war zone silhouette traced in the insides of his skin, a city slowly falling apart under militarial planes, and then burning to the ground all at once. It burns his skin, makes him anxious, and Felix intertwines his hands on his lap, sitting up straight and looking through the window, the sun nothing less than overwhelming as it sits on his eyes, accusingly. He gulps.

Staring is bad. Breathing too loudly is bad. Taking one more spoon of rice at lunch is bad. Sleeping five minutes more is bad. Felix needs to reminds himself that sometimes, too accustomed with living life freely to remember that those things aren’t in his control anymore. He feels like a loser, as silly as that, taking his phone into his hands and trying to avoid the feeling of being totally, intensely, dumbly alone. In all the meanings of the word.

changbin: actually i know the person who made those. can u believe?

lix: Oh. Cool. Who is it?

changbin: [typing]

Felix closes his eyes as he waits, exhausted. A big slice of his heart wants to tell Changbin about it.

changbin: i dont know his real name

changbin: a friend of mine calls him chris

changbin: i think he has a crush on him

lix: He?

changbin: people are gay, felix

lix: ...

lix: I’m aware of that.

He takes a deep breath, tenderness bubbling up in his chest slowly calming down the waves of longing that came with the memories of Chan, Changbin’s silliness awfully useful to his constantly worried mind. It’s a good distraction, a healthy one, and Felix wants it more often.

lix: Perhaps… Do you want to hang out someday this week?

lix: After school, that is. I don’t have plans.

Changbin takes a while typing, Felix’s head already spinning with the fear of rejection.

changbin: yea. sure

changbin: im going to the park later w a few friends @ friday

changbin: you can watch us skate

changbin: and then we can eat ice cream

lix: Sounds nice. Class is starting. I’ll text you later.

Felix can’t bring himself to care about his next classes, eyes droopy as he forces them to keep open while the teacher explains something he knows he doesn’t care about. The kids in his class barely do, as well - Felix is average himself, and others aren’t that different either. His head seems heavy, almost falling where it rests on his closed fist, breathing so softly Felix is afraid it’ll hurt him if he does it in a harshier way. The tiredness under his eyes mirrors the missing in his chest, and Felix needs to force his mind off of its mood swings, no consistency in the way he feels. He sighs, head hurting. It still hurts when he gets home, it still hurts when he waits for Changbin at his front door, days later, his mom’s stare hot on his back as he made his way to the older’s house. Felix finds it hard to think or feel anything when he’s back to the basketball court, deep breaths like hands pulling life out of him, squeezing his lungs until the last drop of blood slips out of his lips. It’s a burden Felix is already too used to care; the way he lacks normality never seems to leave him despite his best efforts.

He sits on Changbin’s front step huddled in a coat, watching the grass in front of him boredly. It reminds him of their first encounter, and not much had changed since then, but Felix still feels weird to be there. He always does.

“Felix, aren’t you a bit early?” he hears Changbin scold him slightly, getting out of his house with a black jacket in his hands.

“Well… Yeah.” The younger answers, getting up to greet him and then sitting down again.

“Has anybody told you that you’re a bit vague?” Changbin scoffs, sitting next to him.

Felix blinks, confused. “Uh… No?”

“Good. You’re very vague, not just a bit.” The older teases, leaning in his own hands as he looks to the basketball field. “My friends said they’d be here soon. They’re not many, though.”

“That’s fine.” He answers, a little more at ease with the knowledge. It’s not that Felix minded new people, it’s just that he wasn’t that good at talking to them. Actually, he wasn’t good at talking to anyone, whether they’re a friend of years or someone he just met.

They sit in silence, a bit awkward at that. Something in Felix’s mind urges him to talk, quickly bubbling up the fear of losing Changbin to boredom.

“So, uh… You didn’t finished telling me about the artist who did the graffitis on my neighborhood.” His voice gets weaker with every word, hands pressing on each other as he waits for a response.

Changbin simply hums. “He’s a nice guy. Pretty, even. We don’t see him that often.”

“Why not?”

“Well, his boyfriend-”

“What about him?”

“Jesus, Felix. Let me talk.”

Felix coughs, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I’m not good at this talking thing.”

“Yeah, I realized that,” Changbin laughs, not exactly angry. “His boyfriend is older than all of us, and he’s kind of an asshole. I actually think the boy’s australian but came to Korea because of his man.”

“Really?” He tries to imagine him, but only one person comes to mind.

“Yeah. He’s probably going to be at the park too. He’s a good ass skater.” At that, Felix smiles slightly. Changbin seems fond of whoever this guy is.

The younger coughs again, looking down at his shoes. “I sort of want to meet him.”

Changbin raises an eyebrow. “Why? Because he’s australian?”

“Yes.” Felix answers quietly, shy.

“Oh…” the older backtracks softly, a knowing smile on his lips. He pats Felix’s thigh gently. “Do you miss Australia?”

“A lot.” There’s a watery smile threatening to bloom out in Felix’s face when he says it, hand loosely resting on his lap next to Changbin’s.

