Chapter Text
The studio lights were too bright for how late it was.
They always were.
Chan sat in front of the monitor, elbows on the desk, fingers steepled under his chin as the track looped again and again. The sound filled the room—layers of vocals, the echo of Felix’s voice weaving through the chorus, soft but sharp in that way that always made Chan pause, rewind, listen again.
Felix stood a few steps behind him, water bottle clutched loosely in his hand, watching Chan’s reflection in the darkened screen.
“Okay,” Felix said softly. “That one was good.”
Chan hummed, barely audible. “Yeah.”
Felix waited.
The track ended. Restarted. Ended again.
Chan didn’t move.
Felix shifted his weight from one foot to the other, shoes squeaking faintly against the studio floor. His shoulders ached, his throat felt dry, and exhaustion sat heavy behind his eyes—but he didn’t want to complain. Not when Chan looked like that.
Focused. Wired. Too awake for midnight.
“Channie,” Felix tried again, gentle. “We’re done recording, right?”
Chan nodded. “Technically.”
Felix smiled a little at the word. “Technically?”
“I just want to fix a few things,” Chan said, already reaching for the mouse. “The bridge needs tightening. And I want to adjust the harmony on your second line.”
Felix laughed quietly. “You already adjusted it.”
Chan glanced back at him. “I can do better.”
Felix didn’t argue. He never really did. Instead, he walked closer and leaned against the edge of the desk, looking at the screen, at the familiar mess of tracks and notes and markers that had become Chan’s second home.
“It’s late,” Felix said after a moment.
Chan checked the time without meaning to. 11:48 p.m.
“Yeah,” he said. “Didn’t realize.”
Felix raised an eyebrow. “You always realize. You just don’t care.”
Chan smiled faintly at that, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I care.”
Felix studied him. The dark circles under his eyes. The way his shoulders were tense even while sitting. The half-empty coffee cup pushed aside like an afterthought.
“Then come back to the dorms with us,” Felix said softly. “Just for tonight.”
Chan didn’t answer right away.
Felix watched his reflection shift as Chan turned back to the screen, fingers tapping absently against the desk.
“I think I’m going to stay,” Chan said finally.
Felix’s smile faltered—not completely, just enough that someone who didn’t know him might miss it.
“Oh,” he said. “Okay.”
Chan glanced at him. “I won’t be too late.”
Felix nodded. “You said that yesterday.”
“And the day before,” Chan added with a tired chuckle.
Felix didn’t laugh this time. “You didn’t come home.”
Chan rubbed the back of his neck. “I know. I’m sorry.”
There it was. The apology. Soft. Automatic.
Felix exhaled slowly. “You don’t have to be sorry if you’re just… going to do it again.”
Chan frowned slightly. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”
“I didn’t say you were,” Felix said quickly. “I just—” He stopped himself, fingers tightening around his water bottle. “I miss you.”
The words hung in the air, fragile and exposed.
Chan’s expression softened immediately. “Lix…”
“I know you’re busy,” Felix rushed on. “And I know this comeback matters. I’m not mad. I just thought—maybe tonight—we could all go back together. Eat something. Sleep.”
Chan stood up, walking past Felix to grab his hoodie from the chair. “You should go back with the others,” he said gently. “You look exhausted.”
Felix laughed weakly. “You say that like you don’t.”
Chan didn’t respond.
That silence told Felix everything.
Felix nodded once. “Okay.”
Chan turned to him, surprised. “Okay?”
“Yeah,” Felix said, forcing a smile. “You stay. I’ll go.”
Chan hesitated. “You don’t have to—”
“It’s fine,” Felix said quickly. “Really.”
He picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. The studio suddenly felt colder.
“I’ll text you when I get back,” Felix added.
Chan smiled. “I’ll try to come home before morning.”
Felix paused at the door.
“Don’t promise things you can’t keep,” he said quietly.
Chan opened his mouth to respond, but Felix was already gone.
⸻
The dorm was dark when Felix arrived.
Shoes were lined neatly by the door, lights off except for the faint glow from the kitchen. He slipped inside quietly, shoulders sagging the moment he shut the door behind him.
“Lix?”
Felix turned to see Seungmin sitting on the couch, blanket wrapped around his shoulders, phone in hand.
“Oh,” Felix said softly. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”
Seungmin shook his head. “Couldn’t sleep. Where’s Chan?”
Felix hesitated for half a second. “Studio.”
Seungmin hummed. “Again?”
Felix nodded.
“Do you want to sleep here tonight?” Seungmin asked, already standing. “Your room’s probably cold without him.”
The words hit harder than Felix expected.
“Yeah,” Felix said quietly. “That’d be nice.”
Seungmin gave him a small, understanding smile and tossed him an extra blanket. “You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Felix shook his head. “We can share. It’s fine.”
Seungmin studied his face, then nodded. “Okay.”
Felix crawled into the bed, staring at the ceiling long after the lights were off. His phone buzzed once.
Channie; Home safe?
Felix typed back slowly.
Yeah. Goodnight.
The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Then nothing.
Felix turned his phone face-down and closed his eyes, listening to the quiet of the dorm—the kind of quiet that felt heavier than noise.
Somewhere across the city, the studio lights stayed on.
And for the first time, Felix let himself fall asleep without waiting.