ThiccCurls

The rest of the boys are already scattered around the island and table like a very tired boy band photoshoot gone wrong. Chan’s nursing black coffee and scrolling his phone with the thousand-yard stare of someone who mediated World War III before coffee. Minho is methodically stealing bacon from Hyunjin’s plate. Seungmin has earbuds in and is pretending none of this is his circus. Jeongin is filming something under the tabl. Hyunjin is dramatically mourning his stolen bacon.

Changbin sits dead center like a grumpy statue carved from protein powder and protective instinct. Arms crossed. Jaw set. Eyes tracking your every movement like thermal imaging.

You freeze for half a second when you see him. Felix does too. Then you both pretend it’s normal and slide onto stools at the far end of the island, maximum possible distance from Mount Changbin without actually leaving the room.

“Morning,” you mumble, reaching for orange juice like it’s a peace treaty.

Changbin grunts. It’s not a word. It’s a sound that means “I’m still deciding whether to allow oxygen in this room.”

Felix clears his throat and starts buttering toast with surgical focus. The knife scrapes louder than it should. Chan glances up, reads the tension like it’s written in neon, and decides to play referee again.

“Food’s edible,” he announces cheerfully. “Mostly. Eat before Minho claims everything with protein.”

Minho doesn’t even look up. “Already called the last egg.”

Breakfast happens in fragments. Someone passes the jam. Jeongin asks if anyone wants to see the video he just took. Seungmin finally pulls out an earbud to complain mthat the coffee tastes like regret. Normal things. Almost.

Until Felix, sweet, brave, catastrophically honest Felix, sets his fork down, takes a slow breath, and turns toward Changbin.

“Hyung.”

The entire table goes still.

Changbin doesn’t look up from his plate. “What?”

Felix swallows. His fingers twist together under the table. You feel his knee bump yours, accidental, nervous, grounding.

“I was wondering,” Felix starts, voice quieter than usual but steady, “if it would be okay with you if I took her on a date.”

Hyunjin’s fork clatters onto his plate. Jeongin chokes on juice. Minho actually pauses mid-bite. Seungmin removes both earbuds like this just became worthy of his full attention. Chan pinches the bridge of his nose so hard you worry he’ll leave marks.

Changbin slowly lifts his head. His expression is unreadable for exactly two seconds. Then one eyebrow arches. “You’re asking me?”

Felix nods once. Small. Serious. “Yeah. I am.”

Changbin leans back in his chair. Crosses his arms tighter. Studies Felix like he’s a particularly suspicious nutrition label.

You hold your breath. Felix keeps going, words careful but rushing out now that he’s started.

“I know you’re protective. I get it. I respect it. I’m not trying to sneak around or be shady or anything like that. I just,” he glances at you for half a second, soft and certain, then back to Changbin, “I really like her. And I want to do this right. So I’m asking. Directly.”

Changbin doesn’t blink. The kitchen clock ticks too loudly.Then Chan, bless him, exhausted chaotic-dad Chan, lets out a long, dramatic sigh and drops his head into his hands.

“You’re all aware she’s a grown adult, right?”

He says it to the ceiling more than anyone else.

Felix blinks. “Well yeah.”

Chan lifts his head, gesturing vaguely between you, Felix, and Changbin like he’s presenting exhibit A in court. “She’s allowed to go on dates. She’s allowed to like people. She’s allowed to kiss people,” he shoots Changbin a very pointed look, “without needing a permission slip from her brother.”

Changbin’s jaw flexes. Chan keeps going, voice dry as desert sand.

“And Felix,” he turns to the blond, who looks like he’s two seconds from spontaneous combustion, “is also allowed to ask girls out. Without getting bodied against a wall at seven in the morning.”

Felix makes a tiny, embarrassed noise.

Chan spreads both hands. “So maybe we can all just chill? For five minutes?”

Changbin stares at Chan for a long beat. You meet his eyes. Steady. Not apologetic. Just you. Something in Changbin’s face cracks. Not all the way. But enough. He exhales through his nose like he’s deflating.

“Fine,” he mutters. Grudging. Reluctant. But final.

Felix’s whole body sags in relief.

Changbin points one thick finger at him anyway. “But.”

Felix freezes mid-breath.

“Curfew,” Changbin says flatly. “Eleven. Not midnight. Not eleven-fifteen because of traffic. Eleven. Sharp.”

Felix nods so fast it’s comical. “Eleven. Got it.”

“And if you’re even one minute late,”

“I’ll text. I’ll call. I’ll carrier pigeon if I have to.”

Changbin’s mouth twitches. Almost a smile. Almost.

“And no funny business.”

Felix’s ears go nuclear pink. “Hyung,”

“I mean it.”

“No funny business,” Felix repeats solemnly, like he’s swearing on a Bible made of dumbbells.

Changbin studies him another second. “Do whatever. Just don’t be stupid.”

Felix blinks. Then smiles, small, bright, disbelieving.

“Thanks, hyung.”

Changbin grunts again. But this time it’s softer. He picks up his fork like the conversation is over.

Under the table, Felix’s pinky hooks around yours. Just for a second. You squeeze back.

Chan leans back with a tired, victorious grin.

“Finally,” he mutters into his coffee. “I can retire.”

Minho snorts. “You wish.”

Breakfast continues nd when Felix leans over a few minutes later to murmur,“So tonight?”

you smile against your orange juice.

“Tonight.”

The rest of the day passes in a slow, buzzing kind of anticipation. You catch Felix stealing glances at you across the dorm, small smiles that feel private even when everyone else is around. He disappears for an hour in the afternoon, muttering something about “reservations” and “surprises,” and comes back smelling faintly of cologne and nerves. Changbin watches him like a hawk but doesn’t say anything. Progress.

By evening, Felix is waiting by the door in dark jeans, a soft black button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, hair pushed back just enough to look intentional. He’s fidgeting with his keys, bouncing once on his toes when you step out of Changbin’s room in the dress you’d packed just in case. Simple black, sleeveless, falls just above your knees. Nothing flashy. But the way Felix’s eyes widen and then soften makes it feel like the most important outfit you’ve ever worn.

“You look…” He trails off, swallows. “Really beautiful.”

You smile, suddenly shy. “You clean up nice too.”

He offers his hand. You take it. His fingers lace through yours like they belong there.

Changbin appears in the hallway like he was summoned by the sound of romance. Arms crossed. Eyebrow raised.

“Eleven,” he reminds Felix, voice flat.

“Eleven,” Felix repeats instantly. “I set three alarms.”

Changbin grunts. “Phone on. Location shared. No disappearing.”

“Already done, hyung.”

Changbin looks at you next. Softer, but still stern. “Text me if anything feels off.”

“I will,” you promise.

He nods once. Then, almost reluctantly, “Have fun.”

Felix exhales like he just survived a final boss fight. You squeeze his hand. He squeezes back.

The restaurant is tucked in a quieter part of the city, warm lights spilling onto the sidewalk, the smell of grilled meat and garlic hitting you the second you step inside. Korean BBQ, upscale but cozy. Private booth in the back corner. Felix had clearly called ahead; the server greets him by name and leads you straight there.

The table has the grill already heating, tongs and small dishes of banchan arranged like little jewels: kimchi, pickled radish, sesame spinach, bean sprouts. Felix pulls your chair out, then sits across from you, looking equal parts proud and terrified.

“I remembered you said you liked the spicy pork belly last time we ordered in,” he says, almost shy. “So I asked them to make sure it’s extra crispy.”

You laugh softly. “You planned this.”

“I planned the hell out of this,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wanted it to be perfect.”

The server comes by with the meat. Felix takes over the grill like it’s second nature, flipping slices with careful focus, brushing on marinade, making sure nothing burns. Every few seconds he glances up to check if you’re okay, if you’re happy, if the smoke is bothering you. It’s sweet. Ridiculously sweet.

You eat slowly, talking about nothing and everything. The brand trip he just came back from. The way Jeongin keeps trying to prank Minho and failing spectacularly. How you’ve been stealing his hoodies even before he gave you permission. He laughs at that, bright and unguarded, and the sound settles warm in your chest.

When the last piece of galbi is gone and the grill is turned off, Felix leans forward on his elbows.

“Movie next,” he says. “You pick.”

You tilt your head. “Any movie?”

“Any movie,” he confirms. “I’m at your mercy.”

You grin. “Horror.”

His eyes widen for half a second. Then he laughs. “Of course you pick horror.”

“You said any.”

“I did. I stand by it.” He stands and offers his hand again. “Let’s go scare ourselves stupid.”

The theater is half-empty on a weeknight. You choose seats in the very back row, dead center. Felix buys popcorn large enough for four people and two sodas. When the lights drop and the trailers start, he leans over and whispers, “If you get too scared, you can hide in my hoodie.”

You elbow him lightly. “I’m not the one who yelped at the toaster last month.”

“That was one time,” he protests under his breath. “And it popped aggressively.”

The movie starts. Slow burn. Creepy music. Long, quiet shots of empty hallways. You scoot closer without thinking. Felix notices immediately; his arm slides around your shoulders, casual but deliberate. You tuck yourself against his side, head on his shoulder, one hand resting on his thigh.

The first real jump scare hits. You flinch. Hard.

Felix chuckles softly into your hair. “Told you.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, but you don’t move away.

Another scare. You grab his shirt without meaning to. He covers your hand with his, thumb stroking over your knuckles. The movie gets darker. Tension coils tighter. On screen, something moves in the shadows. You turn your face into Felix’s neck on instinct. He stills.

Then slowly, carefully, he tilts his head so his lips brush your temple. You lift your face just enough. Your noses bump. Soft. Clumsy in the dark. Then your mouths find each other.

The movie keeps playing. Someone screams on screen. Neither of you cares. Your fingers slide into his hair, tugging lightly. He makes a small, helpless sound against your mouth. His free hand finds your waist, pulls you closer until you’re half in his lap, legs tangled awkwardly over the armrest.

You break for air. Foreheads pressed together. Breathing hard.

“Felix,” you whisper.

“Yeah?” His voice is wrecked. Low. Ruined.

You kiss him again instead of answering. His hand slips under the hem of your dress, fingers splaying warm against the bare skin of your thigh. Not pushing. Just holding. You shift closer anyway, pressing yourself against him until there’s no space left.

He groans quietly into your mouth when your hand slides down his chest, over his stomach, lower. Teasing the waistband of his jeans. His hips jerk up on reflex.

“Baby,” he breathes against your lips. “We’re in public.”

“I know,” you murmur. “That’s why I’m being quiet.”

He laughs, breathless, then kisses you harder like he can’t help it.

Your fingers dip just under the button of his jeans. Not undoing it. Just tracing. He shudders.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Good,” you say, and bite his bottom lip gently.

His hand tightens on your thigh, slides higher, thumb brushing the edge of your underwear. You gasp into his mouth.

The movie’s soundtrack swells. Some dramatic violin screech. Perfect cover. You rock against his hand once. Small. Subtle. Enough to make him curse under his breath in Korean.

“We should stop,” he says. Doesn’t sound convinced.

You lean in, kiss the corner of his mouth. “Do you want to stop?”

“No,” he admits immediately. “God no.”

“Then don’t.”

He kisses you again, hungrier this time. Hand slipping fully between your thighs, fingers pressing against you through the fabric. Slow circles. Teasing. You bite his shoulder to muffle the sound you make.

His other hand tangles in your hair, holding you close while he works you with careful, deliberate pressure. You’re shaking already. Too wound up. Too aware of every sound, every shift in the dark theater.

You slide your hand fully into his jeans and wrap around him. He jerks hard, hips bucking into your grip.

“Shit,” he hisses. “Baby, I’m..”

You stroke once. Firm. Slow.

He buries his face in your neck, breathing ragged. “Gonna come if you keep that up.”

“Good,” you whisper again.

He swears again, then kisses you like he’s drowning.

The movie ends eventually. Credits roll. Lights stay dim for a minute. You’re both wrecked. Hair messed up. Lips red. Breathing uneven. Felix pulls his hand back slowly, adjusts your dress with careful fingers. You do the same for him, zipping and buttoning like nothing happened.

He looks at you, dazed and fond.

“That was…” He laughs quietly. “Not what I planned for movie night.”

You grin. “Best date ever.”

He leans in, kisses you one more time. Soft. Sweet. Lingering.

“Still have to get you home by eleven,” he murmurs against your lips.

You check your phone. 10:42.

“Plenty of time,” you say.

He groans. “Your brother’s gonna smell the sin on me.”

You laugh. “Worth it.”

The walk back to the dorm is torture in the best way.

The night air is cool against your flushed skin, but Felix’s hand in yours is hot, thumb stroking slow circles over your knuckles like he can’t stop touching you. Every few steps he pulls you closer, presses a quick kiss to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. You’re both giggling like idiots, still buzzing from the theater, from the way his fingers had felt under your dress, from the way you’d stroked him until he was shaking and whispering desperate little pleas against your neck.

Neither of you says it out loud, but you’re both still aching. Still needy. Still wound so tight it hurts to walk straight.

The elevator ride up is worse. Felix backs you into the corner the second the doors close, kissing you deep and filthy, one hand braced on the wall beside your head, the other sliding up your thigh under your dress again. You moan into his mouth when his fingers brush where you’re already soaked through your underwear.

“Fuck,” he breathes when the elevator dings. “We need to get inside. Now.”

You stumble down the hallway laughing, breathless, hands everywhere. Felix fumbles the keycard twice before the door finally beeps open.

The dorm is dark. Quiet.

No lights in the living room. No sound from the kitchen. No Changbin sprawled on the couch doom-scrolling or doing push-ups at 10:55 like a paranoid personal trainer.

Felix freezes in the entryway, listening.

“He’s not here,” he whispers.

You grin against his neck. “Car?”

“Probably at the gym. Late session. He does that sometimes.”

You don’t waste time asking questions.

Felix kicks the door shut behind you, locks it, and then he’s on you again. Hands under your thighs, lifting you like you weigh nothing. Your legs wrap around his waist automatically. He carries you down the hall, mouth never leaving yours, careful not to bang into anything but moving fast.

His room. Door shut. Locked.

He drops you onto the bed and you bounce once, laughing, already tugging at his shirt buttons. He yanks it off over his head in one impatient motion, hair a mess, chest rising fast. You sit up on your knees, drag him down by the belt loops, kiss him hard while your fingers work his jeans open.

He groans when you palm him through his boxers, thick and hard and leaking already.

“Been hard since the theater,” he mutters against your lips. “Couldn’t think straight.”

“Me too,” you admit, voice wrecked. You shove his jeans and boxers down just enough. He kicks them off the rest of the way while you pull your dress over your head.

No bra. Just lace panties that are basically useless at this point.

Felix stares for half a second like he’s seeing you for the first time, then dives. Mouth on your neck, your collarbone, down to your chest. He sucks a nipple into his mouth and you arch, fingers in his hair, pulling.

“Felix..please..”

He doesn’t tease. Doesn’t have the patience tonight. He hooks your panties to the side, lines himself up, and pushes in slow.

You both moan at the same time. Loud. Too loud. He stills for a second, forehead pressed to yours, breathing ragged.

“You okay?” he whispers.

“So good,” you gasp. “Move. Please move.”

He does.

Slow at first, deep, rolling thrusts that make your toes curl. Then faster. Harder. The bed creaks under you. Headboard tapping the wall in a rhythm neither of you can control.

You’re loud. You can’t help it. His name keeps spilling out of your mouth like a prayer. He’s swearing in Korean and English, hips snapping, one hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your thigh so tight you’ll probably have bruises tomorrow.

“Fuck, baby..you feel so..”

You clench around him on purpose. He chokes on a moan, pace stuttering.

“Gonna come,” he warns, voice breaking. “Too soon..shit..”

“Don’t stop,” you beg. “Want it. Want you to..”

The door flies open. No knock. No warning. Just Changbin in gym clothes, hair damp with sweat, gym bag still slung over one shoulder.

He freezes in the doorway. You freeze. Felix freezes mid-thrust, buried deep, eyes wide in pure terror.

For one endless second, nothing moves. Then Changbin roars. “WHAT THE FUCK.”

Felix yelps and yanks out so fast you both wince. He grabs the blanket, throws it over you like a shield, then scrambles backward until his back hits the headboard.

“Hyung..wait..waitwaitwait..”

Changbin drops his bag. It hits the floor with a thud.

“You’re dead,” he says, voice dangerously calm. “You are actually fucking dead.”

You clutch the blanket to your chest. “Binnie..”

“Don’t ‘Binnie’ me!” he bellows. “You..” he points at Felix “..in my sister. In. My. Sister.”

Felix’s face is the color of a tomato. “It’s not..we didn’t..I mean we did but..”

Changbin takes one step forward. The entire dorm wakes up.

Chan appears behind him first, hair a disaster, sleep-rumpled T-shirt. “What the hell is..” He sees. Stops. “Oh no.”

Minho next, leaning against the doorframe in boxers and an oversized hoodie, smirking like this is the best entertainment he’s had in months. “Well. This escalated.”

Hyunjin peeks over Chan’s shoulder. “Holy shit.”

Jeongin, rubbing his eyes, “Is someone dying?” Then he sees. “Oh my god.”

Changbin rounds on Felix again. “You promised. You fucking promised. No funny business. Curfew. Nothing. And you..”

Felix throws both hands up. “Hyung I swear we thought you were at the gym..”

“That makes it better?!”

Chan steps between them. “Changbin. Breathe.”

“I’m breathing. I’m breathing fire.”

Felix is still naked under the blanket he’s clutching like a lifeline. “We can talk about this..”

Changbin lunges.

Chan catches him around the waist. “Nope. Nope. Not tonight.”

Minho starts laughing so hard he has to hold onto the doorframe.

You finally find your voice. “Changbin! Stop! We’re adults!”

Changbin glares at you like you personally betrayed the family bloodline. “You’re naked. In his bed. With him inside you. I saw it.”

Felix whimpers. “Hyung please..”

Changbin points at him again. “You. Out. Now. Couch. Forever.”

Chan hauls Changbin backward. “Everyone out. Now. Let them… put clothes on.”

The doorway clears slowly. Minho winks at you before he leaves. Seungmin stops recording only when Chan glares at him.

The door shuts. Felix exhales like he’s been holding his breath for ten years.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

You laugh. Shaky. Hysterical. “He’s gonna kill you.”

Felix nods. “Yeah. Probably.”

He leans over, kisses you quick and soft despite everything.

“Worth it?” you ask.

He smiles, small and wrecked and so in love it hurts.

“Every second.”

Outside the door, you hear Changbin yelling at Chan.

“HE WAS INSIDE HER, CHAN. INSIDE.”

Chan’s tired voice: “I know. I saw.”

Felix buries his face in your neck.

“We’re never having sex in this dorm again,” he mumbles.

You laugh harder. “Challenge accepted.”

Outside the door, voices rise again.

Chan’s low, steady tone cuts through Changbin’s furious pacing.

“Bin. Binnie. Sit down before you punch a hole in the wall.”

“I’m not sitting! He was..he was..” Changbin’s voice cracks on the word, too raw to finish.

“I know what I saw,” Chan says, calm but firm. “And I know you’re freaking out. But breaking Felix’s face isn’t gonna un-see it.”

A thud. Probably Changbin’s fist hitting the wall. Not hard enough to damage anything, just enough to make a point.

“He promised,” Changbin growls. “He looked me in the eye and promised no funny business. And then he..”

“..had sex with a consenting adult,” Chan finishes for him. “Who also happens to be your sister. Yeah. I get why that’s messing with your head.”

Another thud. Softer this time. Like Changbin leaned his forehead against the wall instead.

“She’s my baby sister, Chan.” His voice drops, quieter now, almost broken. “She’s supposed to… I don’t know. Date nice guys who bring her flowers and meet the family and… not get railed in our dorm by one of my best friends.”

Chan sighs. You can picture him rubbing the back of his neck, the way he does when he’s exhausted but still trying to hold everything together.

“She’s not a kid anymore. And Felix isn’t some random asshole. You know that.”

“I know,” Changbin mutters. “I know he’s not. That’s the worst part. If he was some dickhead I could just hate him. But he’s… Felix.”

There’s a long pause.

Then Chan, softer: “You scared him half to death in there. He looked like he was gonna cry.”

“Good,” Changbin snaps, but there’s no heat behind it. Just exhaustion. “He should be scared.”

“He’s not scared of you hurting him,” Chan says. “He’s scared of you hating him. Of losing you. Of losing this whole family because he fell for her.”

Silence stretches again.

Inside the room, you and Felix are finally dressed. Sort of. Felix’s shirt is buttoned wrong. Your hair looks like you stuck your finger in a socket. But at least you’re covered.

Felix glances at the door, then at you. His eyes are huge, glassy.

“I should… go out there,” he whispers.

You grab his wrist before he can move. “Not yet. Let Chan handle it for a minute.”

He nods, but he’s shaking. Just a little.

Changbin’s voice again, rougher. “I just… I keep seeing it. Over and over. And I want to throw up. Or punch something. Or both.”

“I know,” Chan says quietly. “But you can’t control who she loves. And you can’t control who loves her back. You can only control how you react now.”

A heavy exhale. “I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“Then trust that Felix won’t hurt her,” Chan replies. “Because if anyone’s gonna protect her with his life, it’s him. You’ve seen it. Every time she’s around, he lights up like the sun personally chose him. He’s careful with her. Gentle. The way you’d want someone to be with your sister.”

Changbin doesn’t answer right away. “I hate this.”

“I know,” Chan says again. “But hating it won’t change it. So what are you gonna do? Keep screaming? Or talk to them like adults?”

Finally, Changbin mutters, “I need a minute. Or ten. Or a year.”

Chan chuckles, tired but fond. “Take ten. Then come back in. Yell if you have to. Just… don’t throw punches. We need him for comeback stages.”

Changbin snorts. It’s weak, but it’s there.

Footsteps retreat down the hall. Changbin, probably heading to the living room to pace or lift weights until he calms down.

Chan knocks softly on the door.

“You two decent?”

Felix clears his throat. “Yeah. Come in.”

The door opens. Chan steps inside, closes it behind him, leans back against it like he’s physically blocking the rest of the dorm from intruding.

He looks between you both. Takes in the rumpled bed, the mismatched buttons, the way Felix is standing half behind you like you’re his human shield.

Chan exhales through his nose.

“Okay,” he says. “First: no one died. That’s a win.”

Felix makes a small, strangled noise.

Chan points at him. “You. Breathe. You’re not getting murdered tonight. Probably.”

Felix nods frantically.

Chan turns to you. “You okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. Embarrassed. But okay.”

“Good.” He rubs his face with both hands. “Look. Changbin’s… processing. He’s not gonna come in here swinging. Not right now. But he’s hurt. And scared. And yeah, seeing his little sister like that was probably the worst thing that’s ever happened to him.”

You wince.

Chan softens. “He’ll come around. He loves you. And he loves Felix. It’s just gonna take time for his brain to catch up to his heart.”

Felix finally speaks, voice small. “I didn’t mean to… disrespect him. Or her. Or anyone. I just..”

Chan cuts him off gently. “I know. And he knows too. Deep down. Give him space tonight. Sleep on the couch if you have to. Or crash in my room. But don’t disappear on him. He needs to see you’re still here. Still part of this family.”

Felix nods again, eyes shiny. “I will.”

Chan looks at you last. “And you. Talk to him tomorrow. Not tonight. Let him cool off. But don’t hide. He’s your brother. He’s gonna want to hear it from you that you’re happy. And safe.”

You swallow. “I will.”

Chan pushes off the door. “Alright. I’m gonna go make sure no one’s filming this for TikTok. Minho’s probably already editing a highlight reel.”

He pauses with his hand on the knob.

“And… maybe keep it in your pants for the next forty-eight hours? Just as a personal favor to my blood pressure.”

Felix flushes scarlet. “Yes, hyung.”

Chan gives a tired salute and slips out.

The door closes again. You and Felix stand there, still holding hands.

He looks at you, eyes wide and vulnerable. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

You shake your head, step closer, wrap your arms around his waist.

“Don’t be,” you murmur into his chest. “We’ll figure it out.”

He hugs you back so tight it almost hurts.

“I really like you,” he says against your hair. “Like… a lot. More than I know what to do with.”

You smile into his shirt. “Same.”

He pulls back just enough to kiss your forehead. Soft. Careful.

“We should probably… fix the bed. And maybe open a window. It smells like guilt and sex in here.”

You laugh. Quiet. Tired. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

The next morning hits like a hangover without the fun part first.

Felix slept on the couch last night. You offered to join him, but he shook his head, kissed your forehead, and whispered, “Let me take the punishment. I earned it.”

You woke up alone in his bed, sheets still smelling like him and guilt.

Changbin’s door is cracked when you walk by. You don’t knock. You just push it open slowly, like you’re entering a lion’s den with a steak instead of a weapon.

He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. Gym bag unzipped beside him, weights scattered like he tried to lift his feelings away and gave up halfway. He’s in the same hoodie from last night, sleeves pushed up, forearms tense.

He doesn’t look up right away.

You step inside. Close the door behind you. Lean against it.

“Binnie.”

His shoulders stiffen.

Silence stretches so long you think he might not speak at all. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m still pissed.” He finally lifts his head. Eyes red-rimmed. Not from crying, Changbin doesn’t cry, but from not sleeping. From staring at the ceiling replaying the nightmare on loop. “And I don’t want to yell at you.”

“Then don’t.” You cross the room, sit on the floor in front of him, back against the wall, knees drawn up. Close enough to talk. Far enough he doesn’t feel cornered. “Just talk.”

He exhales hard through his nose. Rubs his face with both hands.

“I saw you last night,” he says, voice low. “Not just… that. I saw how you looked at him. How he looked at you. Like you’ve been doing this for longer than I knew.”

You don’t deny it. “We have.”

He flinches like the words physically hit him.

“How long?”

“A while. Before the airport pickup. Before the hoodie. It just… happened. Slowly. Then all at once.”

Changbin nods once. Slow. Like he’s processing poison.

“I should’ve seen it.”

“You weren’t supposed to.”

He laughs, bitter and short. “That’s my job. Seeing things. Protecting you. Always has been.”

He leans forward, forearms on his thighs, hands clasped so tight the knuckles go white.

“You remember when you were six and that kid on the playground pushed you off the swing? Split your lip. I carried you home on my back the whole way, telling you stories about superheroes so you’d stop crying. Mom was at work. Dad was on a business trip. It was just me.”

You nod. You remember.

“Or when you were twelve,” he continues, voice cracking just a little, “and those girls at school were being shitty about your braces? I showed up at the gate every day after practice, waited for you, walked you home even though it was out of my way. Told them if they looked at you wrong again I’d bench-press their backpacks.”

A tiny, reluctant smile tugs at your mouth. “You did.”

“Yeah.” He looks at you now, really looks. Eyes shiny. “And when you were fifteen and that guy asked you to the school dance but only because he lost a bet? I found out. I sat him down. Had a very calm, very polite conversation about how he was gonna treat my sister like she hung the moon or he was gonna regret ever learning how to speak.”

You remember that too. The guy ghosted after. You were relieved.

Changbin’s voice drops lower. “Every time you fell. Every time someone hurt you. Every time you needed someone to stand between you and the world. It was me. That’s my job. That’s who I am to you.”

He pauses. Swallows hard.

“And last night… I couldn’t protect you from that. From him. From whatever this is. I walked in and saw my baby sister getting..” He stops. Can’t say it. “And I felt like I failed. Like all those years of watching out for you, and the one time it really mattered, I wasn’t there. I wasn’t fast enough. I wasn’t… enough.”

Your throat tightens. You scoot closer, rest your chin on his knee like you used to when you were little.

“You didn’t fail.”

He looks down at you, eyes glassy. “Feels like I did.”

“You raised me to be strong. To know what I want. To go after it. Felix isn’t some random guy who tricked me. He’s kind. He’s careful. He’s good to me. And yeah, he’s one of your members. But he’s also the guy who texts me good morning every day. Who remembers I hate mushrooms. Who held me last night like I was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.”

Changbin closes his eyes.

“I know he’s good,” he mutters. “That’s why it hurts more. If he was trash I could hate him. Punch him. Move on. But he’s Felix. And you’re you. And now you’re… together. And I have to figure out how to be okay with that.”

You reach up, cover his hand with yours.

“You don’t have to be okay with it today. Or tomorrow. Just… don’t shut me out. Don’t shut him out. We’re still us. You’re still my big brother. That doesn’t change.”

He turns his hand over. Squeezes yours. Hard. Like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“I love you,” he says, voice thick. “More than anything. Always have. Always will.”

“I know.” You squeeze back. “I love you too. And I’m happy. Really happy. With him.”

Changbin nods slowly. Once. Twice.

Then he pulls you up, wraps his arms around you in the biggest, tightest hug. The kind that smells like gym sweat and laundry detergent and home.

“Don’t make me like him too much,” he mumbles into your hair. “I still need someone to threaten.”

You laugh against his chest. Wet. Relieved.

“Deal.”

He holds you a minute longer. Then lets go. Wipes his eyes quick, like you didn’t see.

“Tell him to come talk to me later,” he says gruffly. “After I shower. And eat. And maybe do a thousand push-ups.”

“Okay.”

“And if he hurts you..”

“I’ll let you kill him,” you finish.

Changbin huffs a small laugh. The first real one since last night.

“Damn right.”

You stand up. Head toward the door.

“Hey.”

You turn back.

He’s looking at you like he’s seeing you for the first time in years. Not a kid anymore. Not his little shadow. A person. With choices. With love.

“I’m proud of you,” he says quietly. “Even if I’m shit at showing it right now.”

Your chest aches in the best way.

“Thanks, Binnie.”

He nods. You slip out.

In the hallway, Felix is waiting. Leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed, looking like he hasn’t slept in a decade. You walk straight to him. Wrap your arms around his waist.

“He’s not gonna murder you,” you murmur.

Felix exhales like he’s been holding the breath since last night.

“Yet,” he whispers.

“Yet,” you agree.

He hugs you back. Tight.

“I don’t wanna go to bed,” she mumbles as Felix carries her inside, voice whiny and small. “I’m not tired.”

Felix winces when he shifts her weight because his hip is clearly still hurting, but he doesn’t complain. He just kisses the top of her head. “I know, princess. But you were such a big helper tonight. You deserve the best sleep ever.”

Minho is already waiting in the living area with the cat carrier. Miso is curled up inside, looking much calmer than she did earlier.

Noeul’s face brightens for a second when she sees them. She wiggles until Felix sets her down, then toddles over on tired legs.

“Bye, Miso,” she says, poking a finger through the bars. Her voice is soft but wobbly with exhaustion. “You were a good kitty. Lee Know is gonna take you to the cat café now so you can have more friends.”

Miso meows quietly. Noeul leans her forehead against the carrier for a second.

Minho crouches down beside her. “You did a really good job today. She’s not scared anymore because of you.”

Noeul nods, but her bottom lip starts to tremble. “Can I come with you?”

Minho shakes his head gently. “Not tonight, little one. It’s way past your bedtime and Miso needs to settle in. But I’ll send you pictures tomorrow, okay?”

Noeul’s face crumples. The exhaustion, the missed stage moment, the long day, everything hits at once. Big fat tears spill down her cheeks.

“But I want to go,” she cries, voice cracking. “I want to stay with Miso and the kitties…”

Felix is there instantly, lowering himself carefully to the floor despite the pain in his hip. He pulls her into his lap, hugging her close.

“Hey, hey, princess,” he murmurs, rocking her gently. “I know. You did such a good job today. You were so brave and kind to Miso. I’m really proud of you.”

She buries her face in his neck, sobs shaking her small body. “But I wanted to go on stage with you and now Miso is leaving too…”

You sit beside them, rubbing her back. Minho gives you both a quiet nod and slips out with the carrier, giving your family space.

Felix holds her tighter, voice soft but steady even though you can see how much his hip is hurting.

“When we get home to Korea,” he says, pressing a kiss to her hair, “we’re going to get you your very own kitten. Okay? A real one that lives with us all the time. You can name her whatever you want and she’ll sleep in your room and you can take care of her every single day.”

Noeul sniffles, peeking up at him with wet eyes. “Really? My own kitty?”

“Really,” Felix promises, brushing tears off her cheeks with his thumb. “We’ll pick her out together. She can be your best friend.”

She hiccups, still crying but calmer now. “Can she be gray like Miso?”

“Any color you want,” he says. “Gray, orange, black and white, whatever makes you happy.”

Noeul nods slowly, leaning her head on his shoulder again. Her sobs turn into tired little sniffles.

You meet Felix’s eyes over her head. He looks exhausted, in pain, and emotionally drained, but the love in his gaze when he looks at her is brighter than any stage light.

You mouth “thank you” to him. He gives you a small, tired smile and mouths back, “Always.”

Noeul’s breathing finally evens out against his chest. She’s out cold, worn out from the longest, biggest day of her little life.

Felix stays on the floor a moment longer, holding her like she’s the most precious thing in the world, which, to him, she is.

The morning they leave for Dallas, Noeul is already clinging to your leg before anyone has even packed the last bag.

“I don’t wanna fly,” she says, voice small and wobbly. “My ears go pop-pop and it hurts and I don’t like it.”

Felix is trying to zip her little suitcase, but you can see the tension in his shoulders. His hip is still bothering him from the other day, and the lack of sleep isn’t helping. He crouches down slowly, wincing, and tries to smile.

“It’ll be okay, princess. Daddy will sit right next to you the whole time. We’ll hold hands and chew gummies and..”

Noeul shakes her head, eyes already shiny with tears. “I don’t want to.”

Minho walks in from the hallway at that exact moment, backpack slung over one shoulder, carrying the now-empty cat carrier Miso had been in. He sees Noeul’s face and drops to one knee right away.

“Hey, tiny one,” he says gently. “You scared of the plane again?”

She nods, lip trembling. “It’s loud and my ears hurt last time.”

Minho nods like he completely understands. “Yeah, that part isn’t fun. But you know what? This plane is a special one for us. It’s quieter than the last one, and I brought the best noise-canceling headphones just for you. Plus, I’ll sit right there and you can hold my hand the whole time if you want. And if your ears start to feel funny, we’ll do the chewing trick together and count to thirty, okay?”

Noeul sniffles, but she’s listening. “You promise?”

“I promise,” Minho says, holding out his pinky. “Kitty honor.”

She hooks her tiny pinky with his and gives a tiny nod. “Okay… I’ll try.”

Felix watches the whole exchange from a few feet away. His jaw tightens. He doesn’t say anything, but you can see it, the flicker of hurt, the way his shoulders stiffen. His own daughter had been melting down for him, but the second Minho stepped in with that calm, steady voice, she calmed right down. It stings.