“That must be hard on you, right? Being a foreigner and all.” Changbin’s voice is gentle, blowing against the cold air. Felix hears its softness, sees the sorrow through his half grin, and it’s a relief. It’s a relief because it shows that somebody notices it, that somebody sees his pain. Sometimes he forgets people are able to do that.

“‘S fine.” Felix tries to force out a smile. “Are those your friends?” he changes subjects, slowly blinking when he sees a few people from afar, not much seen of their silhouettes as they got closer.

“Yes!” the older shoots up immediately, sudden energy scaring off Felix’s balance. He tries to get up just as excitedly, but ends up stumbling a bit and almost falling on his feet. If they notice, no one seems to care.

Changbin’s friends, for the lack of a better word, were very specific people. Much more than Changbin, their looks were somehow boujee, puffed chests and high up chins giving away the confidence in their own skin; Felix found himself stepping back slightly, ashamed of his own plainness. There’s shades of charisma that show in all three of them, ripped jeans moving ever so slightly with their legs, every part of it undeniably cool to Felix’s easily impressionable self. Changbin laughs, a bit euphoric, and they mirror the sound.

Soon enough they’re introduced to him. Felix is the youngest from their group, the previous one being Changbin, and they’re all koreans, even if one of them is mixed. Minho, the coolest of them all in Felix’s opinion, explains to him that they met in high school and friendship just happened to stick around - the other three agreed excitedly, talking over each other like energetic children. They were loud, overwhelmingly so, and Felix finds himself clinging to Changbin’s sleeve, self conscious. He does it all the way to the park, walking behind them with a blank expression, their chit chat becoming white noise in no time. Truth is, he doesn’t care enough to pay attention, and he just realized that he was socially expected to do his best to get along with these people, even if he was sure that they would never have anything in common except for Changbin. He’s already exhausted from it, head low and eyes looking down as he watches their shoes, not really interested. He likes Changbin’s voice, though, so Felix lets himself tune in and out whenever the other speaks up; he noticed it didn’t happen as often as when they were alone.

“Felix-ssi, Changbin told us you’re a foreigner. How’s life in Korea so far?” Minho asks, slowing down a little to match up with Felix’s pace. He looks genuinely interested, eyebrows raised and eyes curious. Felix feels sort of bad for wanting to ignore it.

He breathes, deciding against it as he looks back at Minho. “It’s been nice. I have been here for a year now… It’d be weird if I haven’t settled down yet. “

Felix realizes it might have sounded rude, and gasps in shock. Minho doesn’t look like it offends him - in fact, he lets out a small laugh, hand coming to pat Felix’s shoulder in reflex.

“In this economy? Felix-ssi, I’m glad you’re financially stable enough to do that. Not all of us are.” Minho humours him, cat like irises curving when he lets out another tiny laugh, not a care in the way he giggles.

Felix smiles slightly, confused. “I’m a high schooler.”

“And?” the older laughs a bit harder at that. “You’re never too young to know about economy. Plus, you look older.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. Next to Changbinnie here, everyone seems older.” He slaps Changbin’s back, playful.

Minho is funny, Felix discovers soon enough. Not exactly hilarious, but he’s the jokester between them all, and barely speaks if not to throw a well intended remark, mischievous sparkle never leaving his eyes. He’s undoubtedly critic, and messes with Felix quite a lot, but he’s somehow nice - the younger doesn’t even have to admit to himself that indeed, he likes the guy. It’s an instant connection. Minho has a dry humor and is nowhere as energetic as the others, his face always stuck in a scowl if he’s not smiling or making silly faces at Felix; in other words, they’re a match made in heaven. The other is also very skillful with his body and has great sense of style, considering the pretty eyeliner he had on his eyes and the even prettier collar around his neck, which made Felix gasp just a little. In a whole, he’s a sophisticated beauty, much contrary to Changbin’s rough voice and long features. Felix isn’t sure which one he likes the most, but he doesn’t really care.

“Felix said he wanted to meet Chris, hyung.” Changbin chirped in, throwing an arm around Felix’s shoulder, protective.

The younger almost trips on his feet because of it, sudden contact getting him out of his pace just a tiny bit.

“Chris? He’s a nice guy. Doesn’t seem like Felix’s type, though.” Minho wiggles his eyebrows at him, thin lips forming a cheshire cat smile Felix is sure he practices in the mirror.

Changbin scoffs, offended. His arm over Felix’s shoulder squeezes him a little tighter. “He’s no one’s type but yours. And his boyfriend’s.”

Minho blinks, eyebrow raising ever so slightly, and there’s a smooth anger behind the way his brown eyes widen. He’s cynical, Felix can tell that by the way the spark of rage in his eyes dies after a few seconds, being replaced by a passive aggressive kind of smile. He feels as if he shouldn’t be there, stuck in the middle of Minho’s soft anger and Changbin’s bold words, their stares in a tug of war filled with brown, brown and brown, dark irises nothing less than terrifyingly beautiful. He exhales, but the tiny puff of air doesn’t seem to relent under the pressure of their presences, and similar to Felix’s own courage, it dies down without a fight.

