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Mornings have always belonged to Seungmin.
The quiet calm that exists before schedules claim the day and his feet hit the ground running, he thrives off of the tranquility that settles over him like a warm blanket. He wakes before his alarm, as he often does, reaches for his phone, silences the alarm before it has a chance to ring and sits at the edge of his bed for a moment. His body is accustomed to waking up early, even when their schedules give him every reason not to. The apartment is still dark as he wanders into the kitchen, the warm glow of the morning light beginning to seep through the curtains. He draws back the drapes as the pale golden glow of daylight slips quietly through and stands there for a moment, blinking the remnants of sleep from his eyes, before reaching for the coffee machine. There is something soothing about this ritual-the quiet precision of it and the gentle hum as the machine whirs to life. The apartment is still holding onto the remnants of the night ; a discarded hoodie over the back of their chair, a pair of shoes lying crookedly by the door, last night's empty takeout boxes abandoned on the kitchen counter top. It is in this gentle stillness that the years of living together become apparent to him, stitched together from habits so old they disappeared into the fabric of everyday life. Their lives are rarely orderly, between packed schedules and flashing cameras, their days belong to everyone else, their time divided into rehearsals, airports and stages until they're stretched thin but mornings like this feel like something that belongs solely to them.
He stands there and watches the steady stream of coffee beginning to fill the cup, letting the quiet familiarity wash over him. He makes two cups on autopilot. His own is strong and bitter, Felix gets an extra spoonful of sugar because he will inevitably complain before drinking it anyway. He carries them to the counter and sets Felix's on his usual side, beside the spot where Felix tends to stand when he wakes up and eventually wanders over. The thought comes so naturally that Seungmin doesn't even question it, all the years of living together made apparent in unassuming everyday gestures.
Years of repetition had worn their lives smooth around the edges until neither of them noticed how instinctively they moved around one another. Felix knows Seungmin likes the window open when he sleeps. Seungmin knows Felix would forget to eat if nobody reminded him. Seungmin’s hoodies migrate into Felix’s closet and never find their way back. There are mugs neither of them remembered buying and their refrigerator is often filled with Felix’s bulk purchase of the week. Happy House, as Stays have affectionately dubbed their dorm, stands true to its name, They rarely fight, sure they bicker and sulk, but none of their misunderstandings have ever gone out of hand ; Felix would bake brownies as an apology gift or Seungmin would wander over to where Felix was and they would talk it out and all would be forgiven.
Seungmin leans against the counter, coffee in hand when he hears the sound of Felix’s door open. A sleepy Felix trudges in, fluffy blonde hair a mess, pillow crease evident on his cheek and judging by the stream of curses Seungmin had heard through their shared wall, he’d probably spent the whole night gaming.
You're awake." he says, picking up his own mug.
"Unfortunately." Felix grumbles, his deep voice thick with sleep.
Seungmin smirks, "That's what happens when you go to bed at three."
Felix sticks out his tongue as he reaches for his own drink but not before making a face, his tiny nose scrunched up as the liquid hits his tongue. Seungmin shakes his head, all these years of running on pure caffiene and Felix still hasn’t gotten used to the taste.
There’s something about the simplicity of the moment that settles between them, after all they’ve been doing this for years. They drink in silence; Seungmin running through today’s schedule that Chan had sent earlier in their group in his head and Felix with his nose buried in his phone, laughing when a particularly funny tik tok shows up on his feed, when he notices Felix’s shoes. They’re abandoned by the door, one lying on its side and the other several feet away.
His eyebrow twitches, “Felix.”
“Hm ?”
“Your shoes.” He says and watches as Felix follows his gaze. “Put them away.”
“I’ll do it later, Seugminnie,” Seungmin sighs as Felix smiles at him over the rim of his mug.
Later, in Felix’s vocabulary, is a flexible concept. Seungmin knows this, Felix knows Seungmin knows this and yet the cheeky devil doesn’t move a single muscle from his perch on the kitchen stool. Seungmin sighs, a mixture of fondness and exasperation, as he turns towards the sink to wash out his mug. He’s halfway through rinsing when tiny hands latch onto his biceps, the soft pads of Felix’s fingers squeezing the muscle, much like a cat making biscuits.
