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Felix woke up happy.
Not in the soft, ordinary way people were supposed to return to themselves after sleep, but all at once, as if someone had struck a match behind his ribs and the whole of him had caught. He opened his eyes before the alarm, before the weak morning light had even made a proper shape of the room, and for one suspended second he lay there staring at the ceiling with his heart thudding too fast for stillness, his fingers twitching against the sheets, his body already full of movement before he had even asked it to be.
The apartment was quiet. Hyunjin was asleep beside him, one arm bent beneath the pillow, his hair fallen across his face in dark, careless strands, his mouth parted just enough to make him look younger than he ever allowed himself to look when he was awake. Felix watched him and felt love arrive so violently it almost hurt, so suddenly it made his throat close around nothing.
He had been empty for so long that fullness felt like an emergency.
For weeks, happiness had been something he remembered instead of something he touched. He had moved through schedules with his body present and everything else somewhere far behind him, smiling when people looked too closely, answering when spoken to, eating because Hyunjin put food in front of him and sleeping because there was nothing else to do with the hours.
His sadness had not been dramatic. It had been worse than that. It had been quiet. A slow, grey weight pressing down on every part of him until even lifting his head had felt like arguing with gravity. But now, lying there beside Hyunjin in the bruised blue of early morning, Felix felt the weight gone so completely that he almost laughed from the shock of it.
He pressed both hands over his mouth, trying not to wake him, but the sound escaped anyway, small and bright and helpless.
Hyunjin stirred. His brows pulled together first, then one eye opened, unfocused and heavy with sleep. “Lix?”
Felix turned toward him too quickly, the sheets tangling around his legs. “Sorry,” he whispered, though he was smiling too hard for the apology to land as one. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Hyunjin blinked at him, still halfway inside a dream. “Are you okay?”
The question should have been simple. Felix knew that. But it hit him strangely, too tender and too sharp at the same time, because for once the answer was yes. For once the answer was so much yes that it filled his lungs and spilled over. He nodded, then nodded again, then laughed because nodding was not enough. “I’m good,” he said, and the words came out breathless. “I’m actually- Hyunjin, I feel good.”
Hyunjin’s expression shifted.
It was subtle, the way everything about Hyunjin was subtle before it became art. His eyes opened more fully. The sleep loosened from his face. Something soft and almost afraid moved through him before he tucked it away, but Felix saw it because Felix saw everything when he felt like this. Every flicker. Every breath. Every microscopic change in the people he loved. Hyunjin pushed himself up onto one elbow, searching Felix’s face as if happiness might be something he needed to check for bruises.
“Yeah?” he asked carefully.
Felix nodded again, crawling closer until his knee pressed against Hyunjin’s thigh beneath the blanket. “Yeah. I don’t feel dead today.”
The room went quiet around the sentence.
Hyunjin’s face did something Felix could not bear to look at directly, something wounded and careful, but before it could become heavy, before it could drag the morning down by its ankles, Felix surged forward and kissed him. It was messy and smiling, barely a kiss at all because he couldn’t stop laughing against Hyunjin’s mouth, and Hyunjin made a soft, surprised sound before his hand found Felix’s waist beneath the old shirt he had slept in.
“Baby,” Hyunjin murmured, but Felix kissed him again, and again, and then his cheek, his jaw, the corner of his eye, anywhere he could reach because suddenly Hyunjin was there and warm and real and Felix could not understand how he had spent weeks beside him without touching him like this every second.
“I love you,” Felix said, the words tumbling out too quickly. “I love you so much. Like, stupidly much. It’s actually embarrassing.”
Hyunjin’s mouth curved, careful but real. “It’s not even six in the morning.”
“I know,” Felix said, delighted by the absurdity of it. “That’s horrible. We should make pancakes.”
Hyunjin stared at him.
Felix was already climbing over him.
“Lix—”
“No, listen, pancakes. And coffee. And maybe eggs. Do we have strawberries? I want strawberries. We should go grocery shopping today. Actually, no, we should go to that little market we passed last week, the one with the flowers outside, remember? You said the oranges looked pretty and I said that was such a you thing to say because who calls oranges pretty? You do. You would. You’re insane.”
Hyunjin sat up slowly, the blanket falling around his waist. His hair was a disaster. Felix loved him so much he almost couldn’t stand it.
“You’re talking very fast,” Hyunjin said.
“I have a lot to say.”
“You usually do.”
Felix gasped, deeply offended, one hand pressed against his chest. “That was so mean.”
“It was an observation.”
“It was violence.”
Hyunjin smiled then, properly, and the sight of it lit something even brighter in Felix. There. There. That was what he had wanted. That was what the room had been missing for weeks. That tiny, tired, beautiful smile that made Hyunjin look less like he was bracing for impact and more like he remembered Felix could still be found somewhere beneath the fog.
Felix bounced once on the balls of his feet. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“Kitchen.”
“I’m not awake.”
“I’ll wake you.”
“That sounds both threatening and kinky. It’s too early for both of those things.”
Felix leaned over the bed, grabbed Hyunjin’s hands, and tried to pull him upright. Hyunjin resisted with the dead weight of someone who had no intention of being dragged anywhere before sunrise, but he was laughing under his breath now, and that was enough. That was more than enough. Felix pulled harder, nearly slipped, caught himself on Hyunjin’s shoulders, and collapsed half on top of him with another burst of laughter that felt too big for his body.
Hyunjin’s arms closed around him out of instinct.
For a second, Felix went still.
The warmth of it hit too hard.
His laughter caught, warped, and broke into something dangerously close to a sob. He buried his face in Hyunjin’s neck before Hyunjin could see it happen, breathing him in, soap and sleep and the faint trace of charcoal that never seemed to leave his skin no matter how many times he washed his hands.
“Hey,” Hyunjin said softly, fingers sliding into Felix’s hair. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” Felix said, too quickly. His voice was thick. “Nothing, I’m just happy.”
Hyunjin did not answer right away.
Felix hated the silence for half a second, then loved it, then wanted to crawl out of his own skin because both feelings were too large and neither had anywhere to go.
“I’m just really happy,” he repeated, as if saying it again would keep it from sounding like a warning.
Hyunjin held him a little tighter. “Okay.”
Felix lifted his head. “Don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re worried.”
“I’m not worried.”
“You are.”
Hyunjin looked at him, and Felix could see the lie sitting gently between them, not cruel, not heavy, just there. Hyunjin was always worried now. It lived in the space between his brows, in the way he touched Felix like a person testing the temperature of glass before picking it up. Felix understood it and resented it and needed it so badly that the combination made his chest ache.
Then the ache passed.
Just like that.
The happiness surged back in and swallowed it whole.
Felix grinned. “Pancakes.”
Hyunjin exhaled, defeated. “Pancakes.”
By seven, Felix had music playing from his phone on the kitchen counter, too loud for the hour, some bright pop song that made the apartment feel sunlit before the sun had even committed to coming up. He danced barefoot across the tile, hair messy, shirt slipping off one shoulder, one hand wrapped around a spatula like a microphone. The first pancake burned because he forgot it existed halfway through telling Hyunjin a story about something Chan had said three days ago. The second folded in half when he tried to flip it too dramatically. The third actually made it onto a plate, lopsided but golden, and Felix held it up like proof of divine intervention.
Hyunjin sat at the table with both hands around his coffee, watching him.
Felix could feel the watching. It crawled warmly over his skin. Normally it might have made him self-conscious. Today it made him perform harder. He spun once, nearly knocked into the counter, gasped, laughed, and pointed the spatula at Hyunjin. “You saw nothing.”
“I saw everything.”
“Then you’re legally obligated to be impressed.”
“I’m terrified.”
“Same thing.”
Hyunjin’s smile was small. Felix decided to make it bigger.
He abandoned the stove long enough to cross the kitchen and climb into Hyunjin’s lap, ignoring the soft sound of protest Hyunjin made as coffee sloshed dangerously close to the rim of his mug, he set the mug on the table next to him as Felix took his face in both hands and kissed him, sweet and loud and ridiculous, pressing exaggerated kisses to his mouth until Hyunjin finally laughed properly and set the coffee down before Felix could cause permanent damage.
“You’re going to burn breakfast,” Hyunjin murmured against him.
“Worth it.”
“You’ll be sad if the pancakes burn.”
Felix pulled back, offended again. “I will not.”
“You cried over toast once.”
“That toast betrayed me.”
“It was toast.”
“It knew what it did.”
Hyunjin shook his head, but his hands had settled at Felix’s waist, thumbs moving slowly over the soft cotton of his shirt. Felix looked down at him and felt the room tilt with affection. It was too much again, too sudden, a wave rising behind his ribs until his eyes stung.
Hyunjin noticed immediately. Of course he did. “Lix?”
Felix tried to smile through it. “You’re so pretty.”
Hyunjin’s expression softened in a way that made Felix want to bite something. “That made you cry?”
