Chapter Text
It was one of those rare evenings when they had finally managed to get together, all of them — no cameras, no managers, no prying eyes. A small, private cafe, soft lighting, laughter, the smell of alcohol, and quiet conversations intertwining with the music from an old speaker system. They laughed and chatted as if trying to exhale all the tension of the past weeks, to let the fatigue go, to allow themselves to relax, if only for a little while.
But for Hyunjin, the shared laughter sounded like distant noise, as if a glass bell jar had been placed over him. He sat with a glass in his hand, automatically smiling at the right moments, but his thoughts were stuck in the sticky web of recent events. He kept replaying in his head those anonymous threats, full of hatred, and that cold, official conversation in the managers room, almost immediately after they returned from Paris after Lollapalooza, that had felt like a slap in the face.
If it had been just words… but recently, someone had pointed a laser directly at Felix. He could still sometimes see that small, venomously red dot on the back of his eyelids when he closed his eyes. After that incident, the company had urgently intervened, but their "measures" amounted not to protection, but to restrictions.
Hyunjin still didn't understand what exactly they had done wrong. Why had their friendship, as natural as breathing, suddenly been called into question, picked apart and cataloged like evidence in a court case? Felix had barely spoken during that conversation — just nodded with downcast eyes. And that silence cut Hyunjin deeper than any accusation; he would have preferred Felix to yell and argue rather than offer this quiet, detached agreement.
Of course, he could have objected. He could have said it was all absurd. But the fear for Felix was a living, cold lump in his throat. He imagined that very laser dot appearing again, and a wave of heat would wash over him. He loved him — in his own way, deeply and unconditionally. He worried about him like family. And if Felix was silent, it meant he was scared too. Perhaps he, too, was gritting his teeth and enduring this injustice, just to protect Hyunjin.
Maybe that was why Hyunjin had swallowed his objections. Let them say they were "too close," let them demand distance — the most important thing was for his angel to be safe. His best friend. His Lixie.
But tonight, in this room with no cameras, where no one was watching — why was Felix still sitting so far away, as if an invisible wall had sprung up between them? Why had he been avoiding even eye contact for two months now, looking away as if burned? Did they ask them to cease to exist for each other altogether?
He remembered the compilations Stays posted. In them, their glances seemed too soft, too long. "But can you measure love in seconds?" he thought bitterly. After all, Chan looks at him the same way, isn’t he? And Felix flirts with Changbin just as much — so why was everyone singling them out? What was so special that they had seen in his, Hyunjin's, gaze?
"Just look at me, Lixie… Just once," Hyunjin mentally pleaded, not taking his eyes off the blond. For ten minutes, he hadn't looked away, watching him talk to one person, then another, laughing, but not once — not a single time — did he glance in his direction. It was like a slow, exquisite torture.
Hyunjin let out a heavy sigh and turned away, feeling a burning shame spread across his cheeks at his own intrusiveness. And at that moment, he felt it — a light, barely perceptible tingling on his skin, as if from someone's gaze. Had Felix actually looked? But when he sneakily raised his eyes, Felix was already animatedly telling Changbin something, smiling his sunny smile — the one now being withheld from him.
Probably just his imagination. Or just a habit he couldn't break in month.
He shook his head, feeling a weary, helpless irritation growing inside him. He couldn't go on like this. He had to talk to him. Tonight. Otherwise, this silence between them would suffocate him completely.
With this firm, almost desperate decision, the evening suddenly felt lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from his soul. Now he had a plan, a clear goal, not just a dull ache.
Closer to midnight, the general merriment smoothly moved to the adjacent, soundproofed room housing the karaoke machine. Everyone knew there was no better way for Stray Kids to cap off an evening than with a proper vocal marathon. Through the slightly open door came explosions of laughter and soulful (or soul-wrenching) wailing along to another hit song. The air in the main hall had grown thick and stuffy, saturated with a mixture of food, alcohol, and collective fatigue.
Felix felt his head spinning — from the drinks, the noise, the month of crushing tension. He caught Seungmin and, leaning close to his ear to be heard over the din, said:
"I'm heading out. Let the guys know not to worry, I'm just tired."
Seungmin nodded, patted his shoulder with an understanding look, and wished him good night.
