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— --- —

Lee Felix. How to sum him up in just one word? It’s something you find yourself pondering when you should be diligently taking notes amidst a lecture hall of devoted students. You can’t quite think of a singular, all-encompassing word, nor a synonym that better fits. 

He’s the boy with a toothy grin who always tried too hard to be liked in high school. He’s the bright-eyed kid who picked you up from the gravel and fussed over your grazed knee during P.E. He was your first kiss, a week before prom night, when you got a little too worked up over the intricacies of having a prom date. He’s the ever-patient friend who swiped at your tear-damp cheeks while you sobbed foolishly over the teen tragedy of your date leaving with someone else. 

Lee Felix is and always has been a permanent fixture of your youth. He was close by during the good days, and even nearer during the bad. 

He’s the person who cheered you on as you took your final year exams with the giddy, albeit apprehensive, excitement toward attending college and university. He’s the dear friend who opened each of your results and admission letters for you and screeched with glee when you achieved all that you’d set your mind to. 

Lee Felix is and always has been an extension of yourself. He is close by during every victory, and even nearer during each failure. 

Spectacular; awe-inspiring; perfection; serendipitous… no, none of those are quite right. He’s all of them and more. He’s… your soulmate? Yeah. Soulmate.

A platonic soulmate, of course. But that goes without saying. Or, at least, you’ve decided it does. 

Platonic soulmates can share their first kiss, of course! They can make out at parties, too. Which you do. Often, in fact. To the point that your friends have all but made it a running joke by now. 

If you’re both mysteriously absent among the lively party-goers, you’re sure to be found in a low-lit corner of the back garden or a vacant bedroom. Your drinks always disappear with you, but they’re quickly abandoned when shared laughter and bright smiles become the catalyst for tangled limbs and slotted lips. 

It’s platonic. It always is. Made absolutely clear by the way neither of you mentions it the next day, and the atmosphere is all but unaffected, too. As if it never happened at all. But it did, you’re not trying to forget or sweep it under the rug. The memories aren’t tinged with regret or embarrassment; they just exist entirely unencumbered by meaning or purpose. 

Your classmate Seungmin appears scandalised by that piece of information–a detail that slips from your mouth without meaning to. “Friends don’t make out when drunk.” He grumbles, a look of near concern tugging at his features. 

But we do, you found yourself thinking but not saying aloud. And you definitely don’t tell Seungmin about the game nights spent kissing every time someone scores a win. You can practically hear his response, spoken somewhat nasally but not unpleasantly so: “They certainly don’t kiss sober.” 

The whole drunken and not drunken kissing fiasco, or kiss-gate as your friend group calls it, started up during your second year of university. Before, you and Felix had been seeing other people, trying to live up to the expectations you’d set yourselves for the ‘perfect uni experience’. 

As it turns out, your respective partners had their own plans, and neither involved monogamy. It should’ve been tearful and melancholic, but it wasn’t. Rather, you two cackled over the stupendous way even your disastrous dating lives mirrored one another’s in perfect symphony. 

By second year, you moved into a quaint shared flat off-campus, and your close friendship blossomed into an unshakable bond. Turns out, the perfect uni experience is less about exploring romantic relationships and more about living with your chaotic other-half. 

“Seems to me that you are exploring romantic relationships, just with your… ‘chaotic other-half’.” your lab partner Jeongin mumbles as you work tirelessly at reverse-coding a much too long list of quantitative responses. 

“There’s nothing romantic about it.” You sulk, glaring at the Excel spreadsheet filled with neat columns of numerical values.

“If you think that’s true, then perhaps we should be examining you instead.” He scoffs, casting a sharp, dubious stare in your direction. 

Considering your research topic pertains to the effects of insecure and avoidant attachment styles on interpersonal relationships, that stings. 

“Harsh.” You meet his amused gaze, mouth gaping like a fish out of water.

“But true.” Seungmin chimes in, causing both of you to peer over your shoulders at him with a look that clearly warns against further eavesdropping. He doesn’t heed it.

— --- —

The orderly chaos of your living room is cast in choppy flickers of light. You’re sitting beside Felix on the couch, elbows propped against your knees with a Wii controller clasped in both hands. Cartoony sounds fill the space, broken up by dramatic shrieks and squeals, all courtesy of him. He’s on a losing streak, but he blames the soju for that. 

You let out a triumphant, hearty chuckle when a well-timed banana peel sends you skidding across the finish line in first place. You reach for your soju, letting the sweet, sticky liquid slide across your tongue and down your throat. When you pull the bottle away, a glistening sheen remains atop your lips like your favourite flavoured gloss. 

You don’t miss the way his theatrical antics subside at the sight, his honey gaze dropping to your mouth with intense interest.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting a prize?” His deep voice kisses your ears, almost enticing a shiver across your spine. The baritone quality of his speech has never matched his soft appearance, and yet, after all these years, you can’t imagine him sounding any other way. 

It’s the same voice that has sung you to sleep. The same raspy, low murmur that tells you everything is going to be okay when it feels anything but. 

His voice is as much a memory as every other facet of himself is. You never thought it was possible to hear memories, but you can. They sound the way he does now–hopeful, longing and spoken in that resounding, heart-racing tone.

Yet cheery and bright, too. Always. Like the endless Sydney sunshine. 

By now, your bottom lip is tugged between your teeth, body angled towards him as you try and bite back a Cheshire-like grin. You do want your reward. You do want to feel his heart-shaped lips pushed atop your own, his tongue nervously yet purposefully encouraging them to part. 

He’s looking at you expectantly, his sun-kissed cheeks rosy from the soju. You get momentarily lost in the constellations on his skin, your half-lidded gaze counting each freckle as if checking they’re all accounted for. 

“Well?” He laughs, but the sound isn’t quite its usual melodic tune, like your hesitance is starting to gnaw away at his sunny disposition.

“Double or nothing?” You query, watching his eyebrow shoot up in mischievous curiosity. 

“How do you plan on doubling up, exactly?” Felix asks, looking the perfect picture of an excitable puppy in human form. His small hand is reaching for you as he awaits your answer, then it wraps itself around your wrist and tugs you towards his lap. 

You move as if his touch holds the same power as a puppet master, your motions almost boneless as he wraps his arms around your middle and nuzzles his nose against your neck.

His breath is warm and gentle, just like him. 

“Honestly I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” You chuckle, trying to remain indifferent to his comfortable advances. But it’s rather difficult when his hands rub mindless circles against your exposed thigh, moving indiscernibly higher like your proposal has already set his imagination in action.

He hums against the crook of your neck, the rich vibration provoking a scattering of goosebumps. 

“You rarely do.” Felix murmurs, breathing in the scent of your perfume. You can tell his eyes have fluttered shut, you can feel his long lashes tickle your skin. 

“Why don’t we play another round and cross that bridge if–or should I say when–we come to it?” You suggest, voice sounding audibly strained by the delectable sensations his touch evokes.