“Namja,” he grins, in his trademark high pitched gremlin voice, fingers continuing their ministrations,
Feigning annoyance, Seungmin extracts himself from Felix’s grip, a feeble attempt to supress the shiver running down his back at the sudden heat of Felix’s chest. He hears Felix’s giggles as he washes out his own mug and cannot help as warmth curves his lips.
“Yongbok.” He says, trying and failing to sound stern, soft smile betraying his tone as he feels pink rising to his cheeks.
“But namja is so sexy when he’s doing the dishes.” Felix simply ruffles his hair as he skips past, much to his indignation, before disappearing into the bathroom, “I call dibs on the shower !’
The first person to say something is their manager.
It happens between takes, while stylists flutter around with brushes and cameras rest with the lights dimmed. Seungmin collapses on to the couch, a sweaty tangle of limbs, as he catches his breath, bottle of water in his hand. The new choreography is physically demanding and as excited as he is to peform it in front of the crowd, the rehearsal is relentless, leaving little room for error. All of them are scattered through out the practice room, displaying varying levels of exhaustion ; Minho and Jisung are huddled up on the couch, Hyunjin is slumped onto Jeongin’s shoulder, Changbin is on his phone while Chan is busy tweaking something on his laptop. Felix wanders over, strands of blond hair escaping the confines of his hairband, the white fluffy hoodie that suspiciously resembles Seungmin’s hanging off of his lithe frame and launches himself into Seungmin’s side. He rubs his head into Seungmin’s side, like an overgrown puppy, before Seungmin swats at him.
“Yongbok,” he sighs, “go wipe your sweat somewhere else.”
“But my namja is so warm,” he croons, burrowing himself into Seungmin’s hoodie, his arms wrapping around his waist. Seungmin rolls his eyes when he sees Changbin smirking at him.
The exchange slips by unnoticed between them, another thread woven into their familiarity. It might have ended there, faded into the background, had someone not spoken up from across the room.
“There it is again.”
The two of them look up, curious.
“Felix,” their manager says scrolling through his phone. “You call Seungmin namja a lot.”
Seungmin’s fingers pause around the bottle.
The sentence seems so ordinary, there is nothing accusatory in it, just an observation tossed into conversation. From the corner of his eye, Seungmin sees Chan straighten, his eyes focused on their manager as he listens with knitted brows and he knows that his eldest hyung is gearing up in case the conversation takes a different turn.
Felix blinks, as he sits up and Seungmin feels a pang at the loss of his warmth. “Do I ?”
“Yes,” Their manager gives a small laugh as he shakes his head. “Quite a lot, actually. Stays have noticed.”
Something shifts in Seungmin’s chest.
He tells himself it is nothing that the word itself is nothing, that it is just Felix being Felix. That it is just a nickname that has slipped naturally into their conversations over years, worn smooth by repetition. Seungmin has heard it at seven in the morning when he hands Felix his coffee, has heard it backstage, has heard it when he’s doing something mundane like washing the dishes.
“Maybe use it with the others too,” their manager continues, caution now clear in his words, “You know, spread it around a little otherwise people are going to keep picking up on it.”
The unspoken gist of his words do not go unheard.
Felix nods, the tips of his ears red, “Okay.”
Seungmin watches him. Okay, he said and yet the word settles somehwere beneath his ribs with an unfamiliar way. He looks down at his bottle, turning the cap between his fingers. Suddenly, he becomes painfully aware of how often Felix says it, how instinctively he has always turned toward that voice when it happens, how the nickname has become part of their routine life casually thrown into conversation.
Perhaps that is why the manager’s comment bothers him.
Not because Felix calls him namja but because he calls Seungmin namja. And now Stays have noticed to the point that their manager has to tell Felix to tone it down. To start calling the rest of their members that nickname, the one that has belonged to Seungmin fo so long, to ease up on whatever is being said online.
