Archive of Our Own

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It had been a long day. Too long, even by Felix’s standards. 

His feet hurt, his lower back ached, and there were the faint beginnings of a headache pulsing behind his eyes, signalling to him the impending hell he’d have to brave unless he downed half a bottle of Tylenol as soon as he physically could. The side of his wrist throbbed where he’d burned it on an oven rack while removing a batch of muffins, and he felt distinctly disgusting in his uniform, crusted with flour and the sticky remnants of simple syrup and random juices as it was. 

Today sucked. 

It was, without a doubt, the single most stressful day of the entire month thus far. If Felix thought things couldn’t get any worse, they did. When he thought there was no possible way things could get even worse than that, well, let’s just say they found a way to fuck him right up the ass-

Anyway. 

Today sucked. 

As a bakery owner, he was used to and prepared for days like this one, but it made it no less of a struggle to experience them in the moment (especially for a perfectionist and borderline control freak like him.) He liked when there was order and structure, when there was a routine that left room for neither questioning or confusion. He’d imagined the same could be applied to everyone, yet time and exposure taught him that there were some who thrived on chaos and the unknown. 

Couldn’t be him, though. No way.  

Felix may be known as Seoul’s resident sunshine, and may, at first glance, appear airheaded and charmingly aloof, but there was certainly more than met the eye behind his overly affable facade. Yes, he may be exactly that–friendlier than a golden retriever, kinder than anyone a person could meet, and brilliant beyond measure–but he was tactful and calculated. Thinking was his greatest talent. And with that, came a plethora of skills like problem-solving, conflict resolution, complex decision making. But, he supposed, not everyone was made to be like that. And as the saying went: to each their own. 

But despite those little quirks and personality traits (that some would find a bit insufferable at times), and despite his own delusions of grandeur (the belief that he was invincible and therefore capable of shouldering immense burdens and mental pressure) he was, regrettably, only human. He could withstand only so much. And today? Today seemed hellbent on making it as difficult as feasibly possible for one, Lee Felix Yongbok. 

And yet, he persevered. His invincibility may not manifest through the ability to fly or lift cars, may not ordain to him the power of invulnerability, but it was evident through his perseverance alone that he was a man of great strength and resolve. Through every odd, every setback, every drop of blood that fell from Jeongin’s finger (that man could not be trusted with a knife for his life) and straight into the madeleine batter he’d just finished, he persevered. Because that’s just what Felix does. He perseveres. 

That being said, he was over it. 

He was over being a mature and responsible adult, and was more than ready to just strip to his boxers, slip into bed, and call it a night. He’d decided, after much deliberation during his brisk, twenty-minute walk home, that he could not be bothered to shower or suffer through his skincare routine tonight. Just this once, even though he was fully aware of the fact that he was in desperate need of a good wash. But the prospect of sleep, of getting a solid eight to ten hours of undisturbed rest, had ultimately won him over. Besides, it’s not like he was committing an unforgivable crime. He could shower in the morning and everything would still be right in his little corner of the world. 

The thing is, he’d been awake for too long, been on his feet for too long, and even though Felix loved people–loved seeing their smiles and their joy after biting into one of his confections or sipping on one of his caffeinated concoctions, loved hearing their little stories and personal anecdotes–he was looking forward to spending the next twenty-four hours alone. 

Well, not entirely alone. He had his Minerva, in all her fluffy, Turkish Angora glory. A fierce little thing with a loud personality and an even louder mouth. But god, was she his world. His angel of eight, almost nine, pounds equipped with crystalline blue eyes and snow white fur sent from heaven itself. He’d practically birthed her. 

She was probably asleep by now, having undoubtedly spent a tiresome day sunbathing in her cat tree and chasing her favourite crocheted mice around their home. He had Minho stop by to give her her dinner and some much needed affection (which was hardly a task for the elder considering his affinity towards the feline species) and had been delighted to receive a number of pictures in return–one of her screaming at him from atop her tree as he entered the apartment, one of her baring her tummy in want of belly rubs, a few of her nestled on his lap with her head tucked against his chest. Minho had even sent a short video of her receiving chin scratches and kisses as he regaled his undying love in the unique cat language he’d curated. 

The sound of her rumbling purrs was what got Felix through the rest of his shift (read: if Minho hadn’t sent him those texts there was a likely chance that he’d have succumbed to a stress-induced heart attack and died at the ripe age of twenty-five.)

Thank you eternally for your services, Lee Minho. 

Needless to say, a break is exactly what he needed. Even if it only lasted a meagre twenty-four hours.

No more unexpected chaos. No more surprises. No more stress. Just…bliss. Clean sheets, a good book, maybe even a cookie butter latte or two. And of course, his precious fur baby. 

He could not wait. As he rummaged through his bag for his keys, he spared a glance towards his phone screen, wincing once he realised just how late it was.  

1:41 AM. 

He’d gone into the shop at six fifteen in the morning. Minerva was definitely going to be upset with him once she realised he was home after too many hours spent away. And while holding a grudge was one of her specialties, it wasn’t something he couldn’t amend with extra treats and extra love. It would be fine. 

He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. 

