Rock-star Was A Really Good Album, But We Moved On From 5-star Way Too Fast. Those Songs Were ICONIC.

Rock-star was a really good album, but we moved on from 5-star way too fast. Those songs were ICONIC. Superbowl? Hall of Fame? TOPLINE?! They should have been promoted wayyyy more in my opinion. There should have been 5-star stages for more songs than just S-Class.

Star lost

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: og8 X gn reader

Genre: Comfort & hurt

Word Count: 7.7K

A/N: This was a request where you struggle with family issues/abuse and SKZ somewhat helps you with the fallout. Trigger warnings will be posted before each drabble. This one was tough to write about, but whoever requested this, I hope I did you justice with this <3

_ _ _

Chan:

TW: Low self-esteem, self-hatred, and mentions of a verbally abusive family.

Chan studied you with furrowed eyebrows and a frown. Ever since he came home, you were in your own little world. He caught you avoiding his eyes and staring off into space. Your puffy bottom lip was swollen from where you kept chewing on it. 

Even now eating dinner, you were off. He took another bite of his food before he finally called your name. You didn’t hear him and didn’t respond until you felt the warmth of his hand waving back and forth in front of your face. 

“Hmm?” You responded with no energy. You shoveled another mouthful of instant ramen into your mouth. You chewed and swallowed still in a clouded daydream. 

“What’s going on with you? Are you alright?” Chan leaned across the wooden table closer to you. 

“I’m fine, just tired.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

“It’s nothing.” 

“If it was nothing, you’d be talking to me like usual. I have barely heard ten words from you since I got home. What’s wrong?” 

Your eyes wandered down to your instant ramen. The quick and simple meal provided comfort. The sodium filled broth warmed you from the inside and the cheap noodles were filling. 

“There was a customer at work today that got under my skin, that’s all. I’m sure I’ll get over it soon. Don’t worry about it too much.” 

A frown filled Chan’s face at the news. He put down his chopsticks. “What did they say?” 

“I don’t really want to s-” 

“Tell me.” 

Your body slumped as you sighed. Your fingers paled around the wooden chopsticks as you clutched them tighter. “It was just a handful of words. You know, like dumb and stupid and whatever. It’s alright though, really. I mean, I know already s-” 

“What?” A look of bewilderment sat on his face. “What do you mean you know already?”

“I’m stupid and dumb,” you shrugged, “not the brightest crayon in the box.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

You stiffened at his words. The sudden edge of anger caused anxiety to brew. You stuttered over your words trying to explain how your parents told you multiple times while growing up. Once you leaked that information, his face began to go red. 

“It’s alright,” you tried to ease his nerves again. “It doesn’t bother me that much. It was said so much, I understand. Not everyone can be smart. Like I said, I’ll get over it.” 

Chan shoved his bowl to the side and stretched further across the table. His outstretched hands cupped your cheeks. Soft hands held your face and his kind eyes met yours. 

“I never want to hear you talk about yourself like that ever again. You are not stupid and you are not dumb. You know who is stupid and dumb? Your parents for making you think that. You are bright and you are smart.” 

“But I’m really no-” 

His finger pressed against your lips to shut you up. “No, you are not. I don’t care how long it takes. I’m going to prove it to you. From now on, you’re not allowed to say anything mean to yourself.” 

“Nope!” He squished your cheeks a little more. “No more self-hatred. It’s going to take a lot, but from now on, we’re unlearning it. No objections, you’re not allowed.” 

“I think you’re getting in over your head.” 

“Nuh-uh.” He squished your cheeks a little more and laughed at your unamused look. “Look how cute you are.” He cooed and pressed on your cheeks more. “Ohhh, you’re so smart and cute.” He moved closer and with a dramatic “mwah!” He plopped a wet kiss to the direct center of your forehead.  

A blush smeared on your cheeks, you jerked back and swatted his hands away. He giggled and sat back down in his chair. “You’re so cute.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 

“Say it.” 

“Huh?” You glanced up confused. 

“Say you’re cute.” 

“I’m cute.” 

“Yeah, you are.” 

Your cheeks heated up at his words. You picked up more noodles and playfully rolled your eyes. A grin revealed both dimples on Chan’s face. No matter how unamused you looked, he knew his words meant everything to you deep down. 

_ _ _

Lee Know:

TW: Brief mentions of angry family, walking on eggshells, and fear.

When surrounded by predators, a turtle tends to burrow into its shell. Curling up and cocooning in the hardened exterior kept it protected. No birds to peck at the leathered flesh. No stray animals can clamp onto exposed limbs and bite them off. 

 Growing up, you learned the same thing. When people were angry in your family, you learned to retreat. Silently, you made your way back to your bedroom because that was easier than having exposed flesh. Your family members, much like birds, would rip you apart when angry because you were an easy target. 

When Lee Know came home from work with clenched fists, furrowed eyebrows, and a displeased frown, you retreated. You had seen him angry before and you knew he’d never purposefully take out his anger on you, but there was always a potential. You disappeared into your shared bedroom and preoccupied yourself with your phone while hoping he’d calm down. 

When he showed up a few minutes later, you kept the conversation to a minimum and left the room. Anxiety caused your heart to pound and your hands to shake a little. You were tense and filled with dread. Every step you took, you didn’t know if you’d step on a landmine. 

Holding your breath, you snuck into the bathroom. When you shut and locked the door, you let out the breath you were holding. A bit of relief trickled through your body. The locked door created a safety barrier between the two of you. 

Lee Know was aware you went into the bathroom after you left the bedroom. He plopped down on the queen sized bed grumbling beneath his breath about something that happened at work. He waited for you to come out because he wanted to preoccupy himself by talking to you more. 

However, you never came out. Not after ten minutes, not after twenty-five, and by the time a half hour passed, Lee Know shoved himself off the bed. He had been scrolling through his phone when he realized how silent it was. 

Getting up, he glanced around your shared place, but you were missing. He stepped up to the wooden bathroom door and knocked on it. He called your name and inside, you froze. You had been playing on your phone on the floor hoping the anger would subside. 

“Yes?” You finally got your voice to work. Your eyes squeezed shut waiting for a response. The fear inside you began to grow again. 

“Are you okay?” Lee Know asked. He pressed an ear up against the door, so he could hear your response clearly. “You’ve been in there for a while.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Are you? People usually don’t take this long in the bathroom. Do you have food poisoning? Do you need me to go get you some medicine for it?” 

Your eyes shut and you let out a sigh. The worried edge to his voice made you feel pathetic. You shoved yourself off the floor, walked over to the door, and you tugged it open. He looked you up and down making sure you were alright before he gently grabbed your wrists. 

“I’m sorry for making you worried,” you mumbled. 

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” His eyes scanned your face trying to read you. 

“You were mad,” you admitted. 

His eyebrow raised, “what?” 

“You were mad. I didn’t want you to get mad at me, so I was hoping you’d cool off. You’re not mad anymore, are you?” The fear you felt was making you ramble. “I can leave the apartment for a while if you want me to.” 

“Why would I be upset with you?” He blinked a few times. “I was mad, but not at you. You acted like I was going to hurt you or something.” 

Your eyes went to the ground. Shame filled you for even assuming he might do something like that. You apologized again and let your eyes slip shut. 

“You do know that I’m not going to hurt you, right? I’m not going to yell at you. I might get a little snappy accidentally when I’m mad, but I’ll never hurt you.” He tugged you closer and wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized for the third time. “When my family was mad, things got messy. I just,” you shrugged, “I expected it, I guess.” 

He shook his head. “You don’t have to live in fear when you’re with me. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. I’ll make an effort to try not to come home angry, alright?” 

“Thank you.” 

“And if I am angry and it worries you, let me know and I’ll go on a walk or something.” 

“Why were you angry in the first place?” 

He scoffed, “you’ll never believe what happened today.” His arms went up as he began gesturing and rambling about the incident that started this mess to begin with. 