You reach over and squeeze Felix’s hand, but he just gives a small, tight smile and turns back to the suitcase.

At the airport, the private jet is waiting. Noeul sticks close to Minho the whole walk through security, holding his hand instead of Felix’s. Felix doesn’t comment, but his limp is still noticeable and his mood is clearly off.

When it’s time to board, Noeul looks up at Minho with big eyes.

“Can I sit with you?” she asks, voice hopeful.

Minho glances at Felix for half a second, then back at her. “If it’s okay with Daddy and Mommy.”

Felix’s jaw flexes, but he forces a nod. “Yeah. Go ahead, princess.”

Noeul beams and climbs into the seat next to Minho, already asking him if she can pick the movie on his iPad.

Felix settles into the row across from them with you, quiet. He stares out the window as the plane starts to taxi, one hand rubbing his sore hip absently.

You lean your head on his shoulder. “She still loves you more than anything, you know that, right?”

He exhales through his nose. “I know. It’s stupid. I’m being stupid. She’s five and scared of the plane and Minho just… knows how to talk to her sometimes.” His voice drops. “Doesn’t make it feel any better when she picks him over me.”

You squeeze his hand. “She didn’t pick him over you. She just needed someone calm right now. And you’re carrying a lot, the pain, the show, everything with the company. She feels safe with all of us.”

Felix nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. He watches Noeul across the aisle as she leans into Minho’s side, already giggling at something on the screen, her earlier tears completely gone.

The plane lifts off smoothly. Noeul doesn’t cry once.

The plane had been in the air for about an hour when Noeul suddenly perked up in her seat next to Minho. She unbuckled her seatbelt with his quiet help and toddled across the aisle, climbing straight into Felix’s lap without asking.

Felix blinked, surprised, but his arms came around her right away. His hip was still sore, but having her close seemed to ease something in him.

“Hi, princess,” he said softly. “You okay?”

Noeul nodded, then looked up at him with big, serious eyes.

“Daddy,” she said, “tell me everything about Texas.”

Felix’s eyebrows rose. “Everything?”

“Everything,” she confirmed, nodding hard. “Are there real cowboys there? With hats and horses?”

Felix smiled, the crankiness from earlier melting off his face. “Yeah, there are cowboys. Some wear big hats and boots. And yes, there are horses.”

Noeul’s eyes widened. “Do they ride the horses to the store? Like to buy milk and bread?”

Felix let out a soft laugh. “Not usually. They mostly drive cars or trucks now. But sometimes on ranches they still ride horses to check on the animals.”

Noeul thought about that for a second, then asked, “Are there bulls? Like angry ones that go ‘moo’ really loud?”

“There are bulls,” Felix said patiently. “Especially on farms and rodeos. They can be pretty big and strong.”

She gasped. “Do the cowboys ride the bulls?”

“Some do,” Felix told her. “It’s called bull riding. It’s very brave… and a little bit crazy.”

Noeul giggled, then tilted her head. “Daddy?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Is Sandy from SpongeBob really from Texas?”

Felix grinned, unable to hold back a laugh this time. “Yes, she is. She’s from Texas. That’s why she has the accent and loves her lasso.”

Noeul looked extremely satisfied with this answer. “I knew it. She says ‘y’all’ sometimes.”

You watched them from the seat beside Felix, heart warm. Noeul kept firing questions, “Do they have really big stars in the sky in Texas?” “Can we see a real cowboy hat?”, and Felix answered every single one with endless patience, his voice gentle and full of love.

The earlier tension in his shoulders had completely disappeared. He looked happy. Really happy. Like this, answering his daughter’s random, endless questions about a state she’d never been to, was exactly what he needed.

At one point Noeul yawned big and snuggled deeper into his chest. “Daddy?” she mumbled sleepily.

“Hmm?”

“When we get to Texas… can we look for Sandy Cheeks?”

Felix chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “We can definitely look for her.”

The questions finally slowed somewhere over the middle of nowhere. Now her head was getting heavier against his chest. Her little legs, which had been swinging restlessly, stilled. Bbokari was squished between them, one of her hands still loosely curled around Felix’s hoodie.

“Daddy?” she mumbled, voice thick and sleepy.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Texas sounds… big.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “It is big. But not as big as how much I love you.”

Noeul made a tiny, satisfied hum. Her eyes fluttered once, twice, then slipped closed completely. Within seconds her breathing evened out, deep and steady, her whole body going soft and heavy in his lap.

Felix didn’t move.

He just sat there, one arm wrapped securely around her back, the other resting gently on her leg like he was afraid she might disappear if he let go. The plane hummed quietly around them. The cabin lights were low. Outside the window, the sky was a soft, endless blue.

The tension that had been living in his shoulders since the company said no to the stage appearance, since his hip flared up, since Noeul had reached for Minho instead of him earlier, it had melted away. His face was soft in a way it rarely got to be lately. The corner of his mouth was turned up in the smallest, gentlest smile, and his eyes stayed fixed on her sleeping face like he was memorizing every eyelash, every freckle, every tiny breath.

You watched him from the seat beside them, heart so full it almost hurt.

This was the Felix you fell in love with all over again every single time, not the idol on stage, not the frustrated man arguing with managers, but the dad who would sit perfectly still for hours if it meant his daughter could sleep on him.

He caught you looking and turned his head just enough to meet your eyes. The smile deepened, small and private and full of everything he didn’t have to say out loud.

You reached over and brushed your fingers lightly over his arm.

He mouthed, “I love you.” You mouthed it back.

Noeul made a soft, sleepy sound and nuzzled closer to his chest. Felix adjusted his hold automatically, careful, protective, like she was still brand new even though she was growing so fast.

For the rest of the flight he barely moved. He just held her, cheek resting gently against her hair, looking more at peace than he had in weeks.

Felix hadn’t moved in almost forty minutes. His bad hip was probably screaming at him, but he didn’t seem to care. He just kept one arm wrapped protectively around her back, the other hand gently stroking her hair, his eyes soft and content in a way that made your chest feel too full.

You were watching them both when he suddenly turned his head toward you. He leaned in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear so his voice stayed just for you.

“What if we give her a little brother or sister?”

You froze. Your eyes went wide as you pulled back just enough to look at him. He was already smiling, that quiet, dimpled, heart-stopping smile that always made your stomach flip, even after all this time.

“Felix…” you whispered, stunned.

He didn’t flinch. If anything, his smile grew a little wider, a little more sure.

“What?” he murmured, voice low and warm. “We make great kids.”

You stared at him, heart hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it over the engines. Noeul shifted in his lap with a tiny sleepy sigh, and Felix automatically adjusted his hold, rocking her gently without ever looking away from you.

“I’m serious,” he said softly. “Look at her. She’s perfect. And we’re… we’re good at this. Even when it’s hard. Even when I’m limping around and arguing with managers and we’re living out of suitcases. We still made this.” His thumb brushed over Noeul’s back. “I keep thinking about it lately. About giving her someone to boss around. Someone else to love the way we love her.”

Your throat felt tight. You reached up and touched his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw with your fingertips.

“You really want that?” you whispered.

“I really do.” His eyes were bright, hopeful, a little nervous in the best way. “Not right this second. Not in the middle of tour. But… someday soon. When we’re home. When things feel a little more steady.” He leaned in again, forehead resting gently against yours. “I want more of this. More of us. A whole house full of little ones who look like you and laugh like her.”

Noeul made another soft sound in her sleep and nuzzled closer to his chest. Felix smiled down at her, then back at you, eyes shining.

“We already make the best team,” he whispered. “Imagine what we could do with one more.”

You didn’t answer with words.

You just leaned in and kissed him, slow, deep, and full of every feeling you didn’t have the space to say out loud right now. When you pulled back, your forehead stayed pressed to his.

The Texas heat hits like a wall the second the plane door opens. It’s thick, sticky, and so humid that Noeul’s curls immediately frizz up as you step out onto the jet bridge. She wrinkles her nose and clings tighter to Felix’s hand.

“It’s so hot, Daddy,” she complains, already sounding grumpy. “Like inside a dragon’s mouth.”

Felix laughs, but it’s tired. His limp is still noticeable as he helps her down the stairs to the waiting van. “Welcome to Texas, princess. It’s always like this in the summer.”

The drive to the hotel is quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioning and Noeul’s occasional sleepy questions about cowboys. By the time you pull up to the sleek downtown hotel, everyone is sticky with sweat and ready for a shower and real beds.

That’s when the front desk drops the bomb. The manager looks mortified as he checks the system again. “I’m so sorry, there was a system glitch with the group block. We only have two suites available tonight instead of three. We can try to comp you, but right now we don’t have a third room ready until tomorrow afternoon.”

Felix’s jaw tightens. You can see the flash of frustration cross his face, the hip pain, the long flight, the company stress, all of it bubbling up.

Minho and Han, who had been standing behind you with their bags, exchange a quick glance.

Han shrugs. “We can bunk up. No big deal.”

Minho nods. “Our suite has two bedrooms and a pull-out couch. Plenty of space for the three of you plus us. We’ll make it work.”

Felix looks like he wants to argue, but Noeul is already half-asleep on his shoulder and the heat is making everyone irritable. He sighs and runs a hand through his damp hair.

“Yeah. Okay. Thank you.”

The elevator ride up is silent except for the soft ding of the floors. When you finally step into the suite, it’s nice, modern, big windows overlooking the city, but it’s clearly meant for four people, not five plus a cranky toddler.

Noeul lifts her head groggily. “Where’s my bed?”

Felix sets her down gently. “We’re all sharing tonight, bug. It’ll be like a big sleepover.”

She looks around, eyes wide. “With Lee Know and Uncle Hannie?”

Han grins and flops dramatically onto the pull-out couch. “Yep. You get the best roommate in the world. I snore like a dragon, but I also tell the best bedtime stories.”

Minho is already unpacking the cat treats he’d brought for Miso earlier, quiet and calm as always. “We’ll make the second bedroom yours and your parents’. Couch is mine. Han can take the floor if he keeps talking.”

Han gasps in mock offense. “Rude.”

Noeul giggles despite how tired she is. The sound eases some of the tension in Felix’s shoulders. He glances at you, then at the two members who immediately started making space without being asked.

You catch his hand and squeeze once. “It’s only one night. We’ll survive.”

He nods, but you can tell he’s still a little rattled, the control he usually tries to keep over everything keeps slipping lately. Still, when Noeul tugs on his shirt and asks if she can sleep with Bbokari and her new Pluto plush, he melts instantly.

“Yeah, princess. Whatever you want.”

Within twenty minutes the suite has been rearranged. Noeul is in the big bedroom with you and Felix, curled up in the middle of the king bed with both plushies. Minho has claimed the couch with a pillow and blanket, and Han is dramatically declaring the floor “perfectly comfortable” while setting up a little blanket fort.

Felix stands in the doorway of the bedroom, watching Noeul already drifting off again, and lets out a long breath.

“Texas is off to a great start,” he mutters, voice dry.

You step behind him and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his back.

“It’s not perfect,” you whisper. “But we’re all together. That’s what matters.”

He turns in your arms and kisses you softly, the kind of kiss that says thank you and I’m sorry and I love you all at once.

From the living area you hear Han whisper-yell, “If anyone snores, I’m kicking them out the window. Texas style.”

Minho’s deadpan reply, “You snore the loudest, Jisung.”

Noeul giggles sleepily from the bed.

Felix smiles against your lips, small and tired but real.

“Guess we’re doing this,” he murmurs.

You nod. “Guess we are.”

The next morning in Dallas feels like stepping into a sauna. The Texas sun is already beating down hard by the time everyone piles into the hotel parking lot with their bags and water bottles. Noeul is half-asleep on Felix’s shoulder, still in her pajamas under a hoodie because she refused to change until the last second. You’re carrying her backpack and your own, trying to keep everyone moving toward the waiting black van.

The driver starts the engine. It coughs once. Twice. Then it dies with a pathetic sputter and a thin curl of smoke from under the hood.

Everyone freezes. The driver pops the hood and stares at the engine like it personally betrayed him. Management is already on the phone, voices sharp and stressed as they try to get a replacement vehicle sent ASAP.

“You can’t sit inside,” one of the staff says quickly, waving you all back. “It’s already like an oven in there. We’ll wait out here.”

The shade from the hotel awning is barely enough. The air is thick, sticky, and so humid that Noeul’s curls start frizzing instantly. Felix shifts her weight carefully, his hip is still clearly bothering him, and sets her down on the curb beside you.

Noeul rubs her eyes, already cranky from the broken sleep and the sudden stop.

“I’m hot,” she whines, kicking her little feet against the pavement. “And I want ice cream.”

Felix crouches down beside her, trying to stay patient. “We’ll get some later, princess. The new van is coming soon.”

“But I want it now,” she says, voice getting louder. “Strawberry with sprinkles. The big cone. Like at Disneyland.”

You kneel next to her, fanning her face with your hand. “Baby, it’s too hot to eat ice cream right now. It would melt before we even open it. Let’s just wait a little bit, okay?”

Noeul’s bottom lip trembles. The heat, the long flight yesterday, the excitement and then disappointment of not going on stage, the crowded suite last night, it all crashes together at once.

“I want ice cream!” she wails, tears spilling over. “I want it right now! I hate Texas! It’s too hot and I hate it!”

She drops to the ground dramatically, kicking her legs and sobbing loud enough that a couple of hotel guests glance over. Bbokari tumbles out of her arms and she cries even harder.

Felix looks wrecked. His jaw is tight, pain and exhaustion and frustration all mixing on his face as he tries to pick her up. She flails, not wanting to be held.

“Princess, please..” he starts, voice strained.

“I WANT ICE CREAM!” she screams, face red and splotchy.

Minho appears from behind the van with a bottle of cold water he’d grabbed from inside. He crouches down and presses the cool bottle gently to her cheek.

“Hey, tiny one,” he says calmly. “I know it’s hot. I hate it too. But yelling won’t make the van come faster. Take a sip and we’ll get you something cold as soon as we can, okay?”

Noeul hiccups, still crying, but she takes the bottle and clutches it like a lifeline. The meltdown doesn’t stop completely, but it quiets to sniffly sobs instead of full screaming.

Felix watches Minho calm her down in seconds and you see the flicker of that same hurt from yesterday cross his face again. He doesn’t say anything. He just stands up slowly, wincing at his hip, and turns away to talk to the manager about how long the new vehicle will take.

You rub Noeul’s back while she leans against Minho, still sniffling. The replacement van is supposedly fifteen minutes away, but it already feels like an hour. Everyone is standing in the thin strip of shade from the hotel awning, fanning themselves with whatever they can find. Noeul has finally stopped crying, but she’s still sniffling and leaning heavily against your leg, clutching her water bottle like it’s the only thing keeping her from melting into the pavement.

Felix is a few feet away, leaning against a concrete pillar with his arms crossed. He hasn’t said much since the van broke down. His jaw is tight, his cap pulled low, and every time he shifts his weight you can see the small wince from his still-sore hip. He’s not pacing, not snapping at the staff, he’s just… standing there, staring at the ground like the asphalt holds all the answers.

Minho notices. He hands the now-empty cat carrier to one of the staff, then walks over casually, stopping beside Felix like they’re just two guys waiting for a bus.

“You okay?” Minho asks, voice low enough that it doesn’t carry.

Felix doesn’t look at him right away. He keeps his eyes on the ground for a long second.

“I’m fine,” he mutters. Then, quieter, almost under his breath, “It just feels like maybe you should raise my kid with Ivy instead of me.”

The words hang there in the thick, humid air. Minho turns his head slowly, one eyebrow lifting. He studies Felix for a beat, then lets out a short, dry laugh, not mean, just surprised.

“Nah,” he says simply. “I’m just the cool uncle.”

Felix finally glances over, eyes guarded.

Minho shrugs, leaning back against the pillar beside him. “I like hanging with her. She’s funny and she doesn’t expect me to have all the answers. But I’m not trying to take your place, man. That’s your job. I’m just the guy who shows up with snacks and cat facts.”

He pauses, then adds, almost casually, “Plus I’m into Han. No offense to Ivy.”

Felix blinks. The tension in his shoulders cracks just a little. “Wait… what?”

Minho’s mouth twitches into a tiny smirk. “You heard me. I’m not trying to co-parent with your fiancée. I’ve got my own… complicated situation to figure out.”

Felix stares at him for another second, then lets out a short, tired laugh and rubs a hand over his face. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” Minho says, still casual. “So relax. I’m not stealing your family. I’m just the cool uncle who happens to be really good at calming down tired five-year-olds in hundred-degree heat.”

Felix exhales, long and slow, some of the rigid frustration finally draining out of him. He looks over at you and Noeul, she’s now sitting on the curb drawing invisible pictures on the ground with her finger, and his expression softens.

“I know,” he says quietly. “I’m being stupid. It’s just… everything lately. The company, the hip, the stage thing, and then she goes straight to you when she’s upset. It hits different.”

Minho nods once, understanding without needing more explanation. “She loves you, Lix. She just needed someone who wasn’t also hurting and frustrated in that moment. Doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong.”

Felix is quiet for a long beat. Then he bumps Minho’s shoulder lightly with his own.

“Thanks,” he mutters. “For looking out for her. For all of us.”

Minho shrugs again, like it’s nothing. “That’s what family does.”

Across the lot, a black van finally turns in. Noeul looks up hopefully, already asking if there will be ice cream at the next stop. Felix straightens, wincing at his hip, but he forces a small smile for her.

Everyone piles in with audible sighs of relief as the cool air blasts over sticky skin and flushed faces. Noeul scrambles into her booster seat between you and Felix, already looking brighter. She kicks her little legs happily and presses her face to the window, watching the city roll by.

“Daddy,” she says, voice full of fresh wonder, “where are the cowboys?”

Felix smiles, the first real, soft one you’ve seen from him all morning. “They’re out there somewhere, princess. Texas has lots of ranches and farms. Some cowboys still wear the big hats and ride horses.”

Noeul’s eyes go huge. “Real horses? Not just in pictures?”

“Real ones,” he confirms, brushing a curl behind her ear. “Big and strong.”

She bounces in her seat. “Can we see horses? Please? After practice? I want to pet one. And maybe it can wear a hat like the cowboys!”

Felix glances at you, a tired but genuine smile tugging at his mouth. His hip is still clearly hurting, but the simple excitement in her voice seems to ease something in him.

“Maybe,” he says. “If we finish practice early and everyone’s not too tired, we can try to find a place with horses. Sound good?”

Noeul nods so hard her whole body shakes. “Yes! I’ll be super quiet during practice so we can go fast. And I’ll say please to the horse. And I’ll share my gummies with it!”

Felix laughs quietly, the sound warm and low. “You’re the best negotiator I know.”

She beams and settles back, already humming her off-key “Chk Chk Boom” again, the earlier meltdown completely forgotten now that cool air and the promise of real horses are on the table.

You slip your hand into Felix’s and squeeze once. He squeezes back, leaning his head against the window for a second, eyes closing like he’s letting himself breathe.

The van glides smoothly through Dallas traffic, the city skyline growing taller outside the tinted windows. Noeul chatters happily the whole way, asking what color the horse should be, whether it will let her ride it, and if cowboys say “howdy” in real life.

Felix answers every single question with endless patience, even though you can see the faint lines of pain around his eyes. But he’s smiling. Really smiling.

The practice room in Dallas is air-conditioned, but the atmosphere feels heavier than the Texas heat outside. Noeul is sitting on a folding chair near the mirrors with you, legs swinging, Bbokari on her lap and a juice box in her hand. She’s happily humming and waving at Felix every time he looks her way.

Felix is not okay. His limp has gotten noticeably worse. Every sharp turn, every low drop into the choreography makes him wince, his face tightening for a split second before he forces the idol smile back on. He’s trying, really trying, to push through the full setlist, but the pain is obvious to anyone watching closely. Chan notices first. He calls a quick break after the second run and pulls Felix aside, voice low but firm.

“You’re favoring that hip bad. Sit down. We’re getting the doctor.”

Felix tries to brush it off. “I’m fine. It’s just tight from the flight.”

Chan doesn’t budge. “You’re not fine. Sit.”

The tour doctor arrives within minutes, a calm, no-nonsense woman who’s traveled with them before. She has Felix sit on a bench and carefully examines the hip, pressing, rotating, asking where it hurts most.

Felix hisses through his teeth when she finds the spot.

“Muscle strain,” she says after a few minutes. “Possibly a mild tear. You need to limit use as much as possible. No full choreography today. We’ll adjust the formation so you can mark it or walk through the parts that aggravate it. Ice, rest when you can, and these..” She hands him a small bottle of muscle relaxers. “Take one now and another before the show if needed. But no pushing it. You’re no good to anyone if you can’t walk tomorrow.”

Felix stares at the bottle, jaw clenched. “I can still perform.”

“You can perform smart,” the doctor says firmly. “Not at the risk of making it worse.”

Noeul has been watching the whole time. She slides off her chair and toddles over, tugging on Felix’s sleeve.

“Daddy, your hip still ouchie?” she asks, voice small.

Felix forces a smile for her and pulls her into his lap, careful not to jostle himself. “A little, bug. But the doctor gave me medicine to make it better. I’ll be okay for the show tonight.”

She nods seriously and pats his chest gently. “I’ll be good and quiet so you can rest.”

You stand beside them, hand on Felix’s shoulder, feeling the tension still radiating from him.

The rest of practice is modified. Felix sits out the more demanding parts, marking the moves instead of dancing full-out. He looks frustrated and quiet, but every time Noeul cheers for him from the side, he lights up just a little.

Later, as they’re wrapping up, Felix leans into you while Noeul is distracted showing Minho a drawing.

“I hate this,” he mutters under his breath. “I wanted to give her the best show. Now I’m barely even dancing.”

You rub his back gently. “She doesn’t care how perfect the dance is. She just wants to see her daddy up there. And you’re still going to be amazing.”

Felix exhales, resting his forehead against yours for a second.

“Yeah… I know.”

But the disappointment lingers in his eyes as they pack up to head back to the hotel. The van pulls up to the small private ranch just outside Dallas as the late afternoon sun paints everything golden.

Felix had made the call right after practice, quiet, determined, and ignoring the doctor’s advice to rest. His hip is still taped and he’s moving slower than usual, but the second he saw how Noeul’s eyes lit up at the mention of “real horses,” he refused to let anything stop him.

“This is for her,” he’d told you in the car, voice soft but firm. “One good thing today.”

Noeul is practically vibrating in her booster seat the entire drive, clutching Bbokari and asking every thirty seconds if they’re there yet. When the van stops and she sees the wooden fence, the red barn, and the actual horses grazing in the distance, she lets out the loudest squeal you’ve ever heard from her.

“Horses!” she yells, already trying to unbuckle herself. “Real ones!”

Felix helps her out carefully, wincing only a little when he lifts her. You stay right beside him, one hand on his lower back for support.

A young woman in worn jeans, boots, and a faded cowboy hat steps out of the barn, brushing her hands on her shirt. She’s in her mid-twenties, sun-kissed, with a warm, easy smile.

Noeul’s eyes go impossibly wide.

“Wow,” she breathes, clutching Felix’s hand. “A real cowgirl! Like Jessie from Toy Story!”

The woman laughs, bright and genuine, and crouches down to Noeul’s level.

“Well hey there, partner. You must be Noeul. I’m Riley. Welcome to the ranch.”

Noeul nods, starstruck. “You have a hat and boots and everything!”

Riley grins and tips her hat. “Only way to run the place.” Her eyes flick up to Felix and you, and her expression shifts into something softer, almost shy. “And… wow. Felix from Stray Kids. In real life. On my ranch.” She laughs a little, flustered. “I’m a huge fan. Like, embarrassingly huge. My whole playlist is your songs when I’m working the horses.”

Felix smiles, tired but real. “Thank you. We really appreciate you letting us come on short notice.”

Riley waves it off. “Are you kidding? This is the coolest thing that’s happened here all year. Come on, let’s give this little one the best tour ever.”

Riley walks you through everything slowly so Felix can keep up without pushing his hip too hard. She lets Noeul pet the gentlest horses first, a big brown mare who lowers her head so Noeul can reach her nose.

“She’s so soft!” Noeul whispers, awed. “Like a giant stuffed animal.”

Riley laughs. “Her name’s Daisy. She loves kids.” She shows Noeul how to hold her hand flat for treats, then leads them over to the goats and the baby pigs. Noeul is in heaven, giggling at the little goats that try to nibble her shoelaces.

Riley brings out a small, calm pony already saddled up with a child-sized helmet.

“You want to ride her?” Riley asks Noeul. “Her name’s Buttercup. She’s the sweetest pony we have.”

Noeul looks at Felix with huge, hopeful eyes. “Can I, Daddy? Please?”

Felix glances at you, then nods, the pain in his hip forgotten for a moment. “Yeah, baby. Go ride your horse.”

Riley is incredibly patient, helping Noeul into the saddle, showing her how to hold the reins, and walking slowly beside Buttercup while Noeul beams like she’s on top of the world.

“I’m a real cowgirl!” she shouts, waving at you and Felix.

Felix’s eyes are shining as he watches her. Even with the limp and the exhaustion, the smile on his face is pure and bright. You slip your arm around his waist and lean into him.

“You did this for her,” you whisper.

He presses a kiss to your temple. “She deserves it.”

Riley keeps the ride short and gentle, but she makes it feel like the most special thing in the world. When they finish, she helps Noeul down and gives her a little plastic sheriff’s badge “for being the bravest rider we’ve had all week.”

Noeul pins it to her shirt immediately and runs back to Felix, throwing her arms around his legs.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she says, muffled against his jeans. “This is the best day ever.”

Felix crouches down, slow and careful with his hip, and hugs her tight.

“You’re welcome, princess,” he whispers. “I’d take you to a hundred ranches if it made you this happy.”

Noeul is still talking a mile a minute about Buttercup and the goats and how she’s going to tell Lee Know all about the real cowgirl she met.

Felix looks at you over her head, eyes soft and full of love. “This,” he says quietly, “is what I wanted.”

The afternoon sun is still blazing when Minho finds you in the hotel hallway after practice. Noeul is half-asleep against your hip, exhausted from the ranch and the heat.

“Hey,” Minho says quietly. “Han and I can take her for the afternoon if you two want some time. The hotel just texted, your original suite is ready now. Whole afternoon, no interruptions.”

Felix looks at you, something warm and hungry flickering in his eyes despite the pain. You nod once.

“Thank you,” you say, squeezing Minho’s arm. “Really.”

Minho just shrugs, already reaching for Noeul. “Go. We’ve got her. She already told me she wants to draw more kitties anyway.”

Noeul stirs long enough to wave sleepily at you both before Minho carries her down the hall toward Han, who’s waiting with a dramatic “Auntie Han reporting for duty!”

The second the door to your newly assigned suite clicks shut behind you and Felix, the rest of the world disappears.

Felix doesn’t waste time. He backs you against the wall, kissing you deep and slow, hands sliding under your shirt like he’s been starving for this since the interrupted morning.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he murmurs against your mouth. “About you. About us.”

You smile into the kiss, fingers threading through his hair. “Yeah?”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and serious.

“What if we make another baby?” he whispers.

Your eyes widen. “Felix..”

He smiles, soft and sure, dimples showing. “What? We make great kids.”

The words hit you square in the chest. You laugh, breathless, and kiss him again, harder this time. Clothes come off in a slow, deliberate trail toward the bed, his hoodie, your shirt, his sweatpants, your shorts. When you push him gently onto the mattress, he winces at the movement but doesn’t complain.

He lies back against the pillows, cock already hard and flushed against his stomach.

“Come here,” he says, voice rough. “But… you might have to do the work, love. I can’t thrust. Gotta save the hips for tomorrow’s show.”

You crawl over him, straddling his thighs. “I can do that.”

You sink down onto him slowly, both of you groaning at the stretch. He fills you perfectly, hot and thick, and you take a second to adjust, rolling your hips in a slow circle.

“Fuck,” Felix breathes, hands gripping your waist. “You feel so good.”

You start moving, slow, deep rolls of your hips, grinding down on him in a steady rhythm. Every time you take him to the hilt you clench around him, watching his face twist with pleasure. You ride him like that for long minutes, building him up, then slowing right when his breathing gets ragged and his hips twitch like he wants to thrust.

“Baby,” he groans, head tipping back. “Don’t..fuck, you’re killing me.”

You smile, wicked, and deliberately slow your pace again, dragging your hips in a lazy circle that makes him curse under his breath.

“You’re so close already,” you tease, leaning down to kiss his neck. “But I want to enjoy you.”

He lets out a broken sound when you squeeze around him again. “Please.. I’m already injured, don’t edge me, I can’t..”

You sit up straighter, rolling your hips once more, taking him deep and holding there.

Felix’s fingers dig into your thighs. “Baby, no..don’t come on, I’m already injured please..”

His voice cracks on the last word, desperate and wrecked. You can feel him throbbing inside you, right on the edge, but you keep the pace torturously slow, watching the way his chest heaves and his eyes flutter.

You lean down, brushing your lips against his ear.

“You’re going to come when I say,” you whisper. “And not a second sooner.”

Felix whines, the sound so pretty it makes you clench around him again. You ride him like that for a long time, slow, deliberate, savoring every gasp and plea, until the afternoon light shifts across the room and the only thing either of you can focus on is each other.

Noeul js in a much better mood after her nap, skipping a little as they head toward the waiting car. Minho has the small backpack with her snacks and Bbokari, while Han is already dramatically pretending to be a tour guide.

“First stop: the best ice cream in Dallas,” Han announces in a silly voice. “Then we’re going to meet some animals. Sound good, tiny boss?”

Noeul nods so hard her Minnie ears wobble. “Yes! Ice cream with sprinkles. And maybe a ostrich?”

Minho chuckles. “We’ll see what we can find.”

The ice cream shop is only a short drive away. Noeul picks strawberry with rainbow sprinkles and ends up with it all over her nose and chin within minutes. Han takes a picture and sends it to the group chat with the caption “future idol in training.” Minho wipes her face gently with a napkin, smiling the whole time.

“You’re a mess, little one,” he says fondly.

“I’m a happy mess,” she declares, exactly the way she told Felix the day before.

The petting zoo is next, a small, shaded spot just outside the city with goats, sheep, baby pigs, and even a couple of fluffy alpacas. Noeul lights up the second she sees the animals. She feeds the goats with careful handfuls of pellets, giggles when a baby pig tries to nibble her shoelace, and spends the longest time petting a gentle gray donkey.

“Look, Lee Know!” she says, pointing. “He’s like your kitties but bigger!”

Minho crouches beside her, letting the donkey sniff his hand. “He’s very polite. Good job feeding him.”

Han snaps more pictures, grinning like an idiot. “We’re never going to hear the end of this from the group chat.”

They stay until Noeul’s energy starts to dip again. On the way back to the car, she’s holding both their hands, swinging between them. The sun is lower now, painting everything soft and golden. Suddenly she stops and looks up at Han with a very serious expression.

“Uncle Hannie,” she says proudly, “you should be Lee Know’s person.”

Han freezes mid-step. “Wait… what?”

“You make him happy,” Noeul explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Like Mommy makes Daddy happy. You should be his person.”

Minho coughs, clearly trying not to laugh. Han’s face goes pink.

“Really?” Han says, voice cracking a little. “You think so?”

Noeul nods, very sure of herself. “Lee Know said you’re his person. But it’s a secret.” She puts one finger to her lips. “Shhh. Don’t tell anyone.”

Han stares at her, then at Minho, who is suddenly very interested in a nearby tree.

“You… he said that?” Han asks, soft and a little stunned.

“Mhm,” Noeul says, swinging their hands again like she didn’t just drop a bomb. “But it’s secret. So you have to be quiet.”

Minho finally glances over, eyes warm and a tiny bit shy. “She’s got a big mouth for a tiny person.”

Han is still pink, but he’s smiling now, big and real and a little overwhelmed. “I… yeah. Okay. Secret’s safe with me.”

Noeul beams, satisfied that she’s done her important job. She starts skipping again, chattering about the donkey and how she wants to tell Daddy all about it later.

Han and Minho walk on either side of her, quiet for a moment. Then Han bumps Minho’s shoulder lightly.

“So… I’m your person, huh?” he says under his breath.

Minho bumps him back, cheeks just the slightest bit pink. “She wasn’t supposed to tell you that part.”

Han laughs softly, the sound warm and happy. “Too late. I know now.”

Noeul looks up at both of them, proud of herself. “You’re both my favorite uncles. And now you can be happy like Mommy and Daddy.”

The two men exchange a look over her head, soft, a little shy, but full of something real.

By the time they get back to the hotel, Noeul is yawning again, but she’s still talking about the donkey and the sprinkles and how she’s going to draw a picture for everyone later. Han carries her the last bit of the way, and Minho walks beside them, quiet but smiling.

Noeul, of course, has no idea she just played matchmaker. She’s just thinking about what color she wants her future kitten to be when they get home to Korea.

You and Felix are on the couch, coffee in hand, watching her with matching soft smiles. The energy in the room is warm and golden, the kind that makes the long flights and arguments of the past weeks feel far away.

Felix sets his mug down and crouches in front of her as she twirls past.

“Hey, princess,” he says gently. “Tomorrow Daddy and the uncles have a big show here in LA. Do you want to come?”

Noeul stops spinning immediately, eyes lighting up like fireworks. “Yes! I wanna go! I wanna see the sparkly stage and the lights and Lee Know dancing!”

Felix laughs, warm and fond, brushing a curl behind her ear. “You can come. But… what do you think about coming on stage with me? Just for a little bit.”

She freezes. Her whole face transforms, eyes huge, mouth falling open in pure delight.

“On the stage?!” she squeaks, voice pitching high with excitement. “With you? Like… real on the stage?!”

“With me,” he confirms, grinning so wide his dimples pop. “You’d stand right next to Daddy. The lights would be bright and the fans would cheer really loud. Would you like that?”

Noeul nods so fast her Minnie ears almost fly off. “Yes yes yes! I wanna be on stage with Daddy!”

Felix’s expression melts completely. He pulls her into a hug, lifting her onto his lap as he sits back on the couch. “You’re the bravest girl in the whole world, you know that?”

She beams against his chest. “I’m brave like a princess.”

“The bravest princess,” he agrees, kissing the top of her head.

You watch them, heart swelling. Felix looks happier than he has in weeks, like every hard conversation, every mile of distance, every worry about the future was worth it for this exact moment.

He pulls back just enough to look at her seriously, though the smile never leaves his face.

“So… what’s your favorite Stray Kids song right now?” he asks.