Seungmin tells himself it shouldn’t matter, a nickname is only a nickname.
But for the first time, he wonders what it will feel like if Felix stops saying it.
He pushes through rehearsals, resolutely avoiding Changbin’s look of concern, until they each head off to their individual schedules. Felix waves at him over his shoulder before he’s dragged along by Jisung to get coffee before their recording together.
“You okay, Seungmin-ah ?” Changbin’s voice cuts through the quiet as the rest of the members trickle out of the practice room.
Is he ?
“Yeah hyung,” he musters a smile. Changbin’s heavy bicep lands on his shoulder, “You know it’s nothing serious right ? It’s just some stupid precaution the company has to take. Don’t let it get to your head.”
He nods once, not knowing how to put the jumbled mess of thoughts in his head into words without sounding like a loser because how is he supposed to tell his hyung that it isn’t the nickname that bothers him per se but the impending absence of it ?
Fortunately Changbin knows him well enough not to push so he leaves with a consoling pat on the back as Seungmin packs up and heads for his vocal lessons, their manager’s words at the back of his mind.
It’s late by the time he finishes his lessons so he pulls up Felix’s contact before firing off a text message letting him know he’s on his way back to the dorm. He swings by the practice room, just in case Felix decided to stay back, feeling only mildly disappointed at no sign of the blond, when his phone buzzes.
Out for dinner with Hyune, the text from Felix reads and Seungmin feels his brows knit. It has become a sort of an unspoken tradition at their dorm to always eat together when their schedules permitted and Felix heading out without letting him know prior makes something curdle in Seungmin’s chest.
He doesn’t need your approval to hang out with his friends , he reminds himself as he sends back a thumbs up emoji.
One hot shower and a bowl of kimchijiggae later he’s snuggled in bed as he feels the exhaustion seep through his bones. A thought crosses his mind as he opens his private social media and hesitantly types in seunglix , their fan assigned ship name, into the search bar and his entire feed is flooded with clips of the two of them. One particular video snags his curiosity ; the clip is taken from one of their interviews where Seungmin sees himself on the screen answering a question regarding their previous dorm arrangements where he admits to missing it. The clip cuts to a flash of disappointment in Felix’s face before he schools it into one of disbelief. The entire comment section is full of fans commenting on the expression on Felix’s face, claiming it to be his unwilligness in sharing Seungmin. He huffs out a laugh as he scrolls through the various comments but despite his initial skepticism, the more he watches the video the more convinced he finds himself becoming. He vaguely remembers Felix being quiet on the ride back to their dorm before brightening up when Seungmin mentioned having dinner together. He snaps the app closed before more similar instances take root in his mind leaving him analyzing every single interaction he’s had with Felix, their manager’s words ringing in his ears. He’s lost in thought when he hears the front door open. Faintly, he hears the sound of Felix shuffling around their apartment before he hears a knock on his door.
“Come in,” he straightens up into a sitting position, his back against the headboard when Felix pokes his head through the door.
“Did you eat, Seungminnie ?” he asks before fully stepping inside. His blonde hair is pulled into a half up half down hairstyle, a couple of strands framing his face and Seungmin notices how he’s dressed in different clothes since the ones he had on at practice, his clothes. He hums and watches as Felix stands there fidgeting.
“Everything alright ?”
“Oh yeah yeah,” Felix waves a hand in front of his face, and Seungmin notes the pink on the tips of his ears. “I, uh, I guess I’m just tired.”
“Yeah, practice was rough.” What do you really want to say, Yongbok ?
Instead Felix just sighs before bidding him good night and slipping out of his room. Seungmin hears his door shut a couple seconds later. He’s probably going to be gaming for a while as he always does so Seungmin shuts of his light and pulls up their text thread, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Why didn’t you tell me you were going out-
He deletes it.
Don’t stay up for too long.
Felix sends back an emoji of a cat doing a thumbs up.
He plugs in his phone to charge and goes to sleep.
