When Hyunjin comes back inside the restaurant, several heads turn towards him. Chan’s first, of course, but that’s because he’s wired to look at the members first, to spot them in any crowd. Some of the staff too, mostly because they’ve ingrained the same habit, constantly counting through the members when they’re in public. But Felix also sees some shy smiles on both male and female staff and he can’t exactly fault them.

Felix stares too. Hyunjin comes back with one of the managers and his huge camera, done taking pictures in front of the restaurant, beautiful Paris in the background.

“What are you smiling about?” Changbin nudges his elbow.

“Hm?”

Changbin raises an eyebrow at him. “You were just smiling? What did you think about?” There’s an awful attempt at an eyebrow wiggle too, and Felix laughs, too loud to be normal, but glad that Changbin didn’t catch him staring at Hyunjin.

“I don’t know,” Felix lies, smiling, and squeezing Changbin’s shoulder. He does know, he realizes when Hyunjin is done making his way through the room and flopping down next to Chan and some other staff members, on the other side of the long table they built in the back for them. Hyunjin is glowing. The way he always is in Paris, and Felix remembers their trip last year, and how he had that glow almost to himself. That memory is tinted in a different light now, more precious than he previously noticed.

Hyunjin sees him staring. At least he looks up from across the room and meets Felix’s eyes, and there’s something inside Felix that’s cataloging the reaction, looking for any dip in that glow, any fading in that smile.

He doesn’t see it. Hyunjin’s face stays just as it was, larger than life, surely more beautiful. As it happens ever since that night sometimes, Hyunjin’s gaze reaches deep inside Felix, like a hand pushing into his chest and clawing at his heart.

Felix looks away first, using the moment Changbin pushes the menu over to him, pointing at an item. “That’s meat, right?”

They’d been handed the English menu, the other option being French, and Seungmin had teased that Felix should try reading that to them. “Yeah, that’s meat. Beef tenderloin,” Felix translates. “The one underneath too.”

He steals another glance while Changbin is commenting on the menu options, and Hyunjin is still looking over, or again, and Felix can’t hide the shudder going through him.

He has flashbacks to that moment on stage sometimes. To the lips on the back of his neck and how it had branded his skin that he was surprised it didn’t leave a permanent mark. It felt like Hyunjin’s gaze is feeling now, and Felix doesn’t know what to do with that information.

He’s going back to the moment at the rented house too, the one where Hyunjin sat across from him and asked him if he was in love with Changbin.

“Any drinks, gentlemen?”

Felix is pulled from those thoughts, grateful that he is when he already feels his cheeks heat with the thoughts that follow those indulgences every time. He thinks about what the question could have meant. What Hyunjin could have hoped to hear.

They leave in separate vans by chance, the order not having been discussed beforehand, just everyone picking one at random, quickly and orderly, not looking too rushed, not lingering with the few fans who’ve gathered outside watching them.

They’re not going back to the hotel, or at least not all of them. Plans are discussed in the group chat and Felix is restless enough that he decides to join some of the others. They stop halfway back and shuffle the order of the vans. Chan, Changbin, and Seungmin head back to the hotel while the rest of them don’t want to pass up the chance to spend more time seeing Paris.

They’re desperately trying to find a convenience store for the first half hour, a place to buy drinks and snacks. They finally park the car somewhere Felix is sure they’ll never find it again and storm a small store that is not like the ones in Korea but all the foreign sweets make up for it and both Hyunjin and Jeongin buy far more than they should.

“This too,” Jisung says and sneaks a bunch of candy bars into the basket Hyunjin is holding.

“Ahh, Han Jisung, I’m not paying for yours!” Hyunjin shouts but doesn’t do anything to remove the items, and Jisung sticks his tongue out at him as if he knows Hyunjin won’t and goes on the hunt for more.