Stepping outside, Felix didn't head straight to the apartments. The night air was cool and searingly clean after the stuffy cafe. He leaned against the wall, tilted his head back, and took several deep breaths, peering at the sparse stars piercing through the city's light pollution. This gated complex was their little island of safety — here, in the end of summer, they could allow themselves everything: staying out until dawn, getting hopelessly drunk, without fearing that someone's phone would capture their vulnerable moments to sell.
Hyunjin, who hadn't taken his eyes off Felix the entire time, noticed his departure immediately. In the next room, Han, Changbin, and Jeongin were squeezing everything their vocal cords could give, threatening to lose their voices completely by morning. Bang Chan, in his role as the caring "father" to his seven reckless "kids," was already fussily pouring them water, begging them to be more careful. Seizing the opportunity amidst the chaos, Hyunjin said shortly to Minho, who was watching the spectacle:
"I'm heading out."
Minho just nodded, not taking his eyes off Han, who was pouring his soul into every note.
Hyunjin realized just how drunk he was only when he stood up—the floor swayed beneath him, forcing him to grab the back of the sofa for a moment. Fortunately, Minho was too engrossed in the show to notice his slight loss of balance.
Emerging outside, Hyunjin was momentarily blinded by the darkness after the cafe's bright lights. He didn't spot him right away. But there he was — his blond angel, standing with his back to him, looking at the sky. A lone silhouette in the night. Hyunjin approached almost silently, and his voice, cutting through the quiet, made Felix flinch.
"Don't be scared, Yongbok-ah, it's just me," Hyunjin said softly, trying to keep his words from sounding sharp.
Felix didn't turn around immediately. He slowly shifted his gaze from the sky to the shadows cast by the streetlamp, and only then, with visible effort, replied:
"Do you need something? I'm tired and I'm already heading to the apartment."
His voice was even, flat, stripped of all the warm inflections usually reserved for Hyunjin. It was the voice he used for strangers. And that sent a fresh, unfamiliar pang through Hyunjin's chest.
"I need to talk to you," he forced out, feeling his drunken confidence beginning to melt under this cold reception.
"Let's do it tomorrow. It's late," the blond pushed off the wall and took a step towards the apartments, demonstratively ending the conversation.
But Hyunjin didn't give up. He caught up to him and, with a familiar, reflexive gesture, slung his arm over his shoulders. Just like he had done hundreds of times before, expecting to feel that tense body relax and respond to him. But now, under his palm, Felix's shoulder only grew rigid and unyielding.
The cafe was right on the grounds of their residential complex — they just had to walk across the lawn, past the lamps that softly illuminated the dewy grass, and take the elevator up.
The night was quiet, the air chilling their skin. Their footsteps on the gravel echoed in the silence, as if counting down the seconds to the inevitable.
"What did you want to talk about?" asked Felix, fidgeting a little under his arm, as if trying to free himself from its weight, from its familiar warmth that now felt scalding.
That movement, that slight, almost unconscious withdrawal, stung Hyunjin sharper than any reproach. He had never pulled away like that before — not in jest, not in earnest. Before, he seemed to live for that touch.
"About us," Hyunjin finally said. His voice was low and tired, saturated with month of accumulated bewilderment and pain. "About what's going on."
Felix frowned slightly, his gaze fixed on the dark silhouette of their building ahead.
"And what is going on? I think everything's fine. We're just... keeping our distance. Like the company asked, if that's what you mean." He said it too quickly, like a rehearsed line.
They walked across the lawn; the air smelled of dampness and grass. They were left alone within the circle of light from the streetlamps, and every step only took them further from the shared merriment and closer to the awkward conversation.
Just the two of them. Only their breathing, which now seemed unnaturally loud.
"In public, yes," Hyunjin pressed his lips together, feeling long-restrained resentment beginning to boil. "But I'm not talking about on stage, Lix. You don't look at me anymore. You don't talk to me. We don't spend time together like we used to." He lowered his head, adding hollowly: "I miss you, Lixie. The whole evening today — not a single glance. Not a word. And there were no cameras around, no strangers or managers. Nothing that could stop us."
He let go of Felix to open the door. Their apartments were on the same floor, just a few steps away from each other. For Hyunjin, this had always been a stroke of luck — they were always on the same way home, and he doesn’t needed an excuse to walk with him all the way to his door.