The first time Seungmin notices Felix calling someone else namja, it is Changbin who has been showing off his muscles again and soaking up the attention with the satisfaction of someone who has never once pretended not to enjoy being admired. They are all scattered around the practice room with the camera running while they film their Talker. Felix is practically folded in half with laughter, tiny hands squeezing Changbin’s biceps, the nickname drawn out with that unmistakable delight of his. Seungmin laughs because everyone else does, everyone else’s eyes crinkled with genuine amusement unlike himself. He reminds himself its harmless, Changbin is exactly the sort of person the word seems made for with all his strength and theatrical swagger. And yet, when he hears Felix say it again, something catches in his ribs. He looks down at his phone and pretends to read. It feels silly to be upset, it’s only a word, he knows that and yet the feeling sits heavy on his chest, worsened when the camera pans to him and Felix is nowhere near his vicinity.
He definitely does not sulk.
He forgets about it until Hyunjin gives Felix another reason. They seem to have decided to stay late and catch up on practice and Seungmin, having nothing better to do, lounges on the couch as he watches them run through the difficult parts of the choreography. Hyunjin finishes a particularly difficult movement, with the kind of grace that makes everyone stop because there is something almost effortless about the way he makes difficult things look. Felix watches with wide eyes, admiration written openly on his face. “Wah,” he says, grinning, “Hyunjinnie is so namja !” Seungmin’s gaze lifts before he can stop it. He knows Felix admires Hyunjin’s dancing, knows the special connection the two seem to have being so in tune with each other, he knows and still he finds himself watching the two of them for a moment too long. He watches Hyunjin playfully rub his sweat drenched into Felix’s side as he dances away giggling and something sour settles at the back of his throat. He doesn’t understand why this particular instance bothers him more than Changbin's. Maybe because Felix sounds genuinely impressed. Maybe because the word comes so naturally to him. Or maybe because Seungmin has begun to recognize something he would rather not recognize: Felix does not reserve the word for him. The realization is ridiculous enough that he nearly laughs. Of course he doesn't. Why would he? Felix has never promised him that. There was never an agreement, never some invisible boundary drawn around the word. Seungmin has simply lived beside it for so long that he has mistaken familiarity for ownership.
With Jisung, the feeling becomes harder to dismiss because Han doesn't even have to do anything particularly impressive. He only has to be Jisung. They are sitting around after rehearsal when Jisung launches into some ridiculous story, acting out every part of it with his whole body, and Felix is laughing before the punchline has even arrived. Felix reaches over and grabs his arm. “Namja!” he declares, laughing so hard that his voice cracks before leaning over and pretending to take a bite out of Jisung’s biceps. Jisung squeals, the rest of the members erupting into fond laughter. Seungmin looks down at the bag in his lap and begins fastening the zipper. Then he opens it again. Closes it. Checks whether his headphones are inside. They are. He checks anyway. It is a meaningless correction, but it gives him somewhere to put the restless energy gathering in his hands. Across from him, Felix is still laughing with Jisung, bright and unguarded, and Seungmin finds himself thinking that perhaps this is what annoys him most—not the word itself, but how easily Felix gives things away. His laughter, his attention, his little expressions of affection. Felix has always seemed to have an endless supply of them, as though he carries warmth around inside himself and cannot help spilling it wherever he goes. Seungmin has always found that endearing. Now, inexplicably, it irritates him. He wonders when affection became something he could measure. When did he start noticing who received how much of it? He closes his bag a little more firmly than necessary. The rest of the members are still laughing, joking around about Felix being their little kitten and Seungmin’s eyes zero in on those hands still locked around Jisung’s biceps, squeezing and massaging.
“Hyung, you okay ?” Jeongin’s quiet voice pulls him out of his spiral and he finds the maknae looking at him with a mixture of trepidation and concern. He clears his throat, managing a smile on his smile, “I’m okay, Jeongin-ah.” Jeongin eyes him, gauging his reaction before he turns his attention back to Hyunjin who is currently attempting to snag a kiss from him. Seungmin watches them playfully bicker, Jeongin’s expression of faux disgust and Hyunjin’s unbridled smile and smiles despite himself.