Noeul doesn’t even hesitate. She stands up on his lap, little fists pumping in the air like she’s already performing.

“Chk Chk Boom!” she shouts, then immediately starts doing the gesture with both hands. “Chk chk boom! Chk chk boom!”

Felix throws his head back and laughs, the sound bright and full. “Chk Chk Boom, huh? That’s a good choice.”

He gently takes her hands and helps her do the choreography, the bounce in her knees. She’s off-beat and adorably chaotic, but he follows her perfectly, like it’s the most important performance of his life.

“Do you want to come on stage with me tomorrow and sing some of it with me?” he asks, eyes sparkling. “Just a little bit. I’ll hold the mic for you and we can do the ‘chk chk boom’ part together. The fans will go crazy when they see you.”

Noeul’s face lights up even brighter, if that’s possible. She gasps dramatically, hands flying to her cheeks.

“Really? I get to sing on the stage? With the real mic?”

“Really,” Felix promises. “We’ll practice a little bit today so you feel ready. And if you get scared, you can just wave and come right back to Mommy. No pressure, okay? Only if it makes you happy.”

She throws her arms around his neck and squeezes tight. “It makes me super happy! I wanna do Chk Chk Boom with Daddy!”

Felix hugs her back, eyes closing for a second like he’s memorizing the moment. When he opens them again, he looks straight at you over her shoulder, his gaze full of so much love and gratitude it takes your breath away.

You smile back, throat tight. This is what he fought for. This is what you both fought for.

Noeul pulls back suddenly, already bouncing again. “Can we practice now? I need to learn the words good!”

Felix stands up, lifting her with him like she weighs nothing. “Right now. Let’s go find some music. We’ll make it the best Chk Chk Boom ever.”

As he carries her toward the speaker in the corner of the suite, Noeul looks back at you, cheeks pink with excitement.

“Mommy! Come watch! I’m gonna be on stage like Daddy!”

You laugh, standing to follow them. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, bug.”

The practice session turns into something magical right in the middle of the hotel suite.

Felix connects his phone to the speaker and plays “Chk Chk Boom” at a gentle volume so it doesn’t disturb the neighbors. Noeul immediately starts bouncing as she tries to copy the choreography. Her version is adorably chaotic, half the moves are wrong, her timing is off, and she sings most of the words as enthusiastic gibberish, because the Korean she knows is very little, but Felix treats it like the most important rehearsal of his career.

He gets down on her level, demonstrating the motions slowly. “Like this, princess, chk chk… boom!”

Noeul copies him, tongue poking out in concentration. “Chk chk… boom!”

“Perfect!” Felix cheers, giving her a high-five. “Again!”

They run through the chorus three more times. Each round gets a little better. Felix patiently corrects her footwork, lets her stand on his feet for the jumps, and sings the parts with her so she feels like she’s really performing. Noeul’s giggles fill the room every time she nails a move, and Felix’s laugh is bright and endless.

You sit quietly on the couch, phone in your lap, secretly recording the whole thing. You angle the camera so it catches both of them, Felix’s patient smile, the way he looks at her like she’s the only person in the world, Noeul’s sparkling eyes and determined little face. The video is shaky because your hands are trembling with emotion, but you don’t care. This is the kind of memory you’ll watch years from now when you need to remember exactly why all the hard parts were worth it.

As you film, a quiet thought settles deep in your chest: This is what Felix wanted his whole life. Not just the stages or the lights or the screaming fans, but this. Being able to share his world with his daughter. Watching her light up because she gets to stand next to him. Being someone’s dad in the most joyful, ordinary, extraordinary way possible and you get to give it to him.

Your eyes sting with happy tears. You’re so grateful you said yes to the tour, so grateful you’re here watching this instead of waiting on the other side of the world. This moment, messy, imperfect, full of giggles and off-key singing, is everything.

After the fourth run-through, Noeul flops dramatically onto the carpet, arms spread out like a starfish.

“I’m tired,” she announces. “And hungry.”

Felix laughs and scoops her up, settling her on his hip. “You worked really hard, princess. What do you want to eat?”

Noeul thinks very seriously, then lists her demands with complete confidence.

“Pretzels. And ice cream. And maybe a hot dog too.”

Felix raises his eyebrows, amused. “That’s a big list.”

He turns to you, eyes sparkling with that same playful warmth. “Hmm, what do you think, Mom? Should we get room service or go check out the food trucks outside?”

You know room service would be easier and cheaper. But you also know this is Noeul’s first real time experiencing LA, and these little adventures are part of what makes the tour feel like family instead of just work.

You smile. “Let’s do the food trucks. She should see a bit of the city while we’re here.”

Felix’s grin widens. “That’s my girl.”

He sets Noeul down gently. “Okay, we’re going on a little adventure. But we have to be sneaky, alright? Daddy and the uncles are famous, so we wear disguises.”

Noeul’s eyes light up again. “Like spies?”

“Exactly like spies,” Felix says.

He pulls out caps and masks for all three of you. He tucks Noeul’s hair under a tiny black beanie, adds a mask that’s still too big for her face, and tops it off with her Minnie ears “for good luck.” For himself, he goes with the usual low cap and mask combo. You throw on a hoodie and sunglasses. When you look in the mirror, the three of you look like a very suspicious but adorable little family.

“Ready?” Felix asks, holding out his hands.

Noeul grabs one, you grab the other.

“Ready!” she declares.

The three of you sneak out a side entrance of the hotel. The LA afternoon sun is warm, and the food truck area nearby is bustling but not overwhelming. Felix keeps Noeul between you, one hand always on her shoulder or holding hers, scanning the crowd protectively even while he’s smiling.

You end up at three different trucks, soft pretzels with extra salt, a massive soft-serve ice cream cone that Noeul insists on sharing with both of you, and finally a classic hot dog loaded with toppings. She sits on a bench between you, legs swinging, cheeks messy with mustard and ice cream, happily munching away while telling Felix every single detail of her Disneyland day again.

Felix listens like it’s the first time he’s hearing it, nodding seriously and asking questions. Every few minutes he glances at you, eyes full of quiet gratitude and love.

You lean your head on his shoulder for a moment, watching your daughter lick ice cream off her fingers and chatter with her mouth full.

The food truck adventure leaves Noeul sticky with ice cream and mustard, cheeks pink from the sun, and still buzzing with energy. Felix wipes her face with a napkin, laughing when she tries to lick the last bit of chocolate off her fingers.

“You’re a mess, princess,” he says fondly.

“I’m a happy mess,” she declares.

You’re about to suggest heading back to the hotel when Felix spots a sign down the block.

“Look,” he says, pointing. “Cat café. Want to go say hi to some kitties before we go back?”

Noeul’s eyes go wide. “Real kitties? Like Lee Know’s kitties?”

“Not exactly like his,” Felix says, taking her hand. “But soft ones who like to play. Come on.”

The cat café is quiet and cozy inside, with low couches, climbing trees, and cats of every color lounging in sunbeams or batting at dangling toys. Noeul freezes in the doorway for half a second, then lets out the happiest little squeal.

“Kitties!”

She drops to her knees near a fluffy gray one and holds out her hand carefully, just like Minho taught her. The cat sniffs her fingers, then headbutts her palm. Noeul giggles, pure joy lighting up her whole face.

“Mommy, look! He likes me!”

You sit on the couch nearby, watching as she moves from cat to cat, petting a sleepy orange tabby, dangling a feather toy for a black-and-white one that pounces like it’s on a mission. Felix sits beside you, arm around your shoulders, his thumb tracing slow circles on your arm.

“She’s in heaven,” he murmurs, voice warm.

You lean into him. “She really is.”

Noeul is mid-giggle, rolling a ball for a curious Siamese, when the door opens again. A familiar figure in a black hoodie and cap steps in, scanning the room before his eyes land on the three of you. Minho.

Noeul spots him instantly.

“Lee Know!”

She abandons the ball and runs straight across the café, launching herself at his legs. Minho catches her easily, lifting her up with a surprised but genuine laugh.

“There’s my favorite tiny menace,” he says, settling her on his hip like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You found the cats without me?”

“I found ALL the cats!” she announces proudly, wrapping her arms around his neck. “This one is soft like Soonie. And that one jumped really high!”

Minho glances over at you and Felix, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “You brought her to a cat café and didn’t invite me?”

Felix grins. “We didn’t know you’d be here. Stalking the cats again?”

“Always,” Minho says dryly. He turns his attention back to Noeul, voice softening. “Did you have fun at Disneyland yesterday?”

She nods so hard her Minnie ears wobble. “I was a princess! And I met Mickey! And tomorrow I’m gonna sing Chk Chk Boom on stage with Daddy!”

Minho’s eyes widen slightly, then crinkle with a real smile. “On stage, huh? That’s big. You gonna dance with us?”

“Yes!” She demonstrates immediately, “Chk chk boom!”

Minho pretends to get shot, clutching his chest dramatically. “Got me. You’re too powerful.”

Noeul giggles and hugs him tighter. “You can come watch me tomorrow?”

“I’ll be right there,” he promises. “Maybe I’ll even do the dance with you if you want.”

She gasps. “Really?”

“Really.”

You watch them from the couch, heart full. Minho, usually so reserved, is completely soft with her, letting her pet his hoodie like it’s another cat, answering every rapid-fire question about his own kitties, even letting her “introduce” him to the café cats one by one.

Felix leans closer to you, voice low and warm against your ear.

“Look at her. She’s so happy.”

You nod, squeezing his hand. “She really is. And so are you.”

He doesn’t deny it. His eyes stay on Noeul as she sits on the floor with Minho, a fluffy white cat curled in her lap while she tells Minho all about the fireworks and the hot dog she ate earlier.

After a while, Noeul starts yawning, the long day finally catching up. She leans her head on Minho’s shoulder, still petting the cat in her lap.

“Tired?” Minho asks gently.

“A little,” she admits. “But the kitties are nice.”

Felix stands and offers his hand. “Come on, princess. Let’s get you back for a nap before tomorrow’s big show. You need energy for Chk Chk Boom.”

Noeul nods sleepily but reaches for Minho first, giving him one more big hug.

“Bye, Lee Know. Thank you for the secret.”

Minho ruffles her hair. “Anytime, little one. Keep practicing.”

As the three of you head out, Noeul waves at the cats over Felix’s shoulder until the door closes behind you.

Back at the hotel, she falls asleep almost the second her head hits the pillow, still wearing one Minnie ear.

Felix pulls you close on the couch, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Tomorrow’s going to be special,” he says quietly.

You smile, thinking of the secret video on your phone and the way Noeul lit up every time she practiced with him.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “It really is.”

The hotel suite feels like a soft landing after the busy afternoon.

Noeul is still buzzing from the cat café, cheeks flushed and hair a little wild under her Minnie ears. You sit her on the edge of the big bed and help her out of her sparkly day clothes, swapping them for her favorite comfy lounging set, the Stray Kids hoodie Felix bought her in Sydney and soft pink shorts.

“Arms up, bug,” you say gently.

She lifts them obediently, then flops backward onto the pillows once she’s changed. “Mommy, the kitties were so soft. One licked my finger!”

You smile, brushing her curls back. “I saw. You were so gentle with them.”

She yawns big, snuggling into the hoodie. “Can we go again tomorrow after the show?”

“Maybe,” you say, pulling a light blanket over her legs. “But first you have to rest. Big day tomorrow, remember? You’re singing with Daddy.”

Her eyes light up again. “Chk chk boom!”

You laugh and kiss her forehead. “That’s right. But right now it’s quiet time.”

Down the hall, Felix slips into Chan’s room with a determined look on his face.

Chan is sprawled on the couch, scrolling through setlist notes on his iPad. He glances up when Felix closes the door.

“Hey, man. What’s up?”

Felix doesn’t sit. He paces once, then stops. “I’m bringing Noeul on stage tomorrow for Chk Chk Boom. Just for the chorus. She’s been practicing all afternoon and she’s so excited. I think it’ll be perfect.”

Chan’s expression shifts. He sets the iPad down slowly. “Uhh… the company probably won’t green-light that.”

Felix stops pacing. “What do you mean? She’s my kid.”

“I know,” Chan says carefully, sitting up straighter. “And you’re an idol. Probably the one of us people bias the most.”

Felix’s jaw tightens. “So you’re telling me I can’t bring my daughter on stage because the company wants to cater to fans who think they have a chance with me??”

Chan exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not saying it’s right. It’s just… the way it is, unfortunately. You know how careful they are about image stuff. A five-year-old on stage with you sends a pretty loud message.”

Felix stares at him, anger rising hot and fast in his chest. “A loud message that I have a family. That I’m a dad. That’s the message I want to send.”

“I get it, Lix. I do.” Chan’s voice stays calm, but there’s real sympathy in it. “But you also know how the company thinks. One surprise like that and the headlines write themselves.”

Felix runs a hand through his hair. “I’m gonna ask the manager.”

Chan nods once. “Okay. Just… be careful how you say it.”

Felix already has his phone out, dialing before he even leaves Chan’s room. The manager picks up on the second ring.

“Felix, what’s going on?”

“I’m bringing my daughter on stage tomorrow during Chk Chk Boom,” Felix says, voice tight. “She’s five, she’s excited, and she’s been practicing. It’s happening.”

There’s a pause on the other end. “We can’t allow that.”

Felix’s grip on the phone tightens. “Do you want to break the news to a five-year-old little girl then? That she can’t go on stage with her dad?”

“Felix, I understand your frustration, but you know there are boundaries..”

“Boundaries?” Felix’s voice rises, heat flashing through him. “She’s my daughter for fuck’s sake!”

The line goes quiet for a second. Felix forces a slow breath, closing his eyes, trying to pull himself back.

When he speaks again his voice is lower, but the anger is still simmering right under the surface. “I’m not asking for a whole segment. Just thirty seconds. She points, she says the words with me, the fans see that I have a life outside the stage. That’s it.”

The manager sighs. “We’ll discuss it. But I can’t promise anything. You know the risks.”

Felix ends the call without another word. He stands in the hallway for a long moment, jaw clenched, phone still gripped tight in his hand.

He’s pissed, really pissed, but he forces the sharpest edge of it down. Noeul doesn’t need to see that. You don’t need to see that right now.

Still, when he walks back into your suite a minute later, the tension is clear in his shoulders.

You look up from where Noeul is half-asleep against your side. “Everything okay?”

Felix forces a small smile and comes over, sitting on the edge of the bed. He reaches out and gently strokes Noeul’s hair.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, even though it isn’t. “We’ll figure it out.”

Noeul mumbles sleepily, “Chk chk boom tomorrow…”

Felix leans down and kisses her forehead. “That’s right, princess. Chk chk boom tomorrow.”

But inside, the frustration still burns.

He’s not letting this go not when his little girl is already dreaming about standing on stage with her daddy, not when he’s finally close enough to give her that moment.

Noeul is curled in the middle of the big bed between you and Felix, already in her soft pink pajamas, one small hand clutching the edge of Felix’s hoodie and the other resting on your arm. She’d insisted on “family sandwich” after her bath, and neither of you had the heart to say no. Her breathing has finally evened out into the slow, deep rhythm of sleep, cheeks still faintly glittery from yesterday, Minnie ears abandoned on the nightstand.

You wait until her little body goes completely limp and her mouth parts in that soft, trusting way only sleeping kids manage. Then you turn your head toward Felix, keeping your voice barely above a whisper.

“Where did you go earlier?” you ask quietly. “When you left the room. I didn’t even know you’d stepped out until you came back looking… off.”

Felix sighs, long and heavy, the kind of sound that carries the weight of everything he’s been holding in. He shifts carefully so he doesn’t wake Noeul, then turns onto his side to face you, one arm draped protectively over your daughter’s back.

“I went to talk to Chan,” he says, voice low. “Then I called the manager.” He swallows. “They don’t want Noeul on stage tomorrow.”

The words land quietly, but they still feel like a punch.

You reach across Noeul and rest your hand on his chest, feeling the steady but tense beat of his heart. “Hey… it’s okay. We can figure out how to break it to her in words she understands. We’ll tell her the stage is really loud and bright and maybe next time when she’s a little bigger..”

“But Ivy, I don’t want that.” His voice cracks on your name, raw and frustrated even though he keeps it soft for Noeul’s sake. His eyes shine in the low light. “I don’t want to break that to her. I want her on stage with me. I want her to stand right next to me, point at the crowd, and yell ‘chk chk boom’ while twenty thousand people cheer for her. I want her to feel that moment with her dad. Not some watered-down version later. Now.”

You squeeze his hand, thumb brushing over his knuckles. “I know you do. I saw how happy she was practicing today. But if the company..”

“Screw the company,” he whispers fiercely, then immediately glances down at Noeul to make sure she’s still asleep. His jaw clenches. “She’s my daughter. Not a PR risk. Not something I have to hide. I already missed five years. I’m not missing this because they’re scared of a few headlines.”

His voice wavers at the end, anger mixing with something deeper, the ache of a father who finally has his little girl close and still keeps hitting the same invisible wall.

You slide your fingers up to cup his cheek, feeling the tension there. “We’ll find another way. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon. She knows you love her. That part doesn’t need a stage.”

Felix closes his eyes and leans into your touch, letting out another shaky breath.

“I know,” he murmurs. “But I wanted this for her so bad.”

Noeul stirs between you, making a tiny sleepy sound and burrowing closer to Felix’s chest. He automatically adjusts his arm around her, holding her a little tighter, like he can protect her from the disappointment that’s coming.

You keep your hand on his face, thumb stroking gently.

“We’ll get through it,” you whisper. “Together. Like always.”

Felix nods, but his eyes stay heavy, the frustration still simmering just beneath the surface.

The next morning the hotel lobby breakfast feels like a little adventure all on its own.

Noeul wakes up early, already humming under her breath, and the second her feet hit the floor she starts singing at full volume. “Chk chk boom! Boom boom chk chk boom!” She bounces in place while you help her into a fresh outfit, the Minnie ears from yesterday still perched crooked on her head.

Felix watches her from the bed, a tired but genuine smile tugging at his mouth even though you can see the shadows under his eyes from last night’s phone call. He doesn’t mention the stage situation. Not yet. He just scoops her up, kisses her cheek, and says, “Let’s go get you the biggest breakfast in LA, princess.”

In the lobby, the buffet is bright and busy with soft morning light pouring through the windows. Noeul’s eyes go huge at the waffle station, the fruit tower, and the little cereal boxes shaped like animals. She keeps singing the whole time, “Boom boom chk chk boom!”, while she points at everything she wants. Felix carries her plate for her, adding extra strawberries because “princesses need extra berries.”

You find an empty table near the window and settle in. A minute later Minho appears with his own tray, sliding into the seat across from Noeul like he was waiting for you.

“Morning, tiny superstar,” he says, voice soft the way it always is with her.

Noeul lights up. “Lee Know! I’m singing today!”

Minho nods, stealing a strawberry off her plate. “I may have a really important job for you today, Noeul.”

She freezes mid-bite, waffle syrup on her chin. “But I’m supposed to go on stage with Daddy.”

“Hm, I know,” Minho says calmly, like he’s talking about the weather. “But last night I found a kitty outside the hotel. She was all alone and scared. I brought her inside in a little carrier.”

Noeul’s eyes go wide. “You did?? A real kitty??”

“I did,” he says, nodding seriously. “She’s really pretty, white with gray spots. I was going to take her to the cat café later, but right now she’s scared in the carrier. I want to make sure she feels safe before I move her again.”

Noeul leans forward, completely forgetting her waffle. “What her name?”

Minho smiles small. “Miso.”

Noeul giggles, the sound bright and delighted. “Miso! I like that name. Like the soup!”

“Exactly like the soup,” Minho agrees. “So what do you think? Can you help her not be scared? You’re really good with kitties. You could sit with her, talk to her, maybe pet her through the bars. She needs a brave friend like you.”

Noeul’s whole face lights up again, even brighter than when she talked about the stage. She nods so hard her Minnie ears wobble. “I can help! I’ll tell her it’s okay. I’ll sing to her. Kitties like singing, right?”

“They love singing,” Minho says solemnly. “Especially Chk Chk Boom.”

Noeul turns to you and Felix, bouncing in her seat. “Mommy, Daddy, can I help Miso? Please please please?”

Felix glances at you, then at Minho. There’s a flicker of something grateful in his eyes, like he understands exactly what his friend is doing. He reaches over and gently wipes the syrup off Noeul’s chin.

“Of course you can, princess,” he says, voice warm. “Miso needs the best helper in the whole world. And that’s you.”

Noeul cheers, the stage momentarily forgotten in the excitement of a scared kitty who needs her. She goes back to her waffle, still humming “chk chk boom,” but now it’s softer, like she’s already practicing for Miso.

You catch Felix’s hand under the table and squeeze once.He squeezes back, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

Minho meets your eyes across the table and gives the tiniest nod, the kind that says I’ve got her.

Noeul is happy, belly full, already planning how she’ll comfort Miso.

Felix is still hurting, but he’s smiling for her.

And you’re right there between them, holding onto the quiet hope that somehow, some way, today will still turn out to be the kind of day their daughter will remember forever..

The breakfast table slowly empties as the other members finish eating and head off to morning vocal warm-ups or last-minute meetings. Noeul is still happily munching the last few strawberries on her plate, humming her off-key version of “Chk Chk Boom” between bites.

You catch Felix’s eye and tilt your head toward Minho. Felix nods once, understanding.

“Hey, princess,” Felix says gently, wiping a bit of syrup from Noeul’s cheek. “Mommy and I need to talk to Uncle Lee Know for a minute. Can you sit right here and finish your strawberries like a big girl?”

Noeul nods, already reaching for another berry. “Okay. But don’t take too long. I have to help Miso.”

The three of you step a few feet away, close enough to keep an eye on her but far enough for a quiet conversation.

Minho leans against the table, arms crossed, waiting.

Felix speaks first, voice low. “About the cat… thank you. Seriously. She’s been so excited about going on stage, and I know you’re trying to give her something else to focus on.”

Minho shrugs, but his eyes are soft. “She’s five. She doesn’t need to feel the weight of all that company bullshit. A scared kitty is a good distraction.”

You glance back at Noeul, who is now carefully feeding a tiny piece of strawberry to an imaginary cat on her plate. Your chest feels tight.

“We talked last night,” you say quietly. “The company said no to her going on stage. Felix is… not happy about it. But we don’t want to risk him getting in trouble right before the show.”

Minho nods once, understanding immediately. “So what’s the plan?”

Felix exhales. “We stick to your cat story. Noeul stays backstage with the kitty during the performance. You guys do the show, and we keep her happy and occupied so she doesn’t feel like she’s missing out on something big.”

You add, “I’ll stay with her the whole time. She won’t be alone. We’ll make it feel special, like she has an important job taking care of Miso while you all perform.”

Minho looks between the two of you, then at Noeul. “Smart. She already loves the idea. I’ll keep the carrier in the green room area. You two can set up a little corner for her. Blankets, some of her toys, whatever she needs. I’ll check on you between sets if I can.”

Felix reaches out and claps Minho on the shoulder. “Thank you. For real. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

Minho gives a small, rare smile. “She’s family now. We look after our own.”

You feel a rush of gratitude so strong it almost brings tears to your eyes. “We really appreciate it.”

Minho waves it off lightly, but his voice is sincere. “Just keep her smiling. That’s all I ask.”

The three of you walk back to the table. Noeul looks up expectantly, strawberry juice on her chin.

“All done talking?” she asks.

“All done,” Felix says, scooping her up onto his hip. “Uncle Lee Know told us about the scared kitty. Mommy is going to stay backstage with you and help take care of Miso while Daddy and the uncles do the show. That way Miso won’t be lonely and scared. Sound good?”

Noeul’s face brightens instantly. “I get to be Miso’s helper? Like a real job?”

“Like a very important job,” you say, brushing her hair back. “The most important job in the whole arena.”

She nods seriously, then leans her head on Felix’s shoulder. “Okay. I’ll be super gentle. And I’ll sing to her so she feels brave.”

Felix presses a kiss to her temple, his eyes meeting yours over her head. There’s still frustration there, but also relief, the decision is made, and Noeul is happy.

“That’s my brave girl,” he murmurs.

Minho stands and ruffles Noeul’s hair lightly. “I’ll bring Miso to the green room before soundcheck. You can meet her then.”

Noeul waves at him as he walks away. “Bye, Lee Know! Tell Miso I’m coming!”

The three of you head back toward the elevators, Noeul chattering happily about all the ways she’s going to comfort the new kitty.

Felix’s hand finds yours and squeezes once, tight.

You squeeze back.It’s not the plan any of you wanted but it’s the one that keeps your daughter smiling, keeps Felix from getting into serious trouble with the company, and keeps the day from turning into disappointment.

The morning after breakfast, the suite is still buzzing with leftover excitement. Noeul is on the floor playing with her new Pluto plush, humming her endless loop of “Chk Chk Boom” while you and Felix finish getting ready for the day.

You catch Felix’s eye across the room. The frustration from last night is still there, simmering under his skin, but so is the heat, the same heat that’s been building between you since the plane. You tilt your head toward the door and mouth, “Alone time?”

He nods once, quick and hungry.

You step into the hallway where Minho is waiting with the cat carrier, already on his way to the green room.

“Hey,” you say quietly, keeping your voice low so Noeul doesn’t hear. “Any chance you could watch her for like… thirty minutes? We just need a little time before practice starts.”

Minho glances between you and Felix, one eyebrow raised. “Thirty minutes, huh?” He smirks. “I’ve got her. The cat’s already in the green room. I’ll keep her busy with Miso. Just… don’t break him before the show.”

Felix claps him on the shoulder, grateful. “You’re the best. Seriously.”

Minho waves you off. “Go. I’ve got the tiny menace.”

You and Felix don’t waste a second. The moment the door to your suite clicks shut behind you, he’s on you, hands gripping your waist, mouth crashing into yours as he walks you backward toward the bed. There’s no slow build this time. It’s desperate, weeks of tension and missed moments and the ache of almost-lost stage time pouring out all at once.

Clothes come off fast and messy. Felix yanks your shirt over your head, you shove his sweatpants down his hips. He spins you around and bends you over the edge of the bed, one hand pressing between your shoulder blades while the other slides between your legs.

“Fuck, you’re already soaked,” he groans, fingers circling your clit before pushing two deep inside you. You moan into the mattress, pushing back against his hand.

He doesn’t tease. He lines himself up and thrusts in hard, bottoming out in one stroke. You both groan at the same time, the stretch, the heat, the perfect way he fills you.

He sets a punishing rhythm right away, hips snapping against your ass, one hand fisted in your hair, the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks. Every thrust is deep and rough, the sound of skin on skin loud in the quiet room.

“God, yes..harder,” you gasp, and he gives it to you, pounding into you so deep your toes barely touch the floor. His breathing is ragged, low growls escaping every time you clench around him.

“Missed this,” he pants. “Missed fucking you like you’re mine.”

You are. You push back to meet every thrust, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter.

Felix’s pace turns frantic. You can feel him getting close, his cock throbbing inside you, hips stuttering, and you’re right there with him, right on the edge, about to tip over.

Then he suddenly jerks, a sharp hiss of pain cutting through his moan. His hip locks up mid-thrust.

“Fuck..shit..”

He stops dead, buried deep but completely still, breathing hard through clenched teeth.

You freeze. “Lix?”

He pulls out slowly, wincing, and collapses onto the bed beside you, one hand pressed to his left hip. His cock is still hard and flushed, glistening, but the moment is gone.

“I pulled something,” he grits out, voice tight with frustration and pain. “Right before..fuck.”

Neither of you came.

The ache between your legs is still throbbing, unsatisfied. Felix looks wrecked, flushed, sweaty, cock leaking against his stomach, but now he’s also pissed, jaw clenched, eyes dark with everything he’s been holding back.

He sits up slowly, testing the hip, and winces again. “We don’t have time. Soundcheck is in twenty.”

You reach for him, but he’s already standing, limping slightly as he grabs his clothes. The frustration rolls off him in waves, the company, the stage, now this.

He dresses quickly, jaw tight the whole time. When he takes a step toward the door, the limp is obvious.

You follow him out, heart twisting.

In the hallway, Han is already heading toward the elevators with the rest of the members. He spots Felix’s uneven gait immediately.

“What did you do?” Han asks, eyes narrowing. “You have to be on stage in a few hours, man.”

Felix doesn’t even try to lie. He just keeps walking, limping, voice flat.

“Pulled my hip.”

Han looks between the two of you, then at the closed door of your suite, and sighs like he already knows.

“Jesus, Felix.”

Felix doesn’t answer. He just keeps moving toward the practice room, pain and anger etched into every line of his body.

The practice room is bright and loud with music when you arrive with Noeul.

You’re holding her hand as you stand off to the side near the mirrors, out of the way of the staff and cameras. Noeul is still in her comfy hoodie and Minnie ears, clutching Bbokari to her chest, eyes wide as she watches the members run through formations.

Felix is trying his best to hide it, but it’s obvious he’s hurting.

Every sharp movement makes his left hip seize up. He’s favoring that side, his usual fluid dance steps a little stiff, a little delayed. During the chorus of “Chk Chk Boom,” when he drops low into the choreography, you see him wince hard before forcing a smile back onto his face for the next count.

Chan notices immediately. The leader’s expression darkens with each run-through. Between songs he pulls Felix aside, voice low but clearly frustrated.

“You’re limping. What the hell happened?”

Felix mutters something short, rubbing his hip. Chan shakes his head, not happy, and gestures for the choreographer to adjust a few moves so Felix doesn’t have to drop as low.

Noeul tugs on your hand, brow furrowed.

“Did Daddy get hurt?” she asks, voice small but worried.

You crouch down so you’re at her eye level and brush her curls back gently.

“He was exercising really hard this morning and hurt his hip a little,” you tell her softly. “It’s not super bad, but it’s ouchie right now. He’s still going to dance and sing tonight, okay? He’s just being careful.”

Noeul nods slowly, watching Felix as he tries the move again and grimaces. “Poor Daddy.”

“Yeah, poor Daddy,” you agree, kissing the top of her head. “But he’s really strong. And he knows you’re watching, so he’s going to do his best.”

She clutches Bbokari tighter. “Can I give him a hug after?”

“Of course you can. A big one.”

Across the room, Chan claps his hands to reset the formation. “Again from the top. Felix, take it easy on that hip. We need you at 100% tonight.”

Felix nods tightly, jaw clenched. You can see the frustration rolling off him, the pain, the earlier argument with the company, the interrupted moment this morning, all of it piling up. He catches your eye for a second across the room and gives you a small, tired smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Noeul waves at him with both hands when he looks over. “You’re doing good, Daddy!”

Felix’s smile softens just a fraction. He waves back, then forces himself through the next run, even though every sharp turn clearly hurts.

You keep Noeul close, letting her sit on your lap on one of the folding chairs. She alternates between cheering quietly for Felix and asking questions about the other members (“Why is Lee Know so fast?” “Is Hyunjin flying when he jumps?”).

Every time Felix limps or winces, your chest tightens. You know how much he wanted today to be perfect for her. How badly he wanted her on stage with him.

Instead, he’s pushing through pain, trying to pretend everything is fine for the sake of the show.

When they finally take a short water break, Felix limps over to you both, sweat dripping down his temples. He crouches carefully in front of Noeul, ignoring the obvious discomfort in his hip.

“Hey, princess,” he says, voice warm despite everything. “Are you having fun watching?”

She nods and throws her arms around his neck, careful not to squeeze too hard. “You’re the best dancer. But your hip is ouchie?”

Felix winces but hugs her back gently. “Yeah, a little ouchie. But I’ll be okay for the show tonight. Promise.”

You rest a hand on his shoulder, thumb brushing the back of his neck. “You sure you don’t need to sit this practice out?”

He shakes his head, stubborn. “Can’t. We have to run it clean before soundcheck.”

Chan calls from across the room, voice firm. “Felix, five minutes. Then we’re doing the full set.”

Felix sighs and stands slowly, trying not to show how much it hurts. He leans down and kisses Noeul’s forehead, then yours.

“Love you both,” he murmurs. “I’ll see you after.”

You watch him limp back into formation, heart aching for him.

Noeul leans against your side, still clutching her plush.

“Daddy is strong,” she says quietly, like she’s trying to convince herself.

You kiss the top of her head and hold her a little tighter.

“He is, baby. He really is.”

But as the music starts again and Felix forces himself through another painful run, you can’t help but wonder how much more he’s willing to push before something really breaks.

Felix is trying, he really is, but the limp is impossible to hide now. Every time he shifts weight onto his left side, his hip seizes. He grimaces through a quick formation reset, then limps over to grab his water bottle.

Han notices first.

He lowers his bottle mid-sip, eyes narrowing at Felix’s uneven gait. A slow grin spreads across his face.

“Wait… did you pull it with Ivy??” Han blurts out, loud enough for the whole room to hear. “Oh my god, that’s hilarious.”

Felix freezes, turning to glare at him so hard it could cut glass.

Han doesn’t stop. He’s already laughing. “I mean, come on, you were fine yesterday! Now you’re walking like you got absolutely railed. Respect, man.”

Hyunjin, who’s been stretching on the floor nearby, sits up with a dramatic gasp and piles right on.

“Damn, Lix,” he says, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You went too hard, huh? That’s what happens when you finally get some alone time after weeks on the road.”

The teasing lands exactly where it hurts.

Felix is already in pain, already pissed about the company, already frustrated from this morning’s interrupted moment. His face flushes dark with anger and embarrassment.

“Fuck off,” he snaps, voice low and sharp. “Both of you. Seriously.”

The room goes quiet for a beat.

Changbin steps in fast, moving between them with his hands up. “Hey, hey, chill. We’re all tired. No need to start shit right before the show.”

Seungmin nods, tone calm but firm as he claps Felix on the back. “Yeah, save the energy for the stage. Han, knock it off. Hyunjin, same.”

Jeongin, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, just watches the whole exchange with an amused little smirk, like he’s enjoying the chaos without getting involved.

Felix doesn’t say anything else. He just turns away, jaw clenched, and limps back toward his mark, trying to shake it off. The pain is obvious in every step.

Noeul tugs on your sleeve, voice small. “Why is Daddy mad at Uncle Han and Uncle Hyunjin?”

You hug her a little closer, keeping your voice light. “They were just teasing him about his ouchie hip. Sometimes grown-ups get grumpy when they’re hurting. He’ll be okay.”

She nods slowly, but her eyes stay on Felix the whole time, worried.

Across the room, Chan sighs and calls everyone back into formation. “Again from the top. Felix, take it easy on that side. We need you tonight.”

Felix doesn’t answer. He just nods tightly and forces himself through the next run, even though every sharp movement clearly hurts.