“There’s always a boyfriend, huh?” Minho humours him like he did to the younger before, back to his previous self. The anger simmered down so quickly, Felix almost wished to be inside of his eyes to see what happened to it. “He’s really cool, though. Felix could easily like him.”

His words are laced with gentleness, eyes darting down to Felix’s confused ones, offering a kind stare. Changbin seems to do the same, stuffing one of his hands in his pocket as the other adjusted itself in Felix’s shoulder. He gulps, the attention too unusual to not intimidate him.

“I hope. Kid needs new friends.” Changbin’s voice barely makes its way to Felix’s ears, the younger’s eyes fixed in the ground as he feels himself slowly lose track of reality, blinking a few times. The uncomfortableness settles on him easily.

It’s awkward. They’re all silent, or at least seem to be, Felix wandering around clumsily as he tries to grab something to steady himself on. The wind on his arms and the air in his lungs feel weird, the ground under him nothing more than a vastitude of nothing, Felix’s lips tightly pressed against each other. Changbin’s arm is gentle, but the sensation of his skin over the material of Felix’s shirt is enough to tick him off, bothered with how close it feels when the rest seems far away from him to reach. It’s most certainly the lack of sleep, or the feeling of being around so many new people at once, but he doesn’t knows what to do to get out of it. His throat seems weak, dry, locked like a top security package, and it’s a matter of time to Felix to start hyperventilating. He isn’t sure of how close they are to their destination, and as much as he hates to cancel plans, there’s no way of functioning properly when it comes to the whole tide of numbness that strikes through him, not really sure of what he’s doing in the first place. He walks, but his mind doesn’t register it, and he feels himself slowly swimming away from reality, shoulders tense and jaw locked. His legs feel weak, not much more than two sticks barely holding Felix up, even his clothes uncomfortably touching him. He’s hyper aware of himself, senses blooming under the psychological deafness that comes with it, and Felix feels like an empty elevator going up and down by command, a cubicle filled with his thoughts that simply follows whatever it’s told to do.

No one seems to know. No one seems to notice. Changbin’s arm grips him tighter, but other than that, Felix can manage out their indifference enough to know he’s out of danger. They change routes, or it feels so, because Felix’s line of sight starts to get lonelier, the street ahead of him and the feeling of an arm on his shoulder guiding him as gently as possible. There’s a grey block of concrete around his head, it seems - Felix’s vision is clouded by it, a shade between black and white that manages to lie on both opposites at any time, as inconstant as Felix’s own mood. He gulps, tries to gather as much air as possible, but it’s hard when he feels thrown into reality harshly, not really in orbit but not allowed to get out of it either. Felix tries to discover if Changbin’s talking or not, but his ears are met with a much louder void, buzzing into him ever so slightly. He forgets to breathe, but perhaps it is as proposital as anything else.

Something in his shoulder hurts, discomfort creeping in his muscles like any painful thing does; it’s slow but certain, makes him contorce his back slightly, and it’s much to bear. Felix can’t find it in himself to whine, the feeling of it too suffocating, almost choking on his own spit when he opens his mouth a bit too wide. It floods an entire sea in his lungs, makes him nauseous and panicked, much worse than the initial numbness, and Felix desperately tries to make himself empty again. He forces his body to breathe out of it, and as he inhales the ambient, the helplessness takes what it feels like hours to ease down enough for him to start feeling reality again, gradually perceiving the situation around him. Somewhere in his body, his soul stirrs tiredly.

There’s no talking being done when he finally reconnects to the world. He also doesn’t know where Changbin is taking him, but he has an idea of it.

“Where?” it’s all he croaks out, breaking into a fit of coughs. He pushes the older’s arm away from him weakly.

Changbin glances at him, but complies easily. “To my house. You seemed uncomfortable. Minho told me to.”

Felix takes a deep breath, disappointed in himself, not exactly sure why. He used to be better at hiding.

“I’m sorry,” he slurs out, shoulders slumped. “I didn’t mean to.”

The older hums, taking in Felix’s voice with a gentle stare. Despite that, he looks sort of upset. Baffled, even.

“What are you saying sorry for?” he side eyes Felix while adjusting his jacket. “I wasn’t having fun either.”

He was. Felix can tell he’s lying because he refuses to look at him when he says it. Something in his chest deadly blooms, breaking like stitches and opening old wounds.

“I’m sorry.” He insists.

Changbin sighs. “Stop saying you’re sorry.”

“Okay.” Felix breathes out, because what can he do? He’s not in position to fight back, not when he ruined the older’s day out with friends because he lacks the emotional to be around new people.

They keep in silence for a few minutes, but Felix is stubborn and impatient. He speaks up again after a while, willing to explain it all:

“It wasn’t because of your friends, y’know? Like, I’m certain it’s because I haven’t slept well today…”

“Felix.” The older stops him before he finishes it, forcefully drawing out his name. Felix gets quiet for a second.

