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The dorm was quiet in a way Felix hadn't heard all night as he stepped inside. The noise from the party still clung to him—laughter pressed too close, music vibrating through his bones, voices calling his name like they needed something from him.
He toed off his shoes by the door and let his shoulders drop, his smile—aching from overuse—slipping from his face before he could stop it.
The air in the dorm was warmer. Softer. Safe. The dryer hummed from down the hall, a low, steady sound. Familiar and grounding.
He exhaled.
"Hey."
Felix startled, heart jumping as he was pulled from the spiral he'd been trying not to fall into all night.
Chan was in the living room, seated cross-legged in front of a half-folded pile of laundry, sleeves pushed up, hair a little messy as if he'd been running his hands through it a little too much. There was a basket beside him and an extra hoodie draped over the back of the couch, still warm from the dryer.
For a split second, Felix forgot how to smile.
It was barely anything—a dip in his expression, the weight settling back into his shoulders—but Chan saw it. Of course he did. Felix felt it the moment Chan hesitated momentarily.
He fixed it the next instant, pulling the smile back into place by the time he pulled the door shut behind him. "Hyung," he greeted brightly, voice light; practiced. "You're still up?"
Chan's gaze lingered, searching his face without being overtly obvious about it. He didn't say anything at first; simply stood and wiped his hands on his sweats.
"Couldn't sleep," he replied casually. "Figured I'd get some stuff done."
Felix hummed, nodding as if the explanation didn't pique his concerns about Chan's reoccurring all nighters. He walked past, dropping his coat on the chair, moving a little too fast—anything to keep the moment from stretching. "The party was fun," he added, unprompted. "They brought out the karaoke machine a little bit after you left. Everyone had a good time."
Chan watched him, unreadable.
"Did you?" he finally asked.
Felix's steps faltered for half a beat, but he turned, smile still there, just a little thinner around the edges. "Yeah," a minuscule shrug of his shoulders. "I'm fine. It was fun."
Chan didn't argue. He just gestured toward the laundry basket. "Wanna help me fold? Dryer just finished. They're still warm."
Felix hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Sure."
He settled down on the carpet across from chan on the other side of the laundry, the warmth from the clothes seeping into his hands as he picked up a blanket. It smelled clean, familiar, something simple and comforting twisting oddly in his chest and it took all his self control not to close his eyes and bring it up to his nose.
The silence settling between them wasn't heavy now. It was kind.
They sat like that for a while, neither of them speaking until the pile of laundry turned into carefully folded and meticulously sorted stacks.
Chan broke the quiet first, standing and stretching his arms over his head as he spoke. "I was thinking of making brownies," he mused, almost too casually. He made his way to the kitchen, already opening cabinets. "We've got a mix in here somewhere, I think."
Felix looked up from the last folded towel and raised a brow. "A mix?"
Chan glanced back, mildly defensive. "What? It's easy."
The snort that escaped Felix was involuntary—small, but real as he rose to his feet. "Hyung," he trailed after him, "we don't need a mix. Making them from scratch is better."
Chan paused, one hand still in the pantry. "Is it?"
"Yeah," Felix insisted, already pulling out bowls and setting them on the counter as if they had decided on the activity weeks ago. "They taste better. And it's not even that hard."
Chan watched him for a second, something something akin to fondness flickering over his features. "Since when were you a baking expert?"
Felix's grin was brighter this time. "Since always."
They moved seamlessly around each other, sharing the narrow kitchen space without a second thought. Chan organized the bowls and measuring cups as Felix pulled ingredients out from the pantry and fridge.
They worked in tandem—Felix reciting the recipe from memory and Chan following his instructions…mostly.
"Okay, now one cup of sugar."
Chan took a heaping cup of sugar and dumped it into the almost complete mix before returning and pouring in some more straight from the bag.
Felix froze. "Hyung…"
Chan blinked. "What?"
"That's…definitely not a cup."
"I eyeballed it," Chan shrugged, as if it was the most obvious explanation. "Besides, more sugar, more happiness."
Felix peeked over his shoulder into the bowl, laughing under his breath at the sight of the batter. "That's not how baking works. And you definitely can't eyeball sugar."
"I absolutely can," Chan scoffed.
Felix couldn't contain the additional laughter that bubbled up from his chest, shaking his head. "This is why you shouldn't be trusted."
"Fine," Chan mused, pausing for only a second before retaliating by dipping a finger into the batter and swiping it across Felix's cheek.
Felix faltered, eyes wide. "Did you just—"
"Consider it payback," Chan's grin was gleeful and unapologetic.
Felix narrowed his eyes, a smile starting to pull at his lips. "Alright. I see how it is."
What followed was messy and ridiculous—batter on fingers, wrists, faces. Smeared across Chan's cheeks, Felix's forehead, and somehow a few splatters in their hair. Laughter spilled from them both, loud and unguarded, the kind that made Felix's chest ache afterward.
Eventually, it slowed and they found themselves standing close. Too close.
Felix was acutely aware of Chan's hand still hovering near his waist. Of the way his laughter faded into something softer. Quieter. Causing the kitchen to feel even smaller and the air heavier.
Their eyes met, and—although he almost did—Felix managed not to look away.
Anticipation curled gently in his chest as the moment stretched. Not sharp. Just warm and uncertain. But Chan leaned in first. Slow enough to give him time to pull back. He didn't.
When their lips met, the kiss was feather soft. Barely there at first, as if they were testing the shape of it. Chan's lips lingered, warm and careful, and Felix found his fingers instinctively curling into the front of his hoodie.