It would all…be…fine…

“Ugh,” he groaned, haphazardly shoving his apartment key into the keyhole, “what a day.”

As he fumbled with the lock, he prayed to god that all of his bad luck had run its course for the foreseeable future. No more surprises, he thought to himself, releasing a breath once he heard that telltale click of release and swinging the door open.

The second he stepped inside, however, he felt it. An unsettling…disturbance. 

In the Force, his mind supplied. He sensed a disturbance in the Force. 

He scoffed at his own inability to not nerdify everything, but sometimes such things could not be helped (especially in times of potential mortal peril.) Furrowing his brows, he slowly shut the door behind him, but he shoved his keys between his knuckles and held them in front of his face. 

A lightsaber would be helpful right about now, huh?

So would the Force.

…

Touché.

He took a few steps into the foyer, squinting against the uncharacteristic darkness that filled his apartment. He knew for a fact that after shutting the blinds in his living room, Minho had left the lamp on for Minerva (even though they both knew cats could very well see in the dark.) Now, there was no warm glow from lamplight, but instead the distinct eerie cast of moonlight filtering in from his–fully open–windows. 

His curtains fluttered from a sudden gust of wind. He swallowed. 

I asked for one thing.

But if he was gonna die tonight, he would not be going without a fight. 

He held his breath, kept his steps light and soundless as he approached the threshold of his living room. And then–

His shoulders sagged. In relief. In disappointment. A mix of the two, most probably. Because while the silhouette on his loveseat was one he hadn’t anticipated seeing tonight, it was…familiar. Illuminated just barely by that lifeless silver light, but not enough to see it for what it was. 

“Really?” he breathed, far too tired to even muster a modicum of irritation into his tone. 

“You’re late.”

Felix resisted the urge to throw a pillow at the indiscernible blob’s head. “Some of us have normal jobs.”

“Yes, but those normal jobs don’t usually run this late. Least of all yours.”

“And you would know the details of my work schedule…how?”

The blob said nothing. 

Right. That’s not concerning at all. 

“How did you get in?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Felix’s eyes then strayed to the windows. Fully intact. No sign of forced entry despite the fact that they were wide open. He didn’t feel particularly comforted by the fact, but at least it meant that he wasn’t looking to pay for a replacement window anytime soon. But then again, who in their right mind would scale the side of a building smack-dab in the centre of Seoul? 

Which meant…seeing as there were, quite literally, no other possible routes he could have taken to get inside…he’d used the front door. Waltzed in as if he owned the place and then had the audacity to further make himself at home.  

“I would advise that you invest in a better lock.”

Felix pushed his hair behind his ear. “I…I’ve never had any issues with it before.”

“Doesn’t mean it’ll always be that way. If one person can get in, anyone can.”

“I don’t think anyone other than you is planning to target my specific apartment. On the tenth floor. Past twenty-four seven security and surveillance. I mean, not unless they’re like, Spider-Man, or something. Can climb walls, stick to surfaces, that kind of thing.”

“You’d be surprised by the lengths people are willing to go to.”

“Don’t be ridic-”

“To get into places they don’t belong.”

Felix shifted his weight to his other leg, scoffing. “What, like you?”

“Maybe.” 

“You don’t have to worry. I’m a black belt, remember? Think I can hold my own if it ever comes to that. Need I remind you of the time I practically handed you your ass?” 

“Still. You should be careful. People nowadays are as dangerous as they are unpredictable. No one can be trusted.”

“Does that apply to you, too?”

The man tilted his head, just enough that Felix could see the edge of his grin in the swathe of light streaming from the windows. “Especially me.”

“Oh, please. I think we’ve established by now that you don’t exactly scare me. And the last thing you’d do is hurt me.”

The man on his loveseat shifted, hissed ever so quietly through his teeth. But he neither confirmed nor denied those statements. 

Felix sighed, deciding that the novelty of speaking to shadows had finally worn off. He flipped the closest switch next to him, illuminating the modest space of his living room and revealing the expected but not-so-surprising sight that spoke to him in riddles. The man, dressed in his usual attire of dark fabrics beneath a head of silver hair (yet appearing notably more worn than usual) didn’t even flinch. Just stared at him with those dark eyes that always seemed to know too much, hand pressed to his side. 

“A heads up would have been nice,” said Felix, blinking sluggishly, letting his bag drop to the floor. 

“‘S why I didn’t give you one.”

“Hm,” he murmured in return, tossing his keys into the little catch-all bowl on top of the entrance console and sliding his phone into his back pocket. “Despite your indifference to niceties, you should at least try being a little more considerate of the one person who won’t call 119 on you. Not everyone expects to come home to a strange man on their couch, you know.”

“Good thing you’re not everyone.”

Felix laughed through his nose, rolling his eyes as he removed his jacket and hung it in the coat closet. “Guess not.”

He felt those eyes on him, cataloguing his every move. 

Seriously, I asked for one thing. What part of no surprises was so difficult to understand?

The door clicked softly into place, but his palm remained pressed to the smooth wood, and his eyes stared unseeingly at a small chip in the paint. “What brings you to my humble abode today, then?”

No answer. 