While he rambled, you felt your heartbeat slowing back down. The adrenaline pumped up from earlier began to ease itself. You sucked in a deep breath of air and finally let yourself relax.

_ _ _

Changbin:

TW: Self-doubt, gaslighting, and verbally abusive family.

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” A grin sat on Changbin’s face. The bright afternoon sunshine reflected off his sun-kissed skin. It reflected off his glittering eyes and made him look even more mesmerizing. 

You nodded and took another bite of the sandwich in your hands. Changbin had taken you to a park by the Han River. You didn’t say it out loud, but you seemed to be struggling with something over the past few days. 

So far, you let him do most of the conversating. When he spoke, you didn’t meet his eyes. You kept staring at the water behind him or the picnic table or the bright green grass. Quite frankly, you were in your own head instead of snapping into reality. 

Changbin’s mouth kept moving as he explained something, but you zoned out. Your eyes focused on the gentle waves lapping at the side of the river bank. Birds flocked overhead and people maneuvered around in the background. The two of you were on opposite sides of a picnic table. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Changbin’s loud voice snapped you back into focus. 

“Huh?” 

He frowned and studied you for a moment. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been like this now for three days. It’s like you’re somewhere else when I try to speak to you. Are you alright?” 

“Sorry, I guess I’m just stressed. What were you saying?” You took a bite of your sandwich and focused your eyes on him. You chewed and waited for him to speak. 

“What has you so lost?” 

You swallowed as he spoke the words. The sandwich lodged itself in your throat. You shifted and gulped trying to get the dry bread to go down. When it didn’t move, you drank a few sips of water to help. “Do you ever doubt yourself?” 

Confusion flashed across his face. “Do I doubt myself? Sometimes, yeah, but why are you asking?” 

“Do you doubt the things that happened to you in the past?” 

“I don’t think I understand what you mean.” 

“Bad things?” 

“Bad things?” He echoed. His eyebrows pinched together and the corners of his mouth drooped lower. “Did something happen?” 

Your eyes went over to the river. You didn’t want to tell him exactly what happened, but you had already spoken up this much. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to get it off your chest. 

“I have these memories of things that happened to me when I was a kid. I remember violent fights with family members. There are conversations that I can recall clearly, but my family members keep telling me I’m making it up for attention.” 

“It makes me wonder if it really happened or if it was a dream,” you continued. Your fingers moved to the sides of your temples and you began to rub small soothing circles against your forehead. “Maybe they’re right.” 

“Did this happen a lot? The fights? Did they ever hurt you?” 

“I think so, yeah. They say I’m dramatic. I don’t know what to believe anymore.” 

“Do you have more than one memory of this occurring?” 

You nodded. 

“And what do you gain by making all of this up? If it was all just a dream, do you think you dreamt those fights occurring multiple times? A lot of people have bad dreams, but they’re not always so vivid. Most dreams and nightmares have a variety to them.” 

You stayed quiet while he went on. 

“When you bring the topic to your family members, do they get angry?” 

You nodded your head. 

“Scoffing and yelling?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Telling you they’d never do that?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“And calling you dramatic?” 

“Yes.” 

Changbin sucked in a deep breath. He put his sandwich down and reached out. His hand found yours and he interlocked his fingers with yours. “You know, it almost sounds like they’re getting extremely defensive and shifting the blame.” 

“But what if I really did just dream it?” Your eyes met his. “What if I really am being dramatic and it never happened? What if I’m distorting dreams with reality?” 

“What if you’re not? If you came to me and told me that you had a very vivid dream where I hurt you, I wouldn’t start getting upset and yelling at you. My first reaction would be to comfort you. Clearly, you’d be shaken up and I can’t imagine wanting to escalate your distress.” 

“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted. 

“I can’t tell you what the right thing to do is, but it sounds like you’re a victim of gaslighting. Even terrible nightmares fade away, but you have all these memories stuck with you in such color. Perhaps, they’re not just nightmares after all.” 

You finally nodded your head. His thumb stroked the back of your hand. “I don’t think I’ll be able to provide you much help in these scenarios. I’m not a professional, but I can always listen and give you my personal advice.” 

“What’s your personal advice in this scenario?” 

“You haven’t really been around much for the past few days. I assume something happened the other day with your family and now you’re down in the dumps. You don’t have to cut them off, but why don’t you try distancing yourself and seeing if that helps? Just take some time for yourself to breathe properly.” 

His response was an obvious one, but it hit you hard. Hearing the words come out of someone else’s mouth and making you realize that it was okay to distance yourself, it calmed you down. The thought of not texting your family and dealing with the constant harassment and stress from them sounded blissful. 

“Thank you.” 

“Anytime. Now eat your sandwich because the birds are starting to show up. We can’t let them steal our food.” Changbin shoved the last few bites of his sandwich into his mouth. His cheeks poked out as he chewed. 

You took another bite of your sandwich and, for the first time in three days, you felt a little bit of peace. 

_ _ _

Hyunjin:

TW: Sexual intimacy, self-harm scars, self-hatred, and mentions of sexual assault by a family member.

Physical intimacy between two people was supposed to be enjoyable. It was supposed to be thrilling and exciting. However, the more Hyunjin’s hands wandered, the more your brain began to panic. 

When he reached for the waistband of your pants, you quickly pulled back and jerked his arm away. He paused for a moment while his brain proceeded with what happened. You stayed quiet and anxiety crept in. The negative thoughts were beginning to whisper to you again. 

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin asked. 

The two of you were in your bedroom. You had been dating for quite a few months now. You knew Hyunjin wanted to further your relationship and be sexually intimate. You thought you wanted it too, so you agreed, but you hadn’t been expecting your brain to spiral completely. 

“Yes. No.” You paused again. “I-I don’t know.” 

“We don’t have to do it. It’s not a big deal.” He pulled away from you and moved back to his own side of the bed. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to do it, I do. I just-” you hesitated. You wanted to spill out the truth, but you didn’t want to overwhelm him and upset him either. The influx of confused feelings was pooling into frustration. Tears began to prick your eyes. 

“Are you crying?” 

“No,” you blinked rapidly. 

“Are we going too fast? We don’t have to do this. The last thing I ever want to do is peer pressure you. What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” 

“No, I-” 

“You can tell me what the issue is.” He moved a little closer and lowered his voice. “I’m not going to be upset. Just talk to me, so I can understand what’s going on.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Explaining your feelings isn’t going to hurt me.” 

“I want to continue with you, but I’m ashamed and embarrassed and terrified.” Tears began to stream down your cheeks. “I’m so afraid and I know you’re not trying to hurt me. I know normal couples do these things, but this is all happening so fast and I-” 

“Woah, woah, woah. Let’s start at the beginning and take a deep breath. Do you think you can do that for me?” 

You nodded and sucked in a deep breath. He leaned forward and gently wiped your tears with his thumbs. “Now why are you ashamed of yourself? What’s there to be ashamed of?” 

You sniffled, “to start with, there’s self-harm scars beneath my clothes.” 

His face fell a little, but he quickly put on a neutral expression. “Why should you be ashamed of that? It’s proof that you fought a battle and won. That’s nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. I’m not disgusted or freaked out. A lot of people have scars from different things. Just because yours were self-inflicted, that doesn’t bother me.” 

“I don’t want you to think I’m gross.” 

“You’re not gross. How could you think you’re gross? I’ve spent the last twenty minutes kissing you. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever gotten to lay my eyes upon. Does the idea of being naked scare you? We can turn off the light.” 

You shook your head and shut your eyes. “I need to tell you something.” 

“What is it?” 

“I was sexually assaulted when I was younger by a family member.” 

That was the missing puzzle piece that created the whole picture. Hyunjin stared at you for a moment in shock before he pulled you into his arms. More tears blurred your vision as he wrapped his arms around you. “I had no idea.” 

“I don’t want you to be disgusted with me. I don’t want you to see myself like how I see me. I feel worthless and I-” A sob came out of your mouth. 