"I just..." Felix exhaled and stared at his clasped hands as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. "I'm just worried. You saw all of it. Those threats... they were awful. What if someone decides to... do something again? Not just write, but... repeat it?" His voice trembled on the last word, betraying real, genuine fear.
They entered the elevator. The silence was thick, like the air after rain. The light inside was too bright, mercilessly highlighting the slightest lines on their faces.
Felix didn't raise his eyes. He couldn't. He studied the pattern on the tiled floor, just to avoid meeting the gaze he could feel on him.
He felt his gaze — heavy, warm, scalding. He felt it physically, like a laser beam, but this time — not cold and hostile, but full of a silent question.
Hyunjin, on the contrary, couldn't look away: he watched every little detail — the tremble of his fingers, the way he bit his lip, how he furrowed his brow while avoiding eye contact. He was searching for even a grain of the old Felix, the one who wasn't afraid of his touch.
"Why don't you look at me anymore, Lixie?" pounded in his temples. "Why are you acting as if there's a chasm between us, and not just a line drawn by someone else?"
Hyunjin lifted his chin with a finger — gently, as if afraid to scare off a rare bird. Felix's gaze met his, and for a second, the whole world seemed to disappear. They froze in the tight space of the elevator, with only their reflections in the mirrored wall proving that time hadn't stopped. Only their rapid, uneven breathing, and Felix's eyes — huge, moist, shining. His Bambi eyes, in which Hyunjin used to drown with pleasure, but now saw only retreat.
"What are they supposed to see, Yongbok-ah?" Hyunjin asked quietly, almost in a whisper, not breaking eye contact. "We're just friends, after all."
Felix didn't answer. But something sharp, almost pained, flashed in his gaze for a moment, like a wound being ruthlessly touched. As if that single word — friends — cut something living inside him, something he had been so carefully hiding all these months. Hyunjin didn't notice. Or didn't want to notice. Maybe he was too drunk. Or maybe, somewhere deep down, he was beginning to understand but was afraid to admit it even to himself.
A sharp, mechanical clanging sound shattered the spell. The elevator doors opened, and Felix instantly averted his eyes, as if fleeing from that closeness, from that unbearable question hanging in the air.
"Aren't our relationship the same as everyone else's?" Hyunjin almost blurted out, catching up to him in the hallway, his footsteps echoing loudly in the empty space.
Felix stopped at his door, his hand resting on the handle. Escape was so close. But before he could open it, Hyunjin grabbed his wrist — softly but insistently, his fingers encircling the thin bone with such familiar certainty—and turned him around.
"No, Hyunjin, they're not," Felix's voice trembled, breaking into a whisper. "You saw it all yourself. Those comments. Those letters. All the things they write… They see what you refuse to see!"
"Lix, please," his voice held not just fatigue, but a genuine, exhausting plea. He was holding onto him like an anchor in a sea of misunderstanding.
"What? What do you want from me?" Felix exhaled quietly but sharply, panic evident in his eyes, like a cornered animal.
"Just… to spend time together, like we used to," Hyunjin spoke almost in a whisper, his words sounding like an incantation."You know how they are, they won't be back before 3 AM, if not by breakfast time. What's the big deal? We've always done this — watched movies in the living room while everyone was asleep. Nothing has changed. Like in the good old days." He said it as if the "good old days" were some magical land you could return to at will.
Felix held his breath.
Fragments of those evenings flashed in his memory: laughter, arms going numb from uncomfortable positions, whispers in the semi-darkness when the whole world remained outside the room's walls. How he had loved those evenings. The movies, the talks until morning, the warm silence when words were no longer needed. They understood each other without effort. That was the whole cruel irony — now that very understanding had become his personal torture.
He knew that for Hyunjin, this was perhaps just a habit, simple human closeness. But for him, it was too much. Too everything. Too much meaning in every accidental touch, too much hope in every joke.
He had known it for a long time, long before that conversation in the manager room, but then — when they showed him those compilations and videos, those glances and touches — it was as if something cracked inside. It wasn't just a veil being torn away — he was handed a mirror in which he saw his own reflection, so clear and so hopeless.
"No, Hyunjin. You're drunk enough as it is," he said quietly, his last, pathetic attempt to build some kind of defense.