He could feel himself almost melting into Chan's arms, but the moment he started to deepen the kiss—wanting nothing more but to commit the shape and sensation of Chan's mouth to memory—the elder pulled back. It wasn't abrupt or harsh. Rather, it seemed hesitant, as if he was having to force himself to break contact. Even when he managed to do so, the two still stood close—foreheads touching as shared breaths passed between them.
"Shit…I—" Chan couldn't bring himself to look at Felix. "Sorry. I shouldn't have…"
He tried to take a step back but Felix's hold on his hoodie tightened, gently stopping him.
"Don't be. Please?" Felix’s eyes remained closed as he did his best to cling onto the warm comfort that had settled over him.
Chan finally lifted his gaze, bringing his hand up to rest carefully on Felix's cheek as his expression softened into something unbelievably fond. Something that remained unspoken even as Felix opened his eyes and stared up at him.
The silence wrapped around them wasn't tense or uncomfortable. It was gentle. Warm.
"We should fix the brownies…" Chan finally murmured, slightly breathless.
Felix huffed out a soft laugh. "Yeah. Probably."
After some negotiation, Felix managed to convince Chan to rinse the batter off in the shower while he remade the batter and put it in the oven.
By the time he returned to the kitchen from his own shower with his still damp and one of Chan's hoodies engulfing him—too big sleeves swallowing his hands—Chan was carefully arranging brownie squares onto a colorful plate Felix was fairly certain had never existed before tonight. Two mugs of steaming hot cocoa sat to the side, white marshmallows contrasting against the rich drink.
Chan looked up from the counter and paused.
"Is that mine?"
Felix glanced down at himself, suddenly a bit sheepish. "Oh—yeah. Sorry. Mine are all dirty and it was just…there."
Shaking his head, Chan smiled—soft and affectionate. "You can keep it."
Felix's lips curved in a small smile as he tugged the sleeves down a little further. "Thanks, hyung." His gaze flicked curiously back over to the plate. "Where did you find that?"
It was Chan's turn to look sheepish. "Bottom cabinet. Behind the mismatched mugs."
Felix raised a brow, laughing softly. "I didn't even know we had mismatched mugs."
Chan's shoulders lifted in a half-shrug. "You'd be surprised what you can find when you can't sleep."
He decided not to comment on that.
They moved to the couch together—Felix carrying the plate of brownies and hot cocoa and Chan bringing over a freshly dried blanket, draping it over both of them before Felix could protest. The dryer heat still lingered in the fabric, wrapping around Felix's legs, his shoulders, his chest—sinking deep enough that his body finally relaxed.
Chan handed him one of the mugs of cocoa and a piece of brownie. "Careful. They're still kind of hot."
Felix took a bite anyway. "Oh," he breathed, shoulders relaxing further. "Okay. You were right."
Chan's lips twitched. "About?"
"These being a good idea."
They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, the video of the crackling fireplace on the flatscreen TV casting soft light across the otherwise dimly lit room. Felix leaned back against the couch, then—without thinking—leaned into Chan.
Instead of moving away, the older of the two shifted just enough to make room, an arm settling around Felix's shoulder as naturally as if it had always belonged there.
The ache settled in Felix's chest then. Gentle. Heavy.
He stared at the fireplace on the screen, jaw tightening as he traced the rim of his mug with his thumb. "I think this is the first year it's really hit me…" he admitted quietly. "Being away during the holidays."
Chan stayed silent. Didn't interrupt. Just traced his finger in light and steady circles over Felix's shoulder.
"I kept telling myself I was used to it," Felix continued. "That it didn't bother me anymore. I mean…I've been away from home for years now." He laughed softly, but it was devoid of any humor. "I should be used to it…but tonight, it just hit me all at once. I miss my family. I miss sitting around the table and fighting over food and pretending we're not gonna cry when it’s time to leave."
His breath faltered and Chan's arm tightened slightly around him.
He tried to swallow down the burning lump in his throat, but his voice still came out rough. "I think I just got tired of pretending I'm always okay…"
"You don't have to be," Chan murmured. "Not with me."
Instinctively, Felix leaned into him a little more. "Do you ever miss it?" He asked after a minute. "Australia, I mean."
Chan remained quiet for a beat. Then he smiled, small and wistful. "Yeah. All the time."
"What do you miss the most?"
"The ocean," was his immediate answer. "The smell of it. The sound." He chuckled softly. "My family. My dog. Even the weather, sometimes."
Felix tilted his head upwards to look at him. "Then how do you do it?"
Chan looked down to meet his gaze, steady and warm. "I let myself miss it. And then I remind myself that home doesn't stop existing just because I'm not there."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," he continued, absentmindedly brushing his thumb over Felix's sleeve, "that I found another one. Here. With the people I'm with now."
And with those words, the tension in Felix's chest lessened. They fell quiet again, and this time, the silence felt full—stitched together by warmth and shared understanding rather than avoidance.
Felix let his eyes close, breath evening out as warmth seeped into his bones. Chan's arm around him was steady, unmoving—a familiar presence reminding him of one simple, yet echoing fact: Home didn't have to be a place at all. Maybe it could be the person who noticed when the mask slipped—and stayed anyway.
He nuzzled closer to Chan, arms wrapping around his waist as he felt careful fingers gently massaging his scalp. He didn't feel the need to smile. Or explain. Or be anything else other than tired. And for the first time in a long while, that seemed okay.
Finally, Felix looked up at Chan. "Hyung?"
Chan hummed in response, lifting his chin off Felix's head.
"Thanks for this."
Before he could continue, Chan tilted his chin upwards and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips.
"Merry Christmas Lixie."