“No.” Felix wiped under one eye quickly, annoyed by the wetness. “Maybe. Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking too loud.”
Hyunjin leaned up and kissed his cheek, right where the tear had almost fallen. It should have calmed him. Instead, it made the feeling bloom wider, love and joy and grief all tangled together until Felix could not tell which one was making him shake.
He climbed off Hyunjin’s lap abruptly and went back to the stove, talking again before Hyunjin could ask another careful question. He talked through breakfast, through coffee, through the first wash of sunlight slipping pale across the apartment floor. He talked about repainting the living room even though they did not own the apartment. He talked about wanting to go to the beach even though there was no beach anywhere near them. He talked about getting matching rings, then laughed when Hyunjin choked on his coffee, then insisted he meant ugly rings, terrible rings, rings shaped like frogs or tiny spoons or something so stupid they would have to love them forever.
Hyunjin listened.
Felix loved him for that.
He loved him so violently that by the time breakfast was over, he was pacing.
Not because he was anxious. He wasn’t anxious. He was alive. His body just could not sit with it. The energy moved through his legs first, then his hands, then his mouth. He cleaned the plates before Hyunjin finished eating. He rearranged the mugs in the cabinet. He opened the fridge, forgot why, closed it, and opened it again. He started making a grocery list on his phone and somehow ended up searching flights to Australia because he missed the ocean and then he was blinking too fast because missing the ocean felt like missing himself, but then Hyunjin said his name and the sadness vanished so quickly it might as well have never been there.
“I’m fine,” Felix said automatically.
Hyunjin had not asked.
That was the first small fracture in the morning.
Not enough to break it. Not yet. But enough that Hyunjin went still.
Felix saw it, hated that he saw it, hated that Hyunjin knew he saw it, and then the music changed songs and he grabbed Hyunjin by the wrist before the silence could become something with teeth.
“Dance with me.”
Hyunjin glanced toward the clock. “We have to leave in an hour.”
“So we have an hour.”
“Felix.”
“Hyunjin.”
The smile Felix gave him was bright enough to win. He knew because he had used it before. Hyunjin let himself be pulled into the middle of the kitchen, moving with reluctant grace, one hand finding Felix’s waist as Felix looped both arms around his neck and swayed to a song that was far too fast for swaying. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. The burnt pancake smell still clung to the air. The floor was cold under Felix’s feet. Hyunjin’s shirt was soft beneath his fingers. Morning had finally filled the windows, pale gold and forgiving.
For one perfect, unbearable moment, Felix thought, There. I’m back.
Then immediately, like a shadow stepping into the room behind him, came the second thought.
How long do I get to keep it this time?
—
The market was warm in the way small neighborhood places always were, crowded with the smell of fresh bread and citrus and flowers sitting in metal buckets near the entrance. Felix loved places like this when he felt like this. Every color looked overdone in the best way. The oranges stacked near the register practically glowed beneath the hanging lights, the strawberries looked too red to be real, and somewhere near the back someone was playing old music through a crackling speaker that made the entire place feel softer around the edges.
Hyunjin stayed close behind him with the cart, one hand loosely hooked around the handle while Felix zigzagged through the aisles like he had been let loose after weeks underground.
“Ooh,” Felix gasped, stopping so suddenly Hyunjin nearly ran into him. “Baby, look at these mushrooms.”
Hyunjin blinked down at them. “Those are mushrooms.”
“No, but look at them.”
“They’re fungus.”
Felix looked personally wounded. “You have no vision.”
“We are literally artists.”
“You’re a hater.” Felix grabbed two containers and tossed them into the cart anyway before immediately abandoning them to dart toward the produce section because the tomatoes looked prettier there. Hyunjin watched him go with the exhausted fondness of someone trying not to visibly keep count of how fast Felix was moving.
Felix was everywhere today.
Touching everything.
Talking to everyone.
Smiling at strangers.
Apologizing when he bumped into displays and then laughing too brightly afterward.
His body felt too full to contain itself.
The worst part was that it felt good.
Not a normal good.
A Sharp good.
An Electric good.
Like his veins had been replaced with sparklers.
“Hyune!” Felix called from halfway down the aisle. “Should I make pasta?”
“You’re asking me like you haven’t already decided.”
“That’s because I respect your opinion.”
“You absolutely do not.”
Felix grinned, already pulling jars from the shelf. “Correct.”
He barely noticed himself grabbing too much.
- Fresh basil.
-Two different breads.
-Expensive cheese.
-Desserts nobody needed.
-Flowers.
-Three bottles of sparkling cider because maybe they could make it feel fancy.
His thoughts moved faster than the cart could follow them.
Dinner suddenly didn’t feel like enough.
The apartment felt too quiet.
The day felt too good to waste on just the two of them.
Before the thought had even fully formed, Felix was already pulling out his phone.
Hyunjin noticed immediately. “What are you doing?”
Felix barely glanced up. “Hold on.”
The group Facetime rang loudly through the speaker, echoing through the produce section while Hyunjin sighed the sigh of a man who had accepted long ago that embarrassment no longer existed in his relationship.
Chan answered first.
His face appeared at a horrible angle, forehead too close to the camera. “Why do you always call like you’re reporting a national emergency?”
“Because this is important,” Felix said.
Almost immediately more squares began appearing.
Changbin in the gym.
Jisung laying face-down on a couch.
Jeongin with only half his face visible.
Minho staring silently like he had been personally inconvenienced by technology itself.
Seungmin eating something.
“Why are you all alive at the same time?” Seungmin asked suspiciously.
Felix gasped. “That’s actually so rude. I’m trying to do something nice.”
“That sentence has never ended well,” Minho said.
“Listen,” Felix ignored, spinning dramatically in the middle of the aisle. “Schedules aligned. No interviews. No performances. No rehearsals tonight.”
Chan narrowed his eyes instantly. “What are you planning?”
“DINNER.”
The speaker exploded into overlapping noise immediately.
“With who?”
“At whose house?”
“Are you cooking?”
“Oh, we’re dying.”
Felix pointed accusingly at the phone. “None of you support me artistically.”
“Cooking is not your art form,” Seungmin said.
Felix looked horrified. “Minny.”
“You almost burned water last month.”
“That was one time.”
“You cried.”
“The pot scared me.”
Jisung lifted his head from the couch just enough to mumble, “I’ll come if Hyunjin supervises.”
“He does supervise,” Hyunjin muttered from behind the cart.
Felix spun the phone toward him dramatically. “See? He believes in me.”
Hyunjin looked directly into the camera with the exhausted expression of someone being held hostage. “I absolutely do not.”
Changbin barked out a laugh loud enough to make Felix grin harder.
“I’m serious,” Felix insisted. “All of you come over. I’ll cook. We’ll eat. We can drink wine or something. Chan can complain about work. Binny can flex at random intervals. Minho can sit there and judge everyone. Minny can insult me emotionally. Hannie can steal my couch blanket. Innie can pretend he’s innocent while absolutely not being innocent. It’ll be fun.”
Jeongin smiled immediately. “Okay, I’m in.”
“Traitor,” Seungmin muttered.
Chan’s expression softened in that warm, careful way Felix hated being able to notice. “You sure you wanna cook for eight people?”
The question hit him strangely.
Too soft.
Too observant.
For half a second, Felix felt himself wobble internally, like his happiness had missed a step.
Then it surged again twice as hard.
“Yes,” he said immediately, smiling too quickly. “I want everyone there.”
And he did.
The thought of the apartment full of voices made something bright bloom painfully inside his chest.
He wanted noise tonight.
Wanted warmth.
Wanted everyone he loved gathered close enough to touch.
Wanted to hold happiness in both hands before it disappeared again.
“Alright,” Chan said finally. “Text us what time.”
Felix beamed. “Six thirty.”
“That’s like five hours away.”
“And?”
“And you’re acting like you’re catering a wedding.”
Felix’s grin turned almost manic with excitement. “Wait until you see the menu.”
“Oh no,” Minho said immediately.
Hyunjin closed his eyes.
“Felix,” he started carefully, “how complicated is this dinner?”
Felix looked at him like the answer was obvious. “Very.”
“Baby.”
“I’m making handmade pasta.”
Every single member reacted at once.
“YOU CAN’T MAKE PASTA.”
“Since when?”
“You don’t even own the machine.”
“This is going to end with a fire.”
“Can I order takeout in advance?”
Felix laughed so hard he had to bend forward slightly, one hand gripping the cart for balance while Hyunjin watched him carefully from a few feet away.
Too bright, but still beautiful.
Felix straightened, cheeks flushed pink with excitement, eyes practically glowing beneath the fluorescent market lights.
“I’m gonna make it perfect,” he declared.
And for one fleeting moment, standing there surrounded by voices and laughter and people who loved him loudly through a tiny phone screen, Felix believed it.
—
By the time they got back to the apartment, Hyunjin was carrying three bags in each hand and Felix was somehow still talking.