“I’m sor-,”

“Felix!” he’s cut mid sentence by Changbin’s annoyed voice. “It’s fine.”

He swallows another apology, a bit lost. He’s used to saying sorry often, no pride in his voice as he usually does it. Changbin seems to not want it, though, and it leaves him confused to what he could do to make it better.

Felix’s voice is small when he says it. “We could do it again. Maybe next time. I’d prepare myself better.”

The other looks at him for the first time ever since they started to get back, his face so soft it was hard to Felix to grasp what it meant. There was a strange sweetness attached to the way his brows furrowed, the curve of his eyes going down with it slightly. Felix found himself taken aback by the prettiness of it once again, endlessly tugging the strings of brown and coming out with chocolate slicked hands, sweetness adorning his fingertips. For once, he wished to be a writer, so he could lock it all in paper and never let it go.

“It’s alright, Felix.”

And it almost made him believe it truly was.

Eventually, they get to Changbin’s house, path filled with restless silence pairing above their heads, Felix’s deep eyebags getting more and more delicate as he thumbs over them. It’s paper thin, sickeningly so, and he wonders why the hell he does that to himself. It’s rhetoric, though - the culprit always knows his reasons. He’s came down from one of those a few minutes ago.

Changbin doesn’t speak, but it isn’t unusual of him. He’s lost in his own word, looking around and undoubtedly away from reality, whole face relaxed because he’s not exactly worried either.It’s almost as if he was sleepwalking, walking around the streets of Seoul with sleep induced movements, his sharp features carefree for once. Felix sighs, because the silence is annoying to him, even more so if it’s with someone he’s supposed to have fun with. He doesn’t like the awkwardness hanging between them like a single pearl in a necklace, distracting to the eye and taking attention from the other two parts that hold it together, but he’s scared to say the wrong word, to break down the fragile atmosphere. Changbin is easy to read - whether he’s happy, lying or annoyed it’s almost as if there is a neon sign over his face announcing it. However, when he’s quiet like this and has a soft type of stare, Felix has no idea what it means. He doesn’t know because he himself has never felt like that before, but it happens quite often when they’re together and the opposite when Changbin’s with his other friends.

A part of him wonders if being this attentive to someone he just met is a sign of unhealthy behavior. The other quickly shushes it, focused on mapping Changbin’s mind and all of those little things that make him explode in lively energy - it’s easier, it’s quicker, it doesn’t hurt as much as doing other things does.

Changbin only speaks up when they get to his house’s doorstep, Felix’s eyes never leaving him even when he’s gone through the door, murmuring a small “follow me” that the younger complies without a fuss. He seems tired, wrapped in denim and flannel, the sight of it tickling his ear just a bit - his house was enormous, classy, but the way he walked around made Felix feel as though as if he didn’t had a worry in the world, the place so rightfully tagged as his it becomes Changbin’s own realm, comfortably existing under the same roof every day. A waterfall of tenderness gets through Felix’s heart while he watches the place, cozier than he expected it to be. There are a few rays of sun clinging to the side of Changbin’s face that makes Felix decide he loves that place more than he thought he would; but perhaps it was just the company. His core is filled with shades of yellow and orange, burning slightly between his lungs, and he’s grateful for him enough to admit that to himself. There’s an urge under his skin, going through his veins softly, a wish of his to give back the comfort Changbin just gave him,even if it took a bit to hit him straight in the gut. If he can’t apologize, the only way out of the guilt is making Changbin happy for the time being, but Felix isn’t certain of what he could do. He’s never had the task to give someone joy before, and it’s not like he knows Changbin all that well - as far as Felix could see, there was nothing vulnerable about him. He never seemed sad, but he never seemed happy either.

He sits on the couch, phone in his hand as he puts his feet up on the center table. Felix stays awkwardly glued on the ground, looking around unsurely. “Felix, stop looking so lost. Sit down.”

The younger does as he’s told, distance between him and Changbin slightly smaller when he sits next to the older. He’s not sure if Changbin likes physical contact - Felix himself doesn’t mind it very much, but the other seemed to always touch him when he has the chance, even if it’s very light such as a gentle pat or a soft hold on his arm. It’s sweet, and as much as Felix tries to deny it, Changbin’s easy affection makes him feel somehow greedier, willing to please and to gain attention. In the last year, Felix forgot what skin felt like, so he couldn’t truly blame himself if the way Changbin seemed to adore him made his heart pleased. Gently, he gets closer and closer, hand coming to rest over Changbin’s wrist. The older doesn’t comment on it, staring straight to his phone screen and ignoring the way Felix made himself closer and closer, getting to the point he’s almost with his head on Changbin’s sharp shoulder, sunk into the couch with his cheek squished against the hard angle. He exhales softly, tiny puffs of air in Felix’s ear, and it’s strangely calming, so he doesn’t back away. In the end, he does end up with his head on the other’s shoulder, eyes closing without a warning and mouth agape. Changbin doesn’t complains.