Hyunjin rubbed your back and quietly soothed you. After your sobbing quieted down, he apologized. “If I would have known sooner, I wouldn’t have been so intimate tonight. We can go at whatever pace you’re comfortable with.”

“Y-you’re not mad?” 

“God, no. Of course, I’m not mad!” He pulled away and gently cupped your cheeks. His thumb pads wiped away more of your tears. “I think you’re incredibly brave for being so strong dealing with all of this. I didn’t know anything about what you’ve told me tonight. You might be the strongest person I know.” 

“You don’t think I’m disgusting?” 

He shook his head. “I’d never think that about you, darling. The only thing I ask of you is to tell me. If I do something to you that’s triggering something, just tell me and I’ll stop. I don’t want to hurt you.” His thumb brushed beneath your eye. 

You finally nodded. 

“Can I just hold you for a while?” 

You nodded again. 

He pulled you further into his arms and laid down with you. His arms wrapped around your torso. He tucked your head into his chest. A hand moved up and began playing with your hair. The future wasn’t going to be easy when it came to intimacy, but, with clear communication and someone who loved you for you, it was manageable.  

_ _ _

Han:

TW: Depression, suicidal thoughts, family violence, self-hatred, and self-isolation.

Your consciousness wandered through past memories like a ghost. Through the fog, past the present, back into childhood. It was easy to slip back in the cracks of time and replay memories. 

You got lost in your own head. The words family members spat years ago remained lodged deep inside of you. One negative thought sent you spiraling. Your glass heart was cracked and yet it still managed to beat. 

It’d be so easy to just stop it all. Stop the thoughts. Stop the pain. Stop the misery and the madness. Stop the sadness and the bitterness. It hurts to go outside and catch glimpses of the others. 

Mothers who smiled at their kids. Fathers who hold hands and crack playful jokes. Fathers with daughters sitting up high on their shoulders at parades. Mothers pushing sons and letting them go a little higher up on the swings. 

It was hard living without the stability of a family. It was hard living in general. Things people flourished with, you struggled. Parents were supposed to raise you and help you become a better person, but all yours ever did was tear you down. 

They spat names and threw things. Nightmares were filled with the familiar sounds of screaming and glass shattering. Cupboards slamming and heavy footsteps. Threats and belittling. Every sin and every flaw laid out for everyone to see; pointed out, mocked, and sneered at. 

You were an empty vessel at this point. Capable of giving love and never receiving it. People’s words didn’t matter to you. Their compliments and praises were lies. You couldn’t accept them after you were spoonfed self-hatred instead of self-love. You were forced to swallow your family’s loathing and resentment. 

Instead of strong calcium bones, yours were hollow. At some point, the marrow had been watered down. Your neck and spine curved down to face the ground instead of looking up and standing with your head held tall. 

Was this some sort of punishment for a past life? Abandoned by every god and goddess out there, prayers went unanswered, and hope dwindled away. It grew fainter and fainter until it was snuffed out entirely. 

“Rough day?” Han’s voice cut through your thoughts. 

You sat up from your bed to face him. There he was again. That was the only reason you kept going. He stared at you with glistening eyes. He munched on something and it caused one of his cheeks to poke out. 

There was a loud gulp as he swallowed. His adam's apple bobbed before it settled again. “So I was thinking we could play chubby bunny and a few other games. I could really use a break after we watched that last anime that ripped my heart out. What do you think?” 

You stood up and nodded. He watched you for a moment wondering if you were okay. When he came home from running errands, he couldn’t find you until he glanced in your shared bedroom. He found you blankly staring at a wall.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked. 

You shook your head. It was hard to open up to people and explain what you were feeling. It was easier to deal with these emotions by yourself. No matter how hard he tried to get you to open up, you refused. 

“If you insist,” he finally let it go. “Just so you’re aware, I’m going to beat you at chubby bunny.” 

“No, you’re not.” 

“Have you seen these cheeks!” He filled his cheek pockets full of air and puffed them out. You couldn’t help, but laugh at how ridiculous he looked. There really was a reason why everyone compared him to a quokka. “You’re not going to beat me.” 

“Game on,” you challenged him. You followed him out to the kitchen where a glass bowl of marshmallows sat. You picked up a large one and shoved it into the back corner of your mouth. “Chubby bunny.” Han followed in suit. 

Your fickle feelings about the past would have to be put on hold. Despite the past, you were never the type to turn down a competition. Especially, when it involved watching Han make a fool out of himself.

_ _ _

Felix:

TW: Implications of starvation, manipulative parenting, and financial abuse.

Felix sat on your bed patiently waiting for you to get out of the shower when his stomach rumbled. You were expecting to see him on Friday, but he showed up two days early. Running low on motivation and struggling to finish the week strong, he figured he’d surprise you. 

The only issue was that your showers took nearly a half hour. You loved standing beneath the near boiling water and letting your skin turn bright red. You rejoiced in the warmth and basked in it. The warm water made you feel squeaky clean. Plus, it felt nice for your muscles. 

After waiting nearly fifteen minutes, you were still inside the shower singing off-key. Felix stood up and disappeared into your kitchen to find a snack. You usually had your cupboards and fridge stocked. You didn’t mind when he helped himself. 

He pulled open your fridge expecting to find food, but the only thing greeting him was a half gallon of milk, condiments, and two small cups of yogurt. He turned to your snack cupboard. Throwing open the wooden doors, he found two packs of ramen and a half consumed bag of granola. 

He frowned and headed back over to your bedroom. You were humming to yourself and putting on a pair of fuzzy socks. The sudden footsteps caused your head to snap up. You met Felix with wide eyes and then relief flooded through you. 

“You just scared the shit out of me. I thought you weren’t coming over until Friday. You nearly gave me a heart attack.” A small laugh fell from your lips and you pulled up your second sock. 

“I wanted to surprise you. I thought we could hangout for a while. You said you weren’t doing anything earlier and I missed you. Where did all your food go?” 

“What?” 

“Your fridge and cupboard are nearly empty.” He plopped down on the bed beside you. “You usually keep your stuff stacked up. Did you buy less last time?” 

“Something like that, I suppose.” 

“Wanna go grocery shopping together?” 

“Not really.” 

“So when are you going to go grocery shopping?” 

You shrugged and pulled your damp towel off your head. You left Felix on your bed and disappeared back into the bathroom to put it back. Felix watched you go with a bit of worry. He knew you had money and you had a well-paying job. 

“Tomorrow?” He guessed. 

“Probably not until Monday,” you finally admitted. 

“Monday?” His face frowned. “But that’s like five days away. You’ll be starving by that time. You get paid on Friday.” 

“I do,” you came back out, “but groceries can wait. They’re not that important.” 

“Are you hearing yourself?” Felix frowned. “You’re going to let yourself starve? No way, I’ll buy you some stuff.” He stood up off the bed, “and I-” 

“No!” 

He paused at your outburst.

“It’s a complicated situation. I won’t know how much money I have until Monday. My account is hooked up to my parents’ account and I-” 

“What?” 

“My bank account is shared with my parents. I mean I have my own account, but ours are joint accounts. They need money for stuff and,” you shrugged, “you know how it is.” 

“I don’t think I do,” Felix shook his head. “So let me get this straight, you are an adult, you live on your own, and yet your parents have a joint bank account with you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Your parents who also have two well-paying jobs? Who has their cars and houses paid off? From what you’ve said, no debt whatsoever.” 

“Everyone has shared bank accounts with their parents,” you chuckled. “Why are you acting like it’s such a big deal? It’s really not.” 

“Is that what they told you?” 

“Yeah.” 

He let out a sigh and rubbed his hands over his face. “Alright, I need you to go find your identification documents and a few other things.” 

“What? Why? What for?” You crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Because parents aren’t supposed to control their children’s finances. You’re currently almost starving and you think this is normal. We’re going to my bank and we’re opening up your own account, so this doesn’t happen again.” 

“I don’t think my parents are going to be happy about that,” you mumbled. 