Not normal talking, either. Not casual, wandering conversation. Felix was narrating the entire future of the evening as if the dinner had already become a memory and he was trying to preserve every detail before it happened. He talked while kicking the door shut with his heel, while dropping a paper bag onto the counter, while fishing basil out before it could get crushed beneath a box of strawberries he did not need but had insisted on buying because they looked “romantic.”
Hyunjin set the last bags down and stared at the counter. It had disappeared beneath the ingredients.
There were tomatoes, mushrooms, cream, garlic, fresh herbs, two kinds of cheese, flour, eggs, bread, salad greens, sparkling cider, candles, flowers, and a bag of lemons Felix had grabbed at the register for reasons even he could not explain.
Hyunjin looked at all of it, then at Felix. “This is a lot.”
Felix’s smile was immediate. “Exactly.”
“We are feeding seven people, not opening a restaurant.”
“Eight,” Felix corrected, already tying an apron around his waist with too much enthusiasm. “You count too.”
“I’m not convinced I’ll survive long enough to eat.”
Felix pointed a wooden spoon at him. “Bad attitude.”
Hyunjin leaned against the counter, watching Felix move. “Realistic attitude.”
“Coward attitude.”
Felix turned away before Hyunjin could answer and started unpacking everything at once. The apartment filled quickly with sound, the crinkle of paper bags, glass jars clicking against the counter, water running too hard in the sink, Felix humming under his breath, then singing, then stopping halfway through one song to start another. He put music on from his phone, low at first, something bright and rhythmic that kept his body moving while he washed tomatoes and tore basil leaves and opened cabinets too fast.
For a while, it was beautiful.
Messy, but beautiful.
Felix stood in the kitchen like the whole world had been handed back to him. His cheeks were flushed from the market air, his hair slightly mussed, sleeves pushed up past his elbows, flour already dusting one wrist though he had barely started. He kept reaching for Hyunjin without thinking, touching his hip when he passed, brushing fingers over his arm, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth before spinning away again to check the stove.
Hyunjin let himself enjoy it.
That was the dangerous part.
He let himself enjoy the way Felix laughed when the first egg cracked wrong and slipped through his fingers. He let himself enjoy Felix mumbling nonsense to the dough like it had personally offended him. He let himself enjoy the warmth of the apartment, the smell of garlic blooming in oil, the sharp sweetness of tomatoes breaking down in the pan. For a while, Felix’s happiness filled every room and made them feel lived in again.
“There,” Felix said, breathless, stirring the sauce with a dramatic flourish. “Tell me that does not smell incredible.”
Hyunjin stepped closer, peering into the pot. “It smells good.”
“Good?”
“Very good.”
“Pathetic compliment. Try again.”
Hyunjin slipped a hand around his waist from behind and rested his chin on Felix’s shoulder. “It smells like you’re trying to make everyone fall in love with you.”
Felix went still for half a second.
Then he smiled so wide it almost looked painful. “Is it working?”
Hyunjin kissed the side of his neck. “Unfortunately.”
Felix laughed, bright and sharp, and leaned back into him for exactly two breaths before he was moving again. “Okay, pasta. I need flour. More flour. Where’s the flour?”
“Right in front of you.”
“Oh. I knew that.”
“You absolutely did not.”
“I knew it spiritually.”
The first knock came while Felix was elbow-deep in dough.
He gasped like he had forgotten other people were actually coming. “They’re early.”
“They’re five minutes late.”
“That’s early for them.”
Hyunjin wiped his hands on a towel and went to answer the door before Felix could try to do it covered in flour. Chan came in first, carrying drinks and wearing the expression of someone prepared to supervise disaster. Changbin followed with snacks Felix had specifically told him not to bring, which meant he brought twice as many. Jeongin slipped in behind them, smiling softly, while Seungmin entered with a suspicious glance toward the kitchen as if checking for structural damage.
Felix lit up all over again.
“Hi!” he called, waving both floury hands. “Don’t touch anything yet, I have a system.”
“You have flour on your cheek,” Chan said.
“I know. It’s rustic.”
Changbin leaned over the counter. “This actually smells good.”
Felix’s whole face brightened. “Thank you, Binny.”
“I sound surprised because I am.”
“Never mind, I hate you.”
Seungmin wandered closer, eyeing the dough. “Are we eating at six thirty or midnight?”
Felix pointed at him without looking up. “Minny, if you bully the chef, the chef spits in your food.”
“You’d cry before doing that.”
“I would, but emotionally.”
Everyone laughed.
Felix laughed too, louder than the joke really needed, and for a few minutes everything held. The apartment filled with voices, shoes by the door, bags dropping onto chairs, Chan asking where to put the drinks, Changbin opening cabinets like he lived there, Seungmin making dry comments from the edge of the kitchen, Jeongin offering to help and immediately being assigned the sacred task of washing lettuce.
Then Han arrived with Minho.
Han came in loudly, as Han always did, already mid-sentence about something that had apparently happened in the elevator. Minho followed quieter, holding a small dessert box and looking at Felix’s kitchen setup with the grave disappointment of a man witnessing a crime scene.
“You made pasta from scratch?” Minho asked.
Felix beamed. “Yes.”
“On purpose?”
Felix threw a towel at him.
The apartment got louder after that.
Not bad louder.
Loved louder.
The kind of louder Felix had wanted when he called them. Everyone talking over each other, laughter ricocheting off the walls, music still playing from his phone, the sauce bubbling on the stove, the oven preheating, water running, chairs scraping, someone opening a bottle, someone else asking where the cups were. It should have felt perfect.
At first, it did.
Felix moved through it like he was made for it. He answered three conversations at once. He swatted Han’s hand away from the bread. He told Changbin for the fourth time that dinner was not ready. He leaned into Hyunjin’s side every time he passed him, quick little collisions of affection that made Hyunjin smile despite the growing chaos.
Then the sauce caught.
It happened fast.
One second Felix was laughing at something Jeongin said, his attention pulled toward the living room where Han had collapsed dramatically across the couch. The next second, there was a sharp, bitter smell beneath the garlic and tomato.
Hyunjin noticed at the same time Felix did.
Felix turned back to the stove, a smile still on his face, and stirred too quickly. The spoon scraped the bottom of the pot with a rough, ugly sound.
Burnt.
Not ruined, maybe. Not completely.
His face changed.
Only for a moment.
The brightness flickered, like a bulb threatening to go out.
Hyunjin stepped closer. “Lix-”
“It’s fine,” Felix said immediately. Too immediate.
Chan glanced over from the table. “Everything good?”
“Perfect,” Felix said, forcing cheer into the word so hard it almost cracked. “Totally perfect. I just need to fix one tiny thing.”
“It smells amazing,” Jeongin offered gently.
Felix smiled at him. “See? Innie has taste.”
He turned back to the pot before anyone could see his eyes.
Hyunjin saw anyway.
He saw the way Felix’s shoulders had climbed toward his ears, the way his hand tightened around the spoon, the way his breathing changed even though his smile stayed painted on. Felix scraped at the bottom of the pot again, softer this time, as if the sauce might forgive him if he asked nicely enough.
“It’s okay,” Hyunjin murmured, low enough that only Felix could hear. “We can make another.”
Felix’s smile sharpened. Not angry, but panicked. “I said it’s fine.”
Hyunjin stopped.
Felix hated himself for how quickly it came out. He hated the edge in his own voice, hated the way Hyunjin’s hand paused halfway toward his back. The shame arrived instantly, hot and nauseating, but there were too many people in the room for it to have anywhere to go, so Felix swallowed it and laughed. He laughed like nothing had happened, like his chest had not just folded inward around one burned pot of sauce.
“Sorry,” he said lightly, too lightly. “Chef stress. Very serious condition.”
Han laughed from the couch. “Felix yelling over pasta is kind of iconic.”
The comment was harmless.
It should have been harmless.
Felix laughed with him.
Then Changbin laughed too, louder, his voice booming warmly across the apartment, and someone turned the music up because the room had gotten noisier and the song had been swallowed beneath conversation. The bass kicked harder through the little speaker on the counter.
Felix’s smile froze.
Sound pressed in from every side.
The music.
The bubbling water.
The oven beep.
Han laughing.
Seungmin asking where the napkins were.
Chan talking over Changbin.
A cabinet closing too hard.
The scrape of the spoon.
The smell of burnt tomato clinging beneath everything.
Felix blinked.
For one second, he could see every color in the room too brightly. The red sauce, the green basil, the silver pot, the yellow light over the stove, Hyunjin’s black shirt, flour on his own fingers, Jeongin’s worried eyes cutting toward him from the sink.
Then it all became too much.
His body did not know where to put the feeling.
He stirred the sauce faster.
Too fast.
“Lix,” Hyunjin said softly.
Felix shook his head once.
Not now.
Please, not now.
He had wanted this. He had wanted everyone here. He had wanted noise and warmth and laughter and proof that happiness could be big enough to share. He had wanted the apartment full because empty rooms scared him when the crash came. But now the fullness was pressing against his skin until he could barely breathe.