“You gonna say something?” he asked, laughing awkwardly to counter the slight tremor in his voice, “not gonna lie, it’s a little unnerving when you go nonverbal like that-”

“I need you.”

Felix nodded slowly, tying his hair back as he toed his sneakers off and shoved his feet into house slippers. “What’s the damage this time?”

Hyunjin tilted his head to the side, and suddenly, he looked different. The moon made him look cold, unfeeling, inhuman. But the light from his floor lamp brought a kind of softness to him that juxtaposed the harshness of his existence. Stripped away Hwang Hyunjin, heir to Hwang Corp. and South Korea’s most sought-after bachelor, and brought forth Just Hyunjin, the lonely man whose smile held a million secrets. 

The Hyunjin society knew and the Hyunjin Felix did were strangers to one another. Or perhaps, two halves of the same whole, for there were a few notable common denominators between the two. 

Yet there was one that was proving to be quite the annoyance right now. 

Stupid pretty mongrel, Felix seethed silently, tilting his head back with an exaggerated swivel to his neck. Clearly a mocking gesture, fuelled by none other than his desire to shed the skin of a responsible and mature adult. Yet Hyunjin seemed unfazed by it. Just stared back at him with that irritatingly schooled expression. Those terrible, dark eyes burned into his own, though. Burned and burned and burned until Felix felt the remaining tendrils of his resolve turn to ash. 

For a while, that’s all they did. For a while, he just…stared. Any other day, Felix would have been annoyed. Today, he was just tired. And a little–a lot– uncomfortable.

Felix rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Look. I am beyond exhausted. I’m covered in all kinds of substances, my back hurts, and I’m starting to see double. So I would appreciate it if you coopera-”

Hyunjin stood to his feet, a vision in all black. The harbinger of death itself.  

Felix flinched, instinctively stepping back, unintentionally cornering himself against the wall. Hyunjin didn’t scare him, that much was true (as true as he convinced himself it was), but Felix’s mind was against him right now. Running on fumes and eating away at sensibility. 

Hyunjin walked towards him. Purposeful. Confident. A touch unsteady. The hand that was pressed to his abdomen fell to his side, fingers curling loosely into his palm. It glistened, Felix noted, with wetness. It glistened with red. 

Shit… 

Only when Felix could smell iron amongst the deeper tones of Hyunjin’s cologne did he shift his gaze upwards. Hyunjin’s eyes were always so intense, so impassioned, but this time Felix could detect a slight helplessness in them. “What do you need?” he asked, careworn to the point of depletion. So tired. 

“You,” said Hyunjin, a little quiet, a little breathless, but packed to the brim with conviction. He lifted his hand, slick with his own blood, to gently cradle Felix’s jaw. “Just you.” 

After a moment, Felix swallowed. “What do you need?” he asked again, a hoarse inquiry as he found his throat a little dry. 

Hyunjin’s hand fell from his face, seeking his own. Pushed it past the edge of his long coat so it could rest against warm silk wet with blood. He was shaking. His hand, clamped over Felix’s, was shaking. 

“Hyunjin.”

His forehead fell into place against Felix’s, breath ragged as it fanned across his skin. Felix felt a fresh gush of warmth sink into the crevices of his palm. 

“Hurts.”

Felix clicked his tongue, adding more pressure while trying not to cringe as it seeped between his fingers. “You complete moron, Hwang Hyunjin. Wasted all that time yapping. Come on, let me take a look.”

He led Hyunjin to the sofa, but his body sagged against him like a deadweight. He draped his arm over Felix’s shoulders like he could no longer keep himself up. Like the bit of energy he’d kept on reserve to uphold their conversation had been sapped clean from his bones. Like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

He fell hard against the cushions, eyes scrunching from the pain, lips parted and teeth clenched. And though Felix tried not to let it affect him too much, it was kind of unsettling to see Hyunjin in this state. 

The guy was…well, to be quite frank, the guy was a fucking mystery. Elusive and evasive in a way that screamed vigilante more than it did common civilian. He’d show up to his apartment in the dead of night, bleeding, broken, and Felix would let him in and patch him up, quiet and obliging. No questions asked. 

Other times he’d come just to talk. He’d come, dressed in clothing from designer brands Felix couldn’t even begin to pronounce, elegant and refined and arrogantly handsome, and talk as if there was no one else in his life who would listen. He’d talk about everything yet nothing at the same time. His childhood dog, the language of flowers, his favourite poet. And when he didn’t talk, he’d be the one to listen. He’d listen to Felix’s stories about his difficult customers, about the new recipes he was working on, about Minerva’s newfound habits or the bookstore down the street he’d been meaning to visit. He’d listen until Felix fell asleep, lulled by his own ramblings, leaving him to wake up tucked beneath a blanket. Hyunjin nowhere to be seen.  

But sometimes there was…more. Sometimes there was something more tangible than memories or tales, something Felix could hold onto–like a name. He’d revealed himself to be Hyunjin quickly enough, but it had taken a number of weeks and a plethora of patience on Felix’s end before he was deemed deserving of the knowledge that Hyunjin was a Hwang. Felix understood then why he’d been so secretive about his family name, so avoidant to disclose that part of himself. Everyone knew about the Hwangs. About the history behind that family and the legacy it continued to maintain. Success and power shrouded by a darkness no one dared to question. A ledger dripping with gold. And, Felix suspected, red. Lots of it. 