He walked over towards you and gently grabbed your hands in his. His thumbs stroked the sides of your thumbs. “Your parents don’t need your money. It sounds like they’re taking advantage of you and you don’t realize it. Just trust me on this, you work really hard at your job. That money that they’re stealing from you, it should be yours.” 

“But they need it.” 

“To do what with?” 

“They have bills.” 

“And don’t you think they can pay for them by themselves? There’s two of them and only one of you. You deserve a lot better. Don’t you want to have that money to put away for a house or a new car or something?” 

“I guess that does sound nice,” you finally admitted. “I haven’t been able to put away a bunch because they take the majority of my paycheck.” 

“Let’s go then. I’ll help you open your own bank account. After that, we can go get you some groceries. I’ll help you reach out to your boss and make sure they change your banking information, so your money goes to your new account and not to the one with your parents.” 

“Thank you.” A smile filled your face. “I genuinely thought it was normal.” 

“It’s usually not. Especially, when you have parents who make a good salary. Come on! You’re going to love my bank! They give out complimentary lollipops.” He grinned and pulled you toward the door, so you could grab your shoes. 

_ _ _

Seungmin:

TW: Self-hatred, domestic violence, verbal and physical abuse, drunk driving death, substance and alcohol abuse, and generational trauma.

“Were you born dumb or was it something you learned throughout the years?” Seungmin taunted you. 

Usually, you don't mind them. You always clap back with something or throw something in your vicinity towards him. His taunts are harmless and his bark is much worse than his bite. 

However, after a conversation on the phone with your mom where she cursed you out, you were struggling. Your mom always treated you decently. Your father did most of the name-calling growing up. After a drunk driving accident, your mother couldn’t cope. 

Your mother’s soft and gentle nature was overpowered by your father’s narcissism and dominant personality. Your mom learned to bow her head and break herself down to fill your father up. Even when it came to watching her kids suffer the same fate she did, she stayed silent. 

She let her husband belittle and break the kids down. Her comfort was only given after he left the room. If he found her comforting you, there’d be hell to pay for everyone. That was why what your mom was going through made it so much worse. 

Your father was dead and your mother was a mess. Left destroyed in the wake of everything. Hurt people hurt people and that cycle seemed to continue even after the abuser was six feet under. At least, it did when it came to your family. 

Your mother began using alcohol to cope and then alcohol turned to drugs. She went from a victim to domestic abuse to a victim of substances. Your heart ached for her and you tried to help her. You and your siblings were older now. 

They cut her off, but you were determined to help your mom. You tried to text and call her. You were terrified that you’d lose her to whatever she took. She was alone and there was nobody there for her. 

When you called her earlier, she was strung out on some unknown drug. Her words slurred, she spoke things that didn’t make sense, and it concerned you. To make it even worse, she said she wasn’t at home, so you had no idea where she was. 

You tried to get her to tell you what she saw. You tried to get her to call the emergency services, so they could trace the call. Your mom needed desperate help, but she refused. When you brought up her using drugs to fill the void your father left behind, your mother lost it. 

For the first time in your life, it wasn't your father spewing names at you, it was your mother. You never minded Seungmin’s taunts and teases, but with the mixture of fear for your mother, hurt, and anger cast at your father; your emotions blended together into frustration. 

You were upset because your father hurt your mother and your siblings. You were mad at your mom for not leaving him and yet you realized she was a victim. She was a victim, but she was an adult with kids. You were mad because your father made her entirely codependent on her. 

You were sad because you just wanted parents who loved you. You were tortured because your mother was hurting and your siblings refused to deal with it. You felt so alone and defeated and hopeless. You weren’t even sure your mother would make it to daybreak. 

So when Seungmin slung that sentence, something inside of you shattered. Your eyes watered, your bottom lip trembled, and your teeth bit into the velvety flesh of your inner cheek. He realized instantly that his words affected you far more than they were meant to. 

An apology fell from his lips, but you couldn’t hear it over the sobs that broke through the lump in your throat. Your chest shook and your eyes blurred with tears. He rushed over and pulled you into his chest desperate to fix his mistake. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” His fingers brushed your cheeks frantically. “I didn’t mean it, I never meant it. Shhh, please stop sobbing.” He wiped your tears on his pants before he went back in and began brushing away more tears. “You know I can’t handle seeing you cry, it’ll make me cry.” 

That just made you sob harder. That was your fatal flaw after growing up the way you did. You cared about everyone and their feelings a little too much. You had been groomed to bend down to people and please them just to keep the peace. 

You stayed silent like your mom, but you were angry like your father. There was so much grief buried deep inside of you and you didn’t know what to do with it. The branches twisted and curled above your head. The trunk of your body was rotting from the inside out. 

You didn’t know how long you sobbed until you finally caught your breath and explained everything to Seungmin. He listened to your problems with you curled up against his chest. You spoke with a shaky and shrill voice. You pulled the plug and let the decomposition from the last twenty plus years pour out of you. 

When you finished, Seungmin brushed a few more tears away from your eyes. “Let’s start at the very beginning. I’m sorry I called you a name, I didn’t think it’d hurt you. I really didn’t mean it. I think you’re smart and one of the bravest people out there.” 

“Let’s go try to find your mom,” he continued. “We can start at her house and work our way around town. I’ll even get my friends involved if we can’t find her, alright? Once we find her, we can go from there.” 

“You don’t have to help me.” 

“I don’t have to, but I can’t stand seeing you like this. I want to help you. Let’s go find your mom and then maybe you can talk to your siblings. We’ll take it one step at a time. Baby steps are a good way to get to your final destination. They’re better than standing still and not doing anything.” 

You shifted in his arms and hugged him tightly. He wrapped an arm around your back and pulled you tighter towards him. He kissed the top of your head. “I suppose I should say something sappy now like I love you or something.” 

“That feels wrong coming out of your mouth.” 

“Does I hate you work? Am I allowed to use that like usual?” He pulled away a little, so he could see your reaction. 

“Yeah.” 

“Alright, I hate you.” He stood up and reached out for your hand. “Let’s go find your mom and get her the help she needs.” 

_ _ _

Jeongin:

TW: Jealousy, self-hatred, abortion mention, verbal abuse, and neglect.

Families came in all shapes and sizes. High school sweethearts that had never lost their love for each other over the years. A group of friends who survived high school together. A group of strangers who met one night at a college frat party. 

People who grew up and reunited with another person from their past years later when they were older and went from reunited to dating to marriage and then kids. People who identified with the same gender, people who identified as the opposite gender, people who decided gender wasn’t right for them at all. There were no boundaries when it came to who could be part of your family; stranger, friend, lover, something not yet known. 

You watched the family in front of you with twines of envy wrapping around your heart. Jeongin was with the rest of Stray Kids filming a new SKZ Code video. The video wasn’t anything too spectacular. There were a bunch of mini-games that the staff members set up. 

The guys could win so many points for whatever place they were in. Whoever had the most points at the end was considered the winner and got a prize. You watched Felix and Jeongin lunge forward and step into a small platform in the middle of two bigger inflatable pools filled with shaving cream. 

Two neon green and blue pool noodles had been duct taped together. Changbin walked behind them and stood behind the pools in front of the camera. “On your mark, get set!” 

Felix and Jeongin raised their pool noodles. “You’re going down!” Felix taunted. 

“I’d like to see you try,” Jeongin grinned. 

Changbin blew the whistle around his neck. Felix reached forward and swatted Jeongin. A soft thwack filled the air as his pool noodle bounced off the top of his head. The goal was to knock the other into the shaving cream filled pool as fast as they could. Jeongin wobbled on his bare feet before he jabbed the foam into Felix’s face. In the background, the rest of the guys cheered on their favorites. 

Behind the cameras, the filming production members seemed amused. One held a stop-watch and timed them. You watched them for a while before you got up behind the camera and silently disappeared out the door. 

The neglect and abuse you suffered at the hands of your parents left you damaged. You craved that kind of bond with other people. Desperately, you wanted to be able to fall back on a group of people who loved you too. 