Felix is a few steps away but he sees Minho approach Hyunjin and hold out his hand wordlessly, offering to pay for all of their food, but Hyunjin presses the basket to his body and shakes his head with the happiest smile on his face.

Felix can’t seem to stop looking at that face and that smile. He knows that schedule will bring them to Paris more often now and quietly in his head he thanks God for gifting that to him. To all of them.

“Yongbokkie!” Hyunjin shouts and Felix startles and laughs when Hyunjin shakes the basket at him that by now carries more food than they can ever finish between them. “Have you picked something for yourself?”

He has, even already paid for it by himself, but he can’t escape the pull of Hyunjin’s excitement, so he chooses another bag of popcorn and adds it to Hyunjin’s basket.

They haven’t done this in so long. Usually, it is Minho paying or Chan, or Changbin on rare occasions that he keeps bringing up for weeks after, and they always feel like they’re teenagers again, trainees who have just found each other, not knowing but sensing the bond that would develop between them.

They leave the car for the rest of the way to the Eiffel Tower. It’s a little bit of a walk between beautiful buildings, peppered in with newer builds that seem ugly and out of place in comparison, but they’re high on the circumstance, on the show waiting for them the next day, the food, the drinks, the Paris air. Felix links his arms with Jeongin’s and laughs when Hyunjin skips along the sidewalk, bowing and apologizing when a tourist couple turns a corner and almost runs into him.

The tower appears and disappears between the buildings like a taunt or a tease. Like a promise.

The park in front of it is filled with people, even at this hour, and for a moment they turn silent, nervous at the sudden crowd, but it’s dark and here in Europe Felix hopes they’re still unknown enough.

They find their own little spot and flop to the ground, forming an unorganized circle, and Felix loves the feeling of being just like everyone else, of blending in and being another body in the crowd.

He loses track of the conversation at some point, daydreaming where he sits, getting lost in his own thoughts. Laughter pulls his attention back and he looks for the cause of it, finds Jeongin talking to Minho and the managers.

He laughs a little louder than usual, and Felix is reminded of a younger version of him, misses him fiercely so suddenly that he winces, rubbing a spot under his solar plexus.

“Idols dating each other, maybe. Idols from the same group? No way.” He shakes his head as if the thought is so ridiculous it amuses him. “That could destroy the whole group.” He laughs as if it’s the funniest thing. Felix missed the beginning of this, the context, but he doesn’t need context for every word to bite.

The conversation continues, but Felix doesn’t hear the rest, doesn’t follow the words when his own heart picks up speed. At first, he thinks it’s a panic attack. Then he’s sure he’s going to throw up. He’s breathing through it, carefully, hoping not to draw any attention to himself.

He regrets the alcohol in his hand and puts the half-empty bottle aside. He’s lightheaded suddenly, the food from earlier lying heavy in his stomach. He searches for Hyunjin in the dark but can see only the back of his head.

Jisung is next to him and he looks at Felix weirdly, the same way he looked at him in the house, blinking as if he’s spent so much time with Minho that he’s copying his habits without noticing.

He knows.

Felix sits up straight, gulping in a breath. He’s sure, like someone had spoken the words. His neck is flushing hot.

Jisung knows. Hyunjin must have told him. He knows.

Jisung glances away quickly when Felix’s eyes meet his, and that’s answer enough. Jeongin doesn’t notice what his words have done, how subdued the mood suddenly is, still laughing with one of the managers and already talking about something else.

Felix gets up from his spot on the ground, brushing the dirt off his pants. Minho glances too, but he’s always hard to read if he wants to be and there’s no indication that he knows as well. Other than the fact that Felix can’t imagine Jisung keeping anything from his hyung, there’s no indication.

And he shouldn’t be angry in the first place, remembers the whispered words to Chan that he hasn’t told Hyunjin about either. Chan cornered him a few days after that, and asked to actually talk about it, but Felix didn’t have much to add.

He gets too anxious to keep standing around, walks up and down instead, suddenly ready to go back to the hotel and crash, but not wanting to spoil the other’s fun.

