Work Text:
✺
“Lix, are you still working?”
“Huh?” Felix looks up from where he sits and pulls his foot off the pedal, moving his hands slowly up as his ceramics wheel slows to a stop. “What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s Friday night and we’re supposed to meet with Chan and Minho in…” Jeongin pauses, pulling out his phone to check the time. “Thirty-seven minutes. And you’re still elbow deep in clay.”
“Shit!”
“Yeah, shit!”
“I’m finishing, I just need a couple more minutes. I can’t leave the lip like this,” Felix says, wetting a sponge and starting the wheel again slowly. The piece he’s working on is simple but large, a vase he wants to give to Jisung and Changbin to celebrate their new apartment, because Jisung loves flowers and Changbin loves Jisung. He smooths out the edges ever so carefully, pauses for just a moment to push his bangs from his face and gather his utmost concentration, blocking out whatever Jeongin is saying from the door. He swiftly cuts the piece off his wheel and shifts it onto a board, confident in his motions from all the practice he’s gained throughout years of doing just this.
“Ready!” He calls out across the room, untying his apron and hanging it once the vase is stored.
“Are you?” Jeongin kicks his legs back and forth against his stool, leaning back on the craft table as he watches Felix cross the room.
“I am! Your elbows are going to be covered in dust, by the way,” Felix replies, grabbing his bag and heading towards the door. “Shall we?”
Jeongin rises up and chases behind him, swatting at his sleeves as he does. Stepping out of the art studio is a breath of fresh air, the hallway ten degrees cooler without the heat of the clay kilns burning around them. “You could have told me that before,” he grumbles.
“I’m sorry,” Felix says, pulling a microfiber cloth from the side of his back. “Try this and forgive me? Pretty please?” Jeongin turns to look at him again, face shifting from a scowl to a smile, and nods.
“Forgiven. Let’s go.”
✺
Felix may like to play happy and carefree, but he can tell when he’s being stared at, and right now he’s being stared at. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing, because he’s being stared at by Chan, and he’s done his own fair share of staring at Chan; he’s trying to do it now, bring in some flirty giggles and playful touches and bat his eyes just so to see if he’s receptive, but it’s not really working as well as he’d like.
“Oh! Have you seen the latest episode yet?’ Felix asks, grabbing Chan’s wrist excitedly from across the booth they’re sat in when he mentions a drama they both like. He sees his friend’s face brighten for a moment, watches as his smile grows and his eyes flick from Felix’s hands to his face to his forehead, wilts as the smile fades a bit and Chan’s lips tuck into his mouth in a grimace. He’s not really sure what else to do at this point, he’s known Chan for three months and been trying to draw him in for just as long, but nights like tonight make it feel hopeless.
“I… Sorry,” Chan says, looking Felix in the eyes again. “I have! It was so good, but that guy- what’s his name, with the scar? I hate that guy more every week.”
“God, same,” Felix sighs, partially in agreement and partially with relief that Chan had at least answered. “But I love his girlfriend. She deserves better.”
“She’s literally cheating on him,” Minho chimes in, face deadpan aside from a cocked eyebrow.
“With a way better guy! She just knows her worth is all,” Felix defends. “Right Chan?”
“I- huh?” Chan asks. His eyes have drifted back up to Felix’s forehead, and he can’t help but wonder if he should have brushed his hair after so many hours in the studio.
“Oh, for god’s sake,” Minho says with a huff, pulling everyone’s attention to him. He takes a napkin from the middle of the table and folds it a few times before dunking into his glass of ice water, then leans over and presses it to Felix’s forehead.
“Ah, fuck, that’s cold!” Felix yelps, releasing his grip on Chan’s wrist to swat Minho away. “What the hell?”
“Just- Oh, please, stop acting like you’re in pain. Just let me do this,” Minho says, wiping at him a few times and pulling the napkin away to show it covered in a layer of gray. “You were covered in clay, I’m trying to stop you from looking like an idiot.”