Jeongin talked about all his adventures with the rest of his band all the time. It was normal for him to talk about the latest funniest thing Changbin did or the time Hyunjin and Seungmin got in a fight while bickering over who loved him more. 

You couldn’t help, but feel jealous. You were happy that Jeongin got to experience so much love, but there was a rotten piece of you that thought it wasn’t fair. You wanted to experience that too. Why couldn’t people love you the way that they loved him? 

You sat yourself down in one of the empty dance practice rooms and laid on your back on the floor. The guys would be here when they were finished filming content. They left all their bags here. 

Your head spun with thoughts about the past. Your parents were never meant to have children. In fact, you often wished they would have aborted you. Why have a child if you’d never be able to properly care about it? 

Now it was years later and you were left damaged with a cracked stain-glass heart. The treatment from your parents left you bitter and full of resentment. Their teeths gnashed like wild dogs and they hurled insults your way. You’d never forgive them from the mental or physical bruises they left. 

Tears began to fill your eyes at the soured memories. You could still hear your mother’s disgruntled voice. Your father’s disgust that he never bothered to hide towards you. You were mangled inside. That inner child never got to experience love and now you were angry and sad. Nobody seemed to understand that. 

Pushing out the past, you closed your eyes and let yourself drift to sleep. You didn’t dream of anything anymore. Your dreams had faded a long time ago. At least the pitch darkness was better than nightmares. 

When your eyes reopened, you were being shaken. Your bleary eyes looked up to find Jeongin staring down at you. His shirt was different from earlier. His hair was damp like he had just washed it. “Have you been crying?” He asked. 

“Hmm?” 

“Your eyes are bloodshot.” He sat down beside you. “What’s wrong?” The usual smile disappeared from his face and was replaced with a look of concern. 

You shook your head, “it’s nothing.” 

“I’m not leaving until you tell me.” 

“But it’s really nothing.” 

“Then tell me. Why’d you leave the shoot early? Did something happen to your family? You were watching us and after Felix fell in the shaving cream, I looked over to find you gone.” 

“It’s not like that,” you whispered. “I got a little jealous, so I left.” You sat up and your eyes went to the floor. Shame made you hang your head. 

“Jealous of what?” 

“I’m jealous of your relationship with the guys. You make up your own little tribe. You guys have a really nice family going and…you know.” 

Jeongin was well aware that you had struggled in the past with your family. He let out a soft sigh and tugged you into a hug. “You know, they could be your family if you want them to be. They really do like you a lot.” 

“Do they even know we’re dating yet?” 

“They have their suspicions. They really like you and I’m glad they do. If they didn’t like you, I’d have to beat them with a pool noodle again.” 

“They’re just looking out for you.” 

“Should we prank them?” He grinned. “Should we go out there and I can propose to you? Do you think they’d lose their minds?” 

“I think you’d start a riot and then they’d hate me.” 

“Oh, come on!” He stood up and grabbed your arms. “Let’s go prank them and then we can all go out for dinner. Maybe if we’re lucky, I can propose in the restaurant and we can get a free dessert.” He pulled you to your feet. 

“That sounds like fun until I remember you’re a k-pop idol and your fanbase would lose its mind. Dispatch would have a field day and I doubt your manager would appreciate the controversy.” 

“Then let’s go prank the guys and play more mini games. We finished filming and this is a great way for all of us to get closer. They have to get to know you because I plan on marrying you one day.” 

“Woah, what?” Your eyes widened in shock. “You want to huh? Me?” 

“Sorry for spoiling the surprise, but yeah. Someday in the future I want to put a ring on your finger.  I really do want us to be our own little family of just us.” 

“And your seven older brothers who will murder me if I hurt you.” 

“Oh, you think that’s what’ll happen? They’re smitten with you. I got threatened by Changbin the other day.” He rolled his eyes. “He promised to beat me up if I hurt you.” 

“Wait, really?” 

“You’d be shocked at the effects you have on people. They care about both of us, but somehow they seem to like you a little more. It’s somewhat offensive considering I’ve been here longer.” He poked a finger into your side. “But I’ll allow it because you’re cute.” 

A wave of warmth passed over you. “They really care that much?” A timid smile began to appear on your face. 

“Of course, they care about you. Anyone I care about, they automatically care about because that’s how family works. I mean, unless I start caring about an asshole and then they nearly jump me.” He held up his hands in surrender. “You do not want to see Channie Hyung when he’s mad. He nearly ripped my throat out with his teeth.” 

“Giving some truth to those alpha memes allegations then.” 

“I’m sure Felix and I can talk him into howling at the moon. One of the other guys can secretly film it and post it to our TikTok page. He’d never live that down.” 

“Sounds like you’ve been hanging out with Seungmin too much.” 

“That’s what happens when you’re a family; you rub off on each other.” 

“Does that mean you’ll all start howling at the moon too?” You teased him. 

Jeongin couldn’t stop the playful smile from appearing on his face. His deep dimples stood out as he reached over and lightly swatted your hand. “Oh, shut up! That’s not what I meant!” His cheeks and the sides of his ears went red. “Let’s just go prank the guys.” 

Before you could taunt him again, he dragged you back to the place where the guys had been filming. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @s3ungmins

Masterlist

---

One Last Dance | Chapter 20

pairing: Minho x fem reader

genre: smau, crack, angst, fluff, non!idol au, major character death (I am apologizing now), friends to lovers, soul mates, first love, roommates

pov: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it); 3rd person

warnings: depictions of grief, swearing, mention of food and eating

summary: Childhood best friends Lee Minho and L/n Y/n are in their final year of university. While both of them are in love with each other, the only thing keeping them apart is Minho’s fear of change. As both dancers prepare for their lives after college, will Minho finally let fear rule him and his emotions or will he finally gain courage before he loses Y/n forever?

word count: 6,909

screenshot count: 23

taglist: closed!

previous | masterlist

©feelbokkie (2023) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

“You know, we can’t stay in bed like this forever,” You giggle softly, stoking Minho’s hair.

“We can and we will. It’s too dangerous out there.” He mumbles into your neck.

You’re not sure what time it is. Minho got rid of the clock in your room a while ago and you have no idea where either of your phones are. You can see the soft yellow and orange of a new sun poking through the window. It’s almost like time is standing still. The apartment is quiet, you can’t even hear the low hum of the refrigerator on the other side of the wall. The cats must be asleep outside the room still. If they were up, they’d be screaming outside the door for breakfast.

“What about work? We aren’t exactly rich. What? Are we going to become squatters? How are we going to get food and litter for the cats? Food and other necessities for us?” You tap the back of his head to get his attention on you. It doesn’t work.

“We’ll turn your old room into a dance room. I can teach dance online. And delivery services exist. If all else fails, we have Ma-Ri and the maknaes.”

“So what’s your plan? We become, what’s the word? Why can I only think of the Japanese word for it? Hikikomori,”

“Because you’ve been studying Japanese for months. And we wouldn’t be hermits exactly.”

“In what world is us locking ourselves up in this apartment, not hermit behavior?” You laugh, amused by his answer.

“This one,” Minho presses a kiss into your neck and tightens his grip around you.

“Okay, I’ll humor you for a moment. You’re running a dance studio from your laptop, what am I supposed to do?”

“Nothing. I’ll take care of us.”

“Uh huh,” you nod, thinking for a second. “Let’s say stay here for the rest of our lives? Are we going to get married in our living room? What about our kids? Are we all going to live in this room like the grandparents from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? Or are you going to get rid of your online dance studio? What about if we get sick? Or if the cats get sick? What then?"

"I'll take care of it all, don't worry. You just stay right here where I can protect you."

"Minho..." You say softly.

Minho's hand moves under your shirt, traveling from your side to your stomach. His fingers barely graze the middle, almost like he's terrified to touch your stomach. After a second of hesitating, he strokes the scar running across your abdomen. He's quiet but you can hear the gears turning in his head and he continues to trace your scar.