Back at their dorm, Seungmin is making tea when he hears footsteps.
“Is everything okay with you, Seungminnie ?” The concern in Felix’s voice is unmistakable.
No. Nothing about this is okay. Nothing about you giving away my nickname is okay.
He swallows, as he pours himself a cup, purposefully avoiding Felix’s eyes.
“Yeah Lix, I’m just tired.” He looks up then. “Tea ?”
Felix shakes his head before he sits at the table, wringing his hands in front of him.
“Okay,” he relents. “You know you can talk to me about anything right ?” And god, one look at those earnest eyes of his almost makes Seungmin break. Instead, he walks over with his cup of tea and sits down next to Felix, nodding. “There is nothing for you to worry about, Lix".
Seungmin feels the first crack that night in their kitchen.
Jeongin catches him off guard. Perhaps because Felix's voice changes when he says it this time. There is no teasing edge, no exaggerated performance. Jeongin has done something during filming that leaves everyone impressed, and Felix looks at him with that particular softness he gets when he is proud of someone. “Look at him,” Felix says, almost fondly. “He's such a namja.” Jeongin laughs and ducks his head, visibly pleased despite his embarrassment. Seungmin watches the exchange from where he is sitting and feels something pull low in his chest. It is not even jealousy, he tells himself, it cannot be. Jeongin is the youngest. The maknae. Felix has always doted on him. There is something natural about the pride in his voice, something almost brotherly. Seungmin knows this. He knows it so thoroughly that he ought to be immune to the feeling. Instead, the word lodges somewhere inside him. Namja. He thinks of mornings in the apartment, of Felix wandering into the kitchen half-asleep, hair sticking up in impossible directions, leaning against the counter while Seungmin makes coffee. He thinks of the word thrown casually across those quiet hours. Sometimes Felix says it when Seungmin is doing something completely mundane—washing dishes, fixing something, arranging things around the apartment. Once, Felix had apparently even singled out Seungmin doing the dishes as an example of him being a “namja,” according to fan recollections of a question asked to Felix. At the time, Seungmin had laughed it off. Now the memory feels different. By the time Felix says it to Chan, Seungmin is beginning to resent himself more than anyone else. Chan is easy for Felix to admire. He is the leader, dependable and strong, someone Felix has looked up to for years. So when Felix laughs and calls him namja, Seungmin has no logical argument against it. He doesn't even look over. He keeps packing his things, folding his shirt carefully before placing it into his bag. The shirt isn't wrinkled, but he smooths it anyway.
“Mong mong,” He looks up to see Minho standing beside him, his hands on his hips.
“Hi hyung.” He arranges his cables. Checks the pockets. Zips one compartment. Unzips it. He is aware, dimly, that he is being ridiculous and Minho’s unwavering gaze only confirms it.
“You know he’s only doing it because the managers told him to, don’t you ?”
Minho’s blunt question catches him off guard. His head snaps up, mouth falling open as he stares at Minho in shock. Minho, who simply smirks. He opens his mouth, closes it, sets it into a straight line as he lets his gaze wander over to where Chan and Felix are cuddling, arms around each other as Chan fondly listens to the other ramble and his jaw clenches.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he says, a fickle attempt at nonchalance as if he hasn’t spent the last five minutes glaring at their leader.
“Yes, you do.” Minho states.
Seungmin rolls his eyes.
“Whatever hyung, It’s not like I own him or something, he has his own free will.”
Minho remains quiet which has Seungmin glancing over. His face is pensive, no traces of teasing in his eyes.
“Talk to him Seungmin-ah,” He finally says, “before this spirals out of control.”
He’s gone before Seungmin can even respond.
That night, he heads straight to his room, brushing off Felix’s questioning gaze with a I’m tired, Lix and flops onto his bed. This wordless silence has never existed between them before and Seungmin hates that he’s the cause of it, hates that he cant’ control his emotions. Nonetheless, he pulls his covers over his head and closes his eyes, trying to ignore the buzz of Felix’s messages.