The older sighs, shoulders full. There’s that again, that same wave of unexpected nervousness, a feeling he can’t certainly tell what is. His heart fusses and tumbles, calm sunlight wrapping it up like magic in a princess’ fairytale, dipped in the color of Felix’s orange hair and sprinkled with freckles, almost a part of its own when it basks in the contact, taking a lungful of air and letting it go repeatedly. It feels like when he held his cousin’s baby for the first time, or when he danced with his sister at his mother’s first wedding - he feels in charge, purposefully so, as if he voluntarily made himself a haven for Felix to rest. It’s weird, and Changbin is too well aware of himself to think it’s platonic. He’s had crushes before, but he doesn’t believes any of them had made him that light hearted before. Felix is awkward, clumsy, walks around him with hands itching to cling, and he’s suddenly conscient of why it’s so easy to be loveable to him. He fills Changbin’s heart with pearly feels, all lace and white sheets wrapping up around baby hands and confused brown eyes. There’s the taste of coffee and milk in the back of his tongue, and Changbin almost can’t believe how quick he came to the conclusion he likes Felix a bit more than he should.

Eventually, he gets too comfortable to not sleep as well, laying his head on top of Felix’s softly. He feels intimate, Felix’s skin grazing him ever so slightly, and it’s easy to rest. He closes his eyes, a yawn getting out of him, and the world solely becomes the way Felix breathes next to him and darkness, darkness, darkness. In himself, he wonders which one of those he dreads on the most.

He wakes up after an hour or so, the position becoming too uncomfortable to bear with as Felix all but threw himself over him, loosely laying on his shoulder as he snores. His back probably hurts, with how he’s arched to reach Changbin’s neck, and the older disentangles from it carefully, pitying the other’s state. He jabs at Felix’s ribs lightly, hoping to wake him up. He hums, annoyed, but doesn’t wake up - instead, he burrows deeper in the nest he’s made of Changbin’s shoulder, frowning a bit and letting it go after sleep takes him again. Felix’s eyes flutter when he jabs at him harder, and a few intelligible murmurs leave his lips. Changbin places his hands on his waist, delicately moving Felix away from him, smiling slightly when the other whines and tries to cling to him again, half asleep now.

“Felix, your back is going to hurt. Get up, you can sleep in my room.” He promises, rubbing at his tired eyes.

Felix whines again when Changbin gets up, stretching his arms. The loss of contact is too sudden, so he makes himself into a ball, laying on the couch and burrowing his face in the cushion. Changbin grabs at his shirt, impatient, and roughly guides the sleeping boy to his room, taking his shoes off and almost throwing at the bed. Felix immediately cuddles up to his blankets, his hands under the pillow as he’s back to sleeping in a few seconds. Changbin assumes he’s tired from school and lets him sleep, taking his shoes off and gathering space to climb in bed with Felix. He pressed himself to the wall, back opposite to Felix, and closes his eyes. The younger’s presence is distracting, as he keeps moving in his sleep and glueing their backs together, probably seeking comfort. Changbin has half the mind to go back to the couch when Felix’s arms snake around his middle, the other’s cold nose pressed against his nape, not giving Changbin the option of doubt with the way his breathing gets calmer after the move. He has the strength to get Felix off of him if he wanted to, but that’s not the case - despite it all, Changbin has always been pliant to affection, and if anything Felix was the one who started it. He ignores, closing his eyes once more and letting the warmth consume him, wind coming from his window over the bed blowing softly on his face.

It’s nice, it’s soft, it’s cozy enough to make Changbin sleep in a matter of five minutes, the covers over him hiding half of his face as he does so. They keep like that for hours, evening sun getting fainter through the window as they slept, the bedroom being lit by small rays of light. At the end of the day, few minutes before the sunset, the sound of rain makes Felix open his eyes tiredly, confused. He’s in a state of trance when the smell of rain hits his nostrils, mind dazed in the way the warmth of Changbin’s body next to Felix seems to hug his whole body, nothing but soft ghosts of wind going through the layer of tenderness he has over his skin. Felix is lost, somehow, between the sheets and the way Changbin lays so quietly next to him, body soft and easily moldable despite his harsh features. It’s one of those moments, again - where reality hasn’t sunk onto him yet, and everything seems to be like a ship swaying over glistening water; as if life is where it should be, growing around them like a vine, tangling itself between their hands and knees. He feels powerful, holding Changbin’s body with his arms, and it’s weird. It’s not his usual meek feelings, but other than that, it’s a prickling one in his heart, a start of something bigger. He coughs, quietly, and lets himself get more under the blanket, wrapping around Changbin tighter. The room is dark, dark enough to Felix to feel as if they just spent a whole day lying together, a few stains of night already creeping up the yellowish colored sky, sun sliding down just like the rain pouring. It’s a lukewarm kind of climate, the soft sound of droplets tiptoeing over the roof and the gentle warmth around him giving Felix the feeling of playing among the stars, jumping in rainy clouds and flying across the sun.