It’s surreal to be here. To be here with the members too, like a lifelong dream come true but it’s only ever palpable while it’s a dream. Never while it’s actually happening. Because the present is filled with too many details, too many worries about dress rehearsal and choreography and jetlag and hotel air quality that might make or break their singing ability the next day.

A sound travels through the crowd, excitement and awe, and Felix turns to find the Eiffel Tower sparkling with lights. It’s stale this time, too much, like it’s happening in a parallel universe he doesn’t have access to, so the image that he sees is three times less saturated than the original.

Hyunjin stops to stand next to him, looking up, and the lights dance in his face, in his eyes. He’s taking photos, he must have hundreds of the same by now, but he still looks as ecstatic as the last time they were here. Just the two of them.

Suddenly there’s a knot in Felix’s chest, burning at its edges, and it only gets worse the longer he looks at Hyunjin, so he wills himself to turn but somehow can’t find the strength, as if he’s trapped in sleep paralysis, awake but not in control of his own body.

Hyunjin turns to him.

And his smile falters.

It takes a moment, a delayed reaction, as if he didn’t know it was Felix next to him and only realized then. But Hyunjin’s smile drops and he doesn’t meet Felix’s eyes for long.

On the way back to the car Felix keeps purposefully away from Hyunjin. He only realizes that he does once Jisung comes to walk next to him, throwing him pitiful worried glances.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly.

Felix’s head snaps up. “Hm? Yeah. Yes, of course.”

Jisung winces. “What Iyen-ah said—.”

“He’s right,” Felix cuts him off. Because he is, and Felix knows he’s better off to face that truth now and not get lost in his own head. Or heart.

Jisung grabs his hand as if the words have hurt him too.

“Hyunjin told you?” Felix asks and doesn’t quite manage to keep the bite out of his words even though he’s not angry at either of them.

They stop at a red light, their little group dispersed by other tourists. Felix can still see the top of Hyunjin’s head.

“Don’t be mad,” Jisung mumbles.

“I’m not.” It’s a lie and they both know it. Jisung just doesn't know that it has nothing to do with Hyunjin telling him. Felix swallows, clenches, and unclenches his fists, but it doesn’t make it any better. Anger at the start always has this satisfying note to it, as if the anger is justified and righteous, and that’s before the notion that it stands for something else becomes too strong, that anger is just a mask for pain.

Felix doesn’t see Hyunjin that night, at least not long enough to exchange actual words, and he doesn’t see him at breakfast either, because they always have different morning routines, so somehow over this trip and the next weeks, they barely see each other on schedules, let alone outside of it.

It’s eating away at Felix. He tries to avoid thinking about it, finds the thought silly in broad daylight, silly and dramatic, because they see each other every day. But at night, or rather in the early morning hours, he tries to recall the last time he actually spoke to Hyunjin and has a hard time remembering.

And every time he tells himself that he will. That it shouldn’t be a thing he has to think about. And every morning he sees Hyunjin, half asleep and a little disheveled if it’s an early schedule, something seizes in Felix’s chest, and it’s so weirdly close to anger that it scares him, as if Jeongin’s words have branded Hyunjin, have made him both the source of Felix’s pain and the object of his anger.

It all comes to a head at a dance rehearsal weeks later.

Felix has been off for days, stumbling over his own two feet, and he’s annoyed by himself, groaning and sighing until he gets called out for it by both Changbin and Minho.

Hyunjin stays away. By now Felix is convinced that that’s what he does, because he keeps glancing over, keeps checking on Felix only to look away the moment Felix catches him.

It pisses him off. Felix doesn’t remember being angry a lot, it’s not who he is, but Hyunjin sparks something inside him and it shoots off every time he sees him. Sinking deeper and deeper under his skin to the point that his body shivers at the sight of him.