Someone laughed again.
Felix flinched.
Small, but not small enough.
Hyunjin saw it.
So did Chan.
Felix turned abruptly toward the counter, pretending to reach for salt, but his hand hovered uselessly above the ingredients. He couldn’t remember what he needed. He couldn’t remember what came next. The recipe scattered in his head like dropped beads, rolling everywhere at once.
“I need-” he started, then stopped.
Hyunjin moved closer, careful. “Baby, do you want me to turn the music down?”
“No,” Felix said.
Too loud.
Everyone quieted a fraction.
That made it worse.
Felix felt the room notice him.
His heart jumped violently, his face burning with the sudden horror of being perceived. He could feel himself slipping, feel the high curdling into something frantic and raw, feel happiness turning sharp enough to cut him from the inside.
“No, sorry,” he corrected quickly, forcing another smile. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine. Don’t make it weird.”
Nobody moved.
The silence was worse than the noise.
Then Han, trying to help, trying to save the room, said lightly, “We can order food, you know. It’s not a big deal.”
Felix’s chest caved.
Not because Han meant anything by it.
Because suddenly all Felix could hear was failure.
He had been too much.
He had made too much.
Bought too much.
Promised too much.
Talked too much.
Tried too hard.
The sauce was burning. The music was too loud. Everyone was looking. His hands were dirty. His skin felt wrong. The apartment was too warm. The light was too yellow. Hyunjin was too close and not close enough.
Felix set the spoon down carefully.
So carefully it was worse than dropping it.
“I’m just gonna,” he said, voice bright and thin, “I’m just gonna use the bathroom really quick.”
Hyunjin reached for him. “Felix.”
“I’m fine.”
The words came out smiling.
His eyes did not.
He slipped past Hyunjin before anyone could stop him, moving too quickly down the hall, one hand pressed against his stomach like he could hold himself together by force. The bathroom door shut behind him with a soft click.
For a second, nobody in the apartment spoke.
The sauce continued to bubble on the stove.
Then Hyunjin turned the burner off.
The apartment stayed painfully still for exactly one breath after the bathroom door shut.
Then everyone started pretending not to look at each other.
Chan cleared his throat quietly near the table. Seungmin stared very hard at the countertop. Jeongin turned the faucet off at the sink with slow, careful movements, while Han sat frozen on the couch with the dawning horror of someone replaying his own words in real time.
“I didn’t mean-” he started softly sitting forward, his eyes wide with worry. Minho kisses the side of his head and wraps his arms around his shoulder and pulls him back into his chest.
“I know,” Chan said immediately.
Nobody blamed him.
That somehow made the whole room feel sadder.
Hyunjin stood motionless beside the stove, staring at the burner he had just turned off. The smell of burnt tomato still clung faintly to the air beneath the basil and garlic. Felix’s spoon sat abandoned beside the pot, sauce streaked along the wood where his hand had slipped.
Too bright an evening gone wrong too fast.
Hyunjin scrubbed a hand down his face.
Then, quietly but sharply, he looked toward Chan and muttered, “Order pizza or some shit.”
Chan blinked once, caught completely off guard by the phrasing.
Changbin snorted despite himself.
Hyunjin pointed vaguely toward the kitchen without looking away from the hallway. “Anything. Just food. Salvage the situation before Felix comes back out and apologizes himself into a psychological event.”
That earned a tiny, guilty laugh from Seungmin.
Chan immediately grabbed his phone. “Yeah, okay. Pizza’s easy.”
“Get the garlic crust thing Felix likes,” Hyunjin added automatically.
The fact that he still thought about that even now made something twist painfully in Chan’s chest.
“I got it.”
Hyunjin nodded once. He was already moving.
The hallway felt too quiet after the living room noise. The music was still faintly audible from the kitchen, though someone, probably Chan, had turned it down low enough that it barely sounded like more than background static now. Hyunjin walked toward the bathroom slowly, exhaustion settling heavy into his shoulders.
Not annoyance. Never annoyance.
Just that helpless, aching exhaustion that came from watching someone feel everything at a volume that hurt them.
The bathroom light glowed weakly beneath the door.
Hyunjin stopped outside it and listened.
Nothing.
Not crying.
Not movement.
Nothing.
That scared him more.
He knocked softly. “Lix?”
Silence.
Then, after a few seconds:
“Yeah.”
Hyunjin rested his forehead briefly against the wood before trying the handle carefully. Unlocked.
The bathroom was dim except for the light above the sink.
Felix sat on the closed toilet lid with both elbows braced on his knees, still wearing the same oversized sweater from that morning, sleeves pushed up unevenly now. His hair was a mess from his own hands running through it too many times. He had scrubbed the flour off his fingers at some point, but not completely. White streaks still clung to the side of one hand.
The worst part was how still he was.
Hours ago he had looked like sunlight struggling to fit inside a human body.
Now he looked emptied out.
Felix stared at the tile between his shoes when Hyunjin stepped inside. “Sorry.”
The word hit instantly.
Not because of what it was. Because of how automatic it sounded.
Hyunjin shut the door behind him quietly. “Baby.”
“I ruined dinner.”
“You burned one sauce.”
Felix laughed once under his breath, humorless and thin. “Cool. So exactly what I said.”
Hyunjin moved closer slowly, careful in the way people approached injured animals. “Nobody cares about the sauce.”
“I care.”
Felix’s voice cracked around the edges unexpectedly. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes hard enough to hurt for a second before dropping them again with visible frustration.
“I was doing so good,” he whispered.
There it was.
Not anger.
Not embarrassment.
Grief.
Hyunjin’s chest tightened painfully.
Felix shook his head once, staring back down at the floor. “I knew it was getting too loud and I still couldn’t stop it. I kept thinking if I could just keep moving then maybe it wouldn’t…” He swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”
“Wouldn’t what?”
Felix laughed again, smaller this time. “End.”
The word sat heavily between them.
Hyunjin leaned back against the sink, watching him carefully. Felix’s entire body looked exhausted now, wrung dry by emotions that had been too large for too many hours. Even sitting still, he seemed tense beneath his skin, like his nervous system had not figured out how to stop vibrating yet.
“You didn’t ruin anything,” Hyunjin said softly.
Felix’s mouth twisted immediately like he wanted to argue but no longer had the energy.
“I got overwhelmed over pasta.”
“You got overwhelmed because there were eight people in a small apartment and you haven’t slept.”
Felix looked away. “That sounds dramatic when you say it out loud.”
“It sounds human.”
Felix went quiet again.
The silence stretched long enough that Hyunjin finally crossed the bathroom and crouched in front of him. Their knees touched lightly. Felix still wouldn’t look at him.
“I need you to stop looking at me like that,” Felix murmured eventually.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m about to break.”
Hyunjin’s expression softened painfully. “Baby…”
“Because then I start feeling broken.” Felix’s voice dropped lower, rough with shame. “And then I can’t tell if I actually am or if everyone’s just waiting for me to become a problem again.”
Hyunjin inhaled slowly through his nose.
Outside the bathroom, faintly, they could hear Changbin yelling something about toppings while Chan argued back.
Normal noise.
Warm noise.
Felix flinched anyway.
Hyunjin saw it, and the immediate guilt afterward too.
Felix finally looked up then, eyes glossy with exhaustion more than tears. “I hate when it switches that fast.”
Hyunjin’s throat tightened. “When what switches?”
Felix stared at him for a long moment before answering quietly “Everything.”
Hyunjin looked at him for a long moment after that.
Not searching for the right thing to say anymore.
Just looking.
At the exhaustion sitting beneath Felix’s skin.
At the lingering redness around his eyes.
At the way his hands kept flexing restlessly against his knees like his body still had nowhere safe to put the leftover emotion.
The crash always looked cruel after the high.
Hours ago Felix had been radiant. Laughing too loudly. Dancing in the kitchen. Kissing flour onto Hyunjin’s cheek while talking about handmade pasta like it was the event of the century. The apartment had felt too small to contain him.
Now he looked folded inward around himself, quiet in the way people became after surviving something invisible.
Hyunjin’s chest ached with it.
Without saying anything, he shifted lower against the bathroom cabinet until he was sitting fully on the floor. The cold tile pressed through his sweatpants immediately, grounding and uncomfortable, but he barely noticed.
Felix blinked at him tiredly. “What are you doing?”
“Come here.”
Felix hesitated.
Hyunjin could see the conflict flicker across his face, that awful split-second hesitation between craving comfort and feeling guilty for needing it. It broke something soft inside Hyunjin every time.
So he held one hand out patiently. “C’mere, baby.”
Felix exhaled shakily through his nose.
Then he moved. Slowly this time. None of the frantic brightness from earlier. No bouncing energy. No rapid laughter. Just exhaustion dragging at every movement as he slid off the toilet seat and into Hyunjin’s space. Hyunjin opened his legs enough for Felix to settle between them, then immediately wrapped both arms around his waist and pulled him fully into his lap.