You keep Noeul on your lap, one arm wrapped around her, and watch the man you love push through pain and frustration for the sake of the show, and for the little girl who still thinks today is going to be the best day ever.

The arena is electric.

From backstage, you can feel the roar of the crowd vibrating through the floor, twenty thousand fans screaming Stray Kids’ names as the lights drop and the intro VCR begins. Noeul is perched on your hip, arms wrapped tightly around your neck, her Minnie ears slightly crooked and Bbokari tucked under one arm. In the carrier beside you sits Miso, the little white-and-gray cat Minho rescued, curled up but still wide-eyed and nervous.

Noeul’s eyes are huge as she stares at the monitors showing the stage.

“Daddy’s out there,” she whispers, awed. “With all the lights.”

You kiss her temple. “He is. And he’s thinking about you the whole time.”

The performance starts strong. The opening song hits hard, the members moving in perfect sync under the blinding lights. Even from back here you can see Felix pushing through, his movements a little tighter on the left side, but he’s smiling for the cameras, giving everything he has. Every time the camera catches his face, Noeul waves at the screen like he can see her.

“Hi Daddy!” she calls softly. “We’re here!”

Miso meows quietly in the carrier. Noeul immediately turns her attention to the cat, crouching down beside it.

“It’s okay, Miso,” she says in her gentlest voice, poking a finger through the bars to let the cat sniff her. “The loud noises are just the fans cheering. They’re happy. You’re safe with me and Mommy.”

You smile, heart full despite everything. She’s taking her “important job” very seriously, talking to the cat in a soft, steady tone, occasionally humming little bits of songs to soothe her.

On the monitors, the setlist rolls on. During a slower song, Felix glances toward the side stage like he’s searching for you both. You lift Noeul’s hand and wave. She waves back enthusiastically.

When “Chk Chk Boom” starts, Noeul gasps and stands up straighter, bouncing on her toes.

“That’s my song!” she says, doing her move. “Chk chk boom!”

You hold her close, both of you watching the performance. Felix hits every mark, even with the obvious hip pain. The crowd loses it when he does his part, screaming loud enough to shake the walls. Noeul claps along, completely enchanted, even though she’s not the one on stage with him.

She turns to you suddenly, eyes shining but a little sad.

“I wanted to do it with him,” she says quietly.

You hug her tighter. “I know, baby. Daddy wanted that too. But sometimes grown-up rules get in the way. So tonight you get to be the best helper for Miso instead. That’s a really special job.”

Noeul nods slowly, then crouches down again to talk to the carrier. “Did you hear that, Miso? I’m your helper tonight. Daddy is being brave on stage even though his hip hurts. We have to be brave too.”

Miso meows again, softer this time, and Noeul beams like she just won a prize.

The show continues. You stay backstage the whole time, rocking Noeul when she gets tired, letting her feed Miso a few treats Minho left, and watching every moment of the performance on the monitors. Felix keeps looking toward your side of the stage whenever he can, like he’s drawing strength from knowing you’re both there.

During the final encore, when the confetti falls and the members line up for their bows, Noeul claps as hard as her little hands can manage.

“Daddy did so good!” she says proudly.

You kiss the top of her head. “He really did.”

When the show ends and the members start filing backstage, sweaty and buzzing with adrenaline, Felix limps straight toward you both. His face lights up the second he sees Noeul.

“There’s my girl,” he says, voice hoarse from singing. He crouches carefully, wincing at the hip, and opens his arms.

Noeul runs into them, careful not to squeeze too hard. “You were sparkly! And you did the boom part so good!”

Felix hugs her tight, eyes closing for a second like he’s recharging. “Thank you, princess. I was thinking about you the whole time.”

He looks up at you next, tired but full of love. You lean down and kiss him softly, tasting salt and stage lights.

“You did amazing,” you whisper against his lips. “Even with the ouchie hip.”

He smiles, small and grateful. “Couldn’t have done it without knowing you two were right here.”

Minho appears a moment later, still catching his breath, and crouches beside the carrier.

“How’s Miso doing?” he asks Noeul.

“She was a little scared at first,” Noeul reports seriously. “But I sang to her and told her the loud noises were happy noises. She’s better now.”

Minho’s expression softens. “You’re the best helper. Thank you.”

Noeul beams, proud of her important job.

The adrenaline of the show slowly fades into quiet exhaustion. Felix is clearly hurting more now that the performance is over, but he refuses to let it show too much in front of Noeul. Instead, he keeps her close, listening as she tells him every single thing she saw on the monitors.

You watch them, your daughter safe and happy in her daddy’s arms, the scared little cat calmer because of her, the man you love still pushing through pain because he wants to be everything for his family.

You’re building something real together one imperfect, beautiful moment at a time.

Rainy Friday night, everyone bored after practice, Changbin yelled “strip poker” and the whole room lost it. You were already there, honorary ninth member, best friend to half the group, longtime crush on the quiet Aussie with the deep voice and sunshine smile. When they asked if you were in, you shrugged, cheeks warm.

“Only if you losers can handle it.”

They cheered. Felix’s eyes met yours across the circle, golden under the lamp light, and he gave you that shy little smirk that always made your stomach flip.

Rules were simple: loser of each hand removes one item. No backing out. Laughs and teasing mandatory.

It started innocent enough. Hyunjin lost his socks first, dramatically flinging them at Jeongin. Chan lost his hoodie, revealing the tight black tank underneath that made half the room whistle. You lost your earrings, then your thin cardigan. Minho kept winning with a smug little grin, still fully dressed except for one sock.

Felix was dangerously good at bluffing. Every time he looked at his cards, that deep voice would murmur “call” or “raise” and you’d feel it in your spine. His gaze kept drifting to you, curious, warm, a little daring.

Then the luck turned.

You lost your jeans on a bad full house. The room erupted in cheers and wolf-whistles as you stood, shimmying them off with as much dignity as you could manage in your panties and oversized t-shirt. Felix’s ears went pink, but he didn’t look away.

“Looking good,” he said softly, just loud enough for you to hear.

Your next hand was worse. The t-shirt came off. Now you were down to your bra and panties, skin prickling under eight pairs of eyes that were suddenly a lot more respectful than you expected. The teasing stayed light, Chan telling everyone to behave, Seungmin dramatically covering his eyes, but the air had shifted. Warmer. Thicker.

Felix lost his hoodie next. Then his shirt.

God, he was beautiful. Lean muscle, freckles scattered across his shoulders like stars, that deep voice laughing when Jisung catcalled him. But his eyes kept finding yours, darker now, pupils blown.

Another bad hand for you.

The bra came off.

The room went quieter than it had all night. No one joked this time. You crossed your arms over your chest instinctively, heat flooding your face, but Felix leaned forward, voice gentle.

“You still okay?” he asked, serious under the flush on his cheeks. “We can stop.”

You shook your head, stubborn. “I’m not quitting.”

The next round you lost your panties.

Now you were completely naked in the middle of the Stray Kids dorm living room, heart hammering, skin hot despite the cool air. The boys were suddenly very interested in their cards or the floor or anywhere but staring too obviously. Chan cleared his throat. “Alright, maybe we call it..”

But Felix stood up.

His own shirt was already gone, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He didn’t say anything to the others. Just walked over, grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch, and draped it around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Come with me,” he murmured, voice low and rough in that deep Australian accent that always melted you.

You let him lead you down the hallway to his room, the blanket clutched tight, bare feet silent on the floor. Behind you, the living room exploded into hushed whispers and laughter, but no one followed. The door clicked shut.

Felix turned the lock, then faced you. The blanket slipped a little as he stepped closer, his hands hovering.

“You’re beautiful,” he said simply, eyes tracing your face like he was afraid you’d disappear. “Been thinking about this for months. Not like this, exactly… but you. Naked. Here. With me.”

Your breath caught. “Felix…”

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, always so polite even when his voice had gone gravelly.

You nodded.

He cupped your face with both hands, gentle at first, then deeper as you melted into him. The kiss started sweet and turned hungry fast. His tongue slid against yours, tasting like the strawberry soju he’d been drinking, and he made this soft, needy sound when you tugged at his bottom lip.

The blanket dropped to the floor.

Felix walked you backward until your knees hit the bed. He laid you down like you were something precious, then stripped off his own sweatpants and boxers without breaking eye contact. His body was all lean lines and freckles, cock already hard and curving up against his stomach. He crawled over you, knees bracketing your hips.

“Still okay?” he whispered, nose brushing yours.

“More than okay.”

His hands started exploring, slow, reverent. Palms sliding up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts, then lower, over your hips, between your thighs. When his fingers found you already wet, he groaned deep in his chest.

“Fuck, you’re soaked for me,” he breathed, accent thicker. Two fingers circled your clit before sliding inside, curling just right. You arched, moaning, and he swallowed the sound with another kiss.

You grabbed at him in return, hands roaming over his back, nails digging into his shoulders, then down to wrap around his cock. He was hot and heavy in your palm, twitching when you stroked him. Felix hissed, hips jerking.

“Careful, love… or this is gonna be over too fast.”

He kissed down your neck, sucking marks into your skin, then lower, mouth closing over one nipple, tongue flicking while his fingers kept working you open. You tugged his hair and he moaned loud against your breast, the vibration shooting straight to your core.

“Felix..please..”

He pulled back, eyes dark, lips swollen. “Condom?”

You nodded frantically. He reached into the nightstand, rolled it on with shaky hands, then settled between your thighs.

“Look at me,” he said softly.

You did.

He pushed in slow, inch by inch, stretching you perfectly, that deep voice murmuring praise the whole time. “So tight… so good for me… taking me so well, baby…”

When he bottomed out, forehead pressed to yours, you both stayed still for a moment, breathing hard. Then he started moving, deep, rolling thrusts that had you clutching his back and moaning his name.

The pace built quickly. Skin slapping, the wet sounds of him moving inside you, his groans mixing with your whimpers. Felix buried his face in your neck, one hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise, the other braced beside your head.

“You feel so fucking good,” he panted. “Been dreaming about this… you naked in my bed… saying my name like that..”

You dragged your nails down his back and he shuddered, hips snapping harder. One hand slipped between you to rub your clit and that was it, you came with a cry, clenching around him. Felix followed right after, groaning your name like it was a prayer, hips stuttering as he spilled into the condom.

After, he didn’t pull out right away. Just collapsed half on top of you, both of you sweaty and trembling. He kissed your temple, your cheek, your lips, soft, lazy kisses while his hand stroked your side.

“Stay tonight?” he whispered, voice hoarse and hopeful. “Not just for this. For… all of it.”

You smiled, threading your fingers through his damp hair. “Yeah. I’m staying.”

He hummed happily, the deep sound vibrating through his chest, and pulled the covers over both of you.

“Best game night ever,” he mumbled sleepily.

You laughed quietly and kissed the top of his head.

“Rematch tomorrow?”

He grinned against your skin. “Only if we play for clothes again… and I get to keep you naked afterward.”

You weren't ashamed that you were a virgin — I mean you definitely weren't a prude, you just never wanted to.

You also didn't want to rush it. When you were a teenager you just wanted to focus on your studies, now you're in college and you feel far behind.

Luckily, you happen to be around friends who don't care or pressure you into things. It was you who wanted it to happen.

A small part of you felt embarrassed, logically you know its normal and society or whatever —

But fuck did you just wanna get laid.

You're an adult you know your body — you know that you're tired of waiting.

Because you're curious, and scared but mostly curious.

You're hot, you know realistically you could find someone to sleep with, but you also don't want it to be with some stranger.

Your best friend Jisung knew all of this, he knew all about your feelings, your doubts, your desires.

Now Jisung has no filter — usually you can just ignore things he blurts out.

This you cant.

"I'm just tired of feeling behind — and just inexperienced." You groan, flopping down on the couch next to him.

The two of you relaxing, a casual Friday movie night, no deadlines just horror movies Jisung claims he can handle and endless snacks.

"It's not bad to not have sex, maybe the world thinks you need to be celibate." He teases you, only resulting in you hitting him with a pillow.

Taking a deep breath, letting it deflate into a groan. "It's not that I don't want to have sex, its just that I have no idea how to even start — do I just go up to a guy and say hey fuck me!" you say dramatically, rolling your eyes.

"Maybe you can ask Felix for advice." His words coming out, naturally, absentmindedly scrolling through the Netflix watch list.

You furrow your brows in confusion at the sudden mention of Felix. One of Jisung's friends who is kinda your friend, you get along great but not enough to share your sexual problems, or lack there of.

Hes hot, objectively so. Every time he shows up at a hang out you cant help but be drawn to him still, you're way too shy to ever talk to him properly.

He is also the sweetest ever, even to those he doesn't know. You remember when your car broke down and when You called Jisung in a panic he was there with him. Immediately ordering you an uber so you got home safely.

"Why on earth would I go to Felix?" Your words laced with confusion and curiosity, knowing there has to be some corelation in Jisung's mind.

"Well hes got experience with that stuff yknow, his account —" Just as Jisung slips he realises, no you don't know, why on earth would you.

"Jisung."

"Nothing, forget I said anything!" His voice panicked, clearly knowing he shouldn't have said anything.

"God just tell me — what is he a sex worker or something?" You say half as a joke, only to notice Jisung's face redden a little.

"No way."

"No — not a sex worker! Hes a camboy that's it." He hurriedly corrects you, his hands waving around in his defence.

The truth only makes you shrug, who cares — I mean you're definitely shocked the sweet boy you know with the voice that shocks everyone is a fucking camboy but who cares, it doesn't matter.

But it does.

Because as soon as you left Jisung's left that night you were left alone with your thoughts.

Dangerous really.

Curiosity consumes you, the seemingly innocent Felix, leads a fucking double life.

You're not judging — no not at all.

You're interested.

When you definitely shouldn't be.

He's someone you know, you shouldn't be picturing him naked In front of a camera.

So you push it to the back of your mind.

You go on with life; work, studying, hanging out with friends, — keeping a not suspicious amount of distance from him.

Putting the whole camboy thing out of your mind.

Until last week.

Your friend Yuna, ever so supportive of you. Also knowing your situation offered to set you up on a date with a guy she thinks would adore you.

The date itself was fine, he paid for dinner, he was gentlemanly enough.

Until it got to the end, when he walked you to your door and expected an invitation in, when you didn't he just mumbled an are you serious, and walked off about being rude and a tease.

Obviously that left you mad — because why are all guys dicks!

Well not all guys.

Your mind drifts back to Felix — what Jisung said.

before you can even process you're on your laptop.

Now you're not proud of what you did, searching for his account with little information you managed to get from Jisung, proving slightly difficult considering he definitely wasn't using his real name.

Then you found it.

It was pretty easy to find considering he was popular.

By popular I mean popular.

You can tell it's him instantly — noticing the familiar moles on his arms, the preview voice echos through your apartment, the familiar deep, gravelly voice making your ears ring.

Quickly you shove your laptop on the end of your bed.

This is wrong, to even be on his page.

Then you see it.

kittiebbokie live

It was basically a jumpscare.

Because why now.

This was basically like eve being tempted to eat the apple or whatever.

You cant resist, just one look —

God you regret that.

The live starts with a panned out view, his face not visible, everything else is, the tent visible in his pants, his abs on display, teasing the camera, palming himself over his pants.

This is a wet dream — possibly the hottest thing you've ever seen.

You can't look away, you physically can't pull yourself from him.

You can tell hes putting on a show, making his voice slightly deeper, and his fans love it.

Watching as the comments fill, chat filling with donations of up to $200.

By the time the live wrapped up you had came.

Hard, harder than ever before.

Then it hit you.

The guilt.

You had to see him tomorrow at Jisung's house, you had to make conversation with him when you now know what his dick looks like — when you came to his voice.

You cant stop, even if you wanted to.

It became routine, every Friday you'd join stream, and then face him at the next hang out somehow.

You felt disgusting, perverted but you couldn't stop.

You knew for your own self you had to do something, even if you ended up getting rejected you had to try.

Because you knew him, you trusted him and god — did you need him.

He's perfect, hes sweet, kind and even if he rejected you he'd be nice about it.

And if he didn't then — you'll be in for a great time.

Its the usual, drinks at Jisung's and Minho's apartment, filled with all of your friends, friends of friends.

you've been off since you got there not sad just jittery. Nobody has really noticed, to focused in their own world.

One person did though.

Personally you believe to be unassuming, just relaxing over by the hallway, people watching. Barely focused on your surroundings.

"You okay?" His voice snapping you out of your daze, quickly standing up straight, turning to face him, a small amused smile on his lips, cradling a drink in his hand.

You don't trust yourself enough to speak yet, giving a curt smile while you nod. Half expecting him to walk off, but he doesn't.

Maybe he can sense your nerves, a part of you worried he is somehow reading your mind or something and can hear the battle in your head.

"Can I ask you something?" Your voice coming out slightly broken, feeling slightly embarrassed but hes kind enough to not say anything.

"Shoot."

Trying your best in your slightly inhibited state to form the right words — you cant just go right out and say what you want, I stalked your camboy page and want you to fuck me. No, not like that.

"I was — browsing, a site and I came across something." Your words cautious, trying to hint what you mean. It takes him a moment to figure it out, his smile shifting even wider, his cheeks growing slightly pink.

"What were you doing on a camboy sight, angel?" His words teasing, lighthearted even.

Quickly you stiffen, letting out a small embarrassed sound, your heart racing at the pet name — hes definitely never called you that before.

"Shut up."

He lets out a low hum, his eyes taking you in, only making you feel even more exposed.

"So — when you stumbled across it, did you watch any?" His voice lowering — your mind going back to his streams — the exact same tone he uses in it.

You cant hide your reaction — not even trying to, you just stand there avoiding his gaze.

After a small moment that feels like eternity, he finally speaks again. His body moving closer to yours, you can feel his breath ghost your ear as he whispers.

"If you want something angel, you just have to ask nicely."

A small whine escapes you without your permission, suddenly your whole body feels weak — a throbbing feeling forming between your legs.

Again, not you don't particularly trust your voice, your chest pounding in your chest, painfully aware of his eyes burning holes into you.

"I want you to fuck me." Your voice a broken whisper, you're not even sure you said it out loud, or even loud enough for him to hear you.

But oh, he did.

"See? Was that so hard sweetheart?" His words nearly making you tumble, your heart feels like its going to come out of your chest.

Without saying anything else he snakes his arm around your waist, guiding you over to Jisung — who was fully out of it, clearly having fun.

"She's not feeling well, im gonna call an uber for her." He says calmly, a sweet unassuming smile on his face.

If Jisung was even a bit more coherent he would have spotted it, your aura basically radiating nervousness, Felix's hand placed dangerously low on your back.

Quickly, he guides you outside, you don't even notice when he pulls out his phone to call the uber, or how long has passed, fully focused on the feeling of him on you.

When the uber arrives he opens the door for you, helping you in. The driver starts small talk — Felix obviously engages, ever the kind guy he is.

While hes asking about the guys day, his hand settles high on your thigh, squeezing the plush flesh without a second thought.

The drive felt like 5 minutes instead of 20 — the only time you wished it was longer, you don't know what to feel — before you know it you're stepping out of the car, giving the driver a small nod before driving off.

The walk through the complex was quiet, Felix's hand never leaves you. Whether its on your hip, his fingers laced with yours or his hand guiding you through the hallways.

When you step through the door to his apartment you take it in, its a nice place, very Felix. He leads you to the bedroom, entering the room you suddenly feel a strange sense of recognition, memories from his stream entering your mind.

"You changed your room around." You say absentmindedly, almost forgetting that you haven't ever been here before.

He only hums, catching onto what you mean, pulling you into the room, closing the door behind you.

When you hear the door close it all got very real, you were actually doing this — with Felix.

Felix pulls you in front of him, his mood shifting into something softer, noticing your slightly out of it state.

"How much did you drink?" He says cautiously, his fingers tracing your arm, trying to calm your nerves.

"Not much, two shots — to get rid of nerves, m'okay, promise." Your voice timid, your whole body feeling warm.

"I make you nervous?" He says cheekily, only making you smile, the tension easing slightly as you let out a small laugh.

His fingers move up, tracing along the curve of your jaw, almost trying to memorise how your skin feels under him.

"So sweet for me, yeah?" His voice sending a shiver down your spine, instinctively leaning into his touch, your fingers grasping into the fabric of his shirt.

Felix wastes no time pressing his lips onto yours, its slow, careful, testing the waters.

When you quickly kiss back, your hands moving up to hold onto his blonde locks, he deepens it, his hands cradling your face, keeping you in place, his lips soft against you — faintly tasting the sweet drink he was drinking earlier.

Felix breaks the kiss when — only to breathe, you whine, trying to chase his lips, only making him stifle a laugh, his thumb stroking your skin smiling at you.

"What do you wanna do? It's at your pace, sweetheart." His words making your heart flutter, the nickname growing familiar but still making you weak, his carefulness and thoughtfulness only making you want this — him more.

You nod, your brain clouded, not from the alcohol — from him.

"Words, angel."

"I want you to —" Your words quiet dragging out, breathless. Finally saying it, a part of you is still in disbelief this is happening, that he actually is here, wanting you. Your eyes meet his, waiting for you to finish your sentence.

"Teach me.." Your eyes wide, looking at him swallowing the lump in your throat, everything out in the open, waiting for him to make the next move.

He waits a moment, your words sinking in, taking a sharp unsteady breathe before leaning forward, his lips catching yours again, kissing you hard, trying to show you how much he wants you.

Moaning into the kiss, his tongue swiping over your bottom lips — swallowing your sweet sounds, walking you back to the bed, sitting you down on the bed, before pulling you into his lap.

His hands running over your back, holding onto the back of your neck, holding you in place to look at him.

"Can I take this off?" His voice sweet like honey, soothing your nerves, trying to make it comfortable for you.

You nod, not trusting your voice not to break. Felix's pull your shirt over your head, revealing a lacy blue bra.

His favourite colour.

He lets out a deep groan, taking a breathe, his eyes locking on the pretty lace, noticing your nipples pebbling under the thin, flimsy fabric.

"You planned for this — fuck, angel." His voice broken, holding back, his thumb skimming over your perked bud through the lace.

A pathetic, surprised gasp escapes your lips, your head leaning forward to rest on his shoulder.

Your reaction only fuels him, his free hand reaching back around to unclasp your bra with ease.

Feeling the fabric loosen, falling off of you, suddenly feeling exposed.

"Tell me its too much and we'll stop." His voice steady, prioritising your comfort over everything.

"Its all too much — in a good way.. Don't stop, please." The words fall out before you can stop them, desperate and real.

You can feel him let out a breath of relief at your words, his hand cupping your tit, his thumb brushing over the sensitive nipple, drawing a soft moan from you.

"So gorgeous, all for me too — arent I lucky." He hums, not even talking to you directly, his lips pressing soft kisses on your neck, you lean your head back to give him more space, feeling him smile against your warm skin.

His arm wraps around you, guiding you to sit back against the headboard, his fingers tracing over the hem of your pants, looking up at you asking for permission.

giving a small nod and smile in response, he wastes o time pulling both of your panties and shorts off you, throwing the to the end of the bed.

The cold air rushes over you, suddenly feeling very exposed, Felix being fully clothed compared to you.

Felix senses this, pulling away from you, standing up next to the bed, pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his familiar frame that the camera does not do any justice to show how fucking pretty he is.

Shoving his jeans down, stepping out of them, left only in his boxers, noticing the sizable tent present making your mouth water.

He moves onto the bed, resting against the headboard, pulling you into his lap, you can feel his bulge press against your bare core, sure that your wetness is soaking the fabric.

"Do you know what you want, angel?" You think for a moment, a thought popping into your head, only for you to take a deep shaky breath. He quickly notices, his interest growing.

"Wanna feel your mouth… On me.." Your words are quiet, radiating nervousness which he quickly silences with a wide grin.

"Good girl, you know exactly what you want? Want my mouth on you?" His voice is deep and sultry, his eyes scanning over you, his thumb tracing the skin on your waist.

A strangled sound escapes your lips, before you can process hes kissing you briefly, pulling back only to lay flat against the pillows, still straddling his waist.

"Felix?" Your voice timid, slightly confused, not sure what hes planning.

"Sit on my face." He says so fucking casually, like this is a normal occurrence.

"Are you? — Lix, im not sitting on your face! Ill crush you or something —" Your voice raising, your rambling shortly cut off with him squeezing your ass.

"You wont suffocate me, or crush me — even if you did that's a perfect way to go out." He teases, enjoying the small sound that escaped.

Giving you a moment, you let out a shaky breath, moving up hovering far over his face, feeling exposed with your bare cunt over his face.

"Fuck — look at her, shes dripping f'me, angel." His words coming out husky, dripping with need. His arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you straight down to his face.

"Fuck — Felix!." You squeal in surprise, your words dying in your throat when you feel him lick a long stripe up your pussy, lapping up all your juices.

Quickly your knees completely give up, settling fully on his face, only making him moan against your cunt, his nose nudging your clit with purpose, his tongue licking all over your cunt. Your hand reaching for the headboard, steadying yourself, the sudden unfamiliar waves of pleasure rushing through you.

The room echos with the mixed sounds of your soft moans, the sound of Felix licking all over your cunt, and the occasion groan he lets out.

Unintentionally you buck your hips against his face — quickly mumbling an apology that dies on your tongue when you feel Felix's tongue press against your entrance, you cant even understand what hes saying — his words muffled by your pussy.

His tongue pushes into you — giving you a moment to adjust to the new sensation before fucking his tongue into your cunt.

You've touched yourself before but you've never felt anything like this — its so much better, you don't know if you can go back.

You stop fighting it — letting yourself basically hump his face, your brain foggy — so focused on the new pleasure your feeling.

Felix's tongue leaves your hole — before you can whine, his lips wrap around your aching clit. A loud desperate moan leaving your throat followed by small whimpers and pleas — not entirely sure what you're begging for.

You can feel your orgasm forming in your gut, the tight sensation fuelling you, grinding against his face, only fuelled by his groans against your pussy, his lips sucking on your sensitive bud.

You feel your orgasm crash over you — instinctively trying to pull away from him. His fingers digging into your hips, keeping you right on his face, licking and fucking you through your orgasm, drinking up all your cum.

Riding out your high, you wince pulling on his hair slightly to pull him off your swollen pussy, moving off his face, laying down next to him, panting.

You make the mistake of looking at him — because hes already looking at you, the bottom half of his face covered in your cum, his eyes dark with lust and somehow still smiling like a kid in a candy store.

"Jesus." You mumble, your voice sore from your moaning — slightly concerned for his neighbours but that thought ends there when he pulls you back into his lap.

"You okay, how are you feeling?" Felix's voice pulls you from your post orgasm haze, meeting his eyes, offering a small tired smile.

"M'okay, promise." The words coming out hoarse, your eyes wander over him, his skin flushed pink, noticing all the freckles over his body.

Without thinking you press your lips against his, Felix letting out a small surprised sound at your forwardness, morphing into a smile, his lips soft against yours, letting you lead for a moment before pulling back.

"Want you to teach me how to make you feel good." Your words direct — a stark contrast to your strained voice.

He freezes for a moment, a strangled groan leaving his lips closing his eyes before taking a sharp breath. "Angel, you don't have to do that —"

"I want to, so —" Your voice trails off, your hands moving down his body as you slide down, sitting between his legs, your hands perched on his thighs, swallowing the lump in your throat before you meet his eyes.

"Teach me.."

Muttering a curse under his breath he nods vigorously, you cant make out what hes mumbling but you don't really care.

Moving backwards you let him lead, his fingers hooking into his boxers, pulling them down and then off.

The sight of him in front of you makes you drool — you've seen him before, in the comforts of your room on a screen but oh my god, its so much prettier in person and you didn't even think a dick could be pretty before you saw his.

All the forwardness leaves your body — you've watched porn, read stuff but all of it left your brain.

"Its okay, I got you." His soothing voice giving you some comfort, his hand reaching for one of yours, guiding it to his cock.

"Just wrap your hand around it, not too tight — yeah just like that, good girl." A small groan leaves his lips when your hand wrap hesitantly around the base of his cock, tightening slightly as he tells you to, your hand stroking him carefully, your thumb brushing over his tip pulling a low groan from him.

"Fuck — you sure you haven't done this before, angel?" a strained laugh, morphs into a groan, growing slightly more confident in your movements.

Recalling back to one of his streams — you start mimicking what he was doing. Your hand tightening slightly, thumb tracing over that sensitive vein.

Before he can process, you dip your head down, giving a small kiss to the tip, his hand instinctively goes to your hair, tugging on the strands.

"Fuck — angel, what are you doing, shit.—" He moans surprised, this only makes you smile internally, giving the tip a small exploratory lick while looking up at him.

The sight of you looking up at him with your lips around his cock is too much for him — his head leans back against the headboard, his fingers tightening in your hair.

Sinking your mouth on his cock, your tongue presses against the back of his cock, moaning at the fullness, the feeling of the weight of him in your mouth.

Bobbing your head slightly, not testing your reflexes yet, your fingers digging into his thighs.

Felix's fingers tug on your hair, pulling you off his cock, a small moan leaving his lips when he notices the string of spit connecting you to his cock.

"Did I do something?" Your voice innocent — slightly worried, immediately he tries catching his breath, pulling you back into his lap.

"I was about to cum embarrassingly fast, sweetheart." He says bashfully, a small sound escapes you, feeling proud of yourself for having that effect on him.

He presses a kiss to your lips before switching positions — your back hitting the mattress, your lips part as you look up at him, settling between your legs — it all finally hitting you.He presses a kiss to your lips before switching positions — your back hitting the mattress, your lips part as you look up at him, settling between your legs — it all finally hitting you.

Almost sensing it he rubs small circles on your thigh. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to, angel." His words coming out as a whisper, trying to comfort you. Quickly you shake your head — you want to do this, god you need him.

"I want to, im just worried." The confession lingers in the air, Felix thinking for a moment, letting your words set in before you continue. "What if im not good enough or something." Your heart close to bursting, your insecurities out in the open, Felix's expression softens leaning over pressing a kiss to your forehead, pushing some hair behind your hear, his hand lingering on your cheek.

"Do you think id be here if I didn't want this — you? The fact that you trust me enough with this — im honoured, and not good enough? I've been obsessed with you since I met you at Minho's birthday."

His words push all the air from your lungs — him, obsessed with you.

"And then you started avoiding me — so I asked Jisung and he let everything slip, then tonight you make up a little lie about how you stumbled across me?" His voice teetering on teasing but his words still holding weight.

You cant help but make a small sound — he knew you were lying, he knew you watched his streams and he didn't care — if anything it made him more obsessed with you.

Almost sensing it he rubs small circles on your thigh. "We dont have to do anything you dont want to, angel." His words coming out as a whisper, trying to comfort you. Quickly you shake your head — you want to do this, god you need him.

"I want to, im just worried." The confession lingers in the air, Felix thinking for a moment, letting your words set in before you continue. "What if im not good enough or something." Your heart close to bursting, your insecurities out in the open, Felix's expression softens leaning over pressing a kiss to your forehead, pushing some hair behind your hear, his hand lingering on your cheek.

"Do you think id be here if I didn't want this — you? The fact that you trust me enough with this — im honoured, and not good enough? I've been obsessed with you since I met you at Minho's birthday."

His words push all the air from your lungs — him, obsessed with you.

"And then you started avoiding me — so I asked Jisung and he let everything slip, then tonight you make up a little lie about how you stumbled across me?" His voice teetering on teasing but his words still holding weight.

You cant help but make a small sound — he knew you were lying, he knew you watched his streams and he didn't care — if anything it made him more obsessed with you.

Pulling him down to your level, your lips press on his — the kiss is hot — pouring everything into it, moaning as he grabs your thighs, wrapping them around his hips.

When he pulls away you can't help but pout slightly, which he presses a final kiss to your lips. He grabs his cock, giving himself a few strokes before lining up with your cunt, looking at you one final time for confirmation.

"Felix if you dont fuck me im leaving." You say lightheartedly, making him crack a small smile.

"I dont wanna hurt you, that's all." His voice breaks slightly — using all his power to hold back from fucking you until you're sure.

"I'm a virgin, not glass."

He cant help let out a strained laugh, his eyes focusing on your swollen cunt, his tip glistening from your previous release.

Slowly, he sinks in.

Not all at once — just the tip at first, waiting for your response — whether you wanna keep going or not.

The feeling is foreign, not like your fingers or his tongue — the initial stress is painful but not unbearable.

Sucking in a sharp breath, your fingers dig into his shoulders. Felix rubs soothing circles on your thigh.

"It's okay, ive got you — take your time." His voice is hoarse — the feeling of you around him driving him crazy.

Soon the pain blurs to pleasure — slowly adjusting to him inside you — and you need more.

You give Felix a small nod, with a shaky moan. Slowly he pushes in, not too fast, giving you time to adjust to more of him until hes fully inside you.

Adjusting to the feeling of his cock in you — no matter how many times you've imagined this you cant explain it — there's still a hint of discomfort from the stretch but it bleeds into pleasure — craving movement.

"Felix —" His name comes out breathlessly — your mind only able to muster that up — the overwhelming feeling of him buried inside you the only thing you can think about.

"I know angel, its okay I got you — good girl." He coos lowly, pressing a kiss on the inner of your wrist.

Slowly he starts moving — his cock buried inside you.

His pace quickens as your moans grow louder — the sound of your joint moans echoing with the wet sound of your bodies meeting.

His cock slamming into you, his hips crashing into yours — his fingers snaking down to your clit, rubbing your clit, matching the rhythm with his thrusts.

"Squeezing me so tight — fuck you were made for me, princess." He groans, his voice sending ripples through you, the deep octaves making you clench around him.

His hands move from your thighs to your knees, pushing your legs to your chest, putting you in a mean mating press.

The sudden change only makes him go deeper — every thrust has him grazing that sweet spot your fingers can never reach.

"Oh my god — Felix.." You let out a string of high pitched moans, babbling incoherent pleas at him.

You can feel your second orgasm brewing — your legs shaking against your chest. His thrusts growing sloppy — your moans only fuelling him.

"Fuck — sounding so pretty around my cock.. Maybe I have you join me on camera one day — let everyone see how cock drunk you are, angel.." His words hit you hard — moaning pathetically from the praise.

"Cum on my cock — gonna make sure to ruin you for everyone else — shit, just like that, pretty." He groans your pussy clenching around him — he's so close, but he needs to feel you cum around him first.

Your orgasm ripples through you — harder than your first one, you become a whimpering, incoherent mess around him — begging for him to not stop.

Felix cums right after — the feeling of you squeezing him, creaming around his cock breaks him, cumming muttering under his breath.

