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Tight blue denim hugs the curve of Felix's hips as he walks past, and if Chan doesn't look away soon, he'll definitely do something stupid.
It's easy enough to imagine. The heat of Felix's skin. The subtle widening of his pupils when Chan draws near, barely surprised, as if he always knew this was coming. The softness of his lips, plush and parted beneath Chan's own. Stupid, Chan knows.
Then Felix turns to him, and his smile unfurls something warm and bright in Chan's chest. The moment passes, but the warmth lingers, and as Chan keeps it close, he wonders.