But even then, even with the danger, the uncertainty, the mystery…even with his snarky attitude and his aversion to personal safety, Felix had developed a sort of soft spot for him. Maybe he just had a thing for strays. Maybe he was just an idiot with a heart too big and a saviour complex that would probably bite him in the ass one day.

Maybe he saw something in Hyunjin worth saving. Something sad, something yearning to be whole. Maybe that’s why he let him in, time and again. Looked after him, time and again. Let his voice carry into his ears until he fell asleep, time and again. Trusting that he would never be the one to let harm befall him in spite of the danger he posed. 

Or maybe, just maybe, it was something else entirely. Something fragile, a sacred matter of the heart. 

Who knows.  

It was infuriating, though. At times. He felt that Hyunjin knew exponentially more about him than he did of Hyunjin, and anything he did know was something he had to all but pry from the man. 

So why did he care so much? And how could he put unto Hyunjin as much trust as he did? Not knowing entirely what he was capable of, what he could do? Not knowing if there were ulterior motives behind his actions, behind every thoughtful gaze or gleaming grin? Why was trusting him so easy, when he was little more than an enigma with a pretty face and a silver-spooned upbringing? 

Who knows. 

This dynamic of theirs started a number of months ago, yet so much had happened since then that it was hard to remember the exact circumstances that led Hyunjin back to his apartment that very first time. All Felix could recall clearer than the ring of a bell is that Hyunjin had been hurt, and he'd offered him a helping hand. 

Just like now. 

“Up,” he ordered, helping Hyunjin pull his shirt from the waistband of his slacks. His hands still trembled. They were uncoordinated, they were messy, scrambling to rip the silken fabric from the confines that were a barrier to his relief. Whimpering as he shifted too fast, unleashing another wave of pain into his body.

Of the very few things Felix did know about Hyunjin, it was that his tolerance for pain was almost superhuman. He’s been battered and bruised, bloodied in more ways than one, even half beaten to death and barely recognisable beneath the swelling. But even then he never said anything, never let Felix see how much he was suffering beneath poorly timed puns and unfunny jokes. For him to be reduced to this shaking mess of whimpers and gasping breaths, for him to verbally admit that he was in pain…it had to be bad. Really bad. Maybe even life threatening if it wasn’t resolved soon. 

Now, Felix wasn’t squeamish by any means. This strange friendship with Hyunjin guaranteed his apathy to gore and sights such as open flesh, but this made him nervous. There was so much blood. Too much. Warm and thick as it continued to stream into oversaturated silk. Given the sheer volume of it, he had a vague idea of what awaited him—the graze from a bullet, the cut from a knife, maybe—but he hadn’t taken into account just how bad it could actually be. What if this was beyond his capabilities? What would he do then? 

His shirt stuck to him like a second skin, had to be peeled from his body like the rind of an orange. Felix winced. Hyunjin did, too. But when they’d finally managed to roll it to just below his pecs, Felix gasped. 

“What the hell?” he murmured, staring at the gigantic stab wound embedded in Hyunjin’s abdomen, right where the curve of his abs started. “My god…”

“You gonna help me?” rasped his irritating patient, throat bobbing as he swallowed. “Or would you rather I bleed to death on your couch?

Felix shot him a ruthless glare. “Lay back. Let me get the kit.” 

Hyunjin dutifully obliged. 

He all but ran to his bathroom to retrieve it. Absent-mindedly, lingering just behind the panic running amok in his mind, he wondered where Minerva was. He didn’t see her in the living room, not on her tree or her window perch. Not on the loveseat, either, so she was probably asleep in one of her other usual spots. He’d have to check later. For now, right as he gathered the kit into his arms, he rushed towards the kitchen.

“Take this,” he said, kneeling next to the couch as he handed Hyunjin two pills and a glass of water. 

He glanced at the unsuspecting white pills in Felix’s palm, raising a brow. “What is that?”

“Take. Them.”

“What are they?”

“Painkillers.”

“What kind of painkillers?”

“Does it really matter?”

“I need to make sure you’re not trying to–ah, fuck–kill me.”

Felix let his hand drop a fraction. “Seriously?”

Hyunjin sighed. “I’m pretty important, princess. Can’t die just yet. Least of all through wrongful overdose. That’s just embarrassing.”

Felix blinked, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “You have three seconds.”

Hyunjin scarfed them down the second he hit two. 

“Dumbass. Give it a minute to kick in. Now, I don’t want to hear a word from your mouth until I’m done.”

“That’s a bit much-”

“Not a word, Hyunjin. I’m serious.”

The stern look of desperation on his face must have been enough to force his compliance. He huffed indignantly, like a petulant child, but he did not say a word. 

Felix refocused his attention to the wound. It was deep but clean underneath the mottled stains of blood, stretching a little over six inches across the smooth expanse of his skin. The work of a very sharp blade with the intent to kill–or at the very least, seriously injure. 