His thrust slow, fucking you through your orgasms, allowing you to relax a bit before pulling out, making you wince.

He quickly presses a soft kiss to your temple as an apology, getting off the bed quickly, pulling up his boxers and going out of the room — emerging back with a bottle of water, a protein bar and a wet cloth.

Settling back between your thighs he cleans you up gently, making sure not to overstimulate you.

The silence is comfortable — letting you clear your mind, process what happened. He throws the cloth into the washing basket near the bed, sitting beside you helping you sit up.

"Drink, dont want you losing your voice." He says sweetly, as if he didn't fuck the daylights out of you moments before.

Giving him a small smile, taking a few sips before putting it on the bedside table. His hand rests on your legs, his thumb tracing small shapes onto it.

"You okay? I wasn't too rough was I —" You quickly cut off Felix's ramble with a kiss, silencing any doubts instantly.

Pulling back a moment later, both of you smiling.

"It was perfect, Lix." You whisper, loud enough for him to hear it but not enough to break the small bubble you're in.

"I meant it though — that I like you, well I didn't say those exact words but yeah." He says shyly, his freckles darkened from the redness on his cheeks.

"Do you typically fuck people before a confession?" You tease gently, no actual bite to it, he only laughs in response, grabbing your hand.

"I dont do this with anyone, was waiting for you."

It takes you a moment to process his words — hitting deep in your chest.

"Also — when Jisung told me that he told you I did streams — I was hoping you'd be curious enough to watch." He smiles wide at the quick shift in your mood to embarrassment.

"Shut up."

He doesn't reply — just leaning you back against the bed, pressing a kiss to your lips before running his fingers over your cheek.

"If you joined me on stream I think my viewership would double — especially if you moan like that."

"Felix."

general taglist: @nanilis @hoonsocks @sweethoons @beomiracles @izzyy-stuff @yvampyr @kookiesnkim @owlieuwu @seungminsslut @hyukascampfire @yawngnab @hoonicon @rianzysworld @soobabbee @nainai112 @drkbl00d @lottiesls @xhoinicx

You slammed the door closed as you entered the house, frustrated with everything that had been said and done. The worst part was that Felix didn't even understand what was wrong, following you around with confusion written on his face. His frustrations were rising with every second as he slowly opened the door and silently closed it, "Just tell me what I did wrong."

"WHY do I always have to tell you what YOU did wrong. Aren't you capable of finding it out on your own?"

He groaned in frustration, "How can I find it out on my own if you can't even EXPLAIN what I did wrong?"

You let your bag fall on the table before going upstairs to the shared bedroom, leaving him standing alone in the living room. His hand came up to his hair, stroking and gripping it with annoyance as he again decided to follow you up. He ran up the stairs, opening the door with a big push.

You heard him enter as you were already putting some of your clothes off, which had planted an idea in his mind. His breath was now directly at your ear as he leaned his chin on your shoulder, "Hmmm, I think I know what you need...." your stomach being stroked slowly and tenderly.

"Is that your plan?"

"Hmmm...." he whispered in your ear, "I think it's worth trying, don't you?"

You turned around to face him, your arms crossed over your chest, "Since I am still pissed off with you, there will be some rules...."

He furrowed his eyebrows, "What rules?"

"First of all...." you unclipped your bra, "No breast touching,"

He groaned, "Fine.... no.... breast touching."

"No neck touching,"

"What? Are you trying to kill me or something? Are you also going to say I can't kiss you, too?"

"Hmmmm, that's a very good one, no kissing either, don't you even dare touch my lips."

He didn't want to do this anymore; all these stupid rules made it impossible to enjoy this, but since you looked at him in such a cocky way, he started to unbutton his blouse, "Alright, if you want to play like that. Guess there needs to be some rules for you too...."

You already sat on the bed, "Like what?"

"Well, no neck touching for you either, or....pec touching. This area here," his hand moved to his chest, "That's a no-no for you, miss."

"Let's just get this over with."

Felix moved to the bed, kneeling on it while stripping down. There was a tense silence; no one was really speaking. Your eyes already fell on his chest. Look, you loved touching his pecs, squeezing them, making him feel overstimulated to get him higher. Now it was like a trophy you cannot even touch. Well, you weren't the only one who was regretting this all; his eyes slipped to the soft skin of your neck, wanting to plant so many kisses there.

He didn't know what to do if he couldn't start with at least a soft kiss, or a rough kiss; it just felt so dry as he pushed you on your back. His two fingers hooked on your panties as he dragged them down. "Why do you make things always so difficult?" he muttered under his breath. You felt his fingers go through your folds, which were, weirdly enough, wet. A little whimper escaped your vulnerable lips, already begging to be touched. He wanted to catch those noises, but you turned away from him, angling your face to the side, not even wanting to look at him.

He already slipped two fingers inside of you, thrusting them slowly as he still wanted to see your face turn flustered, "Cmon Y/N...." he whispered right by your ear, "Just let me do my thing."

A little "No" fell from your lips, frustrating him even more as his fingers started to pump faster without a clue. His jaw was clenched as his chest was breathing heavily. His pecs were starting to be even more beautiful as you weren't permitted to touch them. Your hands ghosted over them, trying to grip something, following up to his neck but then falling down on the blankets, gripping those instead.

Even if your touch ghosted around him, he still wanted to desperately break all the rules and go for it all. This time, he didn't want to break first, so he kept doing his job while seeing you wiggle under him, "I know you want it...." his lips ghosted by your neck, his breath hitting your soft skin in all the right places.

"No...." you panted. This was harder than he thought it would be. Your stubborn ass is still sticking to those stupid rules. Your legs started to tremble as with every "no" you said, his fingers would curl up. This entire evening was too different.

He slipped his fingers out of you, placing his hands on either side of your head with a groan, his eyes boring into yours before positioning himself between your legs.

"Is that all the foreplay I get tonight?"

"Yes, it is," his eyes narrowed, his hands gripping into the blanket, "That is all for you."

"Great," you scoffed, not even wanting to look at him. He slipped inside of you with such ease, firstly thrusting into you very slowly, at least your facial expressions soothed him, a strangled moan hitting his ears, "Hmmm," his heart beating faster as he couldn't stay angry at you.

Sweat appeared on his forehead as he started to thrust faster and faster, his hands curling up on either side of your head. Your eyes looked up at him, his lips so glossy and plump. Your hand came up to his face, wanting to stroke his cheek, but you let it fall down again. Your hands wanted to grip his body so badly, wanting to feel him. His eyes started to go from frustrated to desperate, trying to tell you something without using words.

You felt him lean closer to you, his lips ghosting over yours as he still thrusted into you, his pace slowing down a bit as he finally reached something he wanted, "I....cannot do it like this...." he panted, "Please...." his head hanging down, "Please....Y/N...."

His pleas were too much for you, your hand coming up to stroke his cheek, wanting to see his face, "Felix...." His big eyes looked at you, still so wanting, "Please...." and you know what to say; a man who yearns, earns. Your arms slowly moved around his neck, stroking his hair as you angled in his head towards him. He leaned down slowly, dipping his head down to finally taste your lips against his. It was first soft and slow, "Hmmmm Y/N...." his tongue gliding on your bottom lip, his hands gripping your face and pressing you tighter against the pillow.

He became bolder as he finally could touch you like he wanted to, his thrust becoming so fast that you couldn't even maintain eye contact with him, "No, no....keep looking at me." he stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, they were so warm. They could literally warm up the entire room if needed.

In a flash of instinct, you thrusted your hips harder against him, a gasp escaping his lips as his eyes widened. He looked down at the movement, looking at how you rocked, making him fall apart under your touch, "Fuck...." he buried his face in your neck, "Keep....going like that," he said breathlessly, his teeth starting to nibble on the sensitive flesh of your neck. You felt his tongue twirl around and sucking harder as your pace fastened.

His hands found your breasts, kneading and massaging them softly. His thumb brushes over your nipple before letting his mouth trail down from your neck to your chest. You felt his tongue twirl around it, sucking on one, and his other hand playing with the other one, "Fucking beautiful...."

Your head fell back on the pillow, this time he was one hundred percent in control. His hips slammed against yours, holding you tight under his grip as you only focused on the movements of his tongue, "Want to hear you more. Cmon baby...." he gripped one leg over his shoulder, "....tell me how much you hate me."

Your back arched, gasping at the sudden angling. He was hitting all the right spots, your lips trembling as you tried to make a phrase, but it only came out as a," Uh hm...I....hmmm, ha....." He chuckled as you lost all your words at the moment, his hips moving still with a coherent pace. In his position, he could see everything move; he could see every little expression change. You felt his lips press against yours again, this time roughly as his tongue entered. It wanted to explore everything, almost making you lose your breath as he couldn't stop, not wanting to break apart from you, "Wai-.....hmmm....brea-...."

Another chuckle escaped his lips, "Hmmm...." he broke the kiss, looking at how your chest moved rapidly up and down. Your legs trembled, and you began to sat up straighter as you couldn't handle his movements anymore, "Plea-....se...."

"Ah now you want it.....hmmm? Cmon....tell me....what do you want?"

You always wondered how he could still speak without stuttering in these situations, how he could stay so composed as he finally could taste his favorite spots. You furrowed your eyebrows, letting your body fall down again as you basically gave up talking, "No-no...." he gripped your chin, "Tell me....cmon baby...."

"I...." "Yes...." "Can't...." "Can't what....you are almost there...."

You groaned, "....Can't....need...." fuck ," ....come...."

"Hmmmm," he smiled, "good job...." and with that, he closed the night by going as fast as he could, slamming, thrusting into you as if it was the end of the world. Your back arched, gripping his arms tightly as you saw your eyes roll back, then release after all that tension. He rode you throughout, burying his face in the crook of your neck before letting out a loud gasp.

"Hmmm...." he stroked your hair back, "....how did those rules work out?"

"Fuck you," you panted, "Ah fuck me? If you say so baby."

Y/N’s hair was a mess across her pillow, frizzy strands catching in the soft glow of her lamp that was sitting on her bedside table. One arm was tucked loosely under her cheek, the other resting on his hand that he hasn’t moved. Her breathing was slow and steady, lightly fanning across his face, lips slightly parted and still swollen from earlier. She had fallen asleep about thirty minutes ago as Hyunjin held her in his arms, amidst the soft conversation and lingering touches that felt way too personal and intimate, even after being inside her pussy for most of the night. How she could sleep so peacefully with how loud it still was outside was beyond him, but Hyunjin wasn’t going to complain, especially when that meant he could admire her a little bit longer.

His phone buzzed again from the pocket of jeans that were still thrown messily on her floor, and he glanced at the sound. Hyunjin ignored it, just like he’s been doing since he made the impulsive decision to walk into her room. But now, without her body, her voice, her lips to distract him, the constant buzzing seemed to feel ten times louder. He didn’t even need to look at it to know who it was, to know what it was.

So he let it buzz out.

His gaze returned to her, softer this time, almost conflicted. This, all of this, was the kind of mistake he’d been warned about even before he debuted. There were to be no scandals, no risks, no blurred lines, and especially not this kind—especially not with someone like Y/N.

Hyunjin’s jaw tightened slightly. This was so wrong, so fucking wrong. But why did it feel so right?

His eyes flickered downwards, breath hitching just slightly as he caught sight of her bare breasts. The blanket they were under had fallen down her chest, exposing her upper-half to the cool air, her nipples hard and inviting. He swallowed thickly at the sight, shifting his body to grab ahold of the blanket to cover her back up. It didn’t feel right to look at her body without her knowing, even if he just watched her playing with them while he fucked her not even three hours ago.

He sighed, his eyes glancing back up, tracing the curve of her face. He reached out before he could stop himself, brushing a strand of her hair away from her cheek with the back of his fingers, lightly, carefully, like even that might be too much.

And it was too much. All of this—her body, her mind, her voice—was too much for him. Hyunjin had been mesmerized by her this entire night, shamefully so, and it scared him just how quick he was to go against his own morals just so he could have something he wanted for once in his entire life.

And god, he wanted her so bad. He wanted her since he saw her downstairs for the very first time. He wanted her since he spilled his drink on her at the top of the stairs. He wanted her even when she admitted she was a fan, and that he was her bias.

Sleeping around was something Hyunjin had never been able to do freely. Sleeping with a fan was something completely forbidden, under any and all circumstances. He should get up, he should walk away. It would be so easy to leave right now while she was asleep, to avoid all awkward confrontation, but he can’t.

How could he do that, when he finally got a taste of her? When he just spent the last hour learning her favorite color, her favorite food, what she likes to do in her free time? When her hair feels so soft under his fingertips and it feels so right? Nothing about this should have felt easy, or natural, or like he didn’t want to leave, but it had.

And he just can’t.

Y/N stirred, just barely. Hyunjin froze, his hand hovering, then he slowly pulled it back.

His phone buzzed again, longer this time. Hyunjin exhaled quietly through his nose, falling onto his back, dragging his hands over his face. For a second, he almost got up and grabbed it, almost let reality snap back into place. But instead, he let himself stay underneath the covers—he let himself stay exactly where he was.

She shifted again, her fingers twitching, her brows furrowing deeper. She let out the softest sigh, the sound sending shivers up his spine as she turned her head slightly on the pillow she was resting on.

“Mhm,” She let out softly, and he stilled, just watching, just waiting.

Her eyes fluttered open slowly, unfocused at first. It took her a second to place where she was, who she was with, and then her eyes landed on him. He didn’t dare look away.

“Oh,” She breathed out, “You’re still here.”

“Yes,” His reply was short, quiet.

She blinked once, face flushing slightly before she shifted onto her back, looking up at her ceiling for a second before focusing her gaze back on him. She wasn’t panicking and there was no sign of regret in her expression, much to Hyunjin’s relief—just a soft curiosity that had him wanting to reach out towards her again.

“You didn’t leave.”

He smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, “No, I didn’t. Why would I?”

Y/N’s gaze lingered on him, searching in a way that made him feel more exposed than any other camera ever had. His phone buzzed again, and this time, they both looked at it.

“You should check that,” She said quietly, flicking her head over towards the floor where his phone lay stuffed deep into his back pocket.

“I know.” Yet, he didn’t move.

Hyunjin shifted closer, turning back towards her, his fingers brushing along her arm without really thinking about it. She tensed at the contact, her hand tightening around the blanket just slightly, and he noticed immediately.

His thumb stilled where it rested against her skin, and he swallowed thickly, “Are you okay?”

She didn’t answer, pulling back just enough to look at him properly, whatever softness that had been there a moment ago now fading into something more alert. Her eyes flickered briefly to the door, to the floor where the constant vibrations seemed to consume the room, and then back to him.

Hyunjin shifted towards her again, confused, like he was drawn by the need to hold onto whatever this was before it slipped away completely. Y/N let out a breath, sitting up completely now, bringing the covers up with her to hide her body from him. He tried to ignore the slight pang in his chest noticing that.

“Your phone keeps going off.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He replied quickly, tone coming out a little sharper than he intended it to.

“It kind of does.”

Hyunjin sat upright, letting the covers drop down freely, barely covering his waist. He watched as she flickered her gaze down, the action sending a tingle up his entire body. She brought her gaze back up towards him before he could even do anything.

“I ran into Chan earlier,” Y/N admitted softly, fidgeting with the blanket in her hands, “He told me to tell you to check your phone. That’s probably him. You should answer that.”

“What?” He replied, eyebrows furrowing, “You spoke to Chan? When?”

“While I was downstairs getting us drinks,” She replied softly, a slightly guilty look on her face, “Kat introduced us. I didn’t… I didn’t tell them you were with me, I promise. I didn’t tell anybody. I won’t tell anybody. But he seemed to know you were up here.”

Hyunjin blinked. Of course Chan knew he was up here with her. He hated the fact that didn’t even seem to care about it.

“Are you… mad at me?”

Her voice was small, and she was avoiding his gaze. His eyes softened as he reached towards her again, letting out a sigh of relief once she didn’t pull away this time.

“No, I’m not. He was going to find out anyways.”

Y/N nodded, biting her bottom lip slightly. His eyes were drawn to the action, having the sudden urge to lean in and kiss her again, but she was pulling back again before he could.

“He’s probably looking for you.”

“Let him.” His reply was instant, slightly strained, his face moving towards her without even thinking, head tilting as he pressed his lips to hers.

She kissed him back with just as much intensity, her tongue immediately slipping into his mouth. He welcomed it, just as he’d welcome everything she ever gave him, hands coming up to rest on her hips, urging her to come closer. She moaned softly, wrapping a leg around his waist, tangling her hands into his hair. The sheets had fallen down to her waist, and Hyunjin leaned them both back down on the bed, pulling her body to lay flush against his skin.

His hand slipped in-between her thighs, fingers dancing across her pussy, and she bit down on his bottom lip with a small moan, causing a low groan to vibrate in his chest. “Hyunjin,” She pulled back to mumble out his name, the sound ringing like church bells in his ears. She was trying to pull away, trying to resist, but Hyunjin wasn’t going to let her.

“Hyunjin,” His name fell from her lips again, a little desperate than before, his lips trailing down her neck and sucking on that spot behind her ear that she seemed to love, “Hyunjin… we can’t do this again.”

“We can,” He strained out, dick rock hard against her. He doesn’t think he’s been fully soft the entire night, “We shouldn’t, but we can. Do you not want to?”

He was suddenly aware of the fact that she kept tensing up her legs, clamping her legs shut in attempts to block his hand from reaching her pussy. He pulled back, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed at how desperate he seemed, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

“No, I want to,” She whined out, like it had physically pained her to say it, “Fuck, you know I want to. I want to so bad… wanna cum on your cock again so bad.”

Hyunjin’s dick twitched, a low groan falling from his lips at her words, feeling his neck flush. “Then let me,” He pleaded, voice coming out in a high-pitched whine, rutting into her like he’s watching porn for the first time, “I’ll fuck you so good, I promise. You can cum all over me… use me to get yourself off. Please let me, please. Wanna feel your pussy wrapped around my cock.”

Hyunjin doesn’t think he’s ever begged for a woman to let him fuck her until now. But he would get on his knees for her if she asked him to.

“Fuck, Hyunjin,” Y/N whined out, eyes shutting for a brief second before she opened them again, leaning back in. He met her half-way, lips eagerly connecting with her own, and he moaned lowly once she spread her legs open for him again, reaching his hand down, immediately feeling how soaked she was for him.

He fucked her open with his fingers for a few seconds, swallowing every pretty little moan that fell from her pretty little lips. She was moaning his name, grinding her pussy on his hand, dripping all down his hand and making a mess in the bed, and Hyunjin felt like he was about to nut.

Y/N pulled away, Hyunjin chasing her lips with a whine of protest, lazily fucking into her with his fingers. A long string of spit fell down her mouth when she pulled away, and he traced it with his eyes before attempting to lean in again, when a weak shove against his hands stopped him.

His fingers slipped out of her with a sound so lewd it had him whining out. He glanced down at her, a little confused, eyes widening slightly once she spat into her hand, wrapping it around his cock.

He moaned instantly at the contact, her hand lazily pumping him up and down, leaning back in to kiss him hungrily. He groaned into her mouth, body shivering once she brushed his tip with her fingers, collecting the pre-cum leaking out before moving her hand back down.

“Hm,” She hummed into him, licking into his mouth, biting at his bottom lip. She tugged it with her teeth, leaning back, bringing it back with her before letting go of it with a soft pop, “Such a big cock, Hyunnie. It deserves to be worshipped, don’t you think?”

Hyunjin threw his head back at her words, at the nickname, eyes shutting tightly, a loud whine falling from his lips. God, she was so fucking hot. Hyunjin’s really about to nut.

She pumped him faster, digging her face into his neck. Her lips brushed against his neck, but she didn’t kiss him there. She breathed into his skin once before pulling back, using her free hand to grip at the back of his head, tugging him forward to face her.

“Open your eyes,” She panted out so sweetly, and Hyunjin said a quick prayer before listening to her, a choked moan escaping his mouth at how sexy she looked. He was fucked. “Good boy. Now, do you want to cum in my mouth or in my pussy?”

Oh, fuck.

“Y-your pussy,” He stuttered out, mind clouded with Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, “Want it bad. Wanna feel you on my cock again. Please let me… please, please..”

She let go of his dick and he whined out her name, choking out another moan once she turned around, backing her ass up on his dick.

“Fuck,” He mumbled out, his hands coming up to rest on her hips as she adjusted herself.

She threw her head back, resting it on his chest, gazing up at him with a look that would have made him crumble to floor if he was standing up. “Fuck me like this,” She purred out, reaching her hands up to grip at the back of his neck, pulling his face down towards hers, “Let me cum on your big cock one more time, Hyunnie.”

He cocked her leg up so quick, one hand holding it up and the other wrapped around his cock, not wasting anymore time before he fucked into her. She was so wet, making a fucking mess down his thighs, and so, fucking warm. She was so warm and so tight that he already felt his balls tightening up, his eyes screwing shut in complete bliss. She screamed out his name, gripping his hair even harder, and he growled into the side of her neck, biting down the skin there as he pounded into her.

His thrusts were fast, desperate, needy—chasing a high that both of them craved. She clawed at the back of his neck, arching into him as he fucked her dumb, a loud whine falling from her lips as he reached a hand down to start rubbing hard and fast circles against her clit.

It didn’t take long. It didn’t take long at all, but that’s what made it so fucking great.

“Fuck, Hyunjin, I’m gonna cum all over your cock… I’m g-gonna cum,” She moaned out, back arching as she came around him with a loud cry of his name.

“Holy fuck,” He groaned out, his eyes rolling deep in the back of his head before he pulled out abruptly, shooting his load all over her ass.

Hyunjin doesn’t think he’s ever came this hard in his life. No, scratch that, he knows he’s never came this hard in his life. It had felt good before—amazing, actually. But this time, when he could feel how wet and warm she was without a barrier between them, it had him feeling fucking insane.

He had never fucked anyone raw before. It was reckless—so, fucking reckless, but he couldn’t help himself. And what makes it worse was the fact that he didn’t even ask for her permission.

“I’m sorry,” He breathed out suddenly, feeling his throat go dry, “I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have done that.”

He felt her go tense for a second before she attempted to turn around to face him, his hands stopping her, “Wait. Let me clean you up first.”

He leaned over her, grabbing ahold of the wash cloth from earlier before softly wiping his cum off her ass. It was just now that he had noticed that his hands were shaking, his mind beginning to spiral.

He had come here so he could feel normal, so he could fit in with the college crowd and a have an experience he’d been deprived from. He was planning to maybe dance in a large crowd that didn’t know who he was, people watch while he stayed hidden in a random corner, mingle a little bit if he was feeling brave enough. The whole point was so he could leave Seoul, leave his dorm, and be in an area where he could just breathe. But this—fucking one of his fans not once, but twice, without any protection, was not something he was expecting. And he sure as hell wasn’t expecting to actually like her.

Hyunjin was reckless. And so, so selfish.

And it scared him just how easy it was for him to fall into that.

He put the wash cloth to the side, lying down flat on his back. He instantly got a whiff of her sweet perfume once his head hit the pillow behind him, and he allowed himself to immerse in it for another second, to feel something other than what this actually was. She turned around slowly, and he reached for her, guiding her to lay on his chest.

She curled into him with zero hesitation, relaxing into his arms. She was warm, so warm, and he felt strangely calm despite the constant emotions swirling up in his head. The nagging voice in the back of his mind kept creeping in, telling him to leave and end this before it becomes something neither one of them can afford to get involved in. He let out a pained sigh, shutting his eyes tightly, trying to block out the noise inside his head that seemed to easily be overpowering the party right out her bedroom door.

“I’m sorry,” He was saying again before he could stop himself, because that seemed to be the only thing he could say right now.

Y/N didn’t say anything, but he could feel her looking at him. He wanted so badly to open his eyes, to be able to look at her without feeling a shit-ton of guilt, but he feared that he would lose every ounce of self-restraint he has willed himself to have if he did.

“This shouldn’t have happened,” He forced the words out, the twinge of guilt tangling deeper in his chest, “This… this can’t… we can’t…”

He shook his head once, frustrated. He was frustrated that he couldn’t just spit the fucking words out. He was frustrated that he allowed this happen. He was frustrated that he couldn’t let himself have this.

“I shouldn’t have… I mean, I wanted to, but I still—“ He cut himself off again, groaning out in frustration. God.

He sat up abruptly, dragging a hand through his hair. He felt her moving beside him, felt the bed slightly dipping down as she sat up on her knees, and he cursed lowly before turning to face her, heart stuttering in his chest at her expression. She was watching him, a small smile on her lips, like she already knew what he was trying to say. She looked at him like he didn’t just fuck her and toss her to the side, which is essentially what he’s about to do.

She looked at him like he was her entire world. And that sat heavy on his chest.

“I don’t get to choose things,” He said quietly, painfully, “My schedule, my image, who I’m seen with, what people think I am… it’s all decided already for me. Years ahead of me.”

Someone was talking right outside her door, way too close for comfort, but neither of them flinched. His eyes danced across her face, taking it all in, trying to engrave every single freckle and curve of her lips into his mind. “There are rules for everything… even this.”

Hyunjin looks down at his hands briefly before glancing back to her. He hesitated, knowing he was about to step over another line he knows he shouldn’t cross, but did it anyway.

“If I could choose, it wouldn’t be this easy to walk away from you. I hate that it has to be.”

Y/N’s breath catches in her throat, her eyes searching his face, “Hyunjin—“

“I want this. I wanted you since I first noticed you downstairs, Y/N. And I would love to keep communication with you, to see you, if you wanted that, too,” He interrupted her, words coming out harsher than he intended them to, more desperate than he intended to, “But it doesn’t change what would happen if people were to find out. It doesn’t change the contracts, or the people constantly watching me, or my manager who is too far up my own ass. It doesn’t… it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t keep you.”

She let out a short breath, looking down at her hands and away from him. The silence that follows is heavier than before, but at least his mind is finally shutting down.

“I wish I could choose you. I really do,” He continues, quieter now. She meets his gaze again, and he holds it this time, not daring to look away, “But I don’t get to have things like that, not without ruining everything I have worked for, not without dragging you into something you didn’t sign up for, NDA or not.”

He wants to reach for her again. He almost does. His hand lifts just slightly, then stops mid-air before dropping back down. He swallowed thickly, “I just don’t want you to think that I am using you. That was never my intention. You were… amazing, this was amazing. But it has to end here. I’m sorry.”

She reached out for him, combing her fingers through his hair so gently, and he found himself melting into her touch, a thick feeling forming in his throat. She was so beautiful. He hates that he’ll never get to look at her again.

“I already know. I wasn’t expecting anything from you, Hyunjin,” She smiled at him, tucking a loose strand of his hair behind his ear, “This was something I was never expecting to happen, but I’m really glad it did. I’m glad I got to meet you… amongst other things.”

Her cheeks flushed at her last sentence, and Hyunjin couldn’t help the amused smirk that fell on his lips at how shy she was. Her hand stayed on the side of his face, resting there, and he leaned into her touch, feeling insane about feeling this way about someone he had just met.

“I already knew what this was going to be when you kissed me. You don’t have to apologize to me. I get it.”

“Why does it feel like we are starring in a cheesy K-Drama right now?”

Y/N busted out laughing at his question, the sound pulling at his heart strings, pulling a wide grin on his face. Her eyes were twinkling with adoration and something else he couldn’t quite place, and when she looked back at him, his heart stopped. He wondered if she could see it in his eyes, too.

“No, seriously, I have been wondering the exact same thing ever since you followed me up here hours ago,” She giggled lightly, her hand coming down to rest on her thighs.

“We’d make the best leads, for sure,” He grinned, eyes flickering down to see that her entire upper-half was exposed. His let his gaze linger there for a second before he glanced back up at her, cheeks heating up once he noticed that she was looking at him with a teasing expression.

She shifted closer to him, his breath hitching in his throat once he felt her breasts brush against his chest. He gulped nervously, hands lightly resting on her hips, and she tilted her head slightly, gazing up at him with a look that had him wanting to sink down on his knees below her.

“You’re beautiful, Hyunjin,” She whispered out, hands coming back up to cup his face, brushing her fingertips against his cheeks ever so lightly, “You are… so beautiful, inside and out. And you are worth everything in this world. I hope you always remember that.”

Her words tugged at something deep into his chest. He doesn’t answer—he doesn’t trust his voice. Instead, he leaned back in.

He instantly relaxes once his lip touch hers again. It’s warm, familiar, devastatingly so. And for a split second, his mind does something cruel—it pretends this isn’t the last time.

He exhales against her, kissing her deeper. This time, it didn’t feel rushed, it didn’t feel desperate, but it felt full. Hyunjin’s hand slides to the back of her neck, pulling her even closer, and she melts into him with zero hesitation. He tilted his head to the side, mapping out her mouth with his tongue, committing the shape of it to his memory. She sighed into him, and he’s suddenly consumed with the striking realization that everything about her fits so perfectly with him. She fits so perfectly with him that it feels unfair.

For a brief second, he thinks about staying. He thinks about how he could just get her number to keep talking to her, fly her out to Seoul in a couple weeks when they have a small break. His manager wouldn’t allow it, he’d be pissed, but Hyunjin is sure he could convince him otherwise. All she’d have to do is sign another NDA.

For a half-second, he almost does. And then his brain is flickering back towards reality.

He tightened his grip on the back of her neck, kissing her more intensely, kissing her like he’s trying to anchor himself to her. She responded immediately, like she could feel it, too.

And that’s exactly why he knows he has to stop.

Slowly, reluctantly, he pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. He didn’t dare open his eyes. Not yet. Because once he did, it would all be over, and he couldn’t accept it just yet.

Hyunjin traced his thumb across her jaw, softer this time, almost apologetic. “I…” His voice comes out rough, barely there. He swallowed, trying again, “I wish this could be different. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Me too,” She whispered back, gripping his wrist, holding him to her.

When he finally opened his eyes, she was already looking at him. And, God, he wished he could take it back. He wished he could take everything back, but he doesn’t. Because this—this quiet, aching, perfect almost, is all they were allowed to have. So he let his hand fall down. And this time, when the space opened between them, he didn’t close it.

The hallway felt harsher this time—too loud, too thick, almost like it was exposing him.

Hyunjin barely shut the door behind him before he let out a long breath of air, dragging a hand across his face. His pulse is still racing, his skin is still warm, his thoughts still tangled in-between don’t think about it and don’t go back in there. He cleared his throat slightly, taking his baseball cap off to run his fingers through his hair in exasperation. He had barely put it back on, had just taken a hesitant step forward, when a voice from his left made him freeze.

“Finally.”

Hyunjin turned his head towards the sound of a voice that was all too familiar, heart falling into his ass once his eyes landed on Chan. He was leaning against the wall behind him like he’s been there for a hot minute, his arms crossed, his phone lying loosely in one of his hands. His expression is halfway between amused and annoyed, lips twitching like he’s been holding in a comment for far too long.

Hyunjin let out a low breath, preparing himself for the worst, “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to know that you ignored…” Chan lifted his phone, scrolling though it so dramatically that it had Hyunjin wanting to roll his eyes, “Twelve calls, and wow, twenty-three texts. Now that’s impressive.”

Hyunjin winced, knowing he wasn’t going to get out of this at all, “My phone was—“

“On silent? Out of reach?” He cut him off, pushing off the wall, “Yeah. Funny how that happens shortly after I specifically told you to keep your phone close. And, interestingly enough, right after I tell you to go talk to a girl. More particularly, a girl who so happens to be Kat’s roommate. Small world, isn’t it?”

Hyunjin’s breath catches in his throat, gulping nervously. He can’t figure out if Chan is actually pissed off or if he’s just teasing him.

He’s hoping it’s the latter.

Thankfully, he was proved right once Chan walked over to stand beside him, nudging his shoulder lightly, “So, what? You gonna thank me or what?”

“You’re unbelievable.” He scoffed out, shaking his head as he stepped further away from Y/N’s bedroom door, knowing she was still in there.

“No, I’m right,” He corrected himself with ease, shrugging his shoulders, “She was cute. Real cute. You know she’s a fan, right? You do know that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” He mumbled back, a sense of annoyance swelling in his chest, “I’m her bias, actually. Did you know that?”

The grin on Chan’s face widened at his words, an amused look on his face, “I didn’t. Bet you got a kick out of that, huh?”

Hyunjin ignored his comment, looking past him down the hallway, considering his escape, “You didn’t say anything about—“

“About what? About you disappearing for an hour? For two hours?” He tilted his head to the side, still teasing him, “Actually, how long were you in there for?”

Almost four hours, but he wasn’t going to say that.

Hyunjin ignored him, turned the opposite way to start walking further away from the door. He was starting to get nervous that Y/N could hear them, even if the music was still blaring loud enough downstairs to where he could barely hear his own thoughts. Chan followed instantly, stepping in front of him to block his path, and Hyunjin wanted to scream at the look on his face. He can’t run anything past Chan. Not a damn thing.

“Hyunjin,” He said his name, low, stern, and Hyunjin avoided his gaze, rubbing against the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Sorry, hyung. I, um, lost track of time, I guess. I’ll do better. Promise.”

“You know that’s not what I’m referring to.”

Chan stared at him, the pieces seeming to click one by one, and when it landed, his entire expression changed. “Where is your hoodie?” He asked lowly, eying the goosebumps that were now present on his bare arms. He didn’t answer. Chan’s eyes widened, and he let out a sharp breath. Hyunjin felt his neck start to sweat.

“Hyunjin… you didn’t. Please, for the love of God, do not tell me you did what I think you just did.”

Hyunjin’s shoulders tensed up, and that seemed to be answer enough.

“Hyunjin,” His tone was firmer now, no teasing left, “Tell me you didn’t.”

Silence.

Before Hyunjin could even blink, Chan was already grabbing ahold of his arm, leading him further down the hall and completely out of earshot distance from Y/N and Kat’s room, the music now dulling to a soft thud.

“Are you shitting me right now?” Chan hissed out, struggling to keep his voice down, “You… of all people, you know the rules, Hyunjin. You know the repercussions.”

“I know,” Hyunjin snapped, annoyance in his tone. Of course he knows. “I know.” He said again, softer this time.

“Then what were you thinking?” Chan ran a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth. The sight of him looking so stressed out had an anxious feeling blooming in his chest, “You realize that her being connected to Kat automatically makes her connected to me? To us? Not only that, but she is a fan. A Stay. And this isn’t some normal situation we can just walk away from. Do you realize how much shit you’re going to get from this? How much shit I’m going to get from this?”

“You think I don’t know that?” Hyunjin stressed out, groaning in frustration, taking his hat back off his head and dropping it to the floor to grip at the back of his head, “Fuck. Stop. You’re stressing me out.”