“I was?” Felix asks, patting the damp spot Minho had left behind. He turns to Jeongin with a look of betrayal only to be met with a mischievous smirk. “And you let me walk around like that?”
“You let me get covered in dust,” Jeongin replies simply.
“And I helped you! And you!” Felix cries out, turning to Chan. “Why didn’t you tell me? I trusted you!”
“I didn’t really know a nice way to say it,” Chan says quietly, looking like a golden retriever shamed with his blonde hair and shy smile. “I’m sorry. You look good now, though.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Felix pouts. “Minho is the only one I can trust. I love you, Minho. Let me buy you a drink.”
“I’m the designated driver.”
“I’ll buy you more water,” he says cheerfully. Chan laughs and Felix turns, and Chan smiles and Felix smiles back, and their eyes meet and Chan doesn’t look away, and the rest of the night is full of giggles and teasing and cheap buckets of beer. And despite the embarrassment he should probably be feeling, Felix doesn’t look away either.
✺
“Am I allowed in here?”
Felix looks up from where he’s sat at a workbench, setting the brush he’s using to glaze a set of mugs down gently. “Of course you are. You’re a bit far from the music building though, no?”
“Jisung and Changbin are making googly eyes at each other again,” Chan says, setting down his things and sitting across from Felix. “Those are nice. Who are those for?”
“You like them?”
“Yeah, they’re cute. I like the colors,” Chan says, leaning in to inspect them. Felix laughs and he looks up, curious. “What?”
“Nothing, no. I just thought you were more of a black kind of guy,” Felix explains, looking down at his pieces and smiling.
“I mean, these are grey and white. It’s still neutral,” Chan defends.
“Right now they are. Once I fire them they’ll be purple and blue. See how this color is tinted?” Felix asks, pointing out the light background on one of the mugs. Chan leans in even more, tilting his head cutely as he tries to see it.
“It looks pretty white to me.”
“It’s going to be lilac. This color,” Felix explains, flipping the lid of the glaze and showing him a swatch. Chan looks surprised, eyes widening and mouth forming a little ‘O’. Felix wants to take a picture and save it forever.
“Wow, that’s kind of wild. They’ll still be cute though,” Chan says, sounding genuinely interested. “Really cute.”
“You want them?” Felix asks without thinking.
“Really?”
Felix ponders for a moment. He really likes these mugs, and they’re for a project. But thinking of Chan having them in his apartment sounds really appealing. A little piece of Felix to look at each morning while he enjoys his coffee. Or maybe his tea, he’s pretty sure Jisung mentioned that Chan doesn’t like coffee much. “Sure. Once they’re graded. I have a lot already.”
“Well, I’ll take you up on it! Thanks, little one,” Chan says, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Oh! Hang on.” Chan gets up from his bench and Felix feels himself flush at the nickname. He busies himself by picking his brush back up and begins painting again, hoping the redness isn’t noticeable.
“Sure thing,” he mumbles quietly.
“Look at me,” Chan says, coming back with a wet paper towel. “Tilt your head up.”
“What? Why?” Felix asks, much preferring to hide his face in his work.
“Just look up,” Chan repeats sweetly, dropping to knee level when Felix doesn’t move. “You have paint in your hair, I was gonna get it. Is that ok?”
“Oh.” Felix positions himself towards Chan and allows him to brush through his bangs. “Thanks. I’m still not used to my hair being this long.”
“It was shorter before?” Chan asks, still dabbing at Felix’s hair. “I mean, obviously. That’s how hair works, right? But like-”
“This is my first time growing it out,” Felix offers, laughing when Chan’s mouth forms into a grimace. “I knew what you meant.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. And thanks. For telling me this time,” Felix says.
“Sorry about that too,” Chan replies.
“You know,” Felix says, feeling a little bit brave. Chan is still brushing through his hair, and he’s either got a whole bucket’s worth of glaze in his bangs or the other boy is distracted. “I had thought maybe you were just looking at me.”
“Just looking at you?” Chan repeats, face flushing.