He changes positions, lying on his back as he almost forces a sleeping Changbin to lay on his chest, staring up at the ceiling in expectation. This is a moment he has assumed to happen before - the moment when he finds himself with someone like he is now, comfortable. He waits for a divine interpretation, a sign of his true feelings, but it never comes. While he’s in Changbin’s bed, there’s nothing but the rain and the blankets. Felix waits for a few minutes until Changbin moves away, probably awake even if the other couldn’t exactly tell as the room was pitch black.

“Felix?” he whispers, and his voice sounds panicked. His hands grip Felix’s hoodie tightly.

“It’s me.” Felix readjusts himself, bringing Changbin closer once again. Despite the darkness, the older complies.

“Why is it so dark?” Changbin asks again, breathing calm. He waits a minute, then confesses: “I’m a tad bit scared of the dark.”

The younger forces himself not to laugh. He blinks, getting more accustomed to the dark, and lets out a smile that Changbin won’t see anyway.

“Oh.”

“You’re laughing,”

“I’m not!”

“I can hear it.”

“Shut up! You can’t!”

Felix feels a light slap on his shoulder. “Yes, I can! Get out of my bed!”

Changbin pushes him without much strength, making Felix throw a fit of giggles while trying to fight back, despite the fact that he couldn’t see him. He’s sure he slapped the wall a few times while aiming for Changbin’s chest.

“I can’t see!” he whines, trying to grab the older’s wrists.

“Well, no shit! It’s dark! What did you expect?” Changbin lets Felix take his hands, voice full of laughter even after Felix’s dies down.

“Stop being mean! I didn’t even laugh,” the younger complains, putting the other’s hands away from him.

“You did. You totally did.” He accuses, jabbing a finger at Felix’s ribs.

Felix laughs again, amused, but doesn’t protest on it. Instead, he goes back to their previous position, sliding his arm under Changbin’s neck and waiting for the other to nest in his chest. It’s distant from the Changbin he saw sooner that day, the opposite of soft and talkative when they were with others; he’s both shocked and honored with how gentle he seems to get when they’re alone, but it still doesn’t get to his heart, since he knows Changbin searches for something Felix isn’t sure he can give. It’s obvious at that point; the way they talk, the way they get closer, how natural it seems. The feeling is undoubtedly nice, cozy even, but Felix knows it’s not reliable. It’s quite similar to what he once felt for Chan, years ago when they weren’t best friends yet, and the memory isn’t exactly fond - for all he remembers, he’s always had the tendency to mold himself in a completely different way so he can please lovers he wished he had. When he rests his nose next do Changbin’s head, his heart breaks a little. He doesn’t want to ruin this, even if he knows he will. He’s not ready to give his all for someone, and catastrophe is iminent to the cowardly heart of his, but he decides that, for once, he wouldn't care. Changbin will recover. After all, he knows he’s brave enough to decide whether he wants Felix in his life or not. He’s the personification of courage, and not even love can break one who’s destined to bigger and better tomorrows.

“Hyung,” he calls for the first time, voice suave and small when he does so. It’s the type of voice he knows gets people soft, and he wants Changbin to be in his raw state to listen to his next words. May they belong with him as long as he lives, so he’ll remember even if Felix breaks his heart. “You’re the bravest person I know.”

Changbin’s breath riches next to him, a small whimper leaving his throat as if Felix’s words were a punch instead of loveable as he intended them to be. He feels moving in the bed, but keeps quiet, staring at the window and waiting for Changbin to let his words sink in. There are hands in his, and Felix has half the heart to fight against them; it’s inutile, even when Changbin is getting closer and closer, puffs of air over Felix’s lips making the rush seem deadly. More so, he closes his eyes, danger hanging on his chest warning him about the regret he’ll feel when it’s over. The shame doesn’t hurt him, not when he feels something other than boredom, not when Changbin’s hands are soft and stable and calloused - it’s fine, because their hold is nowhere as weak as Felix’s is. The affection, expected already, comes without bigger ceremonies; Changbin’s lips are chapped and they make Felix realize he never kissed anyone before, but that’s fine too, since he doesn’t have to do anything to prove himself to someone who already likes him. There’s no butterflies in his stomach, but perhaps something more realistic than that. It’s the feeling of riding a rollercoaster, of receiving a gift from Santa when he wasn’t expecting one. Felix doesn’t mind it until it’s gone, and then he misses it. He figures out that, if not Changbin, then who? If not Changbin to kiss him and make him feel loved, then who? There’s no one Felix would rather have, but there’s also no one else to have. In his heart, Changbin stands alone with the ghost of an ex best friend in a hometown he doesn’t know anymore.

When they part, no words are left to speak. There’s no need to it - their relationship was sealed. Felix hugged him back, eyes focused on the dark ceiling, and for the first time in forever, the emptiness seemed to hurt more than what he had in his chest. For the first time, Felix wished to have more to offer.