Hyunjin should be used to the power words hold. Should be intimately familiar with how the simplest words slip into the human consciousness and infest the mind, warp and grow, feeding off the host body like an insect.

Words are part of his job, part of him as a person, lyrics branded into his skin, those written by his own members, by other artists, by himself. He should have known the impact they can have. Should have known to take cover before they could.

But this time those words have come from the unlikeliest of sources, from inside his defenses. Uttered so carelessly by his beloved maknae.

It had taken some time for him. He heard Jeongin say it, remembers how the world around him quieted for a moment so the words seemed extra loud, like they do in the movies where the time stops and the gunshot is heard for seconds and seconds.

But the realization came only after, worming its way under Hyunjin’s skin.

He knows it now. The cold, biting reality of the words Jeongin had so casually spoken into existence.

Felix is avoiding him. Has been ever since that day. At first, Hyunjin wanted to give him space, was even glad for it because looking at Felix became increasingly difficult.

But it’s been so long now that Hyunjin doesn’t know how to get back. Like he’s missed the moment somewhere in there to approach him, to make him talk the way Felix usually does first, and now everything that’s not been said between them has piled up into lumps of dirt and ash and mud, building a wall Hyunjin has no idea how to climb over.

At rehearsal, Felix is so distracted that everyone notices. Even Chan, who usually lets Minho lead and uses the time to turn his mind off and follow someone else for once. He frowns when Felix misses a step, apologizing with a bow and a stern face. Hyunjin watches Chan taking Felix aside during the break and tries not to read too much into it when they’re both looking over at him.

“You two keep going,” Minho says, wiping the sweat off his face with his towel when the rest of the members have already left for the showers. He motions at Felix and Hyunjin. “I’ll join you in half an hour again.”

Hyunjin nods, looking over to where Felix is still going through the steps, not even looking up. “Yes, hyung,” he adds, nervous under Minho’s stare, one he can’t read no matter how hard he tries.

The door closes behind him, and then they’re alone.

Hyunjin tries to recall the last time he’s been alone with Felix. It’s been weeks.

Felix still isn’t looking up, and Hyunjin knows what tunnel vision looks on him. He’s not even sure he noticed that Minho has left the room.

“You want to start from the bridge?” Hyunjin asks, his voice weirdly loud in the silence around them. He’s itching to turn the music back on.

Felix startles, blushing when he finally, finally, looks up. “Uhm, yeah,” he says, his voice coming out rough. “Yeah, let’s start from the bridge.”

They do. They get through three rounds, and Hyunjin doesn’t fully manage to lose himself in the movements the way he usually can. It’s like giving over his body to the music, like a doll raising their arms to welcome the strings, but it doesn’t happen today. Not when Felix is a burning presence next to him, his movements sharp and precise, only to falter at the last moment.

“You almost got it,” Hyunjin says, stepping closer to show the last move, the one where Felix comes in too deep and misses the angle for the turn. It’s a mistake to get that close.

Because Felix has that clean sweat smell, the rosy skin, heat coming off his body, and the memory tugs at Hyunjin, making every cell in his body want closer, because he’s been there before.

“Like this,” he says and ignores the way his own voice has gone rough. He grabs Felix’s elbows from behind because that’s what he usually would do, pushing him down gently, holding him where to stop.

It’s another mistake, and Hyunjin keeps on making them, because he wants to, doesn’t know how else to act.

Felix freezes. He doesn’t tense exactly, doesn’t feel like he doesn’t want Hyunjin close. It’s the opposite. Felix melts into Hyunjin’s touch, even though they’re not too close, only their arms grazing each other. He sighs, faintly, barely there.

Then he moves. He slides one hand into Hyunjin’s, not holding on, but caressing, his thumb grazing against his palm.

Hyunjin holds his breath.

And Felix steps away. Hyunjin instantly feels colder than before. His hands empty now, as if something precious slipped away. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he says, his voice surprisingly steady.