Well, suffice it to say they’d definitely succeeded in that regard. 

“Fuck…” 

This was way over his pay grade. And, quite honestly, his qualifications. Felix was not a trained medical professional by any stretch of the imagination. The few basic first aid techniques he had in his arsenal were nowhere near equipped to handle something like this. Something that breached god knows how many layers of dermal and muscle tissue. What if it hit an organ? Which goddamn organ was even around here in the first place? A kidney? His liver? 

He majored in culinary arts for fuck’s sake! He owned a bakery that specialised in delicate pastries and fun little drinks. He knew as much about human anatomy as he did an elephant’s–as in, not nearly enough!

“Okay…okay. It’s fine,” he muttered to himself, ripping sheets of paper towel to begin the process of staunching the blood flow. “Everything is fine.”

On the bright side, he thought, cringing at how quickly the white turned red, he was fully awake now. 

Thankfully, after half a roll’s worth of paper towels, he was able to reduce the blood flow to an occasional trickle. And now that he could see the wound more clearly, he was relieved that it wasn’t as deep as he’d initially dreaded. Still pretty deep, still god awful a sight, and undoubtedly felt like absolute hell, but it could have been worse. So much worse. 

Silver linings, Felix. Silver linings.

From there, the pair fell into complete and utter silence, save for Hyunjin’s laboured breaths and sporadic hisses of pain. Felix worked as quickly as he could, as methodically and meticulously for someone who was in way over his head, spurred by the need to relieve Hyunjin of this ailment. He still felt his eyes on him, watching him, watching his hands, the careful tenderness they delivered despite the gruesome image they presented. And he still hadn’t said a word. If it were anyone else, Felix would have found it cute. But Hyunjin was…it was different with him. Unfamiliar. 

All in all, he thought he did a pretty decent job. It wasn’t exactly his proudest achievement, given the lumps and bumps of Hyunjin’s flesh that he’d sewed together with the most horrendous stitchwork he’d ever seen. But while the results of his labour left much to be desired, the bleeding had stopped, and Hyunjin’s uneven breaths had smoothed into quiet puffs of relief. At this point, that was all they could ask for. 

And Felix? Well, Felix was ready to cash in that shower he’d foolishly believed he could put off until the morning. 

He sat back on his haunches, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, thoroughly exhausted now that the worst of it was over. More exhausted than he’d been when he’d first come home. His shoulders sagged from the sudden release of tension, and the pressure behind his eyes, while less intense than it had been, was present enough to remind Felix that he wasn’t out of the woods just yet. His fingers and hands, coated in blood and antiseptic and plasma and sweat, curled against his thighs, lifeless and spent. But his eyes…his eyes couldn’t shake the sight of Hyunjin’s wound, cinched to an uneven close by his novice expertise. He stared at that jagged line of stitches he’d made, feeling a distinct unease and an avid disappointment curdle in his stomach. There was no doubt that when it healed, it would leave a hideous scar. It would mar the otherwise perfect canvas of Hyunjin’s skin.

He felt guilty that he couldn’t do more…do better. 

He didn’t even know if what he had done was enough. 

A gentle touch against his hand made him gasp. 

“What’s this?”

Felix’s gaze fell to the thick, discoloured line across his wrist. It was kind of ghastly in a the more you look at it the worse it gets kind of way. Red and angry and peppered with small blisters. It didn’t feel too good, either. He’d just forgotten about it during the Hyunjin-induced adrenaline rush. 

“It’s nothing,” Felix answered softly. 

“You’re hurt.”

Felix scoffed, not unkindly, a faint smile on his lips. “You almost bled to death on my couch and you’re worried about a little burn?”

Hyunjin’s thumb swept across it, eyes deep with a thousand and one unnameable emotions. Thoughtful, but reserved. Intense, but not cold. He looked, if Felix could be so bold, troubled. Unable to accept the fact that not only had he been injured, but had done nothing to treat it as well. 

Then he used his grip on Felix’s wrist to hoist him onto his feet, eliciting a yelp from the freckled man before further cementing his shock when he wrapped his arms around his waist and burrowed his head against his stomach. 

“Thank you,” he murmured into his sweater. 

Felix hesitated, eyes wide with disbelief, before letting his hands sink slowly into Hyunjin’s hair. It was soft between his fingers. The type of soft that reminded Felix of downy feathers and the smooth of silk, even as it curled around his ears and nape from the copious sweat he’d expelled. “You don’t have to thank me, Hyunjin.”

“I do. You don’t understand what you’ve done for me.”

Felix shook his head, raking his fingers along Hyunjin’s scalp. He felt as if he was soothing an animal who’d never known what it was like to be touched with gentle hands. Hands that didn’t carry the intent to harm, but instead aimed to deliver the caress of affection.

Touch always seemed a sacred thing when it came to Hyunjin. He never struck Felix as the type to indulge in skinship, no matter how innocent or fleeting, and even less the type to deliver it of his own free will. It was as if the mere thought of closeness was foreign to him, an unknown entity that could not be understood, which, in turn, only perpetuated his need to avoid it. 