“I’m stressing you out?!” Chan whisper-shouted, and Hyunjin flinched, “Hilarious. Seriously. You do realize, at the end of the day, I will get the blame for this, right?”

“Fuck,” He cursed out again, because what else was he supposed to say?

“Fuck, indeed,” Chan laughed, rubbing another hand over his face. He took in another breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, before glancing back over at him.

“Okay. This is fine. It was only one time, right?”

“Twice,” Hyunjin blurted out, voice high, and Chan grinned, nodding his head quickly in acknowledgment. He looked like he was holding back tears. Hyunjin was too.

“Okay. Twice. We can work with that. Thank you for being honest,” He smiled, struggling to compose himself, “At least you used protection. That helps our case by a fuck-ton.”

Hyunjin let out a sound that sounded like a dying pig. Chan cocked an eyebrow, his eye twitching slightly, “Hyunjin… you did use a condom, right?”

“I’m sorry.”

Chan blinked. And then he blinked again.

“Are you fucking insane?!”

Hyunjin nodded his head rapidly in response, feeling like he was about to pass out. “Oh my fuck. This cannot be happening right now. Did you cum inside her?!”

Hyunjin winced at his question, his face heating up, the sweat pouring down his back now. “No! I-I didn’t! I swear to fuck! I pulled out and came on her ass!”

“Oh, whoop-de-fucking-doo!” Chan let out, and Hyunjin winced, immediately regretting saying that, “This is just lovely! That makes it so much better! Really! Did you ask her if she’s clean? Did you ask her if she was on any form of birth control, before you oh so desperately stuck your penis inside her vagina?!”

“I… I didn’t…” He stuttered out, and that seemed to be the last straw.

“Aish, you are going to be the death of me,” Chan muttered out angrily, taking a few more breaths to calm himself down. Hyunjin eyed the vein popping out on his forehead, and he swallowed thickly.

“It’s not like I don’t know what this could turn into. One wrong move, one person talking… I know,” Hyunjin forced the words out, mouth dry, “I will apologize for being reckless. I know I was. But I’m not going to apologize for being with her. I won’t.”

Chan studied him more carefully now, anger giving away to something more complicated—concern, frustration, maybe even a little guilt. “I told you to talk to her,” He muttered out in slight annoyance, “Not to fuck her twice and cum on her ass.”

Hyunjin huffed a quiet breath, “Don’t… don’t say it like that.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m just a little frustrated, is all. Surely you can understand that,” Chan sighed, rubbing his face, “Does anyone else know?”

“No. You know she signed a NDA before we got here. Everyone did.”

“Right,” Chan nodded slowly, processing his words, “But that doesn’t make it safe. You get that, right?”

Hyunjin nodded his head, guilt rising up into his throat. He didn’t regret what happened. How could he regret something that felt so right? How could he regret doing something he’d never felt so sure about in his entire life?

“Okay. I think we just need to head out and go back to the hotel,” Chan spoke after a couple minutes of silence, texting on his phone. Hyunjin watched him for a second, saw how stressed out and how angrily he was currently typing on the phone screen, and he ran another hand through his hair, bending down to grab ahold of his hat he threw on the floor earlier. Chan finished typing on the phone, placing it in his back pocket, looking back up to glance at Hyunjin.

“This is what’s going to happen. We’re going to walk back downstairs, you’re not going to look or talk to anybody, and we are going to walk out of the back door and get into the car. When we get back to the hotel, you’re going to go shower because you reek like sex, and you’re going to lay down and relax. I’ll handle it, okay?”

Hyunjin nodded his head again, tucking his hair behind his ears, pulling the baseball cap back over his head. “Did she… did she leave any marks on you? Scratches, hickeys, whatever the fuck else?”

Hyunjin’s face flushed, “No. I didn’t let her touch me like that. She didn’t try, anyway.”

“Okay. Good. Again, helps our case. Not by much, but still,” He nodded his head, sighing in relief. He looked at him for another second, his eyes dancing across Hyunjin’s slouched form a couple times before softly letting out, “Are you okay?”

“No,” Hyunjin responded back instantly, not even bothering to try and lie. Of course he wasn’t fucking okay. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to cause this much trouble. I wasn’t planning on sleeping with her. It just happened… and it felt so right. I just… I wanted to be with her. I still want to be with her.”

“I get it,” He replied back, voice gentle, yet the vein was still prominent on his forehead, “Trust me, I get it. But sleeping with her was reckless, and we may never come back from that. It would’ve been better if she was an A-List celebrity. But the fact that she is a normal girl, who so happens to be Kat’s best friend, and is a die-hard fan, makes this very complicated for us, Hyunjin.”

“I get it, Chan,” Hyunjin lowered his head, avoiding Chan’s gaze, hands fidgeting at his side, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”

Chan’s phone dinged in his back pocket, and he looked at it once before glancing back over towards him, flicking his head over towards the stairs, “We need to go.”

Hyunjin nodded, clearing his throat slightly as he followed Chan down the hallway. His steps were slower than usual, and he felt his chest tighten once they got closer to Y/N’s door. His steps faltered, and he found himself standing back in front of her door, looking at it like it might just open up for him. What was she doing in there? Was she still lying in bed, naked under the covers? Was she crying? Was she regretting everything that just had happened between them?

Chan glanced over his shoulder, a loud sigh falling from his lips once he noticed Hyunjin was no longer directly behind him. He walked back over towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Hyunjin didn’t look at him, but he already knew what he was thinking.

“You can’t go back in there.”

Hyunjin bit the inside of his cheek, blinking a few times. “Hyunjin,” Chan stepped closer, voice lowering, “Whatever you think this is, it can’t be anything. You know that.”

“I didn’t say it was.” He whispered out, eyes focused on the doorknob.

“You’re acting like it might be. You did end things with her, right?”

“Yes,” He replied quietly, voice strained, “I ended it before it could even be anything.”

Chan checked his phone again, removing his hand from his shoulder. Hyunjin pressed his lips together, debating if he should just sprint in there real quick, just to make sure she’s okay.

He took a step forward, hand reaching for the doorknob, and Chan immediately stepped in front of him, blocking his way in. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Aish, you are acting insane. Are you trying to give me a heart attack? I know you’re a hopeless romantic and all but I didn’t know it was this bad!”

“I just need a minute,” He pleaded, attempting to reach around him, and Chan put a hand on his chest, gently leading them backwards towards the wall across the door. He landed against it with a soft thud.

“No, you don’t. You need distance, from her. From whatever this is right now.”

There was a flicker of something in Hyunjin’s eyes at his comment—conflict, sharp, and utterly painful. But it faded just as quickly as it came.

“I’m sorry,” He said again, realizing he was acting a little bit insane. Just a little bit, “You’re right. I know. I’m sorry.”

Chan watched him for a second longer, making sure it stuck this time, nodding his head once he realized it did. He grabbed ahold of Hyunjin’s shoulders, pulling him in for a hug, Hyunjin’s arms immediately wrapping around him. “You’re okay,” He told him, rubbing his back softly, “Maybe one day you’ll see her again, okay? But right now, we need to focus on more important things. I’ll handle it, okay? I’ve got you.”

hyunjin chews on his bottom lip, feeling ashamed for even considering it. he'd promised himself he wouldn't rush this, that he'd give you the best first time possible. you deserve that.

but then there you are. his girl. right here. your discarded shirt lies on the floor, and the lace of your bra does little to hide the tempting press of your perky nipples. it isn't entirely his fault if his resolve is crumbling.

and crumble it does.

"just the tip," he repeats, his voice a husky murmur, his gaze dropping and then flicking back to yours, heavy with unspoken need. he's hovering over you now, the slick head of his cock aligned perfectly with your glistening pussy.

"yeah, yeah," you mumble, impatient, your hands reaching up to hook around his neck, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

"baby, i mean it," he says, his eyes locked on yours, a warning and a plea all in one.

"uh-huh. can you just… can you put it in now?"

hyunjin sighs, the sound laced with a mock reluctance that does little to hide the tremor in his hands as he grips your thighs. it's just the tip, a gentle press against your slick folds, and a gasp escapes your lips, a feeling of fullness hitting instantly.

he finds himself mentally reciting the names of this year's football teams, a desperate attempt to cling to some semblance of control, to not climax this early. and he's supposed to be the experienced one.

"hyune," you whine, your inner muscles clenching around him, a delicious squeeze that sends a jolt of pure pleasure through him. his hand comes up to gently caress your cheek, his thumb stroking the soft skin, and you lean into his touch.

"shit, doll," he grunts, his control fraying at the edges. "please don't squeeze like that. i c—can barely…"

"you—you should just put all of it in," you whisper, your fingers tangling in his impossibly white hair, tugging gently.

"no," he mumbles, the denial a weak protest. keeping you away from this sweet release, even though you could probably come from this alone. "you feel so good. so… so tight."

"all the more reason—"

"no." this isn't how it's supposed to happen. your first time deserves more than a stolen moment in the middle of a forgotten study session. there should be flowers, maybe candles… it should be perfect.

he's already made up his mind, the decision firm despite the insistent throb of his cock. hyunjin's thumb brushes lightly across your swollen clit, and a small whimper escapes your lips.

"hyune, i really need you." and then you look up at him, your eyes glossed with unshed tears, desperate and raw.

fuck it.

as long as it's here, with you, it'll be perfect. besides, he vaguely remembers seeing some dusty candles in the back of the storage closet.

Chapter 6

“This might feel a little weird.” Minho sits on the rolling chair, in front of the female omega on the table in the medical bay. 

She’s in another one of Hyunjin’s long shirts, it pushed slightly up so her injured thigh is visible. Felix sits next to her for both comfort and reassurance. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll just feel like pinching or tugging.” The younger male tries to make her feel better, smelling the anxiety in her scent. “It won’t hurt, just feel odd.” 

Y/n lets the beta take out her stitches. She tenses at first but they were both right, it doesn’t hurt, just feels weird. She relaxes letting Minho do what he needs to while she thinks back on the last few days. 

She's been enjoying having the company of the omegas and occasionally the betas. She’s still been staying on the quieter side only really speaking when she absolutely needs to, but just being in the presence of the five of them has made her stay with the pack enjoyable. 

Around the alphas she stays cautious which none of them blame her for. The three make sure to give her space and let her choose where she wants to sit whenever all together. 

Even during the movie day, she at first didn’t join, choosing to stay in the guest room. Quickly getting bored though and went searching for the pack, shocked to not find them in the living room only to then do some exploring to find a basement with a theater room. She lingered in the doorway for a while noticing that each omega and beta had an alpha with them, curled up on the raised couches. 

Jeongin had noticed her scent first having been closest to the door and looked over the room before realizing why she was hesitating. He moved Felix off of him, making the omega whine as he moved to join Chan, Jisung and Minho on one of the other couches. It was then that Felix realized Y/n was there and got up to lead her to the couch he was on. 

By dinner time all four omegas ended up on one couch together. At first Y/n had left a gap between her and the boys but eventually she ended up with her legs in Felix’s lap which the pack saw as a big jump in progress with her. 

“And we’re done.” Minho takes his gloves off after having rubbed some antibiotic cream over the wound. 

Y/n looks down at her thigh, it looks so much better without the stitches in it but she can tell it’s gonna leave a nasty scar. It doesn’t hurt anymore whenever Minho messes with it but her leg still feels weak when she walks. They’ve reassured her it would only be temporary though. 

“Have you made your decision yet?” Felix speaks low, scared of the answer he’s gonna get. “About if you want to stay with us?” 

She looks at the omega’s sorrowful expression and regrets having to actually speak up. “I-I think I want to go h-home.” 

Felix’s face drops for a split second before he forces a smile. “If that’s what you want we’ll take you to your family.” 

“Do you want to leave as soon as possible or do you wanna stay here for a few more days?” Minho keeps his expression neutral so as to not show his dismay of her wanting to leave. 

“S-soon as possible.” She almost whispers as she looks away from them not wanting them to see it’s almost just as hard on her as it is for them. 

She also doesn’t want to admit that she knows if she stays a little longer then she’ll not want to leave in the end. She’s already gotten too attached to the omegas and somewhat the betas. But staying as an escaped arena omega could cause problems for the pack and she doesn’t want to do that. Especially with them living so close to the compound. 

Minho nods and stands up, pushing the rolling tray to the side. “I’ll let the alphas know so they can call your parents… Why don’t you guys go join the other two and do something for a bit. We’ll come get you when we have a plan.” 

Felix perks up at that and takes Y/n with him to go find Hyunjin and Jisung. He’s decided not to say anything to the two just yet about her wanting to go home. He’ll leave it to their older mates to tell the pack. 

The beta finishes cleaning up in the medical bay once they're gone before going to Chan and Changbin’s office and studio where they’ve been working from home since the female omega had shown up. He gives a firm knock before letting himself in. The two don’t ever mind getting interrupted especially if it’s important. 

Luckily they were just sitting around messing with the mixing board for a track that was recorded at their actual recording studio. They both turn in their chairs as Minho walks in, shutting and locking the door behind him meaning it’s serious.

“What’s wrong?” Chan sits up getting into alpha mode. 

The beta holds his hand up to show he can calm down. “I just wanted to let you guys know I took out Y/n’s stitches just now.” 

“That’s good.” Changbin’s eyes light up, glad to hear the girl's thigh is finally better. 

“It is.” Minho sighs as he takes a seat on the couch in the room where the pack is allowed to come and watch them work. “Lixie asked her if she made her decision about staying.” 

Both alphas breath hitches slightly before Chan leans forward resting his arms on his knees. “And?” 

“She wants to go home… as soon as possible.” 

Chan nods, devastated, while Changbin slumps in his chair. 

“We knew this was coming.” The head alpha reminds them even though he was secretly hoping she would stay. 

“At first, yeah.” Changbin sighs. “I was hoping she would get used to it here and would want to stay.”

“The omegas are gonna be heartbroken. They’ve really grown fond of her.” Chan thinks about how everyone is going to react. 

“Seungmin and Jeongin too.” Minho reminds them of the two youngest. “Even though she’s still cautious around you alphas, Innie really likes her. He’s been sleeping on the couch for several nights now.” 

“And I know Minnie’s attached after she spoke to him first.” Changbin explains having noticed how the younger ones have been acting. 

“How did Lix react when she said she wanted to leave?” Chan finally asks. 

“I could tell it broke him a bit.” The beta leans his head against his hand remembering how the younger male had reacted in the med bay. “But he put up a front for her before they went to join the other two. I told them we’d come find them once we’ve got a plan.”

Changbin turns to the desk where his and Chan’s laptops sit. “I guess we should give her family a call then.” 

Chan pulls his phone out of his pockets as they pull up Y/n’s family information. 

The younger two stay and listen to Chan’s side of the phone call with the omega's dad. 

“Her dad said it would be best if we bring her over within the next few hours before the big winter storm hits tonight.” 

“So soon?” The younger alpha groans.

“It’s what she’s wanting.” Minho sighs. “But I was kind of hoping for another night too. I forgot about the snow coming in later.”

“So how are we gonna do this?” Changbin asks. “We all know she won’t want to be in the car with any of us without the omegas. And it’s not safe for any of them except for Felix. It’s really not even safe for her.” 

“Felix and I will take her.” Chan decides before turning to the beta. “It might be best for you to come with us. Between you and Seungmin you can keep your emotions more in check and scent stable about everything.”

“And the others?” Minho asks. “They’re all gonna want to come if we tell them we’re taking her to her parents.” 

“So then we don’t tell them.” Changbin leans back against his chair. “Innie still has his afternoon and evening classes today. With finals in two weeks they won’t cancel classes unless they absolutely have to and they should be done before the storm starts. So he’ll still be leaving about four o’clock to go to the university. Seungmin’s already at his classes and won’t be back until after Jeongin leaves.”

“So we just need to leave during that hour the youngest are both gone.” Chan sees where the younger alpha is going with all of this. “And you’ll be able to keep Hyunjin and Jisung occupied enough?” 

“At least long enough to let you guys get on the road before Minnie gets back. Once he’s back I’ll probably have to come clean to them.”

“Let’s give them the next few hours before we tell Y/n and Felix. Wait until right before we leave to tell the two.” Minho looks to the pack alpha to see if he agrees. 

Chan nods before turning back towards the mixing board. “If we tell Lixie now he’ll just be sad the entire time before she leaves which will catch Ji and Hyun’s attention.” 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Chan and Minho watch as Felix and Y/n walk down the stairs. All the omegas had been in Hyunjin’s room where Changbin told the two Minho needed them and stayed with the older two. It had been the first and only time Y/n had been upstairs. 

“What’s up?” Felix is confused seeing the pack alpha as the girl hides a little bit behind him. 

“I talked to your dad, Y/n.” Chan speaks to her even though she is refusing to look at him. “Min said you are wanting to go home as soon as possible so we agreed we should take you now.” 

Felix whines at this. “So soon?”

“It’s what she’s wanting, baby.” Chan feels bad but he knew this is how the male omega would react. “Plus with the snow storm coming in tonight, we don’t know how bad it will be or if the roads will be closed the next few days. So we need to go now.”

“But Seungmin and Jeongin aren’t here for all of us to go.”

“It’s just gonna be us four going, Lixie.” Minho finally speaks up, making Y/n look up, shocked. “Chan, Changbin and I all agreed this was the best solution.”

“Hyunjin and Jisung can’t go out in public like you can.” Chan reminds him. “So Binnie’s keeping them occupied right now and it’s best we go before the youngest two get back. They’ll all be mad in the end but it’s for the best.” 

The male omega sighs but doesn’t argue any more even though he has a lot he wants to say. Instead he moves to the coat closet. Y/n’s wearing a pair of his sweatpants with one of Seungmin's shirts so he grabs his jacket for himself and one of Minho’s jackets for her. If the beta minds it, he isn’t showing it as the older two grabs their own jackets. Felix also grabs her a pair of his own shoes before handing the items to her and helps put them on. 

Once everyone is bundled up, they head out into the cold where Felix leads Y/n to the back seat of the car Chan unlocks as they follow a bit behind them. The male omega makes sure she’s in and buckled before going around to the other side. He made sure she would be behind Minho in the passenger seat hoping the beta’s calmer scent would help her during the drive to her house. As well as she can then see what Chan is doing as he drives. 

“All good?”  He asks her quietly as she fidgets a bit in the seat. 

She just gives a small nod as the older two get in the front seats. Chan doesn’t say anything, just looking back at them in the review mirror before starting the car and puts the address into the gps on his phone. They drive down the long driveway which shocks Y/n as she can’t believe how rich the pack must be with their large house that’s pretty well hidden in the surrounding trees. The driveway leads to a closed gate where they stop as Chan presses a button on the center dash which opens it.

Once on the main road the girl can’t help but silently freak out as they start driving by the arena. She grabs Felix’s hand as it gets closer realizing she has been too trusting of a pack to not send her back to the hunt. 

“Hey.” The male omega calls out, squeezing her hand, which catches Chan and Minho's attention as he carefully nudges her chin to look at him, releasing calming pheromones. “You’re not going back there.” 

Minho turns around in his seat to face them both just as they drive past the entrance to the arena, trying to help by intensifying his own calming scent. “It’s okay, we just have to drive by it.”

Chan keeps looking at her in the mirror feeling guilty for causing her to panic by driving past the compound. He should have thought about it and figured out a different route to avoid her having to see it. 

Once the building is no longer in view, Y/n finally calms down and relaxes in her seat, watching out the window at the passing terrain and cloudy sky. They all stay silent not wanting to scare her, Chan not even risking playing any music. 

The drive is only about twenty minutes before the GPS has them pulling up to a house Y/n hasn’t seen in what feels like years when really it’s only been months. She stares up at it as the car gets put in park next to a black truck and they all wait for her to make the first move. 

Taking a deep breath the female omega turns to Felix who has been holding her hand the entire car ride and nods to him that she’s ready. He smiles and unbuckles both of them before opening his door and she clings to his hand, sliding across the seat to exit through his door not wanting to let go of the comfort he is giving. 

“You ready?” Felix asks her as Minho comes around the car to them, closing the door behind her once she’s out and Chan starts heading up the path to the front door. 

The alpha rings the doorbell and patiently waits as the other three take their time coming up the path. It doesn’t take long for a beta man in his late forties, to open the door, eyebrows furrowed and clearly on alert. 

“Yes?” 

“Mr. L/n?” Chan asks, waiting for confirmation that they are at the right house as the man nods his head yes. “I’m Christopher Bang Chan from the Stray Kids pack, we spoke on the phone earlier today about your daughter.” 

Y/n’s father’s eyes light up as he looks past the alpha to see his little girl he never thought he’d get to see again. “Y/n!”

The girl looks up at her dad and starts to tear up as she lets go of Felix’s hand and runs up the path, right past Chan, and into her dad’s arms. 

She cries into his chest as he holds her tightly, he kisses the top of her head. “Hi sweetheart.” 

“I-I’ve missed you s-so much.” She all but sobs which breaks the three onlookers' hearts at the scene before them. 

Mr. L/n looks back up to the alpha who has now been joined by the other two, Felix leaning against Chan and Minho keeping a hand on the younger's back. “I can’t thank you guys enough for bringing her back home to me.” 

“It was nothing, sir.” The alpha bows his head a little, when his phone rings and pulls it out to see Seungmin calling. “Excuse me.” 

Chan walks away a little to take the phone call. Y/n turns in her fathers arms as he leaves so she can face the other two.

“I guess this is goodbye, sunshine.” Felix gives a teary smile as he steps up to her, her father letting her go so she can talk to them. “You be careful, okay?”

She nods, wiping her tears before basically falling into his arms. “Bye Lixie.” 

The male omega melts at both her embrace and the nickname as he buries his face into her hair. “I’ll miss you.” 

“Me too.” She whispers before pulling away which he reluctantly lets her. 

She turns towards Minho who gives her a sad smile. “Are you going to be okay?” 

She nods, taking in a deep breath wondering if it would be weird to hug him or not. Sensing that her brain is overworking as usual he lightly grabs her hand pulling her towards him as he wraps his arm around her shoulders. 

“Keep in touch with us.” He says, sliding a piece of paper into her hand as he leans down to talk into her ear. “That’s got all of our numbers on it. Even the alphas… you don’t know have to message all of us, we just wanted to give you the option. I know the omegas will want to hear from you though. The rest of us will be satisfied just knowing you’re still talking to them and that you’re doing good.” 

“Thank you.” She looks up at him. “A-and for saving me.” She then remembered the fact she’s wearing the pack's clothes and pulls away. “Oh… y-your jacket.” 

“Keep it.” He stops her seeing as she is about to take it off, zipping the jacket back up, making sure she’s warm. “None of us minded giving you some clothes. And now you’ll have stuff to remember us by.” 

“I’ll r-remember you guys.” She blushes a little. “But thank you.”

He ruffles her hair as Chan walks back up to all of them, staying a little bit away so as to not overwhelm the girl. 

“Sorry to have to rush the goodbyes…” The alpha gives a soft smile as Y/n moves back over to her dad and turns to the other two. “But we’ve got some very angry mates at home we are going to need to do some explaining to.”

“Knew this would happen.” Felix mumbles though makes sure it’s loud enough for the older to hear. 

“Thank you guys again for bringing her home.” Y/n’s dad says once again. “Chan, you have my number so be a stranger.” 

“Will do, sir.” 

“Bye Y/n.” Felix waves again before the three walk back to the car. 

She watches from the porch until they’re all in the car where the male omega waves to her again as Chan starts the car and pulls out of the driveway. Felix watches until they can’t see the house or her anymore, making him wonder if they’ll ever see her again.

“You okay baby?” Chan looks at the youngest through the rearview mirror. 

“Yeah.” He sighs, leaning his head against the window. “Just so you know, I'm telling the others it was all your guys' idea to take Y/n home without them and that I only went for her comfort.”

“We know Lixie.” Minho smiles a little. “We plan to take full responsibility for leaving them all behind and not letting them say bye to her.” 

“Good.”

A/N: This could technically end here but do not worry guys, there will be more.

______________________________________________________________

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Dinner at the dorm is loud again.

Not chaotic in a bad way, just the usual kind of disaster that naturally happens whenever all of you end up together in one room for too long. Someone’s stealing food off somebody else’s plate, Hyunjin is complaining dramatically about being emotionally attacked because Changbin used the last sauce packet, and Chan is unsuccessfully trying to stop Jeongin from flicking peas across the table at Han.

You sit between Felix and Minho with your chin propped lazily against your hand, half-listening to the noise around you while warm food and overlapping voices slowly settle something restless inside your chest.

Jeju helped- not enough to erase everything but enough that your thoughts finally feel quieter again. Enough that you can think about Jungkook without immediately feeling like your ribs are cracking open.

Felix glances toward you briefly while reaching over to steal a piece of meat directly from your plate and you automatically slap his hand away.

“Get your own.”

“Yours tastes better.”

“It’s literally the same food.”

“Not emotionally.”

You snort softly despite yourself while the others continue arguing in the background about whether pineapple belongs on pizza.

Then eventually, somewhere between Changbin loudly accusing Minho of betrayal and Hyunjin threatening divorce proceedings against the entire table, you quietly say:

“…I think I wanna talk to Kook.”

Forks and chopsticks stop midair while heads slowly turn towards you. Chan blinks once. Han nearly chokes on rice. Minho’s expression flattens instantly into a ‘No way’.

“You wanna what??” Changbin asks immediately.

“I just…” You exhale slowly, pushing your food around your plate absentmindedly now. “I think we should talk.”

“No,” Minho says instantly. The answer comes so fast you almost laugh.

“No?” you repeat.

“No.”

“That’s not how conversations work.”

“It should.”

Jeongin snorts into his drink while Chan rubs tiredly at his forehead like he already knows this is about to become unbearable.

“Baby,” Changbin starts carefully, already looking concerned, “he literally emotionally destabilized you.”

“That sounds… dramatic.” you whisper back and Changbin nods. “It SHOULD.”

“You cried for like six hours.”

“Four.”

“Seven,” Felix corrects immediately from beside you. You glare at him. “Traitor.”

“Accurate witness.”

Minho leans back in his chair slowly now, eyes narrowed thoughtfully in the way that usually means somebody should start fearing for their life. “No,” he repeats calmly. “I’ll go instead.”

You blink. “…why would you go?”

A small smile appears on his face but it’s neither comforting nor reassuring. The exact opposite, actually. “Just to talk.”

Jeongin immediately points at him with his chopsticks. “Yeah, right...”

Minho looks offended. “Excuse me?”

“You’d absolutely bite him. Or else.”

“I would not.”

“You literally look excited right now.”

Minho takes another sip of his drink peacefully. “That’s just my face.”

“You have serial killer eyes,” Jeongin informs him flatly. Minho rolls his eyes. “That’s rich coming from you.”

Meanwhile your headache slowly grows stronger with every voice talking over each other now. Changbin suddenly points toward himself dramatically. “I’LL go with her.”

“Absolutely not,” Chan says immediately.

“Why not?”

“Because you’d throw the first punch.”

“I would throw the correct punch.”

“See?” Chan gestures tiredly. “This is why.”

The argument spirals almost instantly after that. Han insists nobody should go. Hyunjin says maybe Jungkook deserves psychological damage. Changbin volunteers violence again. Minho offers emotional terrorism instead.

And through all of it, you slowly sink lower into your chair with the expression of somebody developing a migraine in real time. Then quietly: “I’ll go.”

The words cut cleanly through the chaos. Everyone turns.

Seungmin still hasn’t even looked up from his food, calmly eating like the room didn’t just descend into complete nonsense around him.

You stare at him for a second and feel your shoulders loosen slightly for the first time since speaking. “…yeah,” you say softly. “I’d like that.”

The reaction around the table is instant; “WHAT?” Changbin blurts. “Why him?” Hyunjin asks in betrayal. Jeongin narrows his eyes suspiciously. “You’re plotting something.”

Seungmin finally glances up now, completely unbothered. “I’m the only person here who wouldn’t make the situation worse.”

“That’s subjective,” Minho says.

“It’s really not.”

Felix studies you quietly for a second before eventually nodding once, understanding settling softly across his face when he notices how much calmer you suddenly seem with the idea.

Chan notices too, which is probably why he sighs deeply before finally giving in. “Fine,” he mutters. “But call us if anything feels weird.”

“Weird?!” Hyunjin repeats dramatically. “The entire situation has BEEN weird.”

“No offense,” Han adds carefully while pointing toward you with his chopsticks, “but your soulmate situationship thing with Jungkook has been terrifying for months.”

Your face immediately twists. “I hate every single word you just said.”

“Yet none of them were inaccurate,” Seungmin says calmly before taking another bite of food.

You groan softly and drop your forehead against Felix’s shoulder while everyone immediately starts arguing again.

Later that night, your room is quiet in a way that feels strange after the usual chaos from before.

The soft lamp near your bed glows warmly across the walls while you sit cross-legged against the blankets, phone in hand, staring at the same unanswered messages for what feels like the hundredth time.

hey. can we talk?

Delivered. Nothing else.

You try calling again. The line rings once before going straight to voicemail. Your stomach tightens immediately.

“Seriously…?” you mutter under your breath while dropping the phone beside you harder than necessary.

A soft knock sounds against the open doorway a second later. Seungmin leans casually against the frame with crossed arms, already dressed to leave in a dark hoodie and jeans like he somehow knew exactly how this was going to go.

You hold your phone up with a tired expression.“No answer…”

Seungmin studies your face quietly for a second before his gaze drops toward the screen then slowly, one eyebrow lifts. “…you still got that spare key?”

You stare back at him and despite the nervous knot sitting heavily in your stomach, a small grin finally appears. “Yeah.”

The corner of his mouth twitches faintly. “Let’s go.”

The drive across Seoul starts quietly. Rain taps softly against the windshield while streetlights smear gold across the dark roads outside, the city moving lazily around you despite how tense your chest feels.

Seungmin drives with one hand resting loosely against the wheel, calm as always, music low enough to barely register in the background while you sit curled slightly toward the passenger window.

Every couple minutes your phone lights up in your hand again. Still nothing.

No texts. No missed calls. No Jungkook. And you keep checking- again and again and…

Seungmin notices. But he doesn’t comment on it once. That somehow makes the silence feel kinder instead of awkward.

By the time you finally pull into Jungkook’s apartment parking garage, the uneasy feeling in your stomach has settled into something heavier. His car is still there but his black bike is gone…

The building lobby is almost empty this late at night, quiet except for the low hum of fluorescent lighting overhead while you and Seungmin step into the elevator together. You find yourself checking your phone one more time while the elevator climbs.

Still nothing.

Your heartbeat speeds up slightly. “It’s probably nothing,” you murmur quietly, mostly to yourself at this point. Seungmin glances toward you briefly.

“Probably.” But his voice sounds careful now too.

The hallway outside Jungkook’s apartment feels strangely cold. You stop in front of the door, fingers tightening slightly around the spare key before unlocking it slowly.

The second the door opens, something feels wrong. Not obvious, you can’t just quite put a finger on it but… just wrong.

The apartment is dark except for the faint city lights spilling through the windows and the smell hits first.

Smoke. Alcohol. Something stale underneath both.

“Kook?” you call softly while stepping inside. No answer. Seungmin closes the door quietly behind both of you before his eyes slowly move across the apartment.

The living room is a mess; Empty beer bottles crowd the table and floor beside the couch, mixed with crushed cigarette packs and an ashtray overflowing badly enough that ashes spilled across the surface underneath it. One of the couch cushions lies tipped sideways on the floor while a lamp near the television still glows dimly like someone forgot to turn it off days ago.

Empty fast food container sit on his coffee table, from the night you ate burgers at his place and everything escalated afterwards… Your stomach twists.

“…Jungkook?” Still nothing.

You move deeper into the apartment now, pulse slowly climbing higher while Seungmin follows close behind you, his expression growing more serious with every room.

The kitchen looks untouched. No dishes cleaned, no food out like nobody’s properly been here.

Then you reach the bedroom and freeze- several drawers are hanging halfway open like someone tore through them carelessly while clothes and random papers litter part of the floor beside the bed.

But that’s not what makes your breath catch.

It’s the wall. A dark red smear stains the paint beside the closet. For a second your brain genuinely refuses to process what you’re looking at.

Then suddenly your stomach drops violently. Blood.

“Oh my god…”

You move toward it automatically, horrified eyes tracing the rough shape pressed against the wall while panic starts rising fast enough to make your hands shake.

“Kook…?” Your voice comes out small now. Weak. Then something else catches your eye near the floor beside the bed.

Fabric.

You slowly bend down and pick it up with trembling fingers before immediately recognizing it. Your old shirt. The oversized one you lost years ago. And there’s blood on that too.

The air leaves your lungs completely. “No no no no…”

Your panic spikes violently now, tears instantly burning behind your eyes while your thoughts start spiraling faster than you can control them.

Why would he have this? Why is there blood?Where the fuck is he-

Behind you, Seungmin goes very still. Then quietly: “…you should call Namjoon.” And the seriousness in his voice terrifies you more than the blood does.

Your hands shake so badly you almost miss the call button entirely. The line barely rings once before Namjoon answers.

“Hello?”

“Where’s Kook?” The question leaves you instantly, sharp and breathless enough that Seungmin looks up immediately from where he’s still standing near the bedroom doorway.

Silence answers you for half a second. Then Namjoon says slowly: “I wanted to ask you the same thing.”

Your blood runs cold. “What?”

His sigh crackles quietly through the speaker, exhausted and tense all at once.

“He hasn’t answered anybody since the other night,” Namjoon says carefully now. “Why? What happened?”

You stare blindly at the blood smeared across Jungkook’s wall while your pulse starts hammering harder and harder inside your chest.

“We’re at his apartment,” you whisper shakily.

“…we?” Namjoon repeats immediately. “Who are you with?”

“My bo-” The word dies instantly in your throat.

Right. Jungkook’s lie.

Your eyes flick toward Seungmin standing nearby while he watches you quietly with crossed arms, already understanding exactly why you suddenly stopped talking.

“…a friend,” you correct quickly. “A colleague.”Seungmin snorts softly under his breath but thankfully doesn’t comment on it.

Namjoon stays quiet for a second too long before speaking again. “He’s not at his place?”

You slowly shake your head before realizing he can’t see you. “No.”

“And he’s not with you.” Something uneasy settles heavily into the silence afterward. Then quietly:

“…fuck.”

Your grip tightens harder around the phone.

“We haven’t heard from him in a while now,” Namjoon admits finally, voice lower now. “At first we thought he was with you…” He trails off briefly. “…and you guys just wanted some peace and quiet.”