“Because I’m cute,” Felix says, cupping his hands around his face and grinning.
“Hey! You’ve got glaze on your hand, it’s on your cheek now,” Chan scolds, moving his hands away and starting to wipe at Felix’s cheek. The way he forgets his embarrassment to take care of others is endearing as hell, and Felix finds himself a bit smitten.
“Thank you, Channie.”
“You’re welcome, but be careful,” he replies softly. “Your freckles are nice on their own, they clash with the grey.”
“It’s blue,” Felix corrects.
“Whatever it is,” Chan says, putting a finger under Felix’s chin to tilt his head and inspect him closely. “You should keep yourself clean.”
“Yes sir,” Felix says with a grin. “But there’s a problem.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Mhmm,” Felix hums. “If I don’t have stuff on my face, will you still look at me?”
“P-pardon?” Chan stutters, eyes widening. He looks like he’s going to run away, and Felix does the first thing he can think of and grabs him by the hands. “Lix?”
“Chan?”
“I will! I mean, I still will. I mean, I do!” Chan struggles to get out. “I do look at you! Jisung says I look at you too much, so I definitely do!”
“You do?” Felix asks, surprised by the statement. With all the time their friend group spends together, he assumed he would notice something like that. He’s suddenly overly conscious of his grip on Chan’s hands, and his bravery is quickly sinking as he tries to figure out how they’ve ended up in this position, with Chan just a few breaths away.
“Of course. You’re very- very look-at-able.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Felix replies. “I mean. So are you,” he corrects. “Very. I like your face. You have nice- a nice nose. And- yeah,” Felix rambles, trailing off. “So, ditto, I guess.”
“Good,” Chan says nervously. “That’s good. Are you- um. May I have my hands back, though? Just because yours are still kind of covered in paint, and now mine are too,” he explains. Felix looks down at his hands wrapped around Chan’s (as wrapped as they can be when his are so much smaller) and lets go.
“Sorry! Shit, Sorry,” Felix yelps, letting go instantly. “My paintbrush. The handle must have had glaze on it.”
“No problem,” Chan replies, smiling cheerfully and getting up when Felix turns away. He walks to the sink to wash his hands and comes back with a bundle of wet paper towels, which he hands to Felix to clean himself off. “So.”
“Yes?” Felix answers quietly, a bit surprised when Chan sits back down, next to him this time.
“Can I still hang out here? And watch you?” he asks. “I mean watch you paint!” he clarifies quickly.
“You can do either,” Felix says quietly, a smile creeping onto his face at Chan’s panicked tone. They sit like that for an hour, Felix placating Chan’s questions as their knees knock and their elbows bump and Felix’s chest is filled with warmth.
✺
It’s interesting, how quickly something can grow into a routine. How Felix had been surprised the first three times Chan showed up to the studio, and now three weeks later he’s sat wondering why the other is running ten minutes late for plans they never actually scheduled. Felix had a plan in mind for the day, and despite it being entirely one-sided, he’s a little bit peeved that Chan is ruining it.
He tells him so when Chan walks through the door, blond hair hanging down where it’s usually covered with a cap, sleeves chopped off to accommodate the unseasonably warm weather they’re having right before their fall break. “Bang Chan, you are late!”
“I’m sorry! I know I am, I’m sorry,” Chan says, holding his hands up in surrender as Felix storms over to him and pulls an apron down from the wall.
“What happened?” he asks, mood fading when he sees guilty eyes and a puppy dog face. “Put your arms up, please.”
“My arms?” Chan asks, obeying cluelessly. “I was getting some really good lyrics nailed down with Sung and Binnie. I’m sorry.”
“Oh,” Felix replies. He slides the apron over Chan’s body and takes it off immediately when he sees how snug it’s fitting already. “Jeez, been working out?”
“I have, actually,” Chan says smugly.
“I can tell. You can put your arms down,” Felix says once he’s finished tying the larger apron around Chan’s waist. “I didn’t interrupt you, did I?”
“Hmm?”