It was unfortunate for Felix, however, because skinship was one of the love languages he was most practised in. It was as easy for him as breathing, touch. His genetic composition itself would be left with gaps and inconsistencies without it. He felt, funnily or not so funnily enough, that he would wither and wilt away into nothingness should he ever find himself in a position where he’d have to part from it. But he supposed he could understand Hyunjin’s reservations–to a certain extent, at least, given his minimal knowledge of Hyunjin’s internal operations. 

So this sudden introduction to Hyunjin’s voluntary touch was, all in all, hard for Felix to reconcile, to comprehend. Not only did this mean that Hyunjin was offering him the sanctity of his touch, but also that he was surrendering the most vulnerable parts of himself. And that? That was huge. 

Felix couldn’t let it go to waste. He couldn’t let Hyunjin believe that he’d made a mistake by endowing him with the most precious thing he had. If anything, it was safest with Felix. Felix would never use it against him. Felix would cherish it like the rarity it was. 

“I don’t have to understand anything in order to help someone in need,” assured Felix. “Just forget it, okay? I would have helped you either way.”

“That’s just it,” Hyunjin contested, firm but not foul, hands digging into Felix’s sides almost possessively, yet he held him as if he was something breakable. “You always look after me. Even when I don’t tell you why you’re in the position where you’d even have to.”

“I don’t need a reason to be a decent human being. I don’t like seeing anyone hurt. I don’t like seeing you hurt. That’s all there is to it.”

“But why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why me?”

Felix’s fingers stilled. 

Why, indeed.

“Because you’re my…” he paused, brows knitting slightly. What was Hyunjin to him, exactly? They’d never put a label on their…whatevership, simply because there was never the need to. Both Felix and Hyunjin, though unaware of each other’s sentiments regarding this matter, were wholly aware that theirs wasn’t a conventional companionship. It seemed to be more than mere friendship, but too nebulous, too unusual, to be anything else that made sense. 

In Felix’s opinion, whatever this was–this connection slotting them together like mismatched pieces of a puzzle–it existed as a nameless entity that went beyond simple friendliness. Only…Felix didn’t know exactly what that entailed. How deep it went, how far. 

He didn’t know if what he felt was the misconceived result of being exposed to someone as magnetic as Hyunjin, suddenly and intimately and without preparation, or if it was simply the way it was meant to be. Like fate had written him into his life for a reason. 

He knew what his heart wanted, but his mind was too afraid that what it desired would only bring him pain. 

“You’re my friend,” he whispered, though he was ultimately unconvinced by his own confession. 

“Just a friend?”

Felix felt heat rise to his cheeks. “Y-yeah,” he mumbled, grateful to god that Hyunjin couldn’t see his face. “What else would you be?”

Hyunjin’s arms tightened around him. 

He felt the breath leave his lungs for altogether different reasons now. 

“Hm.”

Hm? What do you mean hm?!

A few minutes later–stolen, perhaps, forcibly taken by bones unwilling–he felt Hyunjin unwind his arms and pull himself away. Yet his touch lingered. A little too desperate, a little too long, like it was reluctant to relinquish Felix now that it belonged to him. 

He stood to his feet, stumbling just enough to reawaken Felix’s concern. A furrow formed itself deep between his brows, borne from the acute discomfort of stretching a freshly sealed wound. But like everything that bothered him, Hyunjin brushed it off like it was nothing. Like his mortality didn’t exist. Didn’t matter. 

Like anything that made him human was meant to be hidden away. Forced into dormancy. 

In the blink of an eye, the mask was back on. That single moment of unfiltered vulnerability fizzled into an empty shell of what it had once been, leaving Felix bereft of the one thing Hwang Hyunjin had finally, finally, entrusted him with. 

His gaze met Felix’s. It was back to that careful indifference, there but not. Intense but not intolerable. 

He nodded. Just once. 

And then he turned to leave. 

Felix’s body reacted before his mind did, and Hyunjin could do nothing but acquiesce to the desires of the hand wrapped around his wrist.

He stopped. Similarly to the way Felix’s heart stopped in his chest and the breath in his lungs. 

“Hyunjin. Wait.”

Hyunjin’s back tensed ever so infinitesimally, almost as if he was fighting the urge to do exactly that. 

“Yah.”

He turned back, staring down into those abysmally hopeful eyes. Tired eyes. Eyes that held so much at any given moment but could not spare the space to shelter rejection. Then his stare found a new target, flicking to the ridiculously tiny hand that clutched his wrist as if it was the most natural place for it to settle. 

“Stay. Just for tonight.”

“Why?” he asked quietly, feeling the heat of Felix’s skin against his own. Soft. 

“You were cut open like a fish not five minutes ago. I wanna keep an eye on you, make sure that you don’t go doing anything else stupid. Well, stupider.”

“I’ve done plenty of stupid things in the past. You’ve never offered before.”

Felix’s gaze shifted to the spot of dried blood on Hyunjin’s neck. “I didn’t think I could.”

Hyunjin’s brow rose, yet he had not yet given up the sight of Felix’s hand. “What made you change your mind now?”

Felix’s eyes trailed back to Hyunjin’s face. He shrugged. “Not much. Guess I just wanna be selfish for once.”