But the brunet had already taken his hand, fully enveloping his palm with his own. His fingers were warm, strong, and at that touch, Felix's heart betrayed him, speeding up and giving him away completely.
"Hyunjin…" he whispered, feeling everything inside him pulsating with conflict. Why did his will melt like ice in the sun the moment Hyunjin touched him? Because he, too, had missed him to the point of physical pain? Because this month without him felt like an eternity lived in black and white? Because he, too, desperately wanted to spend an evening with him like before — even if it would be a sweet poison that would kill him later?
"Hyunjin, please, don't…" his voice trembled, sounding defenseless and young, but the other wasn't listening anymore, blinded by his goal — to get everything back to how it was.
The brunet was focused on the code on the door lock. He punched in the numbers with such certainty, as if his life depended on it. A mechanical click, a short beep — and the door swung open, inviting them into a past that meant completely different things to each of them.
"What would you like to watch?" Hyunjin asked, turning around with a light, almost boyish smile. "Maybe something from Marvel? I honestly can't handle anything more complex than explosions and costumes today."
He laughed, but his laughter held the fatigue and relief of a man who had finally gotten his way.
Felix walked inside in silence, like a prisoner crossing the threshold of his prison of his own free will. He took off his shoes. Placed them neatly, as if it mattered, as if anything in this situation could still be controlled, and headed to the sofa.
His body moved on its own, while his mind screamed that this was a mistake, that he was once again yielding to his heart, which always chose Hyunjin, even when it was self-destruction.
"I'll get us drinks," Hyunjin called from the kitchen, and the sound of his voice from around the corner was so familiar, so domestic, that Felix's stomach clenched with nostalgia. "You pick something you like."
Felix sat down. On the sofa where he had once fallen asleep in his embrace, which smelled of his cologne and felt so safe. His hands mechanically scrolled through the movie menu, while his thoughts raced, finding no way out of the labyrinth of his own feelings.
"Why am I here again? Why do I always return to where it hurts?" Because even the pain coming from him feels more precious to me than a peaceful life without him.
He cursed himself for letting himself be dragged here. For not being able to refuse him. For this man being his weakness, his addiction, his eternal center of gravity.
And for the fact that Hyunjin seemed to still not understand, hadn't even begun to guess, just how much he affected him. That for Felix, he wasn't just a "friend." He was the whole universe. But he really also wants to preserve their “friendship” that Hyunjin talks about so persistently and not destroy it with his thoughts.
When Hyunjin returned, Felix was already sitting on the sofa, staring at the screen with such intense focus it looked like his life depended on it.
On the TV, frames from some Marvel movie were flashing — bright explosions, deafening music, visual chaos. It created a perfect shield, a barrier of external noise behind which he could hide from his own thoughts and from the person who had just re-entered the room.
"Couldn't even wait for me to start?" Hyunjin asked with a lazy, slightly hazy smile, moving the low table closer. His movements were a bit slowed, smooth, softened by the alcohol.
He placed a couple of plates with snacks and two bottles of beer on it, then turned to Felix, his gaze soft, moist, full of a silent question.
"Scoot over, Lix."
"There's plenty of space! Why are you crowding me?!" A note of near panic sounded in Felix's voice, still not tearing his eyes away from the screen, as if something irreversible would happen if he didn't stare straight ahead.
"I want to hug you,like always,” Hyunjin stated calmly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, already squeezing himself between the sofa's armrest and Felix. His body was large, warm, filling all the space, displacing the air.
Felix let out a heavy sigh but didn't push him away. Something inside him surrendered, tired of fighting what he wanted most in the world.
A second later, Felix was trapped between his legs. Hyunjin wrapped one arm around him, pulled him against his chest, rested his chin on his shoulder, and his warm, alcohol-tinged breath touched the bare skin of his neck.
Felix shuddered as if from an electric shock.
"You're impossible, Jinnie… you're so drunk," he whispered, trying not to move, holding his breath to avoid inhaling his scent too deeply.
"Don't be difficult," Hyunjin chuckled, his lips moving right by his ear. "What's the movie called?"
"Guardians of the Galaxy 3," Felix muttered shortly, clenching his fists on his knees.