The next morning, he tries to cheer up as he makes coffee for the two of them. He does apologise to Felix for being weird the past few days, claiming it as exhaustion and Felix, ever the angel, wraps his arms around Seungmin and brightens up. They make plans to get dinner together.
The mirage of normalcy shatters when Felix hangs off of Minho’s arms and Seungmin realizes he knows it is coming before the word even leaves Felix's mouth. That is the moment something inside him goes still. He knows the pattern now. Someone does something impressive, Felix laughs, his eyes brighten, and the word follows. He has begun anticipating it. Listening for it. Almost waiting to see who will receive it next. The realization is far more humiliating than the jealousy itself. Jealousy can be accidental. This is attention. This is Seungmin keeping score without ever admitting that there is a game. He looks across the room at Felix and feels the familiar ache settle beneath his sternum. It is almost laughable how little has changed between them. Felix still steals food from his plate. Still leaves his shoes in the wrong place. Still wanders into Seungmin's space without asking, still drops his weight against him when he is tired, still knows exactly which coffee Seungmin will make for himself and which one he will make for Felix. Their entire relationship is made from these tiny, ordinary things. Years of them. So many that they have stopped looking like affection and started looking like architecture—walls built one habit at a time, a home neither of them remembers constructing. And perhaps that is why Seungmin cannot understand himself. If Felix's affection toward everyone else has always been obvious, why did Seungmin ever think the word was different when it belonged to him?
Seungmin looks at him and suddenly understands the shape of his own unhappiness. It was never that Felix called other people namja. It was that Seungmin had never realized how much he liked being the person Felix called it to. The word had become part of their private grammar without either of them deciding it should be. It belonged to mornings and kitchens and tired evenings, to years of knowing which mug the other preferred, which shoes would be left crooked by the door, which silence meant I'm tired and which meant stay. And now Felix has taken that word and scattered it among everyone else, never knowing that Seungmin had quietly kept one corner of it for himself. Seungmin looks down at his coffee before Felix can read anything in his face. The machine clicks softly behind him. Outside, the world keeps moving—schedules, cameras, stages, people watching them through screens. Inside, there is only Felix and the word between them. Seungmin takes a slow breath and tells himself, once again, that namja is only a word. But for the first time, he understands that the problem was never what the word meant. The problem is that he wants it to mean him.
By the time they get back to the dorm,Seungmin knows the difference.
Usually Felix fills the apartment without trying. He talks while taking off his shoes, complains about being hungry, leaves his bag somewhere it shouldn't be, asks what Seungmin is doing even when the answer is obvious. Tonight, there is only the muted click of the front door and the sound of Felix's footsteps disappearing down the hallway.
Seungmin tells himself he prefers it this way.
He changes, washes his hands, straightens the shoes Felix has abandoned by the entrance. One points toward the living room. The other has somehow ended up beneath the bench. He nudges them into place with the toe of his slipper, jaw tight.
It is a stupid thing to be angry about.
Everything lately is a stupid thing to be angry about.
He is halfway through filling a glass of water when he hears footsteps behind him.
“Seungmin.” He doesn't turn around.
“Hmm?”
“You've been weird.”
Seungmin takes a sip. “I'm tired.”
“You've said that all week.”
Seungmin can feel Felix looking at him.
He reaches for the glass again, mostly because he needs something to do with his hands.
Then Felix moves. One step. Then another.
Seungmin turns, and suddenly Felix is standing much closer than he expects.
The kitchen is small enough that there isn't much room between them. Felix places one hand against the counter beside Seungmin, not touching him, but close enough that Seungmin's breath catches anyway.
“Look at me.”
Seungmin does.
Felix's expression is unusually serious. “Why are you avoiding me?”
“I'm not.”
Felix studies him. There is a strange vulnerability in being looked at so closely, as though Felix is slowly turning over every excuse Seungmin has given him and finding the seams underneath.
“Is it because of what I said?”
Seungmin's stomach drops. “What did you say?”