Felix huffs and doesn’t look at Hyunjin. It’s a weird sound, broken and mocking all the same. It’s answer enough.

“You said you didn’t regret it,” Hyunjin pushes further, his words much braver than his heart, clenching in his chest. But he needs to know. He needs to know.

Felix clenches his jaw. He still stands with his back turned, but he has his face half towards Hyunjin. “I didn’t.”

And that’s where Hyunjin’s heart stops. It stops, plain and simple, at least that’s what it feels like. He blinks. He’s not sure if the feeling rushing through him is sadness or anger, but it’s flooding his body, every nerve ending tingling. He can’t breathe.

“Wow. Okay.” The words come out harsher than he intended, but maybe that’s exactly how they should come out right now. Anger sits so much closer than the pain underneath, the confusion too.

Felix's head shoots up at that. They don’t fight. No one really fights with Felix, but especially not Hyunjin.

He closes his eyes. “I don’t regret it. That’s the whole fucking problem.” He balls his hands into fists.

Hyunjin clears his throat. “I don’t understand.”

There’s a pause, a moment where time stretches, and then Felix shakes his head and rubs over his face with the palms of his hands. “Can we not talk about it, please?”

“Okay.” Hyunjin deflates. And then rises back to anger, and he feels like one of those roller-coasters in Lotte World. “You can’t even be near me anymore,” he says, and it sounds like an accusation. Maybe it is.

Felix doesn’t deny it, and that’s the last straw. Hyunjin stretches to his full height, squaring his shoulder, ready to turn and find his stuff and leave, even if Minho is supposed to be back soon. He turns away from Felix, defeated and so goddamn angry, at Felix and at himself. Because they did this. They chose this, and every day the memory of their night had been precious, locked away in its perfection, removed from everything else. From consequences. And now they had gone and ruined that.

“Because Iyen-ah is right.” The words explode, echoing in the room, slowing time the same way they had done in Paris. They had been shaky, and not half convinced, but they reached Hyunjin like gunshots.

Hyunjin stops. “Is he?” He turns around to Felix, whose face is scrunched up, and whose chest is heaving.

“When you asked me about Changbin, about being in love with him—,” Felix asks, his eyes wide and intense, and Hyunjin wants to turn away, is too scared of getting lost. “Why did you ask me that?”

Hyunjin hesitates. There’s so much his heart wants to say, his chest aching with all the words that have built up, but his mind is in charge of his body, fear guiding him, so he keeps quiet. He shrugs.

“Fucking tell me!” Felix shouts, making them both startle at the outburst, and there’s so much pain mixed in that wrath, that Hyunjin can almost taste it.

Hyunjin purses his lips, blinking heavily.

“You said—,” Hyunjin starts and his voice is quiet, watery. “You already said Iyen-ah was right. Why would you want to know?” Tears are burning inside his chest, inside his throat, the same tears he can already see shining in Felix’s eyes, but he bites them back. “Why would you want to know?”

“What do you want?” Felix blinks, his words shaking, but his posture doesn’t waver. “What do you want? With me?”

Hyunjin doesn’t answer. He’s already out of breath, barely holding on in their game of tug of war, neither of them strong enough to win. He doesn’t know the answer to Felix’s question. He only knows where they sit, like he hid them away in a room he locked and only passes by on good days.

I want to do it again, he thinks, and is almost sure Felix can hear that thought, but he doesn’t let himself follow that thought, doesn’t go where it wants to lead him.

There’s a sound behind them, someone entering the room, but Hyunjin stares at Felix and Felix stares back, the tension between them vibrating.

Someone clears their throat.

It’s Changbin, Hyunjin sees him through one of the mirrors. His face looks pale, his mouth opened in a half question. He must have wandered into two of the members fighting more often than they could count but never Hyunjin and Felix. Not them.

“Are you guys okay?” he asks, and Hyunjin wonders how much he heard.

Neither of them answers.

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