After that, they kiss more times than Felix can count. The little relationship of theirs is about two months old or so, and it’s mostly always in Changbin’s bedroom, when they’re locked away from the world and Felix has the courage to let himself pretend; most of the times, he feels… Normal. The kisses aren’t a problem to him, nor the affection - if anything, they’re welcome, and they make him feel wanted. Apart from that, nothing has changed. His relationship with Changbin starting to blend into the romantic scenery barely changes anything at all, because his feelings remain the same. He looks up to Changbin in times of sadness, and gives the help back by letting the other tangle himself in his body, offering to him the feeling of being adored even in his true shape. In his head, he plans to telling it to Changbin all the time, so he doesn’t mistake his heart to something it doesn’t feels, but he never tells. When Changbin calls, he keeps quiet and listens, and when they’re together, Felix lets the older guide his hands to his hips, giving away the touch he so desperately needs. It’s something he doesn’t always understand, but keeps doing anyway. Felix justifies his action with the way he doesn’t mind touching Changbin when touching others is always a bother, but not even that convinces him that he feels anything. At the end of the day, Felix is aware of the emptiness in his chest as if it was a palpable thing, a lump in his throat where his feelings were supposed to be.

It doesn’t keep him from maintaining a shade of tenderness for Changbin in his heart, though. More often than not, Felix does find himself wondering about the other’s presence and wishing for him to show up randomly at his door. He’s a escape from the harsh world, and Felix is grateful to him in ways he’s never been to anyone before. Part of him wishes he could have for Changbin the same feelings he had for Chan, but then it would be forgetting that he still has them, and Felix would hate himself to death if he ever forgets him.

He’s in Changbin’s bed, lights turned on this time, his hands behind his head as the older shows him his new polaroid camera, snapping a few pictures of Felix while giggling. Felix is not thinking about anything in particular when the other pulls closer, camera somewhere in the room as he lays down next to Felix, lifting the sleeve of his jacket slightly.

“Lix, look here.” Changbin asks, excitedly. His eyes are smiling, the prettiest as they always have been, and Felix forces himself not to sigh.

The sight of them has started to hurt ever since their first kiss.

“What is it, hyung?” he asks.

Wordlessly, Changbin takes off his jacket, the sleeveless shirt under it showing enough skin for Felix to be distracted. He twists his left arm, showing his wrist to Felix. There, over tanned skin and a few veins, the word “Bravado” was spelled in black ink, similar to “amor fati” in his neck. This time, though, it didn’t make Felix feel amazed as the previous one did - other than that, Felix’s heart sunk to the pit of his stomach, a huge emptiness taking over his lungs. It’s somehow close to an anxiety attack, and guilt floods him before he can even do something about it. He smiles.

“I made it thinking of you. When you said I am the bravest person you know.” And Changbin’s eyes are sparkling, beautiful as it is. They’re honest, sincere, always making Felix back away in fear. Felix can’t bear to hear him talking.

So he doesn’t.

Felix is not proud of it; he runs away, purposefully so, not sparing a glance as he hurriedly gives his goodbyes, coat and shoes in his hands. He justs balls out through the door, anxiety filling him up when he makes his way to his house, running. He’s not proud, he’s never been, but talking to people has never been a thing he was good at. Even with Changbin, he’s always with his mouth glued shut, and he probably shouldn’t, but does anyway. It’s so easy to pretend the day they met has never existed in the first place, it’s so easy to fall into the same ruthless routine that aches his bones and leaves his core so empty, Felix barely notices the days pass by. He doesn’t reach out after running away, and nor does Changbin - after all, they weren’t exactly a couple, so no official ending was needed, right? The younger isn’t even sure if he ended it, really. For all he knows, Changbin could be out there, in the dark, waiting for him to come back. Felix likes to believe he isn’t.

After a few days, Changbin blocks him in all of his social medias, and Felix knows he realized the lack of love he had. It was impossible not to do so; the older was just too blindly in love to see it before. He wishes for him to not be too upset about it, but Felix doesn’t blame him if he is - after all, it’s just reasonable that Changbin ends up hating him. He’s not sure how to feel about it, since it never flashes his mind. Life becomes the same cycle of school and depression again, something fixated he knows well. Deep down, Felix prefers it like that; the longer Changbin stayed, the more he’d need to heal. As for Felix, he could say it didn’t mean anything at all, because at the end of the day he’d rather not feel than to let himself or others get hurt. It’s only in the middle of the night, when insomnia his him hard, that he permits himself to miss Changbin.

It’s no emotional breakdown or shouting matches. A few tears are shed, a few sighs are heaved through his lungs, and life goes on. The carousel of it never stops moving, and Felix lives on without a core to save, merely tickling the universe’s roulette, his life nothing more than a ghost of wind through sand. He feels like a lonely island, but at least it’s genuine, and most of the times the cold in his heart melts away at the thought of Changbin living a better life than his. These days, the thought of having saved the older from a bigger harm helps him waking up in the morning, and it does eases the guilt that eats at him at any given time. Life goes back to normal, as it should be in the first place: Felix, alone and locked from other people. Changbin, courageous and mixed in the crowd, his friends around him every time Felix passes by the park and peeks at the skate bowl. Felix is a firm believer that, in the end, people always go back from where they came from.