Your eyes drift helplessly back toward the wall. Toward the blood. Toward the old shirt still clutched tightly in your trembling hands.

“Namjoon…” Your voice cracks badly enough that Seungmin immediately looks back toward you again. “There’s blood on the wall.”

Silence.

“And on the floor.” The line goes completely still. For a second you genuinely wonder if the call dropped entirely.

Then finally:

“…what?”

Tears spill harder down your cheeks now while your breathing starts turning uneven again.

“I don’t know what happened,” you whisper shakily. “The apartment’s trashed and his bike is gone and-”

Your voice breaks completely. “Should we call the police?” Another silence, longer this time, heavy enough to make your stomach twist painfully.

Then suddenly Namjoon speaks again, voice sharp and immediate now:

“I’ll be right there.” The line disconnects.

The apartment falls quiet again afterward except for the distant hum of traffic outside and your shaky breathing filling the room.

Seungmin slowly steps closer, gaze lingering briefly on the bloodstain before moving back toward you. “You okay?”

The question almost makes you laugh. Instead you just shake your head weakly while wiping roughly at your face.

“No.”

And Seungmin doesn’t try to comfort you with logic or reassurance because the truth is written all over his expression now too.

He’s worried as well. Really worried.

The next ten minutes feel endless.

You pace then sit down. Stand back up again only to sit back down again after a few strides… Check your phone every thirty seconds even though there’s still nothing from Jungkook.

No missed calls, no texts. No proof he’s okay.

By the time hurried footsteps finally echo outside the apartment, your nerves feel stretched thin enough to snap completely.

The door swings open a second later.

Namjoon enters first, slightly out of breath like he came straight here without stopping for anything else, Yoongi following close behind him in a dark hoodie and cap. Both of them stop almost immediately after stepping inside.

Their eyes move slowly across the apartment: The bottles, the cigarettes, the mess. You move towards the bedroom and they follow quietly until they see it: the blood.

Namjoon’s face drains instantly of color. “…holy shit.”

Yoongi says nothing at first. His gaze just quietly shifts through the room before finally landing on the shirt still clenched in your hands, and something in his expression changes immediately after that.

The apartment falls silent again afterward, the low buzz of city traffic outside mixing faintly with the smell of cigarettes and alcohol still hanging heavily in the air. Yoongi’s gaze drifts slowly across the room once more, over the bottles, the mess, the bloodstain near the wall, before eventually settling back on you.

“…you guys broke up?”

The question catches you off guard immediately because of how casually he says it, like the answer already exists in his mind. Not friendship. Relationship. Of course. Jungkook told them you were together.

Your stomach twists sharply. For a second you just stand there holding your old shirt against yourself while your brain scrambles for something to say. Namjoon notices the hesitation instantly, confusion slowly pulling at his features now while Yoongi waits quietly for an answer.

Your eyes flick helplessly toward Seungmin. He leans against the kitchen counter nearby with his arms crossed loosely over his chest, watching the entire situation unfold with the exhausted expression of someone who regrets becoming involved in whatever this is.

Then he shrugs slightly. “Tell them the truth,” he says simply. “It’s already chaotic.”

Both Namjoon and Yoongi turn toward him immediately before looking back at you.

“…what truth?” Namjoon asks carefully now.

You swallow hard. God. Everything feels like it’s collapsing at once tonight.

“Kook and I… we never dated,” you admit quietly. The silence afterward feels almost physical. Namjoon actually blinks.

You exhale shakily before forcing yourself to continue because if you stop now, you genuinely don’t think you’ll manage to finish explaining any of this.

“He lied,” you say softly. “At first I think it was supposed to protect me somehow and then the dating rumors got out and it…” You gesture vaguely around the apartment. “…spiraled.”

Namjoon stares at you in complete disbelief while Yoongi’s expression barely changes at all, which somehow feels worse.

“Seungmin,” you continue while motioning weakly toward him, “is my boyfriend.”

Namjoon’s eyes immediately shift toward Seungmin properly for the first time since arriving and something flickers across his face in recognition. “…wait.”

Seungmin straightens slightly from the counter while Namjoon studies him harder now.

“I know you.” He points vaguely toward him. “Stray Kids, right?” Seungmin nods once.

Namjoon nods slowly back. “Yeah, okay. I’m friends with Chan and Minho was a backup dancer for us in the early days, you remember, Yoongs?”

Yoongi hums once in quiet confirmation before his gaze settles back on Seungmin thoughtfully.

“Why did you play along?” he asks calmly. “Someone else claimed to date your girlfriend.”

For the first time since arriving, Seungmin actually looks slightly uncomfortable. His arms uncross slowly before crossing again, then eventually he leans forward against the counter with a tired exhale.

“Long story,” he mutters. “…like, way too long for right now.” You nod immediately.

“He’s right,” you say quickly, the anxiety twisting in your chest returning full force the second the conversation drifts away from the actual problem again. “We need to find Kook.”

The room falls quiet once more after that. And this time, nobody disagrees.

Namjoon mutters a quiet “…holy shit.” while your chest tightens painfully.

“Kook…” You hesitate briefly before forcing yourself to say it out loud. “…he confessed a few days ago.” The room goes still again, even Seungmin finally looks back toward you at that.

“It got ugly after I rejected him,” you finish quietly. “we fought and I left and now…” Your eyes drift helplessly back toward the blood on the wall.

“…now this.”

Namjoon suddenly drags both hands down his face with a deeply exhausted sound. “Oh my god.”

Yoongi stays silent for a long moment. “So let me get this straight.” His voice stays calm. “You rejected Jungkook.” You nod slowly. “He got drunk.” Another nod. “And then disappeared.”

The words settle heavily into the apartment. Nobody speaks because suddenly the room feels much colder than before.

“…this is why he shouldn’t have been alone.” Namjoon’s words suddenly tear through the silence. Your head snaps up immediately, tears already streaking down your face. “You think I don’t know that now?”

The sharpness in your voice catches him off guard instantly. Namjoon visibly flinches. “No, that’s not what I meant-”

“Then what did you mean?” Your chest rises unevenly now, panic and guilt twisting together so violently it almost makes you nauseous. “Because I left him there, Namjoon. I left him drunk and upset and now nobody knows where he is-”

“Hey.” His voice softens immediately. “That’s not on you.”

“But it FEELS like it is!”

The words crack apart halfway through and the apartment falls silent again except for your shaky breathing.

Namjoon runs a stressed hand through his hair while clearly trying to choose his next words carefully now, but before he can speak again, Yoongi finally steps in;

“You and Kookie were always way too close for normal friends,” he says quietly from where he’s leaning against the wall now. “Now you’re telling us you never dated, he lied about it, you’re dating somebody else and rejected him.”

His gaze lifts toward you steadily. “You know he’s impulsive.” A small pause. “He got his first tattoo because his voice cracked during practice once.”

Despite everything, your eyes widen slightly. “…what?”

Namjoon sighs tiredly. “It was a rough week.”

Yoongi ignores him completely. “My point is,” he continues calmly, “Jungkook doesn’t exactly do emotions halfway.”

The room goes quiet again. You stare at them for several long seconds before your shoulders finally sag slightly, exhaustion overtaking whatever fight was left in you.

Then softly: “…babe.”

You turn your head toward Seungmin immediately. He’s watching you carefully now from beside the kitchen counter, expression gentler than before despite the exhaustion written across his face too.

“Tell them.”

Your eyes close briefly. “Okay,” you mutter weakly. “Okay, fine…”

You wipe roughly at your cheeks before forcing yourself to speak. “We hooked up, okay? For years.” Your voice grows quieter the longer you continue. “I practically lived here sometimes. We…” You swallow hard around the lump rising painfully in your throat. “There were feelings. We just never said anything out loud. I don’t know why.”

Namjoon slowly lowers himself onto the couch behind him like his legs suddenly stopped functioning properly. Yoongi listens without interrupting once.

“Then eventually we stopped sleeping together because I couldn’t do it anymore,” you continue shakily. “Later I met-”

You gesture weakly toward Seungmin.

“Kook acted okay at first. Or…” A humorless laugh slips out of you. “…at least I thought he was.”

Your gaze drops toward the floor.

“He was supportive. He hyped me up constantly, got along with the boys, joked around about everything…” You shake your head slowly now. “Then the dating rumors happened and the official statement and suddenly he bought me a car and started getting weirdly possessive and it escalated between him and the boys and I tried to calm everything down so I left with him and…”

Your throat tightens again painfully.

“We went to his place. Ordered burgers. And then suddenly everything just…”

Your hand gestures helplessly through the air.

“…went sideways.”

Namjoon looks completely shell-shocked now.

“He confessed,” you whisper. “Said I’m his soulmate. Told me he hated sharing me. Held my phone hostage because he wanted me to admit I still had feelings for him and…” Your breathing turns uneven again. “…I did.”

Silence.

“I mean…” Tears burn harder in your eyes. “I do. I still love him.” Nobody moves. “We almost kissed,” you admit quietly. “But I turned away.”

The guilt hits fresh all over again immediately after saying it out loud.

“He apologized after. Said he crossed a line and then…” Your voice weakens further. “…I told him he didn’t make me question my relationship.”

Namjoon exhales slowly in relief for approximately half a second. Then:

“…he made me question our friendship.”

The relief disappears instantly. Yoongi finally moves then, slowly sitting down near the edge of the couch while absorbing the entire disaster piece by piece.

After a while he looks back up at you. “…boys?”

You blink at him tiredly. “Huh?”

“You said it escalated between him and the boys.”

“My members,” Seungmin explains flatly.

Yoongi’s brows lift slightly before his gaze shifts toward him. “Why would they care?”

Seungmin uncrosses his arms finally and walks around the counter before stopping quietly behind you. His hand settles softly against your hip, not possessive but grounding and you let yourself relax into him.

“As fucked up as this sounds,” he says calmly, “she’s dating all of us.”

“Min-” You immediately smack his chest weakly in horror. He shrugs.

“Pup, this day is already a complete mess. Might as well be honest for once.” His eyes lift toward the two men again. “Now you understand why Jungkook reacted the way he did.”

Namjoon stares at all of you in absolute disbelief while Yoongi slowly leans back against the couch cushions, looking weirdly entertained now despite the situation.

After a second he points lazily toward Seungmin. “I like him.”

“Thank you,” Seungmin replies immediately.

“Oh my god-” Namjoon mutters while pacing across the apartment again. “This is insanity-”

“That’s fair,” Yoongi says.

Namjoon claps his hands together suddenly, forcing himself back into leader mode. “Okay. We’re gonna do this strategically.” He gestures around the apartment. “Let’s look for clues. Did he take clothes? His charger? Food? Anything?”

The next few minutes pass in tense silence while everyone searches through the apartment properly now.

The charger is still plugged in beside the bed. His wallet sits abandoned near the kitchen counter. The fridge is full of untouched food. But the bike keys are gone. The helmet too.

And every new detail makes your stomach twist harder.

Then suddenly Seungmin straightens near the kitchen island, pulling his phone slowly from his pocket. “…Hey,” he says carefully. “I know this absolutely doesn’t make anything easier but…”

Something in his tone makes your chest tighten instantly. “…wasn’t there a motorcycle accident two nights ago?”

Your blood runs cold. “No.”

Namjoon immediately shakes his head hard. “No. No no no. Let’s not go there yet.”

But Yoongi’s already pulling out his own phone now. “Let’s be sure first,” he says calmly while standing back up. “I’ll call and ask. Be right back.”

Then he disappears into the hallway next door while the apartment suddenly feels suffocatingly quiet again.

Namjoon drags both hands through his hair.

“He could still be in a motel somewhere,” he says quickly now, clearly trying to keep everyone grounded. “When he was a trainee he used to disappear to these cheap little motels whenever things got too loud at the dorms. He said it helped him think.”

Your eyes lift toward him immediately.

“There’s three or four nearby,” he continues. “He might’ve gone there.”

“When Yoongi comes back,” Seungmin says softly beside you while taking your trembling hand into his, “we’ll check them.” You squeeze his fingers tightly.

“He wouldn’t ride his bike drunk,” you whisper weakly. The silence afterward tells you everything before Namjoon even answers because the look on his face suddenly resembles someone biting directly into a lemon.

“…I think he would.”

The air leaves your lungs completely. “Oh god…”

Your knees finally give out beneath you and you sink down into a crouch against the side of the couch, hands covering your face while sobs start tearing out of your chest all over again.

Seungmin immediately kneels beside you. Namjoon looks devastated now too, pacing faster through the apartment while muttering curses under his breath.

Yoongi steps back inside, one hand still holding his phone while the other rubs tiredly over the back of his neck. And for the first time tonight, his usual calm expression doesn’t fully hold anymore. There’s tension sitting visibly in his jaw now, something tight behind his eyes that immediately makes your stomach drop harder.

Namjoon straightens at once. “Well?”

Yoongi exhales slowly. “They didn’t tell me much,” he says carefully. “Male. Twenties. Black hair.” A small pause follows before he adds quieter: “…tattoos present.”

The room goes completely still. Your breath catches so violently it hurts. “No…”

Yoongi immediately lifts a hand. “That’s all they gave me.” But it’s already too much.

A broken sob rips straight out of your chest while your entire body folds inward again and suddenly Namjoon looks just as sick as you feel, all the color draining from his face as he drags both hands through his hair.

“For more information,” Yoongi continues tightly, “we’d have to go there ourselves and provide proof we’re next of kin or something.”

“Fuck…” Namjoon breathes.

You can barely hear them anymore over the ringing in your ears.

Black hair. Tattoos. Twenties. Your mind immediately fills in the rest.

Jungkook laughing across his couch. Jungkook leaning too close. Jungkook saying soulmate like it physically hurt him to keep the word inside.

Then the blood on the wall flashes through your head all over again.

Another sob escapes you before you can stop it.“No no no…”

“Hey.” Namjoon moves immediately then, crouching down in front of you fast enough that his knees hit the floor hard. His hands grip your shoulders firmly, grounding, forcing your focus back onto him. “Listen to me.”

Your vision blurs badly enough you can barely see him.

“He’s not dead, okay?” Namjoon says firmly, voice rough now in a way you’ve never really heard before. “He’s alive. Probably drunk. Hungover as hell. Hiding in some shitty motel because he thinks the world is ending.” His grip tightens slightly. “We’ll find him.”

You shake your head weakly anyway, panic still clawing violently through your chest. “But what if-”

“No.” His voice sharpens instantly. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

Behind him, Yoongi nods once in agreement, but even his composure is visibly cracking now.“Joon’s right,” he says quietly. “We don’t know anything yet.”

Seungmin kneels beside you then too, one hand settling carefully against your back while his thumb rubs slow circles there. “We’ll check the motels first,” he says softly. “One by one if we have to.”

Namjoon pushes himself back to his feet immediately afterward, already back in motion because standing still clearly isn’t an option for him anymore.

“There’s four I know about,” he says quickly while grabbing his keys from the counter. “Two nearby, two further out. If he went somewhere familiar, it’ll probably be one of those.”

Yoongi grabs his jacket from the couch without another word before finally looking back toward the rest of you, exhaustion and urgency sitting heavily beneath his normally unreadable expression.

“Let’s go,” he says quietly. A beat passes. “Now.”

The first motel smells like old cigarettes and bleach.

A flickering neon sign buzzes weakly outside while Namjoon practically storms through the entrance with all of you trailing behind him, exhausted nerves stretched so thin that every second without answers feels unbearable now.

The receptionist barely glances up from his phone. Namjoon already has Jungkook’s picture pulled up before reaching the desk.

“Have you seen him?”

The guy squints at the screen for approximately half a second before shrugging. “Nope.”

That’s it. No recognition. No hesitation. Nothing.

Your stomach sinks lower immediately.

“Can you check anyway?” Namjoon asks quickly, voice tight around the edges now.

Another shrug. “No reservation under that face.”

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose with a tired sigh while Seungmin quietly guides you back outside before you can spiral further in front of strangers.

The rain has gotten heavier meanwhile, cold droplets soaking through your sleeves while Namjoon aggressively unlocks the car again.

“He could still be somewhere else,” he mutters quickly, mostly to himself at this point. “There’s another one like fifteen minutes away.”

Nobody answers.

The second motel somehow looks even worse.

One broken vending machine hums loudly beside the entrance and the receptionist inside barely speaks enough Korean to properly understand what Namjoon is asking at first.

But then the woman behind the counter suddenly pauses while looking at Jungkook’s picture. “…wait.”

Everyone freezes immediately. Your breath catches so sharply it hurts.

“You know him?” Namjoon asks instantly.

The woman squints harder at the screen. “…maybe.”

Oh my god.

“He came here?” Yoongi asks calmly, though his posture straightens immediately beside you.

The receptionist nods uncertainly. “Tattoo-boy. Black mask. Drunk.”

Your heart jumps violently. “When?” you ask breathlessly.

The woman gestures vaguely toward the parking lot. “Last night maybe? Asked for room.”

Namjoon steps closer instantly. “And?”

“No rooms.”

Your stomach drops again. “He left?”

She nods. “Said ‘fuck this place’.”

Yoongi snorts quietly under his breath despite the situation while Namjoon looks about two seconds away from a stress-induced aneurysm. “Did he say where he was going?”

The woman shakes her head. “No charger. Phone dead.” She shrugs. “Looked sad.”

And that somehow hurts more than everything else combined.

The drive to the third motel happens in near silence after that.

Rain drums steadily against the windows while Seoul passes in blurry lights outside and exhaustion finally starts settling heavily into everyone’s bones. Namjoon drives too fast. Yoongi smokes with the window cracked despite the rain.

Seungmin keeps one hand loosely wrapped around yours in the backseat while you check your phone every thirty seconds even though nothing ever changes.

Still no messages. Still nothing from Jungkook. Your chest aches so badly now it feels physical.

The third motel sits tucked between two old buildings near a quieter street, the sign outside barely glowing anymore. Namjoon’s already out of the car before the engine fully stops.

You practically run after him.

Inside, the reception area is warm and weirdly cozy compared to the others, decorated with fake flowers and tiny ceramic cats lined across the counter. An old woman looks up immediately when all four of you stumble inside looking like emotionally devastated raccoons.

Namjoon already has the picture ready again.

“Please,” he says quickly, breathless now. “Have you seen him?”

The old woman gasps immediately. “Oh, YES!”Everybody freezes. Every single person in the room.

Your heart practically launches into your throat. Namjoon leans so far over the counter he nearly knocks over one of the ceramic cats.

“When?” he asks immediately. “Is he here?”

The woman squints at the picture again thoughtfully. “Hmmm…” The silence stretches. And stretches… and stretches. Yoongi slowly lowers his cigarette from his mouth.

Then finally: “Maybe…” she says slowly. “…ten years ago?”

Complete silence.

Namjoon closes his eyes instantly like his soul just briefly left his body. Yoongi turns around immediately and walks back outside without a word. Seungmin presses his lips together so hard you can physically see him trying not to laugh.

And you? You genuinely stare at the woman in complete disbelief. “…what?”

She smiles brightly at the picture. “Very polite boy,” she says proudly. “Pretty smile.”

Namjoon looks like he’s about to collapse face-first onto the counter. The old woman keeps squinting at the screen.

“…maybe he sang once too?”

Yoongi can be seen outside through the rain physically bent over while smoking.

Seungmin finally loses the battle and snorts quietly beside you before immediately pretending to cough when you glare at him. Meanwhile Namjoon looks fully ready to fistfight destiny itself.

The drive to the last motel feels different somehow. Quieter. Like everyone’s finally running on pure adrenaline and exhaustion alone now.

Rain continues streaking across the windows while Seoul slowly thins into darker side streets and older buildings, neon signs flickering weakly in the distance as Namjoon drives with both hands gripping the wheel hard enough for his knuckles to pale.

Nobody talks for a while.

Your eyes stay fixed outside the window butyou’re not really seeing anything anymore.

“…he really said soulmate?” Namjoon’s voice cuts softly through the silence.

Your eyes lift slightly. He’s looking at you through the rearview mirror now, exhaustion written across every inch of his face. For a second you don’t answer but then slowly, you nod once.

The car falls silent again.

Namjoon swallows hard before asking the next question even quieter: “…do you love him?”

Your chest tightens immediately.

Outside, blurry city lights smear across the rain-covered glass while the weight of the question settles heavily into your ribs. Because the worst part is that there isn’t even a point lying anymore.

Not after tonight. Not after the apartment. The blood. The panic. Your fingers tighten unconsciously until Seungmin softly squeezes your hand back, grounding you instantly.

When you look toward him, he’s already watching you with a small tired smile on his face. He knows. Of course he knows. He probably always did.

Your throat tightens painfully. “…I do,” you whisper finally.

Namjoon’s eyes close briefly at the answer before he looks back toward the road again without another word.

The last motel looks like somewhere people disappear on purpose. Half the neon sign outside is dead, the stairwell light flickers violently overhead and the second all four of you step inside, the smell hits immediately.

Weed. Alcohol. Something vaguely burnt underneath both.

Yoongi wrinkles his nose instantly. “…Jesus Christ.”

The reception area looks like it survived three separate crimes and lost all of them.

Behind the counter sits a guy with neon green hair, heavy eyeliner and enough piercings to set off airport security from three continents away. He barely glances up from his phone.

Namjoon already has Jungkook’s picture ready again. “Have you seen him?”

The guy finally looks up properly. Then smirks.“What’s in it for me?”

Namjoon immediately reaches for his wallet with the exhausted energy of a man who’s fully prepared to financially solve every problem in his life right now. But before he can even pull cash out, Seungmin suddenly steps forward.

The entire atmosphere shifts immediately. “How about,” he says pleasantly, “we don’t call the police to your establishment, buddy?”

The receptionist blinks. Seungmin gestures vaguely around the lobby.

“This exquisite smell in the air could wake dead aunts,” he continues sarcastically while crossing his arms, “and I’m pretty sure if authorities searched this place they’d find at least three bodies under the floorboards.”

The guy’s smirk slowly drops.

“So,” Seungmin finishes calmly, voice lowering just slightly now, “answer the fucking question. Have you seen him?” Silence.

Behind him, you genuinely feel your stomach flip a little because dear god- angry Seungmin should honestly be illegal. Even Yoongi looks mildly impressed.

The receptionist immediately raises both hands.“Okay, okay, jesus, relax.”

Namjoon looks stunned. Yoongi looks entertained. Meanwhile Seungmin doesn’t move an inch.

The guy sighs dramatically before finally nodding toward the picture. “Yeah. He’s here.”

Your heart stops.

“I don’t know his name,” the receptionist continues quickly now. “Dude just wanted a room, a charger and like…” He squints upward thoughtfully. “…three bottles of whiskey.”

Namjoon physically sags in relief beside you.

“He paid cash,” the guy says with another shrug. “Never left the room since.”

Seungmin nods once. “See?” he says calmly. “Wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Then, with the faintest sarcastic smile: “Thanks, pal.”

The receptionist flips him off immediately. Nobody cares. Because the second the spare key lands on the counter, all four of you are already moving.

Fast.

Your pulse pounds violently in your ears while you run after Namjoon up the narrow motel stairs two at a time, Yoongi close behind him while Seungmin stays right beside you the entire way.

Room 306.

Namjoon reaches it first and for one horrible second, nobody moves. His hand tightens around the motel key before he finally pushes the door open.

At first, all that greets you is darkness.

The room beyond is almost completely black except for the weak yellow hallway light spilling across stained carpet and the edge of an unmade mattress shoved against the far wall. The air hits immediately too; stale smoke, old alcohol, weed, sweat, something bitter underneath all of it that smells like exhaustion itself.

It feels less like a room and more like somewhere someone came to disappear.

Then Namjoon reaches blindly for the light switch beside the door.

Click.

The cheap motel lamp flickers weakly once before turning on fully. And there he is.

Jungkook lies sprawled across the mattress fully clothed, one arm thrown over his stomach while the other hangs halfway off the bed. Black hoodie. Jeans. Boots still on. His hair is a complete mess against the pillow, face pale beneath the dim light while several empty whiskey bottles clutter the floor beside him along with cigarette packs, ash scattered across a cheap plastic tray and a tangled phone charger plugged loosely into the wall.

There’s dried blood smeared across his knuckles. More on the sleeve of his hoodie. And for a split second your brain still refuses to believe it. Because after hours of panic and blood and worst-case scenarios…

He’s alive.

Alive.

Your knees almost give out from relief so violently it physically hurts. Beside you, Namjoon exhales something shaky that sounds dangerously close to a laugh while Yoongi mutters quietly under his breath:

“…motherfucker.”

The sound barely registers because you can’t stop staring at him: At the rise and fall of his chest. At the fact he’s breathing. At the fact he’s here.

The movement in the doorway finally wakes him slowly- a slight shift against the mattress then a small frown pulling at his brows. A low groan leaves him while one hand drags weakly over his face, clearly bothered by the light now cutting through the darkness.

Jungkook’s eyes open slowly and painfully. His head feels like somebody split it open with a crowbar.

Everything hurts.

His mouth tastes like cigarettes and whiskey and regret while consciousness drags itself back piece by piece through the fog. There are voices somewhere. Too many voices.

Why are there voices?

For a second he genuinely thinks he’s hallucinating but then he squints toward the doorway. Shapes. Several of them.

His vision stays blurry at first, refusing to focus properly while nausea twists low in his stomach. He blinks slowly once. Twice.

Namjoon.

Yoongi.

…Seungmin? What the fuck?

And then finally-

You.

Jungkook stills immediately. Every ounce of exhaustion crashes straight into something sharper the second he sees your face standing there in the doorway looking completely destroyed.

His stomach twists. Because the last thing he remembers clearly is you turning your head away from his kiss.

The shame hits fresh instantly. For a second neither of you move. You just stare at each other across the room while his tired brain desperately tries to figure out what the hell is happening and why you look like you’ve been crying for days.

Jungkook doesn’t know what to do with that look. Doesn’t know how to face you after everything. So instead he looks away first.

Slightly turning his head toward the wall again because somehow that feels easier than seeing whatever expression is sitting on your face right now.

The silence stretches painfully. Then quietly behind you, Namjoon breathes:

“…thank god.”

Jungkook’s brows pull together weakly. His voice comes out rough and wrecked when he finally speaks. “…why is half the company in my room?”

And that-

That’s the thing that breaks you. Because he sounds annoyed. Confused. Like he genuinely has no idea what everybody just went through trying to find him.

The rage hits so suddenly it physically burns. You move before you even think.

The slap echoes violently through the tiny motel room. Jungkook’s head snaps sideways from the force of it.

Complete silence crashes down afterward. Even Yoongi freezes.

Jungkook slowly looks back at you afterward with genuine shock written all over his face because this has never happened before.

Not once.

Not in all the years of knowing each other. Not through all the fights. Not through all the complicated history between you.

You’ve never hit him.

And the realization visibly rattles him harder than the actual slap itself. His hand lifts slowly toward his cheek while he just… stares at you. Actually stares.

Your whole body shakes now, tears pouring uncontrollably down your face again while panic, relief and fury collide violently inside your chest.

“You fucking asshole,” you choke out while your voice cracks apart completely. “We thought you were dead.”

The words seem to hit him harder than the slap ever could. His brows pull together slowly, confusion giving way to concern as he looks between all of you like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle with half the pieces missing.

“What?”

A broken laugh escapes you and thesound is ugly. Half sob, half disbelief. “We checked hospitals.”His expression shifts.

“We thought you crashed your bike.”

Something flickers across his face then. Small. Barely noticeable.

“We found blood in your apartment.”

And there it is- Recognition. The wall. The shirt. All of it flashes through his eyes at once and for the first time since waking up he looks completely awake.

Namjoon finally exhales, the sound tired rather than angry as he runs a hand over his face. “We found your apartment like that.”

Jungkook immediately looks away while jaw tightens. The room somehow feels even smaller now, the walls pressing closer with every passing second.

You wipe furiously at your cheeks, but it doesn’t help. The tears keep coming anyway. “You vanished for two days.”

He says nothing. No defense. No explanation. No attempt to make himself look better. The silence stretches until it becomes unbearable.

Then finally: “…I didn’t think anyone would come looking.” The confession leaves him quietly.

For a second the entire room freezes. Even Jungkook seems to realize what just came out of his mouth.

Your head snaps up immediately. “You didn’t think anyone would come looking for you?”

His eyes flick toward yours before dropping away again, finding something fascinating about the stained motel wallpaper instead. The silence that follows hurts. It hurts because suddenly the truth is standing naked in the middle of the room for everyone to see.

“You thought nobody would care?” Your voice rises despite yourself. “Nobody?”

Jungkook swallows hard. “I didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

His mouth opens, then closes again. Because he doesn’t have an answer. Because the real answer sounds pathetic now that it’s out in the open:

He left. He got drunk. He disappeared.

And some miserable, broken part of him genuinely thought the world would keep moving without him for a few days.

Yoongi finally speaks then, his voice so calm it somehow makes everything worse. “You disappeared for forty-eight hours.”

Jungkook looks toward him, Yoongi’s expression never changes. “I was five minutes away from identifying your body.” The words hit the room like a gunshot and nobody says anything after that for some time.

Jungkook visibly pales. Namjoon drags both hands down his face. Seungmin’s arm tightens around your shoulders.

And Jungkook just sits there on the edge of the mattress looking genuinely sick. Not hungover. Not tired.

Sick.

“…I didn’t know.” The guilt in his voice sounds real. Raw. It somehow only makes your chest ache harder, because of course he didn’t know- he was sleeping. Drinking. Hiding.

While everybody else was losing their minds.

Another tear slips free before you can stop it and this time Jungkook notices. Not the crying itself. You.

The red eyes and the shaking hands. The fact that you’re here. Not at home. Not with them. Here. Standing in the middle of a disgusting motel room at three in the morning looking completely devastated because of him.

The realization settles visibly across his face. Painfully.

For a long moment nobody says anything. Then, so quietly you almost don’t hear it: “…you were really worried?”

The room collectively looks ready to murder him. Your mouth actually falls open- for a second you’re too stunned to speak before a disbelieving laugh escapes through your tears. Behind you, Namjoon physically turns away and smacks a hand over his eyes. Yoongi mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “unbelievable.”

Meanwhile Seungmin just stares at Jungkook with the expression of a man witnessing somebody lose a fight against their own brain in real time.

You wipe your face one last time before pointing toward the door. “Get up.”

Jungkook blinks. “What?”

“Get up.” The exhaustion in your voice somehow makes the command even more absolute.

He stares at you for a second, still hungover, still confused, still looking like the saddest man in South Korea. “…why?”

A hollow laugh escapes you. “Because we’re taking you home.”

Something changes in his expression immediately. The confusion disappears and the shame returns. Stronger this time. His gaze drops toward the stained motel carpet while silence settles over the room again.

When he finally speaks, his voice comes out rough enough to almost sound painful.

“…I don’t want to go home.”

And suddenly nobody in the room knows how to answer him, because for the first time that night it becomes painfully obvious that Jungkook isn’t talking about the apartment.

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You noticed him the way you noticed everything — quietly, carefully.

Today, he was laughing with a group of teammates at the counter, ordering enough food for half the table. His smile was wide, eyes crinkling, voice warm as he teased someone about their new haircut. The barista blushed when he thanked her by name.

But when he sat down with his tray, something shifted.

You watched from your corner as he picked at the rice bowl, pushing pieces around with his chopsticks. He laughed at something his friend said, bright and genuine. Then, when no one was looking, he quietly slid most of the food into a napkin and dropped it into the trash on his way to refill his water bottle.

It was smooth. Practiced.

No one else noticed.

But you did.

Your pencil paused on the page.

Felix returned to the table still smiling, still talking, still radiating that effortless sunshine. He took a few small bites, nodded along to the conversation, and eventually stood up with the group, waving goodbye with that same bright energy.

The untouched food sat in the trash like a secret.

You stared at your sketchbook, the half-finished drawing of the café window now feeling incomplete.

You didn’t know why it stuck with you.

But later that afternoon, when you passed him on the quad surrounded by friends, laughing loudly while carrying someone’s bag for them, you couldn’t stop thinking about the quiet way he had thrown away his meal.

Like carrying the weight of being everyone’s sunshine had started to cost him something he didn’t know how to name.

The next time you saw him was in the art building.

You were working late in one of the private studios, door cracked open for fresh air, when Felix appeared in the hallway. He was in his practice clothes, hair damp with sweat, backpack slung over one shoulder. He stopped when he saw the light on.

You looked up from your canvas.

He smiled — that warm, automatic sunshine smile.

“Hey,” he said softly, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re here late.”

“So are you,” you replied, voice quiet but steady. You weren’t the type to chatter, but you weren’t cold either. Just… observant.

Felix’s eyes flicked to your painting — a soft, moody piece of the campus at dusk. Something in his expression shifted, just for a second.

“That’s really beautiful,” he said, genuine this time. No performance.

You nodded, wiping your hands on a rag. “Thanks. Rough day?”

He shrugged, still smiling. “Practice was long. But it’s fine. You?”

You studied him for a moment. The faint shadows under his eyes. The way his shoulders carried tension even when he tried to look relaxed.

“Long day too,” you said simply.

He lingered in the doorway a second longer than necessary, like he wanted to say something else but didn’t know how.

Then he gave you that bright smile again.

“Don’t stay up too late,” he said, tapping the doorframe once before disappearing down the hall.

You stared after him.

The golden boy who took care of everyone.

But who, you were starting to suspect, forgot to take care of himself.

-----

Felix started appearing in your art studio after practice.

At first, it was occasional — a quick knock on the doorframe, that bright sunshine smile, a casual “mind if I sit here for a bit?” while he was still in his practice clothes, hair damp, muscles tired from sprinting.

You never said no.

You were the quiet art student, after all. You liked silence. You liked observing. And Felix, despite being the loudest presence on campus, somehow knew how to sit quietly when he was with you.

He’d settle on the old couch in the corner of the studio, legs stretched out, watching you paint with that gentle, focused expression he rarely showed anyone else. Sometimes he’d bring snacks — “I had extra,” he’d say, even though you suspected he bought them specifically for you. Sometimes he’d fall asleep there, head tilted back, soft freckled cheeks relaxed in a way they never were during the day when everyone expected him to be the golden boy.

You never woke him.

You just kept painting, stealing quiet glances at the way the studio light caught on his hair, the way his chest rose and fell evenly, the way the weight of being everyone’s sunshine seemed to slip off his shoulders only when he was here.

One evening, after a particularly long practice, he showed up with two cups of hot chocolate.

“You looked cold last time,” he said, handing you one without waiting for thanks. His voice was warm, gentle, the kind of tone he used when he was taking care of someone.

You accepted it, fingers brushing his. “You don’t have to keep doing this, Felix.”