"I know what you're thinking, don't even say it. I like that we have couple scars." You reassure him.

He finally lifts his head from the crook of your neck and meets your eyes. His lips are pressed into a thin line and the corners are turned down. His brown eyes are unwavering and glossy as he stares into you.

"If...if I had been there that day, we wouldn't have couple scars. I would have--"

"What? Gotten stabbed yourself?" You take your right hand and place it on his face, your thumb gently stroking his cheek.

"Or I could have stopped that bastard. None of this would have happened." He rambles. You can hear the anger building in his voice.

"Minho, you couldn't have stopped it from happening."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore." He grumbles.

"Okay,"

He drops his head on your chest, your hand instinctively goes to his scalp. You've always thought he's a bit like a cat, or the human embodiment of a cat at least. You can't remember how many times you've calmed him down throughout your lives just by simply stroking his hair. If he was a cat, he'd be purring right now as your fingers massage his scalp. He's absentmindedly tracing your scar still, almost like he's trying to rub it away. But not too hard so he doesn't hurt you.

Meow

"You have you wake up," You gently tell Minho.

"I've been awake, what are you talking about?" He sits up and looks at you again.

"Minho, you have to wake up."

Minho's eyes slowly open, hot tears spilling out of them. His heart pounds in his chest as he reaches over to your side of the bed. His still-pounding heart sinks when his hand is met with the cool, neatly made blanket. It's just like how you left it the morning you went out with the music majors, untouched by everything besides the cats.

"I wasn't ready to wake up yet," He whispers. His eyes stare past the ceiling, almost like he's trying to look at you. If that's even possible.

Minho has never liked waking up alone. When you were babies, your fathers worked a lot and far away so your mothers would often just spend the day with each other, which meant that the two of you would be put down for naps and bedtime together often. For a while, he would have trouble going to sleep without next to him. As you got older and naps together became less frequent, he began hating going to sleep and waking up alone. On the rare occasion, you two would fall asleep while studying or at a sleepover, he would wake up happy to find you next to him. While he now enjoys going to sleep, even spending the day looking forward to drifting off to sleep, he still dreads waking up.

Meow

Minho takes a deep breath, your scent from your pillow faintly hitting his nose, before finally forcing himself out of bed. He slips on one of his hoodies before leaving the room. He wipes his face, attempting to dry it as he walks into his living room. The cats used to sleep in your room with the two of you, their four beds lined the window. For a while, they slept on your side of the bed, keeping it warm for you as they waited for you to come back home. But when Minho put up the altar for you in the living room, they started sleeping around it. Minho eventually had to move their beds next to the altar so they wouldn't knock anything down when they tried to sleep.

"Morning, Soonie. Morning, Dori. Morning, Doongie. Morning, Moonshine." Minho presses a kiss to his fingers and then touches the portrait of you at the altar as he walks by.

He walks to the kitchen and gets their food and water bowls squared away. He quietly fills up their bowls as they mewl at him. He pauses for a second as he sees that he has barely enough food left for them for dinner. The two of you have never let the cat food get so low. Normally, you get the cats their breakfast while Minho covers their dinner, and then you two switch off for lunch. But, Minho's head hasn't been entirely there so he hasn't noticed how much the food has gone down over the past couple of weeks.

"Breakfast time!" Minho sings as he places all the bowls in their designated spots.

Once all the bowls are set and all four cats are eating, he turns back to your altar.

"What should we have for breakfast this morning?" He asks himself as he turns to the fridge. He's met with a nearly empty fridge. There are some leftovers and take-out containers that he knows he has to get rid of sooner rather than later. Other than that, there's not much else in the fridge.

"Hm, I guess we're having omelets this morning," He mumbles as he pulls out all the ingredients he needs.

He quickly makes two omelets, one of them smaller than the other. You set them on their respective plates, bringing the smaller omelet to your altar. He sets up his little table and sets it up in front of your altar before getting his food to come and eat with you.

Pity isn't the right word for what Ma-Ri and Hyunjin feel right now. Sure, the sight in front of them is pitiful, but it still isn't the exact word for what they feel. Mainly what they feel is sad.

When Ma-Ri finally made her way over to the maknae apartment, Minho still hadn't responded to Hyunjin. The two of them slowly made their way over, anxiety filling their bodies. Hyunjin gave Ma-Ri the apartment key and let her walk in first. He stood behind her with his phone in his hand, ready to call for help if they needed to. They knocked first, giving Minho one last chance to show that he was okay before going into the apartment. When they did, they noticed two things.

The first thing they noticed, the apartment looked almost exactly how it did 3 months ago, right before the two of you started packing for Tokyo. No one besides Minho has been inside the apartment since you died. With you not being there and all of the boxes, nobody wanted to. At some point in the past two months, maybe around the time of the funeral, Minho must have unpacked everything, restoring the apartment to its previous state.

The second thing they noticed, and probably the most important, is Minho sitting in the corner of the room, directly across from your altar. He has a plate of food on his table and a similar, smaller plate set in front of your picture. And while this sight alone is enough to make Hyunjin feel sad for his hyung, he also feels angry. Minho's phone sits next to him on the table, face up, and he's sitting about 6 hours away from the front door. Nothing is preventing him from even calling through the door, and yet he doesn't.

"He's fine noona, let's go," Hyunjin says cooly as he tugs on Ma-Ri's sleeve.

"I don't think--"

"Ma-Ri? Hyunjin? What are two doing here." Minho asks, finally taking notice that the apartment is more occupied than it's been in a while.

"We thought you had a new, self-installed ceiling fan. But you don't so we can just leave." Hyunjin says as he calmly balls his fits in his hands.

"What are you talking about?" Minho blinks, looking around the room.

"He just means that we're worried about you. We haven't heard from you since the funeral and--"

"And you thought you'd find me dead somewhere in the apartment with the cats eating my face?"

If the situation was different. If everything was normal, both Ma-Ri and Hyunjin would laugh at Minho’s response and tell him that, that was exactly what they thought. But Ma-Ri was just relieved that she wouldn’t have to see another one of her friends dead on the floor while Hyunjin is slowly getting annoyed.

“See, noona, he’s fine. Even making jokes. Can’t get up off his ass to answer the door or even just pick up the fucking phone, but he’s fine. Let’s go,” Hyunjin grumbles, turning to leave.

“Which noona?” Minho asks.

Ma-Ri feels a sudden pang in her chest. Which noona? A question that was often asked when the group was at full capacity. The maknaes weren’t necessarily used to having to deal with both you and Ma-Ri at once, so just referring to either of you as ‘noona’ without saying your name was common. Which made everyone confused when someone said ‘noona’ and not the context of what one was being talked about. It was fun when you were still alive, but now it's painful.

"You can't be serious," Hyunjin's mouth drops in disbelief. He thought Jeongin was in denial, but this is something completely different.

"Minho..." Ma-Ri says softly.

"This is great. I'm the most sane one right now. Felix is going around like he's Batman looking for some sort of vengeance. Seungmin wakes up every night screaming. Jeongin refuses to believe that Y/n is gone. And Minho hyung is over here role-playing Norman fucking Bates."

"Hyunjin, he's not exactly role-playing Norman Bates. If he was then Y/n's--"

"I can't do this," Hyunjin says before storming out of the apartment.

Minho blinks in confusion, unsure of what just happened. Ma-Ri lets out a deep sigh as she walks over to the couch, throwing herself on it. The room is quiet as Minho tries to process what just happened and Ma-Ri stares at the ceiling.

