Chapter Text
The sunlight in the Hannam-dong villa didn’t shout; it filtered through the heavy, charcoal-grey curtains in soft, dusty ribs of gold. It was a silent witness to a scene the rest of the world would have paid millions to glimpse, yet it was the only thing allowed to see them like this.
Hyunjin stirred first, the habit of a dancer’s early rehearsals ingrained in his bones. He didn’t open his eyes immediately. Instead, he reached out, his hand instinctively finding the familiar warmth beside him. His fingers brushed against the soft, sun-warmed skin of Felix’s back.
Felix hummed a low, gravelly sound deep in his throat, shifting closer until his forehead pressed against Hyunjin’s shoulder. This was the morning-voice version of Felix, the one that didn't have to project for a runway or charm a camera.
"Mmm... what time is it?" Felix murmured, his Australian accent thicker in the haze of sleep.
"Too early," Hyunjin whispered, his voice equally raspy. He finally cracked an eye open, glancing at the designer watch discarded carelessly on the nightstand. "The car for your Louis Vuitton fitting is here in ninety minutes. My studio session isn't until eleven."
Felix groaned, burying his face in Hyunjin’s neck. "Don’t go. Just tell them you’re sick. Tell them I’m holding you hostage."
Hyunjin chuckled, the vibration rumbling through his chest. He ran a hand through Felix’s bleached hair, which was currently a chaotic bird’s nest, a far cry from the sleek, ethereal styling it would sport by noon. "I think the hostage excuse only works if the kidnapper isn't a world-famous model with a flight to Japan tomorrow."
Finally, with a dramatic sigh, Felix rolled onto his back, blinking up at the ceiling. On his left hand, a simple, thin gold band caught the light. It was a twin to the one Hyunjin wore on a chain hidden beneath his shirt. In this house, the ring lived on Felix’s finger. Outside, it lived in a velvet-lined box or tucked into a hidden pocket of a luxury travel bag.
"Breakfast?" Hyunjin asked, leaning over to press a lingering kiss to Felix’s temple.
"Pancakes," Felix decided, his eyes finally sparking with life. "With the berries we bought yesterday. Before we have to go back to being 'Hwang Hyunjin' and 'Lee Felix'."
The kitchen was a masterpiece of marble and stainless steel, but it felt lived-in. There were Polaroid photos stuck to the side of the refrigerator, snapshots from a trip to Jeju where they’d worn bucket hats and masks so thick nobody had recognised them. There were two mismatched mugs on the counter: one with a hand-painted heart from a pottery class they’d taken under assumed names, and another a gift from Minho that had a sarcastic comment about their cooking skills.
Hyunjin moved with a fluid grace even in his silk pyjamas, whisking batter while Felix hovered nearby, leaning against the counter and scrolling through his professional schedule on his phone.
"The PR team sent over the talking points for the interview after the fitting," Felix said, his tone shifting slightly. The softness was still there, but a layer of professional weariness had crept in. "They want me to emphasise that I’m 'focusing on my career' and 'enjoying the single life' while I travel."
The whisking stopped for a fraction of a second. Hyunjin didn't look up, but his jaw tightened.
"The usual, then."
"The usual," Felix echoed. He walked over, slipping his arms around Hyunjin’s waist from behind, resting his chin on his husband’s shoulder. "I hate it more every time I have to say it, Jinnie. Three years of marriage, and I still have to pretend I go home to an empty hotel room."
Hyunjin turned in his arms, the whisk forgotten. He framed Felix’s face with his hands, his thumbs brushing over the dusting of freckles that makeup artists usually spent an hour trying to cover.
"We’re doing this so we can keep what we have," Hyunjin reminded him, though it sounded like he was reminding himself, too. "The world is loud, Lix. If we let them in, we don't get mornings like this anymore. We get lenses in the windows and people dissecting every time we have a disagreement."
"I know," Felix sighed, leaning into the touch. "I just wish... I wish I could at least wear the ring. Even just for one shoot. A styling choice, I could call it."
Hyunjin smiled sadly, leaning down to press their foreheads together. "One day. I promise. But for now, let’s just eat our pancakes and pretend the cars aren't waiting outside."
They ate in a comfortable silence, a domesticity that felt like a shield. They talked about the new choreography Hyunjin was working on and the specific shade of leather Felix was supposed to be promoting. They were two of the most famous people in the country, one a titan of the music charts, the other the face of global high fashion. But here, over half-eaten pancakes and cold coffee, they were just two people who had promised their lives to each other.
The illusion shattered when Felix’s phone buzzed with a text from his manager: [Downstairs in 5. Don't be late, the creative director is on a tight schedule.]
"That’s me," Felix said, his posture straightening. He stood up, the 'Model Felix' persona beginning to settle over his shoulders like an invisible cloak.
He headed to the bedroom to change into a carefully curated street style outfit. LV head to toe, designed to look effortless for the inevitable paparazzi waiting at the agency gates.
Hyunjin followed him, watching from the doorway.
As Felix reached for his wedding band to take it off, he hesitated. He looked at the ring, then at Hyunjin.
"Leave it," Hyunjin said suddenly.
Felix looked up, surprised. "What?"
"Put it on the chain I gave you. Wear it under your shirt," Hyunjin suggested, walking over and pulling a sturdy silver chain from his own jewelry drawer. "I'm wearing mine today, too. Under the turtleneck. A secret for us."
Felix smiled, a genuine, bright beam that reached his eyes. He threaded the gold band onto the chain and let Hyunjin fasten it around his neck. The metal was cold for a second against his skin before it began to take on his body heat.
"A secret for us," Felix repeated.
A final, quick kiss, tasting of maple syrup and lingering sadness, and then the door clicked shut. Hyunjin stood in the quiet kitchen, looking at the two empty plates. In thirty minutes, he would put on his own mask, head to the studio, and answer questions about his lonely artist lifestyle.
But for now, he just picked up the plates and started the dishes, the gold ring hidden beneath his shirt thumping softly against his heart with every movement.