The second the contact happened, Felix melted. It was almost frightening how quickly it happened. Like his body had been holding itself upright through sheer force alone.
He folded into Hyunjin bonelessly, forehead dropping against his shoulder, one hand bunching weakly into the fabric of Hyunjin’s shirt near his ribs. Hyunjin tightened his hold instinctively, anchoring him there while Felix breathed unevenly against his neck.
“There you are,” Hyunjin murmured softly.
Felix made a tiny sound that could have been embarrassment or relief.
Maybe both.
Hyunjin leaned his head gently against Felix’s temple and started swaying.
Barely enough to notice at first.
Just a slow, repetitive movement back and forth across the bathroom floor, steady enough that Felix’s breathing gradually began trying to follow it. One hand settled flat against the middle of Felix’s back beneath the oversized sweater, scratching lightly up and down his spine with blunt nails.
Felix shuddered, overwhelmed enough that touch itself hurt a little.
Hyunjin kept swaying anyway.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Outside the bathroom, the apartment sounded muted now. Distant voices. Cabinets opening. Someone laughing softer than before. The faint buzz of Chan talking on the phone ordering food. Life continuing carefully on the other side of the door.
Inside, everything narrowed down to warmth.
To Hyunjin’s hands.
To the scratch of fabric.
To the low hum vibrating softly in his chest.
Felix realized after a few seconds that Hyunjin was humming.
Something quiet.
Wordless.
Barely audible.
The kind of melody Hyunjin only ever used when Felix got like this.
It wasn’t meant to fix him. Just hold him together until the feeling stopped eating him alive.
Felix’s grip tightened weakly in Hyunjin’s shirt. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, voice muffled against his shoulder.
Hyunjin immediately clicked his tongue softly in disapproval. “No.”
“I made everything weird.”
“No, you got overwhelmed.”
“They noticed.”
“Baby, they love you.”
That made Felix’s chest hurt worse somehow. His eyes squeezed shut. “They’re probably all out there thinking I’m insane.”
Hyunjin pulled back just enough to look at him properly. “Changbin once cried because his protein pancakes ripped.”
Felix stared at him blankly.
“He held the spatula like someone died.”
A tiny, broken laugh escaped Felix before he could stop it.
“There he is,” Hyunjin said softly.
Felix’s face crumpled immediately afterward. “I hate this,” he whispered. “I hate when I can feel myself getting too happy because then I know this part comes after.”
Hyunjin’s hand moved slowly up and down his back again. “I know.”
“It feels good and then suddenly it feels like my skin’s on wrong.”
The honesty of it made Hyunjin ache.
Felix swallowed hard before continuing quieter “And everyone likes me better during the good part.”
Hyunjin’s entire body softened around him instantly. “Oh, baby.”
Felix looked away immediately after saying it, shame flooding his face like he regretted letting the thought exist out loud. “I know that sounds manipulative.”
The bathroom went quiet again except for Hyunjin’s humming.
Felix’s breathing finally started slowing, though every now and then another small tremor moved through him like leftover electricity trapped beneath his skin. Hyunjin kept swaying gently through all of it, one hand scratching lightly at the back of Felix’s sweater, grounding him in small repetitive touches.
After a long while, Felix spoke again so quietly Hyunjin almost missed it. “I was really happy this morning.”
Hyunjin closed his eyes briefly. “I know.”
Felix’s voice cracked faintly around the edges. “I miss it already.”
A soft knock touched the bathroom door. “Hyunjin?” Chan called gently from the other side. “Pizza’s here. Whenever you’re ready.”
Felix stiffened immediately in Hyunjin’s lap.
Hyunjin felt it and scratched softly down his back again, one last slow pass. “Okay,” he called back. “Give us a minute.”
Chan didn’t push. His footsteps retreated down the hall.
Felix kept staring at the floor. “I don’t want to go out there.”
“I know.”
“They’re going to look at me.”
“Probably,” Hyunjin admitted softly. “Because they care.”
Felix’s mouth twisted. “That’s worse.”
Hyunjin pressed a kiss to his temple, then shifted carefully beneath him. “Come on. We’ll make it easy.”
Felix let himself be helped up, limbs heavy now that the worst of the spike had passed and left only the bruised aftermath behind. Hyunjin stood with him, smoothing both hands down Felix’s sleeves, then cupping his face for half a second.
“Bedroom first,” Hyunjin murmured.
Felix blinked. “What?”
“Go grab your stuffy. Then go to the couch. I’ll get your food.”
Felix looked embarrassed immediately. “Hyunjin…”
“Not a debate.”
The firmness was gentle enough that Felix didn’t know what to do with it except nod.
They stepped out together.
The apartment had changed in their absence. The music was off now. The kitchen lights had been dimmed slightly. The burned sauce was gone from the stove, the pot moved discreetly to the sink like no one wanted it to exist loudly. Pizza boxes were stacked on the coffee table, plates nearby, napkins folded in an uneven pile. Everyone looked up when Felix appeared, and then, almost too quickly, looked away again.
That almost made it worse.
Chan gave him a small smile from near the couch. “Hey, Lix.”
Felix nodded, throat too tight to answer.
Hyunjin’s hand pressed briefly to the small of his back. “Bedroom.”
Felix obeyed because obeying was easier than deciding.
He slipped down the hall, grabbed the worn little plush he usually kept half-hidden between pillows, and held it against his chest like he was sixteen again, moving to a new country by himself, and too fragile to be seen. By the time he came back, everyone had made space for him without making a show of it. A corner of the couch sat open with a blanket folded beside it.
Felix sank into it silently. The plush went against his stomach. His arms wrapped around it automatically, pulling his knees to his chest.
Hyunjin went to the pizza boxes without asking what he wanted. He already knew. Garlic crust. Cheese. One piece with olives picked off because Felix liked the flavor but not the texture. A small cup of ranch. Water instead of cider.
Felix watched him do it and felt his chest ache.
Around him, everyone tried to be normal.
That was the problem.
Normal life continued in tiny, unbearable ways.
Changbin sat on the floor near Seungmin’s knees, complaining loudly that Seungmin had stolen the good slice. Seungmin looked down at him with a flat expression and took an exaggerated bite directly from it.
Changbin gasped. “You’re evil.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“You like that about me.”
Seungmin’s mouth twitched despite himself. “Unfortunately.”
Changbin grinned like he had won something, leaning back against Seungmin’s leg, and Seungmin let his fingers drift once through Changbin’s hair like it was nothing. Like affection could be casual. Like it didn’t have to cost anything.
Across the room, Chan sat beside Jeongin, shoulders touching. Jeongin was pretending to listen to Han talk, but every few seconds Chan leaned in to murmur something near his ear, and Jeongin would duck his head with that shy, pleased little smile he tried to hide. Then Chan kissed the corner of his mouth quickly, so quick most people might have missed it.
Felix didn’t. His eyes moved away too fast.
On the other end of the couch, Han had somehow turned eating pizza into a full-body performance. He pointed toward the box with a lazy little noise, not even forming words, and Minho, without looking impressed in the slightest, picked up the exact slice Han wanted and put it on his plate.
Han smiled brightly. “Thank you.”
“Use your hands next time.”
“You love taking care of me.”
“I tolerate keeping you alive.”
Han leaned his head briefly against Minho’s shoulder, smug and warm. Minho didn’t move away.
Felix stared down at the plush in his lap.
It was stupid.
That was the word that came first.
Stupid to feel worse because other people were happy. Stupid to ache over gentle flirting and tiny kisses and someone knowing someone else well enough to pick the right slice of pizza. Stupid to sit there with a stuffed animal pressed to his stomach while everyone else seemed so easy inside their love.
He had Hyunjin.
He knew that.
Hyunjin loved him with a patience Felix did not understand and a steadiness he did not deserve on days like this. Hyunjin knew his food order, knew when the lights were too bright, knew when to touch and when not to, knew how to sit on a bathroom floor and hum him back into his body.
But Felix still felt broken watching everyone else.
Because their love looked light.
His always felt heavy.
Hyunjin came back with a plate and sat beside him, close enough for their thighs to touch. He placed the food carefully on Felix’s lap, then rested one hand over the back of Felix’s neck, thumb moving once beneath his hair.
“You okay?” he murmured.
Felix nodded.
A lie so small it barely counted.
Hyunjin looked at him for a second longer, then didn’t call him on it. He only leaned closer, voice quiet enough that no one else could hear.
“You don’t have to be like them.”
Felix froze. Hyunjin’s thumb stroked once, slow and knowing.
“You just have to be here.”
Felix swallowed hard, staring down at the slice of pizza he suddenly wasn’t sure he could eat.
Across the room, someone laughed softly.
This time, no one turned the music back on.
The rest of the night softened around the edges.
Not perfect. Not fixed. But survivable.