Being in your apartment without you being here feels weird for Ma-Ri. Wrong even. It's like she's waiting for you to come out of your room or bathroom. Maybe even throw yourself on top of her when you finally do come out. You and Minho lived in the apartment since your first year of college. For Ma-Ri, you're the first person she met in college, and with that, she had a whole list of firsts. First friend with their own apartment. First friend she had a sleepover with. The first girl she had a genuine crush on. The first person she ever came out to. Hell, you even offered to be her first kiss with another girl so she would shut up about it. Her crush for you dissipated when she realized that there was no way she would ever win as long as Minho was in the picture. And in a way, it worked out better. Ma-Ri loved the relationship she had with you up until the end. You had gone from friends to sisters. And while Ma-Ri herself has two sisters, an older one who is already married and a younger one in high school, she felt closer to you in those four years of knowing you than she has ever been with her biological sisters. And now that you're gone, Ma-Ri has experienced a new first, first heartbreak.

"What the hell was that about?" Minho finally asks. From her position on the couch, she can't tell if he's talking to you or your picture.

"He's just worried and stressed. We both are. It's...it's been a rough couple of months. You know." Ma-Ri presses the palms in her hands into her eyes.

"You and Hyunjin seem to be doing well enough." Minho scoffs.

"I know you're grieving right now, but I will beat the shit out of you." Ma-Ri spits out.

"I was just making an observation." He mumbles, turning back to his food.

If Minho had actually paid attention, he would have noticed very quickly that Hyunjin and Ma-Ri are not doing well. He would have seen the dark circles that circled their eyes as a result of sleepless nights. Hyunjin's lack of sleep stems from being woken up in the middle of the night by Seungmin's screaming. Most nights, the only way to get him to stop is for Hyunjin to climb into bed next to him and hold him for a bit, quietly humming to calm him down. On other nights, when Felix is actually home, he'll climb in too to help calm him down. Those are the nights when Jeongin sleeps in Hyunjin's bed so he's not alone while the other two comfort Seungmin. Ma-Ri, on the other hand, wakes up frequently, in tears. She has trouble closing her eyes without seeing you.

"Hey, Min," Ma-Ri sits up and leans over the end of the couch. Her eyes freeze over your smiling picture. You're grinning as you look directly into the camera. You're wearing a light green hoodie. What can't be seen is the pose you're striking. Your arms are stretched out, one hand holding a sparkler while the other one holds a stuffed pig you won from one of the games at this year's New Year festival. She took that picture. This was right before you ended up giving that pig to a little kid who couldn't win any prizes. And before Hyunjin and Seungmin started arguing over something trivial.

"Hm?"

"I know it makes the most sense for me to grow up since I'm 22 and graduated university and I have a professional job and everything. But all of those boys are still kids. Jeongin barely turned 20 a few months before all this happened. Hyun's only 21 but he had to grow up so quickly. I help him when I can but he's pretty much taking care of the rest of the maknaes himself. The two of us had to accept the fact that Y/n isn't coming back quickly so we can stop the rest of the group from falling apart."

"I'm not falling apart if that's what you're getting at," Minho says simply as he turns his attention back to your picture.

"I didn't say that," Ma-Ri presses her lips to a thin line, that's exactly what she's getting at. "But you do have to realize that you're not okay. You can't keep doing this to yourself. Think of Y/n. What would she say if she saw you like this?"

Minho turns back to Ma-Ri, staring at her with dead eyes, his mouth quirks in annoyance. He can't help the tears that prick his eyes. Whether they're from anger or sadness, he doesn't know. He slams his fork down on his table as he quickly gets up and starts to clean up. He walks into the kitchen without a word, hands full of his dinner plate.

"Minho--"

"Get out,"

"Excuse me?" Ma-Ri gets up from the couch and walks to the kitchen, careful to not step on any of the cats.

"You heard me," He empties his plate into the trash before he starts washing his dishes. "I said get out."

"I get that you're mad but--"

"I'm not mad." He says angrily, slamming the sponge into the sink.

"Okay, you're not mad." Ma-Re defensively puts her hands up.

"Why are you here?" He asks suddenly, taking a deep breath.

"You're my friend and I'm worried about you." She says softly.

"You were always more Y/n's friend than mine. But she's gone, so why are you here?"

Ma-Ri bites her lip to stop herself from saying something out of pocket. She knows that it wouldn't help anything right now. Even then, she can't say that MInho's words and overall attitude don't hurt.

"Look, I know you say some fucked up shit when you're trying to push everyone away. And I also know that you're really hurting right now so I'm going to give you this one free pass."

"Ma-Ri--"

"I'm leaving, don't worry." Ma-Ri gets her things from the couch and hesitates while she stares at the door. "There's a support group. It's held in the basement of the church by the university. Hyun and I go often, we're trying to get the others to go. You should think about it."

"What are you doing here?" Felix asks as he climbs into Minho's car.

Felix buckles up his seatbelt and leans back into the chair. His face is filled with cuts and bruises, some fresh and some old. His left eye has a slightly faded bruise under it. Not only is Felix picking fights, it looks like he's also getting his ass beat in the process.

"Thanks hyung for coming for calming all the way down here to bail me out of jail." Minho mocks, annoyed at his younger friend's attitude.

"I'll catch the bus," Felix unbuckles the seat belt and starts to get out of the car.

"Sit your dramatic ass down. Jesus, you've been spending way too much time with Hyunjin."

Minho is taking this as a sign from you to try to fix everything. That you want him to fix it. If he has to start with Felix, then so be it. How? He has no idea. He can feel the anger radiating off Felix. Long gone is the doe-eyed boy he met nearly years ago who could barely speak Korean and wanted to do nothing more than dance. It’s like that version of himself died along with you, leaving behind an angry shell of a man. Minho can’t even imagine how Felix would be reacting if he had watched you die like the others. The idea alone sends a shiver down his spine.

Minho slightly quirks his head as he starts the car up again. Felix leans back into his seat, yet again. He pulls his earbuds out of his pocket and shoves them in his ears. Felix then pulls his hood over his head and leans his head on the window.

As Minho drives away from the police station, he thinks about all the possible ways he could fix it. If you were here, Felix would take one look at you and confess all of his deepest, darkest, innermost thoughts. But he is, quite literally, shutting Minho out right now.

Minho isn't good at words. He's better at acts of service. Like making soup when the boys don't feel good. Or making everyone finals week survival kits. Anything indirect really. You were always better at the direct. Pulling everyone out of their shells and making you tell them what's wrong. Comforting them in person. Which is what they all need right now. They need you, not him. And Felix is so angry, how would you even deal with that?

Anger

An idea clicks into Minho's head quickly. It might not work, but if it could help in the slightest he is willing to try it. He changes the direction of where he is heading, almost making a full U-turn in the opposite direction. It's a shot in the dark but that's how he feels navigating through life has been like lately.

***

"Why did we stop," Felix asks when the car pulls into a parking lot.

“Do you wanna break some shit?” Minho turns the car off and turns to Felix.

“What?” Felix’s mouth hangs open in confusion.

“Do you want to break some shit?” He asks again, refusing to give the younger boy any context.

“Sure?”

“Okay, let’s go,”

Minho quickly gets out of the car before Felix can protest. Felix gets out of the car and just as Minho walks into a rage room. Felix didn't know what to expect when Minho asked him if he wanted to break shit. Vandalism maybe, but controlled chaos? Not exactly. He almost wishes it was vandalism. Almost.

The two men are quickly taken to one of the rooms where they are instructed to put on safety gear. As they get dressed, they're instructed on the procedures of how to safely break things inside the room. After a few minutes, they're let into yet another room filled with various breakable objects and things to break them with. Felix hesitates before picking up a metal baseball bat. Minho grabs a sledgehammer and walks off to the side. Felix looks around the room before grabbing an old, box-set TV and dragging it to the center of the room. He tightens his grip on the baseball bat, freezing as he thinks.

"Go ahead, fuck that tv up." Minho encourages him.

Felix shrugged before lightly swinging the bat. The bat hits the screen with a satisfying clink.

"C'mon, Yongbok." Minho calls softly, "You were pissed off enough earlier to get arrested for beating the shit out of someone. I know you can do better than that."

clink

"Are all those muscles you have from fighting for show?"

clink

"Now you're starting to piss me off,"

Clink

"If you're going to hit like that, I should have just let you punch me in the parking lot,"

Clink

"Instead of a TV, picture the person you're mad at."