“From lyrics? I wouldn’t want to stop the world’s greatest song from being written,” Felix clarifies.
“Oh, no. Things were tapering off by the point I realized the time. What are you doing to me, by the way?”
“Suiting you up. Today, you will make a bowl,” Felix announces proudly.
“I will?”
“You will. You’ve watched me enough, it’ll be fun!” he says.
“I still won’t know what I’m doing,” Chan says, though he follows all too willingly when Felix guides him towards the wheel.
“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”
“Ooh, should I call you professor Lee?”
“No,” Felix reponds, scrunching his face in disgust. “Ew, definitely not. Mr. Felix though, maybe.”
“Ok, Mr. Felix. What do I do?”
“Sit down at that wheel,” Felix says, pointing at a station he’d set up with everything they need. “Water and tools are there. I already kneaded the clay for you and picked out a good size.”
“Thank you, Mr. Felix,” Chan replies, sitting. He puts his foot on the wheel immediately, sending the clay tumbling over the ledge before it gets caught by the splash guard. “Woah!”
“Be careful! I didn’t throw it yet.”
“I can see that,” Chan says, picking the misshapen clay up. “Is this still ok?”
“No, hang on,” Felix says, leaning over him to knead it into something usable again. He can feel the way Chan’s eyes bore into him, knows he’s far more focused on his face than the clay in hand, and tries with all his might not to let a smile creep onto his lips. He hands it to Chan and gives direction before anything else can happen. “Ok, now hold it up,” he says, gesturing as if he’s doing it himself. “And slam it into the middle of the wheel. It doesn’t have to be perfect, but try to get as close as you can.” Chan does, and to Felix’s surprise, it’s nearly spot on. “Nice!”
“Nice? All I did was throw the clay,” Chan questions.
“I’ve seen people miss entirely, so yeah! Nice!”
“Incredible,” Chan laughs. “Can I spin the wheel now?”
“You can,” Felix confirms. He pulls a stool up to sit across from Chan on the other side of the wheel and guides him through the next few actions, which he follows careful as can be. “Wet the clay with your sponge- good. Now turn the wheel up, about halfway. Faster. Put your hand down on the edge and keep it steady, we’re centering the clay.”
“Centering?” Chan asks, putting both hands around his lump of clay and letting it spin. His hands jiggle and wobble with the clay, riding the lopsided lumps weakly.
“Making it symmetrical. Be firm with it, press in,” Felix coaches. “They clay is clay, you’re a person. Tell it what to do.”
“I’m not very bossy,” Chan says, though he starts to press in a bit more. Felix can’t help but snort, which draws Chan’s attention up with a questioning face and a cocked brow. “What?”
“I’m sorry, it’s just. Yes you are,” Felix laughs. “You’re just quiet bossy. I don’t even think you know you’re doing it.”
“This is slander.”
“It’s not bad! You use it for good,” Felix defends. “But you are bossy. Move your hands in. More evenly. Stiffer.”
“You’re the bossy one,” Chan grumbles, following orders. He’s being too rough now, pinching the clay in at the center, and Felix yanks his hands away quickly.
“Stop! You’re going to cut it all off!” he cries out, trying his best to correct things. “You’re going to be left with an ashtray instead of a bowl.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing, I said this,” Chan whines. “Help me.”
“Come here,” Felix says, grabbing Chan’s hands and wetting the clay more with a sponge. He places the other’s hands around the clay and his own on top, guiding him firmly where to go. For once he hopes Chan isn’t looking at him, because his ears feel warm and his cheeks are likely red and he can’t quite stop himself from nibbling on his lower lip at the touch. “Like this.”
“Your hands must be stronger than mine,” Chan says, staying sturdy as Felix moves him.
“They’re like half the size, you’re just being a pushover.”
“I thought I was bossy?”
“You’re both,” Felix says. “It’s centered. Slow the wheel down a little bit and reach towards the top- yeah, like that. You’ve seen me do this. Open it slowly.”
“Like this?”