Felix ate half a slice of pizza and let Hyunjin pretend not to notice that it took him almost twenty minutes. He sat curled into the couch with his plush tucked against his stomach, listening more than speaking while the others filled the room around him in careful, familiar pieces. Changbin complained about choreography. Seungmin insulted him with such deadpan affection that Changbin looked pleased every time. Han showed Minho a ridiculous meme on his phone and laughed so hard he nearly choked on crust. Jeongin kept stealing small pieces of pepperoni from Chan’s plate, and Chan kept pretending not to notice even though he shifted the plate closer every few minutes.
Eventually, somehow, Felix started smiling again.
Small smiles, tired ones, but real enough.
He laughed when Han brought up fan art that had been circulating, some dramatic vampire-style drawing of Hyunjin looking like he had stepped straight out of an oil painting, all sharp cheekbones and impossible shadows. Hyunjin groaned immediately and covered his face with one hand while everyone teased him, and Felix, tucked beside him, murmured that the artist had captured his “tragic haunted prince disease” perfectly.
Hyunjin looked at him through his fingers. “You’re supposed to defend me.”
“I am defending you. They made you hot.”
“I’m always hot.”
Felix’s smile twitched wider. “See? Haunted prince disease.”
Even Chan laughed at that before leaning back into the couch with a sigh, one arm stretched behind Jeongin. “Speaking of tragic creative decisions,” he said, and the entire room groaned before he had even finished.
“No,” Seungmin said flatly.
Chan pointed at him. “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
“You had that producer face.”
“I do not have a producer face.”
“You absolutely do,” Han said. “It’s terrifying.”
Chan ignored them, though his mouth kept twitching. “The next album might have some country influence.”
The room went silent. Felix blinked.
Changbin slowly lowered his pizza. “I’m sorry. What?”
“Country,” Chan repeated, already defensive. “Not like, full cowboy hats and hay bales. Just elements. Guitars. Storytelling. Maybe some western percussion. Like the song Ateez released back in 2019. I really liked the vibe and I think we could do something like that.”
Minho stared at him. “You want us to yeehaw?”
Chan rolled his eyes “I did not say yeehaw.”
Han sat up. “Can I say yeehaw?”
“No.” Everyone answered in unison
“I’m saying yeehaw.”
“You are not.”
Han was quiet for a beat, then let out an overly American hicksville “Yeehaw.”
The apartment erupted.
For a little while, it was okay.
That was the worst part later.
Felix would remember that it had been okay. He would remember laughing into Hyunjin’s shoulder when Changbin stood up and attempted a country dance so aggressively bad that Seungmin threatened to leave him. He would remember Jeongin asking if he had to wear boots and Chan looking like the thought had only just occurred to him. He would remember Hyunjin’s hand resting warm against his knee beneath the blanket, steady and quiet, not asking anything from him.
The night ended gently.
One by one, everyone gathered their things, voices softer now, shoes scraped back onto feet near the door.
Chan hugged Felix carefully, not too tight, and said, “Text me tomorrow, yeah?” like it was casual and not exactly what it was.
Changbin squeezed Felix’s shoulder and told him the pizza was better than his pasta would have been anyway, which made Felix snort despite himself.
Seungmin rolled his eyes and added, “He means that lovingly.”
Han hugged Felix for too long and whispered a small, guilty apology into his hair, which Felix answered by squeezing him back once.
Minho handed Felix the dessert box he had brought and said, “Eat one tomorrow,” like an order instead of comfort.
Then they were gone. The apartment became huge without them.
Hyunjin and Felix cleaned in silence.
Hyunjin gathered plates while Felix folded napkins and threw away empty cups. The pizza boxes went into the trash. The forgotten ingredients were tucked back into the fridge. The pot with the burned sauce sat soaking in the sink, water gone pink-orange and cloudy. Felix stared at it for a second too long before Hyunjin reached around him and gently turned him away from it.
“Leave it,” Hyunjin murmured. “Tomorrow.”
Felix nodded.
In bed, Hyunjin pulled him close, and Felix let himself be held.
For a while, he felt almost normal.
Fragile, embarrassed, wrung dry, but normal.
He fell asleep with Hyunjin’s hand beneath his shirt, warm against his stomach, and the last thing he remembered thinking was that maybe tomorrow would be softer.
It wasn’t.
—
Morning came like a bruise.
Felix felt it before he even opened his eyes, heavy and deep and spreading through him slowly enough to hurt. The happiness from yesterday was gone so completely it almost felt embarrassing that it had existed at all. No warmth under his skin. No frantic brightness. No urge to move.
Just exhaustion. Not physical exhaustion, though that was there too, but something worse. The kind that lived in his bones.
He kept his eyes shut and curled tighter beneath the blankets instead, dragging the comforter over his head until the world disappeared into muted darkness and stale warmth. The air beneath the blanket quickly became stuffy against his mouth, but he stayed there anyway, knees pulled to his chest, body folding inward instinctively like maybe if he made himself small enough he could disappear from the day entirely.
Beside him, Hyunjin stirred.
Felix heard the rustle of sheets, the soft exhale through his nose, the quiet pause afterward that told Felix exactly when Hyunjin realized.
The room stayed silent for a minute.
Then softly, “Lix?”
Felix squeezed his eyes shut harder.
“Baby.”
“I don’t wanna do today.” The words came muffled beneath the blanket, rough with sleep and something dangerously close to tears.
Hyunjin didn’t answer immediately.
Felix hated that pause. Hated the carefulness that always entered Hyunjin’s movements on mornings like this. The gentleness. The awareness. Like Hyunjin was approaching something injured.
The mattress shifted quietly as Hyunjin sat up.
“It’s okay,” he murmured. “We’ll do it slowly.”
Felix shook his head beneath the covers immediately. “No.”
“No what?”
“No everything.” His throat burned, as he heard Hyunjin stand.
Closet doors slid open softly across the room. Hangers clicked together. Felix stayed buried beneath the blanket listening to it all with a growing pit in his stomach, shame crawling heavily beneath his skin because Hyunjin was already adjusting himself around Felix’s low mood before he had even fully woken up.
After a minute, drawers opened.
Folded clothes landed softly on the dresser.
Felix knew without looking that Hyunjin was laying out something comfortable. Probably the black sweatpants Felix liked because the fabric stayed soft after washing. Probably one of Hyunjin’s hoodies because Felix always stole them when he got like this.
The thought made his eyes sting.
The bed dipped suddenly.
Then the blanket peeled back enough for cool air to hit Felix’s face.
His eyes were swollen already. He hated that Hyunjin would notice.
“C’mon,” Hyunjin said quietly.
Felix curled tighter. “Don’t want to.”
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
“I know, baby.” Hyunjin’s voice sounded tired too, that hurt worst of all.
Felix kept staring blankly at the mattress while Hyunjin slid one arm beneath his knees and another around his back. The movement was practiced now, horribly practiced, and Felix felt humiliation bloom hot and sick in his chest as Hyunjin lifted him carefully from the bed like it was nothing.
Like Felix weighed nothing.
Like this happened enough that Hyunjin knew exactly how to do it.
Felix hid his face immediately against Hyunjin’s shoulder. “Sorry,” he whispered automatically.
Hyunjin only tightened his hold slightly. “Stop apologizing.”
The bathroom light hurt.
Felix squinted when Hyunjin set him gently on the counter beside the sink, one hand remaining at his waist for balance until Felix settled. The counter was cold beneath his thighs through his sleep shorts. He sat there limp and exhausted while Hyunjin reached for his toothbrush.
The sight of it made something inside Felix crack quietly.
“Hyune…”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Hyunjin murmured. “Just stay with me.”
Felix’s chest ached.
Hyunjin wet the toothbrush, added toothpaste, then stepped between Felix’s knees carefully. His movements stayed slow, deliberate, giving Felix enough time to pull away if he wanted to.
Felix didn’t. He opened his mouth silently when Hyunjin tilted the toothbrush toward him.
The shame was immediate, sharp and nauseating.
Felix stared past Hyunjin’s shoulder while gentle hands brushed his teeth for him, careful and thorough in the way people cared for children or sick animals. He could barely breathe around the humiliation of it. Tears gathered before he even realized they were coming.
He blinked hard.
One slipped free anyway, trailing silently down his cheek.
Hyunjin noticed immediately. Of course he did, but he didn’t say anything.
That somehow made Felix cry harder.
Not sobbing or dramatic, just silent tears slipping helplessly down his face while Hyunjin brushed his teeth like this was normal, like Felix wasn’t twenty-five years old sitting half-asleep on a bathroom counter unable to take care of himself properly.
Pathetic.
The word repeated viciously inside his head.
Hyunjin finished quietly, wiping at the corner of Felix’s mouth with a washcloth afterward before setting everything aside.
Only then did he cup Felix’s face gently. “Hey.”
Felix looked away instantly.
“Don’t,” Hyunjin whispered softly. “Don’t do that to yourself right now.”