A heavy, electrified silence fell. Scenes changed on the screen; time seemed to stretch, becoming thick and viscous. Hyunjin felt every cell of the body pressed against him: the rhythm of Felix's heart echoing in his own chest, the slight tremble in his shoulders that he was trying to suppress. Or maybe it was just the alcohol blurring the lines, dulling the fear and laying desire bare.
He could no longer think about the movie or the noises outside the window — only about the warmth beside him, the sweetish scent of Felix's shampoo, about his neck, so vulnerable and close. He buried his nose in the blond's neck and felt him shudder almost imperceptibly.
"Why do you shiver at my touch, Bbokie? You used to always press closer."
Perhaps the alcohol had finally gone to his head, blurring the boundaries of what was allowed. Or maybe this agonizing silence, this wall that had grown between them over month, was driving him insane. He couldn't take it anymore.
"Doesn't it seem to you..." His voice sounded hoarse, breaking into a whisper. He cleared his throat and started again, louder this time. "Doesn't it seem to you that we look at each other... differently?"
Felix froze, his back becoming stiff as a board. Several agonizing seconds passed.
"No, Jinnie," his voice was deliberately even, impassive, as if he were reading a weather report. "Watch the movie."
Hyunjin felt a stab of irritation mixed with hurt. He lifted his head, and his lips ended up a centimeter from Felix's ear.
"Look at me, Bbokie," it sounded not like a request, but a soft, yet insistent demand that sent shivers down the blond's spine.
"Why?" Felix tried to pull away, but at that moment, Hyunjin's fingers, hot and confident, were already touching his chin. They didn't squeeze, but merely turned his face towards his own, gently yet inexorably. Resistance was futile. And when their gazes finally met, Hyunjin searched his face, as if looking for an answer there — permission, salvation, anything that would help him understand this new, torturous reality they found themselves in.
"Why are they so strict with us, Bbokie?" he whispered, and his voice held not just sadness, but a deep, existential bewilderment of a child punished without explanation.
"You're drunk, Jinnie, I repeat this to you 100 times,” Felix's voice trembled, betraying him. "You won't even remember our conversation tomorrow. Let me put you to bed." He lowered his lashes, trying to break the hypnotic contact, and made a weak attempt to move. But Hyunjin's arm around his waist, which had been resting relaxed until now, suddenly tightened, pinning him in place like a steel band.
He tried to get up, to make that last, desperate lunge for freedom, but Hyunjin's arm around his waist tightened, anchoring him in place. He didn't let go. He didn't want to.
He couldn't. Because if he let go now, Felix might leave forever.
"No," Hyunjin said quietly, but authoritatively. He lifted his chin again, forcing their eyes to meet. "Why don't you look at me anymore? Why don't you want to spend time with me?" He peered into those eyes, searching for an answer, searching for that former ease that had been replaced by a heavy tension. His thumb gently stroked the prominent bone of Felix's cheek, and he squeezed his eyes shut, as if in pain.
"Stop it, Hyunjin. Please," a crack appeared in his voice, a harbinger of tears.
"Because I don't want to ruin everything," Felix exhaled, and it sounded like a final confession, a prayer for mercy.
He spoke almost inaudibly, but every word hit Hyunjin with the force of a punch.
"How could we possibly ruin anything, Lixie?" He didn't understand. He genuinely, to the depths of his soul, did not understand.
That word was the last straw. Felix snapped.
"Enough!" His voice broke into a scream, hoarse and desperate. "Stop going on about what good friends we are! Stop comparing us to the others! I can't hear it anymore!" His chest was heaving rapidly, his lips were trembling, and his eyes were shooting lightning. His entire fragile frame radiated such intense passion that Hyunjin was left speechless.
And at that moment, Hyunjin's gaze, as if against his will, dropped lower. To those lips. Those beautiful, curved lips that had just spoken words that wounded him deeper than any knife. They were moist from the beer, slightly swollen from the angry words, and looked incredibly soft. Some dark, drunken, long-suppressed part of his consciousness whispered: "This is just heresy. Nonsense. There's only one way to silence them."
"Stop looking at me like that..." Felix's voice trembled; he was trying to move away but was pinned. "Hyunjin, stop. We'll ruin our friendsh..."
And the world narrowed to a single point.
Hyunjin kissed him.