Felix's mouth twitches. “You know.”
Seungmin looks away.
And that is answer enough.
“The namja thing?”
The word lands between them and Seungmin hates how quickly his chest tightens. For a moment, Seungmin simply stares at him. It is almost absurd how quickly the careful composure he has built over the past few weeks begins to crack. All those little moments he had dismissed, all the times he had looked away, all the occasions when he had pretended that the tightening in his chest was nothing more than irritation—they are suddenly standing in the room with him, impossible to hide.
Seungmin turns away, but Felix follows. The kitchen is too small for distance, and when Seungmin tries to move past him, Felix shifts instinctively into his path. He isn't touching him, isn't doing anything threatening, but the closeness makes Seungmin stop anyway. Felix plants one hand against the counter beside him, effectively cornering him in the narrow space, and looks down at him with an expression that is far too serious for Seungmin's liking.
“Tell me what's wrong.”
“Nothing is wrong.”
“Then look at me and say it.”
Felix is close enough that Seungmin can see the faint tiredness beneath his eyes, the crease between his brows, the concern he hasn't managed to hide. Seungmin's resolve wavers. He has spent so much time convincing himself that his feelings are stupid that he has forgotten how difficult they become when Felix looks at him like this.
“I don't care who you call it,” Seungmin says quietly.
Felix's expression softens. “Then why does it bother you?”
Seungmin looks away as he feels the blood rush to his cheeks.
Because you used to only call me that.
The thought sits there, painfully simple. He could say it. He could finally say the thing that has been following him around for weeks, the thing that has turned an ordinary word into something sharp. Instead, he swallows and says, “I don't know.”
Felix doesn't move. A small smile appears on his face, “Yes you do.”
Seungmin laughs under his breath, but there is no humor in it. The silence stretches between them. Somewhere in the dorm, a clock ticks steadily, indifferent to the fact that Seungmin feels as though the entire room has narrowed down to the space between Felix's hand on the counter and his own clenched fingers.
“I just…” He stops.
Felix waits. Seungmin hates that he waits. He hates that Felix knows him well enough to know silence is sometimes an answer in disguise.
“I liked it,” Seungmin finally says.
Felix blinks. “What?”
“When you called me namja.” The words leave him so quietly that for a second he wonders if Felix has heard them. Then Felix's expression changes, not dramatically but just enough for realisation to bloom behind his eyes.
Seungmin looks down at the counter, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “I know it's stupid.”
“It isn't.”
“It is.” Seungmin says, his heart thudding painfully against his chest. “You call everyone that now.”
“So that's what this is about?” Felix’s voice is gentle and the way he’s looking at Seungmin like he has all the patience in the world makes Seungmin’s heart hurt. It feels as though they are on the edge of a precipice with no way back, the only way forward is to fall, fall, fall.
Seungmin's jaw tightens. “I told you. I don't care.”
Lies. lies, lies.
“Honestly Seungminnie,” Felix says, soft laughter in his words. “We wouldnt be here if you didn’t". Sengmin feels the heat rushing to his cheeks, to the tips of his ears. He hates that he’s so tranparent with Felix, hates that he’s so easy to read.
Because Felix is right.
Somewhere along the years they have lived together, somewhere between shared mornings and stolen food and arguments over shoes left by the door, Seungmin had quietly made the word his. Not deliberately. Not consciously. It had simply become part of the private language between them, another small thing that belonged to the life they had built together.
Felix doesn't say anything for a while. He simply looks at Seungmin, and somehow that is worse than being teased. Seungmin can handle laughter. He can handle Felix calling him ridiculous, dramatic, impossible. What he cannot handle is this quiet attention, this careful way Felix seems to be holding the moment between his hands as though it might break if he moves too quickly. “You really liked it?” Felix asks eventually. Seungmin's eyes drop. “Don't make me say it again.” There is the faintest smile on Felix's mouth, but it disappears almost immediately. “Okay.” His voice is softer now. “Then I won't.”