Felix’s throat tightened painfully. “I hate when you have to do this.”
Hyunjin’s expression flickered for one tiny second, fatigue.
Gone almost immediately, but Felix caught it anyway.
“I know,” Hyunjin admitted quietly.
The honesty hurt more than reassurance would have.
Hyunjin turned then, starting the shower. Water thundered softly against tile while steam slowly began filling the room in pale clouds. Felix sat motionless on the counter while Hyunjin moved around him, gathering towels, adjusting the temperature, exhaustion sitting visibly heavier in his shoulders than usual.
The kind of wear that love left behind when it carried too much for too long.
Felix watched him and felt grief settle heavily inside his ribs.
Hyunjin stepped back toward him once the bathroom had warmed with steam. “Can you stand for me?”
Felix tried, his body obeyed sluggishly.
Hyunjin steadied him immediately, hands warm against his waist while he gently pulled Felix’s shirt over his head. Felix kept his eyes fixed somewhere over Hyunjin’s shoulder, dissociating slightly through the movements because looking directly at what was happening made his chest hurt too badly.
The steam softened everything.
The mirror fogged slowly.
Water hissed softly.
Hyunjin’s hands stayed careful.
Felix felt distant from his own body while Hyunjin undressed him piece by piece, not rushed, just heartbreakingly familiar. Like this was another version of intimacy neither of them had asked for but both understood now.
“Cold?” Hyunjin asked softly when Felix shivered.
Felix shook his head.
Lie.
Hyunjin knew it anyway. He guided Felix beneath the spray carefully, one hand against the middle of his back. Warm water poured over Felix immediately, soaking his hair flat against his forehead, steam curling thick around them.
Felix closed his eyes.
For a while, he barely moved.
Hyunjin washed him gently.
Shampoo worked through his hair in slow circles.
Soap across his shoulders.
His arms.
His back.
Felix stood there quiet and hollow while Hyunjin cleaned him with the exhausted tenderness of someone trying to hold another person together before work, before schedules, before cameras, before the world expected Felix to smile again.
At one point, Hyunjin’s hands paused briefly against Felix’s shoulders.
Felix opened his eyes slightly.
Hyunjin looked tired. Tired in that deep emotional way people became when they loved someone through every high and every crash afterward.
The sight nearly undid Felix completely. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, voice almost lost beneath the water.
Hyunjin closed his eyes briefly.
Then kept washing him. When the shower ended, Hyunjin wrapped Felix immediately in a towel warm from hanging near the steam. He dried him carefully, pressing the towel gently through his hair, rubbing warmth back into his arms when goosebumps rose along Felix’s skin.
Felix barely spoke.
His brain felt underwater.
Back at the sink, Hyunjin unscrewed moisturizer with tired fingers and gently tipped Felix’s chin upward. Felix let him.
Cream across his cheeks.
Under his eyes.
Forehead.
Nose.
Then skincare.
Tiny familiar routines.
Small acts of maintenance.
Proof that Hyunjin still believed Felix deserved care even when Felix couldn’t imagine why.
Felix stared blankly at the fogged mirror while Hyunjin worked.
“You’re zoning out,” Hyunjin murmured softly.
Felix blinked slowly. “Sorry.”
“No apologies.” The words held no irritation, that somehow made them sadder.
Once everything was done, Hyunjin took Felix carefully back to the bedroom. Clothes waited folded neatly on the dresser exactly where Hyunjin had left them earlier.
Felix stood there exhausted while Hyunjin dressed him piece by piece.
Sweatpants first.
Socks.
Oversized hoodie.
Hyunjin pulled the sleeves down over Felix’s hands automatically.
Only after Felix was dressed did Hyunjin finally change himself.
Felix sat on the edge of the bed watching him quietly while Hyunjin tugged a clean shirt over his head, movements slower now than usual. Fatigue clung visibly to him this morning, hidden beneath practiced softness.
Felix realized suddenly that Hyunjin looked almost as tired as he felt.
The thought lodged painfully in his chest.
When Hyunjin turned back toward him, Felix’s eyes immediately dropped to his lap.
Because loving Hyunjin during the highs felt easy.
But mornings like this made Felix feel like something heavy being dragged slowly behind him.
Hyunjin finished buttoning the cuffs of his shirt, then looked over at Felix sitting motionless on the edge of the bed.
His hair was still damp from the shower, curling slightly at the ends. The oversized hoodie swallowed him whole, sleeves hanging past his hands exactly the way Hyunjin knew he liked when he felt fragile. He looked warm now. Clean. Taken care of, but still utterly miserable.
Hyunjin’s chest tightened quietly at the sight. “Okay,” he said softly, walking back over. “Back in bed.”
Felix blinked up at him slowly. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“I’m already dressed.”
“And?”
Felix looked genuinely confused by the concept, exhaustion flattening every expression into something small and lost. “People usually get dressed to leave bed.”
“People also usually sleep more than three hours before trying to emotionally self-destruct over pasta.”
Felix’s mouth twitched weakly despite himself.
“There he is,” Hyunjin murmured.
Felix looked away immediately afterward, ashamed of even that tiny reaction.
Hyunjin reached down and squeezed gently at the back of his neck. “C’mon. Lay down for a bit.”
Felix obeyed this time without arguing. That worried Hyunjin more than resistance would have.
He watched Felix crawl slowly beneath the blankets again, movements sluggish and heavy now that the shower steam had worn off. Felix curled instinctively toward Hyunjin’s side of the bed even before Hyunjin got in it, face half disappearing into the pillow while his hands tucked beneath his sleeves.
Hyunjin pulled the blanket a little higher over his shoulder.
“I’m gonna make coffee and something small to eat, okay?”
Felix nodded faintly against the pillow.
“Toast?”
Another small nod.
“With jam?”
A pause.
Then, quieter “Strawberry.”
Hyunjin’s expression softened painfully. “Yeah, baby.”
Felix watched him leave the room through half-lidded eyes.
The apartment was quiet now.
Not the warm, full quiet from last night after everyone had settled in together. This quiet felt hollow. Morning-grey. Heavy with the aftermath of emotions too large for the walls to hold.
Felix stared at the ceiling after Hyunjin disappeared into the kitchen.
He could hear little things distantly.
Cabinets opening.
The kettle running.
The muted scrape of a knife against toast.
Normal sounds.
Domestic sounds.
Sounds Hyunjin made because Felix could not get himself to function correctly today.
The shame sat like wet concrete in his stomach.
By the time Hyunjin came back balancing a tray with coffee, toast, jam, and a small bowl of cut fruit Felix probably wouldn’t touch, Felix had curled even tighter beneath the blanket.
Hyunjin set the tray carefully on the nightstand first before climbing onto the bed beside him.
“Okay,” he said softly. “Sit up for me.”
Felix did, though slowly.
Hyunjin handed him the coffee first, already cooled slightly the way Felix liked it. Felix wrapped both hands around the mug but didn’t drink immediately. He just stared down at the steam curling upward.
The room stayed quiet for a while.
Hyunjin passed him the plate. “Small bites.”
Felix nodded faintly. He managed one bite before his throat tightened unexpectedly.
Not because of the food. Because Hyunjin looked exhausted.
Now that the frantic panic of the morning had settled, Felix could see it fully. The faint shadows beneath his eyes. The heaviness in his shoulders. The way he kept pausing for half a second before moving again like his own body was running low too.
And still, here
Felix stared down at the toast in his hands. “Why do you stay with me?”
Hyunjin looked up immediately.
Felix’s voice stayed flat, small, almost detached, which somehow made it hurt worse. “You’re exhausted.”
The words settled heavily between them.
Hyunjin didn’t answer right away.
Felix hated himself instantly for saying it out loud, but now that the thought existed in the room he couldn’t pull it back. His chest ached with the certainty of it. Hyunjin was tired because of him. Worn down because of him. Spending mornings brushing his teeth for him, carrying him to showers, talking him through emotional crashes like defusing bombs.
Felix looked at Hyunjin and suddenly saw every future version of this.
Every low.
Every crash.
Every morning like today.
The thought made him feel unbearably cruel.
“You shouldn’t have to do all this,” Felix whispered.
Hyunjin’s face changed then.
Heartbroken.
He set his own coffee down slowly before moving closer across the bed until their knees touched beneath the blankets.
“Felix,” he said softly, “look at me.”
Felix didn’t want to.
Hyunjin waited anyway.
Eventually, Felix forced himself to lift his eyes.
Hyunjin looked tired.
But underneath the exhaustion was something else too. Something steady. Something that had remained through every high and every low and every moment Felix thought he had finally become too much to keep.
“You think I stay because it’s easy?” Hyunjin asked quietly.
Felix’s throat tightened.
“Sometimes it’s exhausting,” Hyunjin admitted, honest in the way only Hyunjin could be. “Loving anyone is exhausting sometimes. Loving you during the highs can be exhausting. Loving you during the lows can be exhausting.”