Hyunjin’s brow stayed in place, speculative and disbelieving. “How does that make you selfish?”

“Because it’s something I want. I want you to stay.”

“As a friend?” his gaze cut to Felix’s without warning, without preamble. Dark pools of unrestrained fervor safeguarded by a caution that only his kind of lifestyle could imbue a person with. 

Felix swallowed. “As whatever you want to be.”

“And if I want to be something more?” he murmured, stepping closer to the trembling bundle of freckles, holding his breath while attempting to stifle the eagerness clawing through his chest.

Tired eyes, beautiful eyes…flicked, for the barest of moments, to his lips. “Then you can.”

It went completely silent for a single breath. 

And then—

Felix would say that Hyunjin’s kiss was reminiscent of his appearance in the apartment–expected but not surprising. Expected because he’d seen it in his eyes just seconds before he felt it, that glimmer of want beneath the careful reign of his control. Not surprising because deep down, Felix had dreamt about this. He’d fantasized about those lips, so unfairly pretty with their plush lines and contours. He’d fantasized about them on his own, on the heat of his skin. He’d even wondered if they felt half as soft as they looked, tasted half as good as he imagined. 

Turns out, his imagination had missed the mark entirely, because the real thing was better than any facsimile his brain could have dared to replicate. 

Felix would say that Hyunjin’s kiss was just like him–passionate and bold. Unafraid to take but hesitant to take too much. He would say that just like Hyunjin, it said everything without having to say anything at all. 

His lips felt like a promise. They tasted like hope. A combination that would prove to be addicting, if he wasn’t careful.

Hyunjin’s hands were warm against his cheeks. And his own, curled into the thick fabric of Hyunjin’s coat, mindful and far too aware of his injury, seemed only to grow more desperate as they held onto one another.

When they pulled away, flushed and unsure, it was only so they could steal a moment to breathe. Hyunjin’s came in the form of a shuddering gasp, Felix’s a trembling exhale. 

Their eyes fluttered open. The pain in his skull, miraculously, had all but disappeared. 

Hyunjin’s thumb swept across his cheek, gaze tender in ways Felix had never before seen. The kind he wouldn’t mind seeing more often. “Took you long enough,” Felix murmured, his smile fragile yet content. 

“That so?”

“Yeah. Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Hyunjin laughed through his nose. “Can’t make any promises, princess. I like taking you by surprise. Like seeing the blush on your pretty face.”

Felix relished the heat emanating from Hyunjin’s palms. “You’ll have to try harder then. I’d give this attempt a solid six out of ten.”

“Six? You wound me.”

The blond felt the smile die a slow death on his lips. He unfurled his hand from the clutches of Hyunjin’s coat, lifted it to his cheek. “Hyunjin…”

Hyunjin slotted his hand over the one cupping his face, pressed his lips against the base of Felix’s palm. “I’m okay,” he assured, quiet but certain. 

“I worry about you.”

“Don’t.”

Felix’s brows furrowed, Hyunjin was just able to catch the shimmer of tears in his eyes. “How can you say that to me?”

“Because I know what I can handle. As long as I keep showing up, you have no reason to worry. Promise.”

Felix shook his head, gently pressing his thumb against the corner of Hyunjin’s mouth. “How many times, Hyunjin? How many times have you come to me on the verge of death? And how many times more are you going to? You have no idea what it does to me, seeing you like this. What it does to my heart.”

“I’m sorry.” 

Felix believed him. It was hard not to, not when he could see the bare truth in his remorseful gaze. But an apology wasn’t going to unwrite the stress that came with caring so much. 

“It’s not fair to you. Never has been. I know that. But you–”

He cut himself off, shaking his head. 

“What?” asked Felix. “Say it.”

Hyunjin shut his eyes. “You’re…you’re the one person I can trust without question. The one person in my world that feels real.”

He pressed his nose against the inner tendons of Felix’s wrist, breathing in the faint scent of the perfume he’d rubbed into his skin that morning. 

“You’re the only thing in my world that’s just mine. No strings attached, no expectations. When I need to feel human again, like I’m alive and not just some poster child for my bloodline, you’re the one I come to. Felix,” he murmured, gripping onto his hand as if his life depended on it, “you’re all I have. You’re all I want.”

“Hyunjin-”

His eyes fluttered open, raw and unbidden. “You said you’re being selfish but so am I. Only difference is I’ve been selfish the whole time. I do see what it does to you. I see how much it bothers you, how much it upsets you. I’d be an idiot not to notice, but like you’ve said before, being an idiot is my forte. And you know what? You’re right. Because I can’t stop. I can’t make it stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Feeling this way.”

Felix’s lips parted in bewilderment. “Feeling…feeling what way?” 

Hyunjin smiled, though it seemed pained and sad. 

“I think I’m in love with you, sunshine.”

Felix blinked. And then he blinked again. Okay. 

Okay. This was…okay. 

Of the list of things he’d ever expect to hear from Hwang Hyunjin’s mouth, this was the one that resided at the very bottom. Decidedly so. Hwang Hyunjin and something as delicate as love? 

Worlds, no–universes apart.