It still doesn’t last long, though. A few months after his and Changbin’s hushed break up, Felix finds himself staring at the door in awe, his old best friend’s face staring back at him with the same red rimmed eyes and watery smile. Bang Chan’s face is something Felix has always swore to remember, even in the darkest moments of his life, but nothing ever prepared him for seeing it for the first time in almost two years. His smile is softer and his curls are smaller, the color of his hair a shade or so brighter than caramel blonde. He’s wearing one of his old shirts, the ones he used to wear to sleep when they did sleepovers back in Australia, and Felix is striked by thunder at the moment he sees the piercing in his lips, identical to the one Changbin has - or had. Felix hasn’t seen both of them in so long. A whimper escapes his lips as his mother lets out a surprised sound from behind him, having come to see why was Felix standing in the doorway like an idiot.

He doesn’t even registers as he practically throws himself in Chan’s chest, sobs racking his shoulders when the other wraps his arms around him, a laugh coming out of his lips softly, music to Felix’s ears. That night, back to his childhood home in Australia with Chan’s presence, Felix prayed for the first time in a while. Chan was sleeping next to him in his bed, soft snores coming from where he buried his nose in Felix’s shoulder, his smell familiar and sweet as it always has been. It’s healing - how he breathes, how he smiles, how he moves. Contrary to the pictures, his presence is not a painful nostalgia, but perhaps a sign of how things can get better when you let yourself get closer to home. He’s love, a revival for Felix’s heart, and it fills him up with the safeness he’s only had when he was next to a person he didn’t love enough. Felix got in the same position he was in when he flew out of Changbin’s room, closing his eyes and whispering in his mind the words he never thought he’d let himself say.

He prayed for Changbin - that however he is, wherever he is, he’ll have a good day tomorrow. A day where he remembers all the reasons he stayed alive last summer, all the times he had fun with Minho’s siblings while playing board games and principally, every single happy tear his mother let out at his graduation. He prayed for him to feel the same happiness Chan gave him when he showed up, the same content when Felix walked away from his last day of school, and it was the most honest he could get to himself. Felix prayed for Changbin’s eyes to never stop being pretty in his mind, and as he felt sleep taking over him, he prayed for himself as well. After all has been said and done, Felix thinks he made the best he could do - at school, at home, at life. Perhaps not always his best, but the things he considered right back when they happened. Turned out he had no regrets. When Felix fell asleep, he finally understood. Amor fati. Loving and accepting everything that comes to you, whether it harms you or not.

(Felix was watching TV in the living room with Chan when his mother dropped a letter in his lap, a knowing smile in her wrinkled face. The sun was settling down over him, light coming through the window against the sofa, and Felix had a cup of gin and cola on his hands to celebrate his last year of school. The letter had Changbin’s name and address on it, Felix’s eyes softening at the ugly handwriting. He smiled as Chan giggled at the screen, dropping his head on Felix’s shoulder.

He opened the letter, the words something he’d remember forever in his mind.

“To the reader: May you find happiness.

Dear Felix,

If you’re reading this, both of us had made it. I gathered enough courage to send you this, and you… Well, I hope you stayed alive. I really do. I think I’ll cry if you don’t.

This is awkward. It’s been six months? Something like that. Writing formally to you is cringy, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to text you since it would be sort of insensitive. But then again, you wouldn’t care. You’re not exactly sensitive, are you?

Keke, I’m sorry. I’ll stop ranting.

Felix, I think I owe you an apology. I think there had been times where I forced you to feel something for me that you didn’t… I hope you know I never meant that. I hope you know I really liked you for who you are, even if you say I don’t know who that is. I do believe that everything has a reason, and, well, amor fati, right? So please believe me when I say and accept my apologies with a warm heart.

I think you owe me one as well, but don’t worry about it - I guess I understand it better now. I already forgave you, even if I don’t know if you’re sorry. Do you forgive me, Lix? I’d be happy if you did.

Lastly, I wanted to say that I talked to Chris - Chan? - about you. When I said I met someone whose name is Felix, he snapped his head so hard. I gave him your address and he immediately left. Are you there with him? I hope you are. He really loves you. I didn’t know you were childhood friends. You could’ve told me that.

Anyways, this is getting long. You know where to find me if you want to answer, but I guess it’s fine if you choose to ignore this. I hope you find happiness, Felix. And I hope you find yourself and the people who make you want to be honest, too.

You deserve to be someone’s bravest person they know.

Love, Binnie hyung.

P.S: Here’s a supercut of the polaroids I took of us - it was starting to make me sad, so I guess you can have it. ^~^”

The supercut is kind of ugly. The pictures are cutted wrongly and Felix’s face seems to be glued back in the polaroids, as if Changbin cutted it out before. He loves it.

Felix presses the supercut to his heart with a sigh. He loves it. He really does.)