Felix’s chest caved inward.
But Hyunjin reached up immediately, fingers warm against his jaw.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to do it.”
Felix looked wrecked by the distinction.
Hyunjin’s thumb brushed gently beneath one eye. “You think I carried you into the shower this morning because I’m trapped here?”
A tear slipped free before Felix could stop it.
“You looked so sad,” Hyunjin whispered. “What was I supposed to do? Leave you there alone with it?”
Felix’s mouth trembled hard enough that he pressed it shut.
Hyunjin moved even closer then, forehead resting lightly against Felix’s.
“I stay because when you laugh, it fills entire rooms,” he murmured. “Because you make everyone around you softer. Because you love so loudly it leaks out of you even when you’re hurting. Because yesterday morning you kissed me like you were grateful I existed.”
Felix cried silently now, tears sliding helplessly down his face.
“And because,” Hyunjin continued quietly, voice roughening slightly now too, “I know this isn’t all you are.”
Felix shook his head weakly. “But it keeps happening.”
“I know.”
“You get tired.”
“I know.”
“I ruin things.”
Hyunjin’s hand slid gently into Felix’s damp hair.
“You burned sauce,” he said softly. “You didn’t ruin love.”
Felix broke completely at that.
His lows, weren’t dramatic in the way people expected pain to be dramatic. No screaming. No throwing things. Just quiet devastation, silent tears slipping endlessly down his face while he tried to fold inward small enough that nobody would have to carry the weight of him anymore.
Hyunjin stayed close through all of it.
One hand in Felix’s damp hair.
The other resting warm against the side of his neck.
The coffee on the nightstand slowly cooled untouched.
Felix pressed the heel of his hand against his eyes hard enough to hurt. “I don’t understand how you still love me like this.”
Hyunjin exhaled softly through his nose.
Then, after a moment: “I fell in love with you the first time I saw you.”
Felix blinked.
The sentence startled him enough that his crying faltered slightly.
Hyunjin’s expression softened faintly at that, sad and warm all at once. “On the survival show.”
Felix stared at him quietly.
“You walked into the practice room,” Hyunjin continued softly, thumb still brushing slowly through wet strands of hair, “and you were so nervous you kept smiling at everyone before they even looked at you. You bowed like six times in thirty seconds.”
A tiny, watery laugh escaped Felix despite himself.
Hyunjin’s mouth twitched faintly. “You looked terrified.”
“I was terrified.”
“I know.” His voice gentled further. “But you still walked in anyway.”
Felix swallowed hard.
Hyunjin looked down briefly, like the memory itself hurt to hold. “Then JYP sent you home.”
The room went still.
Even now, after all these years, the subject carried a strange ache between them. Felix remembered it too clearly sometimes. The humiliation. The grief. The numb shock of trying to smile while feeling his future collapse underneath him.
Hyunjin’s jaw tightened faintly.
“I thought I lost you before I even really got to have you,” he admitted quietly. “And I remember sitting there afterward thinking…” He laughed softly once, humorless. “Thinking it felt unfair that someone I barely knew could already matter that much.”
Felix’s eyes welled again instantly.
Hyunjin looked back at him then, gaze unbearably steady. “When they brought you back,” he whispered, “I told myself I would never let you go again.”
Something in Felix’s face crumpled.
Not from sadness this time, but from the unbearable weight of being loved that long.
“Hyune…”
“I mean it.” Hyunjin’s thumb brushed beneath Felix’s eye, catching another tear before it could fall. “Almost every important version of me has loved you.”
Felix stared at him like he didn’t know where to put the sentence. His breathing turned shaky again.
Then softly, almost disbelieving “Almost ten years?”
Hyunjin smiled faintly at the question, though it looked more nostalgic than happy now, softened by memory and exhaustion both.
“You wanna know what you looked like back then?”
Felix nodded once.
Hyunjin leaned back slightly against the headboard, eyes drifting somewhere far past the bedroom walls.
“You looked…” He laughed quietly under his breath. “God, you looked so young.”
Felix groaned immediately. “Don’t say it like that.”
“No, listen.” Hyunjin’s mouth curved softly. “You were all sharp cheeks and huge eyes. You looked terrified literally all the time.”
Felix looked offended through lingering tears. “I was in a foreign country competing on television.”
“And somehow still apologizing to everyone every five minutes,” Hyunjin added.
That pulled another weak little laugh from Felix.
Hyunjin’s gaze softened further, remembering. “You smiled at people before they even talked to you because you were nervous,” he murmured. “Like you thought if you were sweet enough first maybe nobody would dislike you.”
Felix’s expression faltered quietly.
“You didn’t know Korean well yet,” Hyunjin continued. “Not really. Half the time you looked confused during evaluations, but you’d still nod along and then stay up practicing until everyone else went to sleep because you were too embarrassed to ask people to repeat themselves again.”
Felix looked down at the blanket in his lap.
Hyunjin remembered it too clearly.
The tiny apartment dorms.
The harsh practice room lighting.
Felix sitting cross-legged on the floor at two in the morning repeating Korean lyrics under his breath until his pronunciation stopped slipping.
The way he’d bow quickly after every correction no matter how small.
“You worked harder than anyone,” Hyunjin said quietly.
Felix shook his head immediately. “No I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.” Hyunjin’s voice held gentle certainty. “You thought if you stopped trying for even one second they’d send you home.”
The room went still.
Because it had happened.
Hyunjin could still remember the exact feeling of it. Watching Felix stand there trying not to cry while his future got ripped away on camera. Watching him smile through devastation because even heartbroken, Felix had still been trying to make everyone else comfortable.
Hyunjin swallowed once.
“You put your whole heart into everything,” he whispered. “That’s what got me first, I think.”
Felix looked up slowly.
“You weren’t the loudest trainee,” Hyunjin continued softly. “Or the most confident. Honestly, you looked like you were one bad evaluation away from throwing up most of the time.”
Felix huffed out a watery laugh.
“But every single thing mattered to you.” Hyunjin’s eyes drifted over Felix’s face carefully, like he was seeing all the versions of him layered together at once. “Every practice. Every lyric. Every person. You cared so much it was practically leaking out of you.”
Felix’s throat tightened visibly.
Hyunjin smiled faintly. “You’d stay behind helping people even when you were struggling yourself. You’d get embarrassed when your Korean got mixed up but still keep trying anyway. And every time someone praised you, you looked genuinely shocked.”
Felix’s eyes welled again.
“You know what I remember most?” Hyunjin asked quietly.
Felix shook his head once.
“The way you watched people.”
Felix blinked.
“You paid attention to everyone.” Hyunjin’s voice softened almost unbearably. “You’d notice when someone was stressed before they said anything. You’d bring drinks back without asking what people wanted because you already remembered. You were always looking at everyone else first.”
Felix’s face crumpled slightly around the edges.
“And then when you performed…” Hyunjin exhaled softly through his nose. “It was like watching somebody throw their entire soul into three minutes.”
The room stayed quiet after that.
Felix stared at him with tears balanced helplessly in his eyes while Hyunjin looked back with the kind of love that only came from knowing every version of someone.
The frightened trainee.
The euphoric highs.
The crushing lows.
The boy who smiled too quickly.
The man who apologized for existing when he was hurting.
All of him.
“I think,” Hyunjin said softly after a moment, “I fell in love with how badly you wanted to be here.”
Felix’s mouth trembled hard.
“Even when you were scared,” Hyunjin continued, “you kept choosing people. You kept trying again. You kept loving things fully.”
A tear slid slowly down Felix’s cheek.
Hyunjin reached over automatically, wiping it away with his thumb.
“And honestly?” he murmured. “I still see that same boy sometimes.”
Felix laughed shakily through the tears. “The terrified one?”
“The hardworking one.” Hyunjin smiled faintly. “The one who loves with his entire body.”
Felix looked down immediately, overwhelmed by it.
“You make it sound beautiful,” he whispered.
Hyunjin’s expression softened into something almost aching.
“It is beautiful. And you’re beautiful and emotional in an attractive way.”
Felix looked horrified. “That’s the nicest manipulation anyone’s ever used on me.”
Hyunjin laughed quietly for the first time that morning.
The sound settled something fragile in the room.
Felix stared at him afterward, eyes red-rimmed and exhausted, and felt that awful ache in his chest shift slightly. Not disappear. It was still there. The heaviness. The shame. The low mood sitting deep in his bones.
But now there was something else beside it too.
Something warm.
Hyunjin reached up and wiped gently at the tear tracks still damp on Felix’s cheeks.
“Eat your toast,” he murmured softly. “Your coffee’s getting cold.”
Felix looked down at the plate in his lap. Then back at Hyunjin “You still look tired.”
Hyunjin smiled faintly. “Yeah.”
The honesty made Felix’s chest ache again.
But this time Hyunjin leaned forward first, pressing a slow kiss to Felix’s forehead before resting there for a second.
“Tired doesn’t mean leaving.”