Chapter Text
He checked his watch again and was startled to find there were still two hours left before landing. The first-class cabin was silent, the only sound the low, sleepy hum of the engines. He was fucking exhausted and had already drifted in and out of several short, broken naps. He dragged a hand over his face, as if he could somehow wipe the last twenty-four months away with that one simple gesture.
The flight attendant paused beside his seat and leaned slightly toward him. He knew she was watching him, and it made his skin crawl. He closed his eyes deliberately. He didn’t want to deal with anyone. He’d rather pretend to be asleep. A moment later, he heard her footsteps fading into the thick carpet, the rattle of a passing service cart, and the muffled murmur of voices somewhere down the aisle.
Going back.
Those two words alone were enough to make his stomach twist into knots.
In those two years, he’d only been back to Seoul three times. But even when he forced himself to make those trips, it was always just the agency. Just his manager and the business obligations he still hadn’t untangled. He never saw the guys. Or him. He kept his distance from anything that might pull him back into that part of his life.
The first time, his manager pressed the issue, relaying their request to get in touch. The second time, he raised it again, probably expecting him to finally give in. But he refused, firm and final, and returned to Paris as quickly as he could.
He stubbornly ignored Hyunjin’s frantic messages, the missed calls from I.N and Han, and the emails from Seungmin, who kept writing to him with near-manic persistence. He acted like he didn’t see the tags in their posts, or the stories where they’d casually mention him by name, like it hadn’t been deliberate. He ignored the links they sent, the memes, the old photos, and every new group chat invite that followed. Any channel they tried to use to reach him, he shut down with a single swipe. Eventually, they stopped trying.
And now... he was on a flight to Korea. He’d spent the last few days searching for excuses, but he’d agreed to this himself, in a moment of weakness, weeks ago. He already regretted it, but it was too late to back out now. This was Bang Chan. His wedding. He couldn’t do that to him.
He tried to think about it calmly. But this was nothing like a short business trip. He wasn’t even sure what scared him more: the awkward silence that might fall between them when they finally saw each other, or the questions. He dreaded the way his friends would look at him when they finally saw him again, the ones who remembered how suddenly he’d disappeared. How, for a year, he’d been nothing but a problem for them to dissect in comment sections, headlines, and videos about the “real reasons.”
Somewhere along the way, he drifted back into a restless doze. He was woken by the announcement that they were beginning their descent and would be landing in twenty minutes. The flight attendant appeared again, this time closer. This time, she wasn’t quite so careful about leaning in. She could see he was awake.
“We’ll be landing soon, so if you could fasten your seatbelt, please. Is there anything else you’d like before we land?”
"No, I’m good. Thanks."
As the plane began to descend, pressure built in his ears. At the first touch of the wheels against the runway, he held his breath for a second and instinctively tightened his grip on the armrest.
And just like that, he was here. Korea. Seoul...
He pulled a black face mask from his bag and put it on slowly, adjusting the straps behind his ears. Then came the baseball cap. Out of habit, he checked his reflection in his phone screen to see if too much was still visible. He knew perfectly well it still wouldn’t be enough. And, in some strange way, that thought calmed him. All he had to do was keep up appearances, the way he always had.
Taxiing took forever. Then, finally, the plane came to a stop and people started getting to their feet, reaching for their bags, stretching. He was the last to stand. He adjusted his mask, pulled his cap lower, and zipped his jacket all the way up to his neck. Automatically, because he knew there was no way to be invisible here anyway. He pulled out his passport, his arrival card tucked inside, like always. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his security detail a few yards behind him. Close enough to step in if needed, but far enough not to make it look like an escort.
By the time he reached the immigration booth, he was already braced for it. The officer glanced at his passport, and for a brief second, something flickered in the tall man’s eyes. Still, he stayed composed and only asked him to lower his mask. Then came the polite words, delivered in the same calm, professional tone as everything else.
“Welcome back to Korea.”
He was just about to step away when a hand appeared at the side of the booth. One of the women working the desk leaned in so no one in the line behind him would hear.
“I’m sorry. I... I know I’m not supposed to ask. But I really... just one autograph. For my sister.”
He looked at the officer, who pretended not to hear a thing. So he signed it quickly, without a dedication.
He took one deep breath and stepped out. Beyond the doors, a corridor was waiting for him. It was a little narrower and quieter, with a discreet VIP sign mounted on the wall. Someone from airport staff, dressed in a suit, approached and said under his breath,
“This way, please.”
He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around. A big man in a black shirt, an earpiece tucked in one ear, had stopped him. It was Mike, one of his most trusted bodyguards, practically a friend. He gave him a warning.
“Listen. There’s a crowd out there.”
He nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. He knew there was always a crowd out there. Sometimes smaller, sometimes bigger. But always there.
“All right,” he said after a moment. “Let’s go.”
“Then listen to me. Straight ahead. You do not stop unless I touch your shoulder. If I touch you, you stop. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“Eyes up.” Mike gave him a reassuring smile.
The noise hit him instantly. Hysterical screams rose around him, along with sharp squeals and a sea of phones lifted into the air. And he did what he had trained himself to do all those years ago. His back straightened automatically. His chin lifted. He waved in that practiced way that made it seem like it was for everyone, not anyone in particular.
“Felix!”
“We love you!”
“Please, just one photo!”
He stopped for a brief moment and looked at Mike. Mike raised one finger, their signal to move fast. He stepped up to the barrier and turned slightly so they would both fit in the shot. Then he moved on before anyone else could try the same thing. He gave the crowd one more wide wave, then let security set the pace. Mike moved half a step ahead of him, while two bodyguards flanked him and cleared a path. Mike raised a hand toward the crowd in a firm, practiced gesture.
“Sorry. No time. We have to keep moving.”
They moved through a side passage, farther from the main crowd. The noise faded, and only then did he realize how tense he was, his shoulders aching with it. Outside, in the pickup area, a car sent by JYPE was already waiting. Mike slid into the back seat beside him. The city, its familiar streets and buildings, drifted past beyond the window.
“Chan knows you landed. He told me to make sure you don’t do anything stupid, like deciding you might as well head back to the airport and get on the next flight out.”
“Did he really say that?” Felix smiled despite himself.
“Almost. He used more profanity.”
They reached the hotel sooner than Felix had expected. When the car pulled under the covered entrance, he caught sight of a few figures near the doors through the window, but there was no crowd. It was quiet. No cameras. One of the bodyguards got out first, scanned the area, then opened the door for Felix.
Mike took care of everything without them having to stop at the front desk. The keycard to the suite was already waiting.
When he reached the sixth floor and the elevator doors slid open, the first thing he saw was seven men standing in the hallway, staring at him in silence. After a moment, Chan stepped forward, wrapped his arms around him, and said, his voice thick with emotion,
“Hey, Lix. Welcome home.”