Seungmin lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. For one second, he thinks perhaps the conversation is over. Then Felix says, “But you know why I called you that so much, right?” Seungmin looks up. “Because you think I'm a namja?” Felix laughs quietly. “No.”
His eyes stay on Seungmin's. “Because it was you.”
Something in Seungmin's chest goes completely still. Felix shifts closer, close enough that the space between them feels less like distance and more like a question. “I never really thought about it,” he admits. “It was just something I called you. It felt natural. Like… I don't know. Like your name, almost.” He pauses, searching for the right words. “And when the manager told me I should say it to everyone else, I thought it was nothing. I didn't realize you'd notice.”
“I noticed,” Seungmin says.
“I know.”
The words are barely above a whisper. Seungmin looks away again, embarrassed by how exposed he suddenly feels. “I shouldn't have cared.”
“Why?”
“Because it's stupid.”
“It's not stupid.”
“It is.” Seungmin's fingers curl against the edge of the counter. “I was jealous.”
The admission seems to change the air between them.
Seungmin forces himself to continue before courage can abandon him. “I was jealous when you said it to Changbin, and Hyunjin, and Jisung. Everyone, really.” A humorless laugh escapes him. “I started noticing every time you said it. I knew who you were going to say it to before you even said it. Do you know how pathetic that is ? I kept telling myself it was just because you used to say it to me. But that wasn't really it.” Seungmin swallows. “I wanted it to be something that was ours.”
Felix's eyes don't leave his face.
“And I think,” Seungmin stops, his voice catching slightly. He has spent weeks circling this feeling, giving it smaller names because the real one has always seemed too dangerous. Irritation. Possessiveness. Jealousy. Anything but love. But there is nowhere left to hide now. Not with Felix standing this close, not after saying everything else. “I think I wanted to be yours.”
Felix's breath catches, his eyes widening as a sheen of tears cover them.“When did you—” he begins, then stops. His voice is almost disbelieving, full of childlike wonder. “When did you start feeling like this?”
“I don't know.” Seungmin’s smile is small and tired. “Maybe I always did. Maybe I just didn't know what to call it.” He looks around the familiar kitchen—the mugs on the counter, Felix's shoes abandoned shoes beyond the doorway, the coffee machine sitting exactly where it always does. Their entire life seems to be gathered around them in ordinary objects. Years of ordinary things. “We've lived together for so long that I stopped noticing how much of my life was you. You're just… there. Every morning. Every night. In the kitchen. In the hallway. Stealing my food. Leaving your shoes everywhere.”
Felix laughs softly through what sounds suspiciously like a shaky breath.
“And somewhere along the way,” Seungmin continues, “you became the person I look for without thinking.” His voice drops. “So when you started giving pieces of that to everyone else, I didn't know what to do with how much it hurt.”
Felix is silent for a moment, a moment that feels like an eternity. Seungmin’s pulse rabbits, his blood rushing in his eyes but all that he can hear in this moment is the beat of their hearts.
“You idiot,” Felix whispers, but there is so much tenderness in it that Seungmin almost laughs.
“That's not a confession.”
“I know.”
“Try again.” Felix smiles and then his thumb brushes once over Seungmin's wrist, slow and deliberate.
“I love you.”
The words are simple. There is no metaphor, no grand declaration, nothing elaborate enough to hide behind. Just four words, spoken softly in the kitchen they have shared for years, into the home they’ve built around each other.
Seungmin stares at him.
Felix gives a nervous little laugh. “You don't have to say it back.”
“I wasn't going to.”
Felix's smile falters.
Seungmin lets the silence stretch for another heartbeat before adding, “I was going to say it first.”
And for the first time that evening, Felix looks caught off guard before his face breaks into a radiant smile stretching so wide it scrunches his nose and turns his big brown eyes into crescents.
And when their lips finally meet, Seungmin feels all the jealousy, the doubt and inadequacy wash away, feeling nothing but the warmth of Felix’s lips against him, oh so soft and the heat of their bodies pressed together.
Seungmin finally feels at home.
His home. His person. His Felix
Fin.