“I can’t leave you alone, Felix. Even when it hurts you, even though I know I should. I’m not a religious man, but only God knows of the things I’ve done, and only he knows of the things I’ll continue to do. But fuck, they brought me to you. And now I can’t let go.”

He tilted his head down again, forcing their foreheads to meet with a soft thunk. 

“I can’t let go of you. I won’t.”

Felix’s breath trembled against his lips. 

“Then don’t.”

Hyunjin stiffened. 

“Don’t let me go.”

“Felix, do you even know what you’re-”

“But only if it means I can’t let you go.”

Hyunjin swallowed thickly. 

“Because I don’t want to let go of you either, Hwang Hyunjin. Like you said, I don’t think I can. Why do you think I always say yes to you? Why do you think I always let you in? Even when it hurts?”

Hyunjin experienced a strange tightening in his chest as Felix went on, not entirely foreign, but entirely overwhelming. He sighed, threading his fingers into the loose hair at Felix’s nape. “I didn’t know you felt this way.”

“Neither did I.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, princess.”

“Me? More like you. I’m not the one that shows up covered in blood every other time we see each other.”

“Touché.”

Felix curled his hands over Hyunjin’s forearms, too gratified for words or function. “Kiss me again?”

This time it was different. Softer. Still a promise but one not sealed with blood. Rather, with certainty. This was certainty. This is what he’d wanted, what he’d needed. Even if he’d been too reluctant to think he could even hope for it. 

He will never be able to forget the feeling of Hyunjin’s lips. He didn’t think it would be possible even if he tried. 

“Still want me to stay?”

“Yes. Please.”

Hyunjin cradled his face as if it were the most precious thing he ever held. “Let’s get you to bed, hm?”

Felix nodded drowsily, and then his brows suddenly drew together as he switched to shaking his head. “Need to shower.” 

The silver-haired man smiled fondly, thumbing at the odd discolouration on his freckled cheek. “I got blood on you.”

“‘S okay. But still need ta–” he broke into a yawn, “ta shower.”

“I’ll help?”

“You’ve been stabbed, mister. If anything, you’re due for a shower, too. But I’m not sure how easy that will be with…that.” He frowned at the vague area of his wound. “Maybe you should just get some sleep, and we’ll figure it out in the morning. You can wear whatever that fits, though I doubt you’ll be able to find anything. Maybe Minnie left some of his clothes…he’s about your height?”

“Or…I could join you?”

Felix scoffed, though the reddening of his face gave him away. “Yeah. Off to bed with you. I’ll be quick.”

“Your bed, I hope?”

Felix rolled his eyes before severing himself from Hyunjin’s hold and beginning the short trek to his bedroom. “On second thought, get out.”

Hyunjin stood there at the threshold of Felix’s cosy living room, body pulsing only slightly with the residual pain from a wound he’d thoroughly underestimated. From a wound that, without the man humming quietly from his bedroom as he greeted his cat, would have certainly led to far worse consequences than a mere scar. 

He stood there, a subdued, lovestruck smile on his face. How lucky was he, to find love in Lee Felix, the bright, starry-eyed bakery owner from down the street. With a heart of gold stitched to his sleeve, and a mind that could actually prove a match for his own? How lucky was he, to be accepted by such an individual, knowing well and true the shadow of darkness that followed him like a restless ghost, and of the stains he could never quite wash from his hands?

Too lucky, he would say. Far too lucky. And in his heart of hearts, perhaps in the one he’d given to Felix, he could feel the weight of his selfishness and greed. 

But for now, he would indulge in it. He would lie in the bed of the one he selfishly loved and desired, he would hold him close to his chest and tuck his nose into his hair. He would breathe in the scent of his shampoo, revel in the softness of his skin and the heat of his body. And hopefully, he’d be able to sleep again, if only for this single night spent with an angel on earth. 

He would allow himself this small liberty, because it meant that Felix was safe. He would get stabbed a thousand times over if the outcome remained the same. Felix’s safety was paramount to anything, it was paramount to everything. And now, after what Hyunjin had done, all the mouths he’d forever shut and the threats he’d snuffed out like a candle, Felix would be safe for as long as he lived. They will never be able to touch him. Not after tonight. 

And so, Hwang Hyunjin, despite the weight in his chest, reaffirmed to himself that it was worth it. His selfishness, for once, did not cost him that which he held most dear to his heart, like it had so many times before. It won’t ever again, because everything he thought he once revered paled horrendously in comparison to Lee Felix. 

For tonight, and for whatever time after that, whatever time he was granted by that effervescent being, he’d let himself have what he wanted. What, dare he say, belonged to him from the very first moment he’d seen him on that fateful day, soaked to the bone by rain but grinning brighter than the sun. 

“You coming or not?” he heard Felix call, his voice a welcome deviation from his grim musings. 

Hyunjin pressed his palm against the wound, the faint throb beneath his fingers reminded him that he was still alive and breathing. That this was very much real and that Felix calling for him was even more so.  

He’d deal with the rest tomorrow. Go back to being Hwang Hyunjin. 

For now, he was Just Hyunjin. 

Just Felix’s.