“Just like that. Stop an inch or so before you get to the bottom so the bowl has a good base,” Felix says, moving his hands away from Chan’s. “You can keep making it thinner, just hold both sides and pull out slowly. Don’t try to do it all at once, ok?”
“Is this too much?” Chan asks tentatively.
“No, that’s perfect. It’s up to you from here on out,” Felix says, wiping his hands on a spare rag.
“What? Up to me?”
“Up to you. You can shape it however you want it. If you want it to be a salad bowl make it more shallow. Cereal bowls are rounder and higher.”
“I want a cereal bowl for breakfast,” Chan responds, starting to shape the body of his piece. He’s quiet for a bit, and Felix doesn’t respond, enjoying the looks on his face as he focuses. He’s seen Chan at work before in the studio, but not for long, always scrambling to leave when Jisung and Changbin drop by in fear of being a nuisance. Chan’s face is normally animated and alive with every emotion, even when the emotion on his face is one of annoyance. Now it’s still and concentrated, only his lips moving as he purses them and draws them in when he makes a new move. “I used your mug this morning,” he says after a while, playing with the lip of the bowl.
“You did?” Felix asks in surprise. He’s gifted the mugs over to Chan a week and a half ago, in all their blue and purple glory, but hadn’t really known if they’d get any use.
“I use them every morning. They’re the perfect size,” Chan continues. “And it’s a nice way to start the day. Thinking of you.”
The words are deafening over the empty room, only competing with the hum of the wheel and the dull whir of kilns firing in the next room over. They make Felix feel acutely aware of the way his knees have been sandwiching the elder’s in, the warmth in his cheeks and the tingle in his hands from where they were previously guiding over Chan’s.
“Stop the wheel,” Felix says quietly, standing up from his stool. Chan does, pulling his hands away gently so as not to leave marks on the clay, something he must have picked up from Felix without even noticing.
“Why? Is it too thin? What’s wrong?” he asks, squinting at the bowl. He doesn’t even notice as Felix leaning
“Chan,” Felix trills, trying to keep his tone peaceful when his heart is anything but. He’s just about done with the games, with the looking and not touching, with the will they or won’t they. He will. “Look up.”
“Hmm? Oh,” Chan says, expression lighting up as he sees Felix inching in on him when he lifts his head up. He’s adorable, hair floppy in his eyes, and Felix gently pushes it up and out of the way when he gets closer. “Hi. Can I help you?”
“Hi,” Felix repeats quietly. “Yeah. You can not say things like that if you’re not trying to get me to kiss you. Or look at me like that.”
“I thought you wanted me to look at you. You always look at me,” Chan says dumbly.
“I do,” Felix replies. He leans in more now, knocking his forehead against Chan’s and smiling when the other leans into him. “But it makes me want to kiss you.”
“Well I want to kiss you too.”
“Ok.”
“Ok.”
“Good,” Felix says, giggling just once before he finally commits and presses his lips to Chan’s. It’s a wonder how he didn’t do this sooner, how he denied himself from plush lips and strong hands resting on the side of his face. He lets his own hands cup Chan’s cheeks as the kiss gets closer, stronger, still tame for the sake of being in public and the knowledge that Felix hadn’t locked the door, but enough to send chills down his spine and make him force himself to pull away before he leans too far and crushes Chan’s creation beneath him.
“I wish you could see yourself now,” Chan says, smiling goofy as he leans back in his stool with a look of admiration on his face.
“Why?” Felix asks, sitting back down across from Chan. “Do I look pretty?”
“Gorgeous. But you’ve got a little clay on your- everywhere,” he says, holding up clay covered hands and wiggling his fingers. Felix swipes at his cheek with his finger and looks down, and sure enough his finger is coated in something slick and grey.
“Oh,” Felix says, reaching for a rag to wipe the excess off. “Well. This is how you like me best anyway, right? What made you look in the first place?”
“Is that what you think?”
“Is that wrong?”
“Sure, little one,” Chan says fondly. “If that’s what you want to think. That's how I like you. That’s what made me look.”