He smiled — that bright, automatic smile — but his eyes were tired. “I want to.”

He sat on the couch again, watching you mix colors on your palette. After a while, he spoke softly.

“You’re really good at this. The way you see things… it’s different from everyone else.”

You glanced at him. “Different how?”

He thought for a moment, freckles standing out under the warm studio lights.

“Like you notice the parts people try to hide,” he said quietly. “The cracks. The shadows. Most people only paint the light.”

Your brush paused.

You looked at him then — really looked.

At the golden boy who spent all day giving light to everyone else.

And wondered how heavy that light had become.

-----

The small acts of care kept coming.

He started showing up with your favorite snacks when you had late critiques. He’d quietly refill your water bottle when it got low. He’d leave little notes on your desk when he left before you arrived — “don’t forget to eat” or “the light is nice today, you should paint by the window.”

You teased him about it once.

“You’re acting like a worried mom,” you said, holding up one of the notes with a small smile.

Felix’s ears turned pink, but he just shrugged with that sunshine grin. “Someone has to make sure you’re okay.”

You didn’t know how to tell him that no one had ever done that for you before.

So you let him.

And slowly, without either of you saying it out loud, the art studio started feeling like a shared space.

His practice bag in the corner. Your extra hoodie on the back of the couch for when he got cold after practice. His favorite playlist playing softly in the background while you worked.

One night, after a brutal practice, Felix showed up looking more exhausted than usual. He didn’t say much. Just collapsed on the couch and closed his eyes.

You kept painting.

But when you glanced over twenty minutes later, he was fast asleep, head tilted awkwardly, breathing slow and heavy.

You set your brush down, grabbed the spare blanket from the shelf, and gently draped it over him. Then, almost without thinking, you sat on the floor beside the couch and sketched him — soft lines, gentle shadows, the way his lashes rested against his freckled cheeks when he finally let himself rest.

When he woke up an hour later, he blinked at the blanket, then at you.

“You didn’t have to,” he said quietly.

You shrugged, still sketching. “You do it for me all the time.”

Felix watched you for a long moment, something soft and unspoken in his eyes.

Then he smiled — small, real, not the bright one he gave everyone else.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

You didn’t reply.

But you kept the sketch.

And he kept coming back because the art studio had become Felix’s secret refuge.

He never said it out loud. He didn’t need to. After evening practice, when the rest of the campus was winding down or heading to parties, Felix would show up at your studio door with damp hair, tired eyes, and that same warm smile that fooled everyone else.

But you saw the difference.

The way his shoulders dropped the moment he stepped inside. The way he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for hours. The way he kicked off his shoes and curled up on the old couch in the corner without asking — like this space had quietly become his too.

You never minded.

You were the quiet art student. You liked silence. You liked the soft scratch of charcoal on paper, the smell of paint, the way the world felt smaller and safer when you were focused on creating something. Having Felix there didn’t break the silence. It softened it.

Sometimes he’d watch you paint, chin resting on his arms, eyes following every stroke with quiet fascination.

“You make it look easy,” he said one night, voice soft in the dim studio light. “Like the colors just… listen to you.”

You glanced at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “They don’t always listen. Sometimes I fight them for hours.”

He hummed, thoughtful. “I get that.”

There was something heavy in the way he said it. Like he wasn’t just talking about art.

You didn’t push.

Instead, you handed him a spare brush and a small canvas.

“Try it,” you said. “No pressure. Just mess around.”

Felix hesitated, then took the brush like it was something fragile. His first few strokes were careful, almost shy. Then he relaxed, and the canvas slowly filled with soft yellows and warm oranges — bright, hopeful colors that felt like him.

When he finished, he looked almost embarrassed.

“It’s not good,” he mumbled.

You studied it for a long moment.

“It feels like you,” you said quietly. “Warm. Even when it’s messy.”

Felix looked at you then — really looked — eyes wide and vulnerable in the soft light.

He didn’t say anything.

But he kept the painting.

-----

Felix started falling asleep more often in the studio. You’d find him curled up on the couch after practice, breathing deep and even, the weight of being everyone’s sunshine finally slipping off his shoulders for a few precious hours.

One particularly cold night, he fell asleep with his head on your shoulder while you were both sitting on the floor surrounded by sketches. You didn’t move. You just let him rest there, his hair tickling your neck, his breathing warm against your skin.

When he woke up an hour later, he blinked slowly, confused for a second. Then he realized where he was and sat up straight, ears turning pink.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” you said softly. “You looked like you needed it.”

Felix stared at you for a long moment, something complicated flickering in his eyes.

Then he smiled — small, tired, but real.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

He didn’t move away.

Neither did you.

The quiet care between you grew deeper without either of you naming it.

You started leaving a spare blanket on the couch for when he showed up exhausted. He started texting you “did you eat?” even when he was at practice. You started saving the best corner of the studio for him — the one with the softest light.

It felt easy.

It felt safe.

But you were starting to notice the cracks more clearly.

The way he sometimes pushed food around his plate when he thought you weren’t looking. The way his smile faltered for half a second when someone praised his athletic performance. The way he carried the weight of being everyone’s golden boy like it was a responsibility he couldn’t afford to drop.

One night, after he fell asleep on the couch again, you sketched him once more.

This time, you drew the shadows too.

The ones he tried so hard to hide behind that sunshine smile.

And for the first time, you wondered how long he could keep carrying all that light before it started burning him.

-----

The first time you truly saw the cracks, it was late on a Thursday night.

Felix had shown up at the studio after practice like usual, but something was off. His usual bright energy was dimmed. He moved slower, smiled less, and when he sat on the couch, he curled into himself more than normal, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them.

You didn’t ask right away.

You just kept painting, letting the quiet stretch between you like it always did. But every few minutes, your eyes drifted to him.

He wasn’t sleeping.

He was staring at the floor, fingers picking at the hem of his hoodie, jaw tight.

After twenty minutes of silence, you set your brush down.

“Felix,” you said softly. “What’s wrong?”

He looked up, surprised, like he’d forgotten you were there. Then he forced that sunshine smile — the one that usually fooled everyone.

“Nothing,” he said, voice bright but brittle. “Just tired from practice. Coach is pushing us hard for the upcoming meet.”

You studied him.

The faint shadows under his eyes. The way his hands trembled slightly when he reached for the water bottle. The way he kept glancing at the snacks you’d brought but hadn’t touched any.

You stood up and walked over to the couch, sitting on the floor in front of him so you were eye level.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” you said quietly. “Not here.”

Felix’s smile faltered.

For a second, the golden boy mask slipped completely. His eyes looked tired — exhausted in a way that went deeper than sore muscles. He looked away, swallowing hard.

“I’m fine,” he whispered. “I have to be fine.”

The words sounded like they had been repeated so many times they’d lost their meaning.

You reached out slowly and rested your hand on his knee. He didn’t pull away.

“You don’t,” you said gently. “Not with me.”

He was quiet for a long time.

Then, voice barely audible:

“I threw up after practice again today.”

The confession landed like a stone in still water.

You stayed silent, letting him speak.

“I know it’s bad,” he continued, eyes fixed on the floor. “I know I should eat more. But every time I look at food before a big meet, I just… freeze. Coach says I need to stay lean. The team needs me fast. And if I gain even a little weight, I feel like I’m letting everyone down.”

He laughed, but it was small and broken.

“I’m supposed to be the happy one. The one who cheers everyone up. If they knew I was struggling with this… they’d look at me differently. So I just smile. And run faster. And pretend it’s enough.”

You felt your chest ache.

You moved to sit beside him on the couch and gently pulled him into a hug. Felix stiffened for half a second — like he wasn’t used to being held — then melted against you, face buried in your shoulder.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” you whispered, stroking his hair. “Not with me.”

He didn’t cry.

But his breathing was shaky, and his arms wrapped around you like you were the only steady thing left.

That night, he fell asleep on your shoulder again.

You stayed awake, holding him, wondering how long the golden boy had been carrying all that weight alone.

The next few days, you started paying even closer attention.

You noticed how he pushed food around his plate during group meals, smiling brightly while taking tiny bites. You noticed how he ran extra laps after practice when no one was watching. You noticed how he laughed louder when someone praised his speed, like he needed the validation to keep going.

One evening, you brought him a small, carefully packed bento with foods you knew he liked — light but nourishing.

He stared at it for a long moment.

Then looked at you with those wide, vulnerable eyes.

“You don’t have to do this,” he whispered.

“I want to,” you said simply. “Let me take care of you too, Felix.”

He ate every bite.

And when he finished, he leaned his head against your shoulder, quiet and grateful.

Little did you know, the jealousy would occur right after.

He never raised his voice. Never made scenes. He just… got closer.

It began the week the track team had joint training sessions with the soccer team. You were there to take photos for the campus sports magazine — your usual quiet presence behind the lens.

One of the soccer players, Chan, was friendly and outgoing. He noticed you during a water break and wandered over with an easy smile.

“You’re the photographer, right?” he asked, wiping sweat from his forehead. “I’ve seen your shots from last semester. Really good stuff.”

You smiled back, friendly as always. “Thanks. Just doing my job.”

Chan leaned against the fence beside you, chatting casually about the upcoming meet. He was tall, confident, and had that effortless charm that made conversation flow. At one point, he reached out to adjust the strap of your camera bag when it slipped off your shoulder.

Felix, who had been stretching nearby, stopped mid-movement.

You didn’t notice at first.

But then Felix was suddenly there — appearing at your side like a quiet shadow, his hand gently but firmly taking the strap from Chan’s fingers and fixing it himself.

“I’ve got it,” Felix said, voice warm on the surface but with an edge underneath.

Chan blinked, surprised. “Oh, hey Felix. You two know each other?”

Felix’s hand lingered on your shoulder a second longer than necessary. “Yeah. She’s with me.”

The words were casual.

But the way he said them wasn’t.

Chan raised his hands with a knowing grin and backed off. “Got it. Nice to meet you though.”

The second Chan walked away, Felix’s hand dropped from your shoulder. He didn’t say anything. Just went back to stretching like nothing had happened.

But you saw the tension in his jaw. The way his fingers flexed once, like he was trying to shake off the feeling.

You turned to him later, when the field had cleared a bit.

“You okay?” you asked softly.

Felix gave you that bright sunshine smile — the one that usually fooled everyone. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

You studied him. “You seemed… tense.”

He shrugged, looking away toward the track. “Just focused on practice.”

But that night, when he showed up at your studio, he was clingier than usual.

He didn’t ask. He just sat on the couch, then slowly leaned over until his head rested on your shoulder, arms wrapping loosely around your waist like he needed the contact to breathe.

You let him.

You always let him.

The clinginess grew after that.

He started showing up at your studio earlier. He started texting you during his breaks: “where are you?” “are you eating?” “don’t stay up too late.”

One afternoon, you were talking with Chan again near the athletic center when Felix appeared. He didn’t say anything rude. He simply slid his arm around your shoulders, pulled you gently against his side, and smiled at Chan — bright, friendly, but with something sharp underneath.

“Hey,” Felix said. “We’re heading out. You ready?”

You hadn’t planned to leave.

But you went with him anyway.

As soon as you were far enough away, you looked up at him.

“You’re getting possessive,” you teased lightly.

Felix’s ears turned pink. He looked away, but his arm stayed around your shoulders.

“I’m not,” he muttered. “I just… don’t like when other guys talk to you.”

The honesty was quiet. Almost shy.

You didn’t push.

But you leaned into his side a little more as you walked.

-----

That night in the studio, Felix was quieter than usual.

He sat on the couch watching you paint, chin resting on his arms. After a while, he spoke softly.

“I know I’m being weird,” he said. “About Chan. About… other people.”

You glanced at him.

He continued, voice small. “I just… I like being the one who takes care of you. The one you come to. And when someone else gets close, it feels like I’m losing that.”

You set your brush down and walked over to the couch. You sat beside him and gently pulled him into a hug.

“You’re not losing anything,” you whispered. “I like when you take care of me. I like being around you.”

Felix buried his face in your shoulder, arms wrapping tightly around your waist.

He didn’t say anything else.

But he held you like he was scared to let go.

And for the first time, you realized how much weight the golden boy was carrying — not just for himself, but for the fear of not being needed.

You held him tighter.

And Felix let you.

“I’m so tired,” he whispered.

You held him closer, one hand stroking gently through his hair.

“I know,” you murmured. “You don’t have to be strong right now.”

Felix made a small, broken sound and clung to you tighter.

You guided him to the bigger couch in the corner. He followed without protest, letting you pull him down until he was lying on his back with you straddling his hips. His hands settled on your waist, fingers trembling slightly.

You leaned down and kissed him.

It was soft at first — gentle, careful, like you were afraid he might break. But Felix made a needy sound against your lips and pulled you closer, deepening the kiss with quiet desperation. His hands slid under your shirt, palms warm against your skin as he explored slowly, reverently.

You undressed each other with trembling hands.

When you finally sank down onto him, taking him inside you inch by inch, Felix’s head fell back against the couch with a broken moan.

“Fuck… you feel so good,” he gasped, fingers digging into your hips. “So warm… so perfect…”

You moved slowly, rolling your hips in deep, gentle circles. Felix’s eyes stayed locked on yours the entire time, wide and vulnerable, tears clinging to his lashes.

“I’ve never let anyone see me like this,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Never let anyone… take care of me.”

You leaned down, kissing him softly as you rode him. “Let me.”

He came first — with a quiet, overwhelmed sob of your name, hips stuttering as he spilled deep inside you, tears slipping down his freckled cheeks. You followed right after, clenching around him as pleasure washed over you.

Afterward, Felix didn’t let you move.

He kept you wrapped around him, still buried inside you, arms locked tightly around your back as he pressed his face into your neck.

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice raw. “For seeing me. For staying.”

You stroked his hair gently, holding him through the aftershocks.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you murmured. “You don’t have to carry everything alone anymore.”

Felix held you tighter, breathing you in like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

For the first time, the golden boy let someone carry some of his light.

And you held it carefully — like the precious thing it was.

-----

The next day, Felix had shown up after practice again, but this time he didn’t pretend to be okay. He walked in with heavy steps, shoulders slumped, eyes tired in a way that went far beyond sore muscles. He didn’t say anything at first. He just sat on the couch, knees drawn up, staring at the floor like it held answers he couldn’t find.

You set your brush down and sat beside him.

For a long time, neither of you spoke.

Then, in a small, broken voice, Felix finally said:

“I think I’m losing control.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

You stayed quiet, giving him space. He needed it.

He swallowed hard, fingers twisting in the hem of his hoodie.

“I’ve always been the happy one,” he whispered. “The one who cheers everyone up. The one who smiles no matter what. My coach used to say, ‘Felix, your energy is your greatest weapon.’ So I gave it. All the time. Even when I was exhausted. Even when I felt like I was disappearing.”

He let out a shaky breath.

“When I was sixteen, I had my first big competition. I was the favorite. Everyone expected me to win. But the night before, I got so nervous I couldn’t eat. My coach told me if I didn’t fuel properly, I’d disappoint the whole team. So I forced myself. And I won. But after that… it became a cycle. The pressure got worse. The expectations got higher. Every time I felt full, I felt guilty. Like I was getting slower. Like I was letting everyone down.”

His voice cracked.

“I started skipping meals before meets. Telling myself it was just for performance. Then it wasn’t just before meets. It was every day. I’d throw away food when no one was looking. Smile and say I already ate. Run extra laps to burn it off. And every time someone praised me for being ‘so strong’ or ‘so dedicated,’ it made it harder to stop. Because if I admitted I was struggling… they’d look at me like I was broken. Like the golden boy was a lie.”

Tears slipped down his freckled cheeks, but he didn’t wipe them away.

“I’m so scared,” he whispered. “Of disappointing people. Of not being enough. Of them realizing I’m not the sunshine they think I am. That I’m just… tired. All the time.”

You felt your own eyes sting.

You moved closer and gently pulled him into your arms. Felix resisted for half a second — old habits — then collapsed against you, face buried in your neck as quiet sobs shook his shoulders.

“I’ve never told anyone,” he cried softly. “I didn’t want them to see me as weak. But with you… I don’t want to hide anymore. I’m so tired of carrying it alone.”

You held him tighter, stroking his hair, letting him cry.

“You’re not weak,” you whispered. “You’re human. And it’s okay to need help. It’s okay to let someone carry some of the weight.”

Felix clung to you like you were the only steady thing left in his world.

“I don’t know how to stop,” he admitted, voice muffled against your skin. “The control. The pressure. The fear that if I’m not perfect, everyone will leave.”

You pulled back just enough to cup his face, thumbs brushing away his tears.

“I’m not leaving,” you said firmly. “Not when you’re struggling. Not when you’re tired. Not when you’re not smiling. I see all of you, Felix. And I’m still here.”

He stared at you, eyes glassy and vulnerable.

Then he kissed you.

It was slow. Desperate. Full of everything he’d been holding back. His hands trembled as they slid under your shirt, pulling you closer, needing to feel you.

You let him.

You let him undress you with reverent hands. Let him lay you down on the old studio couch. Let him worship every inch of you with his mouth and fingers until you were moaning his name, back arching off the cushions.

When he finally pushed inside you, it was slow and deep, forehead pressed to yours, eyes locked as he moved.

“I need you,” he gasped, voice breaking. “I need this. I need us.”

You wrapped your legs around him, holding him close as he thrust deeper, emotions pouring out with every movement.

He came first — with a quiet, overwhelmed sob, tears slipping down his cheeks as pleasure and years of hidden pain crashed over him. You followed right after, holding him through it.

Afterward, Felix didn’t pull away.

He stayed buried inside you, arms wrapped tightly around your body, face pressed into your neck as he trembled.

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice raw. “For seeing me. For staying.”

You stroked his hair gently, kissing his temple.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you murmured. “We’ll carry the weight together.”

Felix held you tighter, breathing you in like you were the first real light he’d felt in years.

-----

The championship meet was supposed to be Felix’s moment.

The entire campus had been buzzing about it for weeks. Posters with his smiling face were everywhere. “Golden Boy Felix Aims for Record.” Coaches were confident. Teammates were hyped. Even your art professors mentioned it in passing, asking if you’d be photographing the event.

Felix smiled through all of it.

But you saw the truth.

The way his hands trembled when he thought no one was looking. The way he skipped meals more openly now, claiming he was “carb-loading properly.” The way he ran extra laps after practice until he could barely stand.

You tried to talk to him the night before.

“Felix,” you said softly in the studio, holding his hand. “You don’t have to push this hard. One meet doesn’t define you.”

He gave you that bright, practiced smile. “I know. I’m fine. Really.”

He wasn’t.

The day of the meet, the stadium was packed.

You were there with your camera, positioned near the finish line like always. When Felix stepped onto the track, the crowd cheered. He waved, smiling that golden smile, freckles bright under the sun.

But when the gun went off, something was wrong.

He started strong — graceful, powerful, the Felix everyone expected. But midway through the race, his stride faltered. Just slightly. Enough that you noticed.

He pushed through anyway.

Crossed the finish line in second place.

The crowd still cheered.

But Felix didn’t smile.

He bent over, hands on his knees, breathing hard. When his coach approached, he straightened up quickly, forcing that sunshine expression back on.

You knew better.

You slipped away from the press area and found him later in the quiet locker room corridor, away from cameras and congratulations.

He was sitting on the floor, back against the wall, head buried in his arms.

Not crying loudly.

Just… breaking.

Quietly. Privately. The way he always did.

“Felix,” you whispered, crouching in front of him.

He flinched at your voice but didn’t look up.

“I failed,” he said, voice muffled and raw. “I was supposed to win. Everyone was counting on me. And I… I couldn’t even do that.”

You sat beside him on the cold floor and gently pulled him into your arms.

He resisted for half a second — old habits of being strong — then collapsed against you, face pressed into your neck as silent sobs shook his shoulders.

“I’ve been doing this since I was twelve,” he cried quietly. “My coach told me if I wasn’t the best, I was nothing. My parents sacrificed so much. Every time I felt hungry, I told myself it was weakness. Every time I wanted to rest, I told myself I was disappointing them.”

His fingers clutched your shirt like a lifeline.

“I don’t know how to stop,” he whispered. “I don’t know how to be okay with not being perfect. I’m so scared that if I’m not the golden boy… no one will want me anymore.”

You held him tighter, stroking his hair, letting him cry.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” you said softly. “Not with me. Not ever. I see you, Felix. The real you. The one who’s tired. The one who struggles. The one who still tries so hard. And I love every part of you.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes red and vulnerable.

“…You love me?” he whispered, like he couldn’t believe it.

You nodded, brushing tears from his freckled cheeks.

“I do.”

Felix let out a shaky breath and kissed you.

It was desperate. Emotional. Full of every fear and every hope he’d been carrying alone for years. His hands trembled as they held your face, like he was afraid you’d vanish.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, pouring every ounce of love and reassurance into it.

When you finally pulled apart, foreheads pressed together, Felix whispered:

“I don’t want to carry this alone anymore.”

“You don’t have to,” you promised.

The night after the meet, Felix didn’t want to be alone.

He showed up at your studio door after dark, eyes still red, shoulders heavy. He didn’t say anything. He just stepped inside and let you close the door behind him.

You didn’t ask questions.

You just pulled him into your arms.

Felix melted against you instantly, face buried in your neck, arms wrapping tightly around your waist like you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “For falling apart like that. For making you see me like this.”

You stroked his hair gently. “You don’t have to apologize for being human.”

He held you tighter.

That night, the intimacy between you shifted from gentle comfort to something deeper.

You guided him to the old couch in the corner of the studio. Felix followed without resistance, letting you undress him slowly, reverently. His breathing was shaky as you kissed down his chest, taking your time, showing him with every touch that he didn’t have to be perfect here.

When you took him into your mouth, Felix’s head fell back with a broken moan, fingers threading through your hair. He was needy, vulnerable, whispering your name like a prayer as you worked him slowly, lovingly.

But he didn’t stay passive for long.

With a soft, desperate sound, he pulled you up and switched positions, laying you down beneath him. He kissed you deeply as he pushed inside you, slow and careful, eyes locked on yours the entire time.

You wrapped your legs around him, holding him close as he moved — deep, emotional thrusts that felt like healing. Every movement was laced with love, with gratitude, with the years of pain he was finally letting go of.

You switched again later.

You pushed him onto his back and straddled him, sinking down onto his cock with a shared moan. Felix’s hands gripped your hips, eyes glassy with overwhelming emotion as you rode him slow and deep.

“I love you,” he whispered, tears slipping down his cheeks. “I love you so much."

You leaned down, kissing him as you moved, pouring every ounce of love into it.

He came first — with a quiet, overwhelmed sob, hips stuttering as he spilled deep inside you, tears flowing freely now. You followed right after, clenching around him as waves of pleasure and emotion crashed over both of you.

Afterward, Felix didn’t let you move.

He kept you wrapped around him, still buried inside you, arms locked tightly around your back as he trembled. His face was pressed into your neck, breathing uneven.

“I’ve never let anyone see me break like this,” he whispered, voice raw. “Never let anyone help carry it. But with you… it doesn’t feel heavy anymore.”

You stroked his hair gently, pressing soft kisses to his temple.

“You don’t have to carry it alone,” you murmured. “I’ve got you. Always.”

Felix held you tighter, tears still slipping silently as the weight he’d carried for years finally started to lift.

-----

The spring air was warm and golden the day Felix finally let himself rest.

No big competition. No cameras. No expectations.

Just the two of you at the small skatepark near campus late in the evening, the sun setting behind the trees, painting everything in soft oranges and pinks.

Felix had never been much of a skateboarder. He was a sprinter — all power, speed, and control. But you had brought your board anyway, teasing him until he agreed to try.

You watched as he stepped onto the board for the first time, arms out for balance, freckled cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and determination. He wobbled almost immediately.

You laughed brightly, rushing forward to steady him with both hands on his waist.

“Easy,” you said, grinning up at him. “Small pushes. Don’t fight it.”

Felix looked down at you, eyes soft and warm in the sunset light. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Immensely,” you replied, shameless and bright as always.

He tried again. This time he made it a few feet before wobbling. You caught him, both of you laughing as you tumbled onto the soft grass together. Felix landed on his back with you half on top of him, his arms wrapping around your waist instinctively.

For a moment, you just lay there, breathing each other in.

“I used to think I had to be perfect all the time,” Felix said quietly, fingers tracing patterns on your back. “That if I wasn’t the fastest, the strongest, the brightest… I’d disappear. But with you… I don’t feel like I have to run anymore.”

You lifted your head to look at him, brushing a strand of blond hair from his eyes.

“You don’t,” you whispered. “You can just be Felix. My Felix.”

His eyes shimmered with emotion. He pulled you down into a slow, deep kiss — full of gratitude, love, and the quiet joy of finally being seen.

When you pulled back, he smiled — not the bright, practiced sunshine smile he gave the world.

A real one.

Small. Shy. Yours.

That night, back in your apartment, the intimacy was different.

Softer. Deeper.

Felix let you take care of him completely.

You undressed him slowly, kissing every freckle, every tired muscle, whispering praise against his skin until he was trembling beneath you. When you took him into your mouth, he moaned your name like a prayer, fingers gently threading through your hair.

But he needed more.

He pulled you up and switched, laying you down and pushing inside you with a shared, breathless moan. He moved slow and deep, eyes locked on yours the entire time, tears slipping down his cheeks as pleasure and healing mixed together.

“I love you,” he gasped, voice breaking. “Thank you for carrying my light with me.”

You came together — soft, emotional, overwhelming — clinging to each other like you never wanted to let go.

Afterward, Felix curled into your arms, face pressed against your chest, breathing steady and calm for the first time in years.

“I don’t have to be perfect anymore,” he whispered.

“No,” you murmured, stroking his hair. “You just have to be you.”

He smiled against your skin.

And fell asleep like that — safe, loved, and finally resting.

-----

Months later, Felix still ran.

But now he ran because he loved it — not because he was scared of not being enough.

He still smiled brightly for the crowd.

But he saved the softest, realest smiles for you.

And on quiet evenings, when the weight of the world felt a little too heavy, he would find you — whether in the art studio or on the skatepark grass — and let you carry some of his light.

Because the golden boy had finally learned that sunshine didn’t have to burn alone.

It could be shared.

The hospital wouldn’t allow visitors until after the authorities asked all their questions and doctors cleared it. No matter how much you begged, they wouldn’t even let you call them. No contact at all, though you knew they were nearby. Probably just as anxious to see you as you were to see them.

You were most anxious to see Hyunjin because you know he is blaming himself. But it’s not his fault. The fault lies with the girl – Mina – Hee. No one else could have known what would happen. Not even you, who blindly trusted that the staff were fully vetted and safe.

The police told you that you were missing for just over five hours before she answered Bang Chans call and gave them what they needed. Before then they had no choice but to slowly comb through every person there and any surveillance footage they had. Questioning everyone about anything they saw or heard.

Meaning, if you and Bang Chan hadn’t played pretend with the queen of crazy you might have spent several more hours waiting on rescue. They praised your quick thinking and Bang Chan catching on as quickly as he did and getting the information to them.

You ended up being discharged before they cleared anyone to come visit you. The police had already finished their interview and gave you a number to call if you thought of anything else.

“Your soul mates have been waiting rather impatiently in the waiting room down the hall. I’m sure they will be very relieved to see you.” The nurse handling your discharge paperwork informed you. “If you develop any symptoms later come back to get checked out.” Thankfully, the irritation from the chemical was only a mild red patch where it touched your skin. It would be annoying for a couple days but go away within a week.

When you got close enough to the waiting room you could see all of them and you took a second to take them all in, emotions you weren’t expecting overflowing. They were loud, even in a hospital. You couldn’t really tell if they were really arguing or just argue venting at each other to deal with their emotions and frustrations. Maybe it was a bit of both.

Hyunjin was standing by the window, staring out and restlessly bouncing a leg. Seungmin was over on one side pestering Changbin. They were the source of the arguing. Felix sat leaning up against Hyunjin slightly, offering him a bit of tactile comfort. Lee Know and Han were twisted together watching videos on their phones. I.N was watching Seungmin and Changbin yell at each other, instigating where he could. Bang Chan sat closest to the entrance, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His hair looked like he had been pulling on it for hours.

Like he sensed he was being watched, Bang Chan loo9ked up at you. He almost leaped to his feet as soon as his brain registered that it was you.

He gently grabbed your face, eyes catching every bruise blossoming on it. “Are you okay?” He whispered, voice cracked with emotion.

“I was drugged, kidnapped, and slapped around. Then I had to listen to you sweet talk the person who did all those things to be for a very long time. I am so very far from okay.” You answer, surprised at the venom the words carried. Apparently, the jealousy hadn’t subsided yet, irrational as it is.

Despite your venom he pulled you into a hug so big it engulfed your entire body and folded it into his. “I promise the only truthful thing I said to her was the very last thing.”

You thought back to the chaos and overwhelming relief of the end of your nightmare. “You could never be our soul mate! It is and always will be Y/n!” His final words to her were declaring you their soul mate now and forever.

You let your whole body sag into him on an exhale, releasing all your stored up tension. Your fingers tangled in the back of his shirt as you gripped it tight in your fists and felt a sob fight its way free.

He squeezed you tighter. “I know you were scared. We were too. But you were so brave and so smart.” He praised as you heard the others join you two. “We would have taken much longer to find you if you hadn’t tricked her.”

Later you would tell him he also saved you by catching on and playing along. Later you would praise his ability to get information out of her. Much more than you were able to. But right now, you just wanted to be held and cry. You wanted to just be warm and safe.

“What happened? We didn’t get many details from anyone?” Han asked.

You just shook your head and buried your face deeper into Bang Chans chest. Your brain and body did not want to talk. The thought of having to form more coherent words seems impossibly hard and not worth it. You had just talked for who knows how long. Telling and retelling what happened to doctors, nurses, and multiple police officers conducting their investigations. Then there was the company investigator doing an internal review of the situation. It was too much. You couldn’t fathom forcing yourself to answer Hans question.

“Are you okay?” I.N asked and you felt another hand on your back.

Again, you don’t answer, not able to find the willpower to make your mouth move, it felt glued shut. Tongue too heavy to form words like it usually did. Instead, you stayed firmly in Bang Chans chest.

Bang Chan scratched lightly at your scalp. “Don’t wanna talk, hun?” He asked gently. When you didn’t answer, he correctly took that as confirmation.

Bending a bit awkwardly, he picked you up. Holding you up with one arm around your back and the other under your butt. You would store this away to marvel at later. “Let’s get you home.” He declared.

~

Bang Chan released you long enough for you to shower off the hospital and change into an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts. He was waiting for you just outside the bathroom when you were done. He had to of left at some point because he was also in different clothes. A soft black shirt and a pair of red basketball shorts that both looked very comfortable.

“Better?” He asked.

You just looked at him, not even able to find the ability to physically answer his question. It still felt like too much. Too heavy. He gave you an understanding look when you remain silent.

“Take your time.” He said running a finger over a bruised cheek.

Movement caught your eye and you saw a flash of long dark hair. Hyunjin was anxiously lurking around in your peripheral areas.

“He blames himself pretty hard.” Bang Chan explained following your gaze. “Called us in such a state I couldn’t tell if he was more panicked or angry.”

“He definitely owes a couple security guards an apology. He was very tyrannical for a while.” Lee Know stated as he came over with a mug of steaming tea. “This should at least help keep you warm.” He held the mug up to his face and blew on it a couple of times before giving it to you. “Sometimes you can feel cold after an experience like yours.”

You sipped at the hot liquid, surprised when it was pleasant tasting instead of bitter like you had expected. The taste and warmth were cozy. Made you think of sitting in front of a cackling fireplace. A soft blanket and purring cat on your lap.

With a contented sigh you let yourself fall forward a bit so your head clunked on his shoulder. He scuffed up your freshly washed and brushed hair.

“Silly girl. Finding trouble and making us worry.” He teased you lightly.

Opening your mouth wide you bit his shoulder in retaliation, causing him to overdramatically whine.

“Alright you two. Its late and we’ve all had an exhausting day.” Bang Chan gently chastised effectively telling everyone to go to bed.

Lee Know seemed to agree. He scuffed your hair one more time and kissed the rats nest he left behind before heading to his room. You glanced Han already in the room, ready to sleep. Waiting for Lee Know on his bed a book in his hand.

Bang Chan led you past your door and to his. His bed looked and smelled freshly made. Helping you into it, he pulled the blankets over you, tucking you in snuggly.

You watched him silently, feeling warm and awake. And like something was missing, but you couldn’t place what. You needed something or you would never be able to let yourself sleep.

Bang Chan paced around the room, going through what seemed like a nightly routine. Finally, he turned off the bright overhead light, leaving only a single dim lamp on his bedside table on. He gathered up his laptop before climbing into bed behind you, settling in to get some work done.

Your back was pressed against his leg. The light clacking of keyboard keys and clicking of his mouse were comforting noises filling the silence as you laid there fully awake but exhausted at the same time.

A shadow under the crack of the door caught your attention. It crossed back and forth several times before pausing in the middle for several minutes. Two shadows, two feet. Then they shuffled before there was one larger shadow near the middle. Hyunjin had finally sat down on the floor against the door, still hovering around you. Not even able to make himself enter the room with you.

You struggle in your blanket burrito, kicking and fighting to get your arms and legs free.

“Y/n? You okay?” What do you need?” Bang Chan asked.

Finally free you pad over to the door and open it. Hyunjin, who was leaning on the door, fell backwards onto the floor at your feet.

You expected him to scramble to his feet, muttering an excuse or apology at being caught stalking you. Maybe even running away. Instead, he blinked at you for several seconds before slowly sitting up and spinning so he faced you. He stared at the floor and looked small, fiddling anxiously with his fingernails.

You sigh through your nose and hold out a hand to him, palm up. He glanced at it before looking up at you in question. You wiggle your fingers and raise your brows at him. You weren’t going to take no for an answer.

When he finally took your hand, you gently helped him up and over to the bed where Bang Chan sat watching you. You tuck Hyunjin in where you were previously laying, patting his hair and kissing his head as he watched you with wide eyes. Completely compliant to you.

Next you move on to Bang Chan. Tugging his laptop out of his hands and setting it aside and safely out of the way.

“I need to finish.” Bang Chan protested lightly, but he didn’t fight you as you got him laid down next to Hyunjin and bundled up. “What about you?” He asked as you kissed his forehead.

In response you grab a throw blanket and crawl over Bang Chan to wedge yourself into the small space between the two men. Wiggling a little to force more room and get comfortable. Bang Chan chucked behind you.

Comfortable and satisfied, you managed to fall asleep quickly.

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