Not Felix, Hyunjin.
It wasn't a tender or questioning touch. It was a kiss like an explosion, a kiss of assertion, a kiss of desperation. Rough, commanding, full of the taste of beer and unshed tears. Their teeth clacked painfully, but Hyunjin didn't care. He pressed his palm to Felix's cheek, preventing him from pulling away, mentally repeating a single mantra: "Just be quiet. Please, just be quiet."
For Felix, time stopped. His eyes widened in absolute, all-consuming shock. His thoughts raced in a whirlwind, merging into a deafening white noise. "He kissed him. Hyunjin. Kissed. Him." His heart was leaping out of his chest, its roar drowning out all sounds from the movie, pounding in his temples, in his fingertips. He wasn't breathing; his lungs were burning. His first, animalistic reaction was to push him away, to run. But his body betrayed him. It was paralyzed, melting under this sudden onslaught.
"Does he feel the same? No... No, he's just drunk. He doesn't know what he's doing. He won't even remember this. Their... first kiss." This thought pierced his brain like an icy needle, but it immediately spawned a desperate, vicious hope. "He won't remember... So it doesn't count? Is it allowed? Just for a minute?"
And in that instant, Hyunjin closed his eyes, his long lashes brushing against Felix's skin. And that simple, vulnerable movement was Felix's capitulation. When the wet, hot tip of Hyunjin's tongue slowly, almost hesitantly, traced his lower lip, Felix knew — he was lost. He surrendered. He closed his eyes, as if falling into an abyss, and mentally whispered: "I'll wait to think about this until tomorrow. Or never."
When Hyunjin tangled his fingers in his hair, tilting his head back slightly, and demandingly, though now without the previous roughness, tried to deepen the kiss, the last remnants of resistance left Felix. He opened his mouth, admitting the warm, insistent tongue, and let out a sound — a quiet, strained sound, like a moan and a prayer at the same time. That sound, coming from the very depths of his soul, stunned them both, making Hyunjin freeze for a moment before answering it with a new, even hungrier kiss.
Hyunjin was dominant, commanding, but now a different, exploring tenderness appeared in his movements. He drank him in like nectar, studied every curve of his mouth, one hand still in his hair, the other embarking on a journey across his body. His large palm slid under Felix's loose t-shirt, touching the hot, smooth skin at his waist. Felix shuddered, and goosebumps ran down his spine. Hyunjin's fingers slowly traced a path along his spine, making Felix arch into the touch with a quiet, ragged sigh.
And then Hyunjin pulled away sharply. Their breathing was heavy and rapid, their lips wet and reddened. In the room's semi-darkness, illuminated only by the flickering screen, they looked at each other.
Felix looked at him with a hazy, shining gaze, his pupils dilated, silently questioning why he had stopped. His mind was empty, his ears were ringing, and the heat of Hyunjin's kiss still burned on his lips.
"Don't..." Hyunjin's voice was low, husky with passion. He slowly exhaled. "Don't friends do that?"
And Felix came crashing down from the heavens to which the kiss had just lifted him, with such force that it knocked the air from his lungs. As if he had been doused with ice water from head to toe. Friends. Just friends. That kiss, that moment of absolute closeness — just a drunken mistake, an error not worth remembering. But isn't that what Felix wanted? Drunken mistake? But did that make it hurt any less?
He shoved Hyunjin away sharply, almost with self-hatred, and jumped up from the sofa as if scalded. His legs were like jelly, his hands shaking.
"You need to sleep, Hyunjin," he rasped, his voice rough, broken, full of the aftermath of the kiss and the rising shame.
"Why?" Hyunjin slumped back against the pillows, his eyelids already drooping, his consciousness drifting away into the embrace of alcohol and fatigue. "We're having such a good time, Lixie..."
Felix looked at him, a lump forming in his throat. Yes, he thought, it was the best thing in the world. And the worst.
"I have to go. Goodnight, Jinnie."
"Mmm," the other mumbled and, it seemed, instantly passed out, his face smoothing into the serene expression of an infant.
Felix left. He walked out of the apartment, closed the door behind him, and leaned against the cold wall in the empty hallway, trying to catch his breath. His lips were still burning, and his heart was shattering into a thousand pieces, each one screaming the same thing: "Friends."