CLINK

"There we go," Minho cheers.

CLINK

"That's right, channel all that anger into that TV. Who are you angry with, Yongbokkie? Who are you picturing right now?"

CLINK "I'm mad at Y/n noona," CLINK "for dying." CLINK "I'm mad at myself," CLINK "for being mad at her for that." CLINK "I'm mad at that fucking bastard," CLINK "for taking her away from us." CLINK "And I'm fucking pissed off at you," CLINK "for abandoning me--abandoning all of us when we needed you most." CRASH

Minho stands there quietly as Felix repeatedly hits the TV. The glass, now shattered, litters the floor. Pieces of plastic and tiny bits of metal fly across the room as Felix lets out months' worth of frustration and anger. On one hand, Minho feels relieved that his plan is working. On the other hand, he feels guilty for playing a part in Felix's anger.

SMASH

Felix delivers one final blow to the TV before dropping the bat to the floor. Minho tenses up, not sure what Felix's next moves are. He just leveled a television, who knows what he could do next?

"AHH!" Felix's pained scream of frustration reverberates around the room. He quickly pulls off his goggles, mask, and hood. His face is red, splotchy, and wet. His eyes, filled with tears, find Minho's worried ones.

Minho relaxes, dropping his sledgehammer, as Felix makes his way over to him. Felix doesn't hesitate to throw himself into Minho's arms. His body shakes as he lets out loud, pained sobs. All Minho can do is wrap his arms around Felix and rub his back.

"I'm sorry," Minho whispers, his heart aching at the thought of being the reason why his friends are all in pain.

"N-none...of this is fair." Felix hiccups.

"I know,"

"Why her? Why now?"

"I know,"

"And that demented fuck is just, out there. He killed her in broad fucking daylight and they can't find him?"

"I know. Believe me, I know."

"Why aren't you angry?" Felix asks as he pulls away from Minho.

"You don't think I'm angry?" Minho blinks, "That I don't wake up every day, cursing god or whoever the fuck is out there because I'm still here and she's gone? When she had so much to live for? So many people who needed her--who still need her? She practically killed herself for 21 years so she could accomplish all of her dreams, and for what? For her to finally get what she wants and then--" Minho quickly picks his sledgehammer back up and walks to the other side of the room.

CRASH

CRACK

SMASH

As Minho destroys various props in the room, Felix quickly puts his protective gear back on. He watches quietly as Minho destroys plates, glass bottles, an old laptop--anything and everything that gets in his way. Minho's pent-up and unbridled rage finally being released and it feels cathartic.

A few minutes go by before Minho finally stops. Panting, he drops the sledgehammer and pulls off his safety gear. His face mirrored Felix's face from earlier: red, splotchy, and wet.

"Not a single day goes by where I don't think about how I would trade my life in a heartbeat for hers. Or how I want to find that bastard and do to him what he did to her. But I can't. I'm falling apart in so many other ways, I can't let rage consume me too."

"Hyung," Felix calls softly.

"And I know that's what you're doing."

"...Letting...my rage consume me?"

"No," Minho shakes his head, "You're going to that mall every chance you get so you can find him and even the score."

"I'm not--"

"It's not going to bring her back, Yongbok."

"I know but--"

"Look at me," Minho walks over to the younger man and puts his hands on his shoulders, "She's not coming back."

"I know, I just--It's not fair."

"I know," Minho pulls Felix in for another hug.

"And it's not fair for me to be mad at you. If anything we should be--"

"Yongbok, shut up. Okay? You were right, you guys needed me and I wasn't there." Minho pulls away and places a hand on Felix's head, petting him.

"We still need you. I think Seungmin needs you the most right now." Felix sighs.

"He's that bad?"

"I think both him and In are doing bad, but Seungmin is...he's fucked up. I mean, I would be too if Y/n had...y'know...in my arms. And his screams-- I'd rather hear my parents screaming at each other again than that. Hyunjin slips him sleeping pills sometimes so he can sleep but I don't think that's helping much. The only time I see him out of his room is when Hyunjin or Ma-Ri manages to convince him to at least take a shower. Or when he has to use the bathroom. But, he's like a zombie. Doesn't really talk much either. It's scary. I'm scared that he's gonna--" Felix presses his lips together, not allowing himself to finish his thought.

"And Jeongin?" Minho tries to change the subject.

"He's just in denial about it. He didn't technically see anything so I think he's pretending that everything is okay. You know, he sat outside the whole funeral? Refused to come in. I think he's pretending that noona is in Japan or on a trip or something."

An idea immediately pops into his head. He knows he needs to fix it, to fix his family the best he can without you. Would you have come up with a better idea? Maybe. But his idea is a start, and that's all he needs.

"I have an idea,"

***

"This is a shit idea," Hyunjin whispers from the middle row, loud enough for Minho to hear him.

Minho glares at Hyunjin in the rearview mirror before his eyes shift over to the last row where Seungmin and Jeongin are sitting. Seungmin's head is leaning against the window, headphones in. Jeongin has been looking down, probably at his phone, the entire car ride. How he convinced the two of them to get in, in the first place is a mystery itself.

"Hyun, shut up." Ma-Ri turns around, smacking the younger man before turning back in her seat.

"What the fuck are we doing here?" Seungmin asks, looking out the window.

Minho's stupid idea is one that both Ma-Ri and Felix thought would work. At least in Jeongin's case. They're parked in the cemetery, not too far from where you are. The three of them agreed that making Jeongin see your grave might make him come to terms with your death. And if this little trip could help Seungmin in any way, then they would feel a little better. Hyunjin thinks the whole idea is bad and the only reason why he tagged along is to keep an eye on the two youngest members of the group.

"Listen--" Minho starts.

"Absolutely fucking not," Seungmin protests, leaning back into his seat.

"Why are we at a cemetery?" Jeongin asks innocently.

Everyone, including Seungmin, holds their breath unsure of what to say. Their eyes helplessly find Minho, watching to see what his next move is going to be.

"We're here to...see Y/n," Minho hesitates.

"Y/n noona is here?" He asks again.

"Fucking told you this was a shit idea,"

"Hyunjin!"

"What?"

Felix shifts uncomfortably in his seat, not liking the tension in the car. Hyunjin has an amused look on his face, ready to scream "I told you so!" Seungmin tries to look everywhere but forward. Ma-Ri glares at Hyunjin. Both Minho and Ma-Ri can't help but look at Jeongin.

"...Yeah," Minho finally answers. Seungmin can't help but let out a sarcastic laugh.

None of this is going well. After the rage room, Felix and Minho talked about how they could help the youngest two of the group. And when they settled with something they decided to let Hyunjin and Ma-Ri in on the plan. Ma-Ri was apprehensive at first. Ambusing Seungmin and Jeongin into dealing with your death was risky. But at this point, it's a risk she's willing to take. Hyunjin, on the other hand, was more reluctant to agree. In the end, he only agreed because he knew someone would have to do damage control.

"So glad I left the apartment for this," Seungmin grumbles.

"Can...can I stay here?" Jeongin's voice is small. None of them have ever heard him so quiet. It made them feel bad for what they were going to do.

"Just five minutes. Okay? Come with us for five minutes and...and if you still don't want to be here you can come back to the car." Ma-Ri pleads. She knows that bringing them here wasn't the best idea, but it's the best they can do.

"No," He shakes his head, tears beginning to rim his eyes.

"Jeongin," Minho says sternly.

"I-I don't want to,"

"In--" Felix starts.

"Please d-don't make me," His voice cracks.

Instantly feeling regret, the older members of the group sigh. They knew they shouldn't have brought him before he was ready. But they were helping, praying even, that he would be ready by the time they got there.

"Seungmin?" Ma-Ri asks, hopeful that she could help at least one of her friends.

"Fuck off," He whispers, pulling his hood over his head.

Felix, Minho, and Ma-Ri share a look of defeat and regret before silently agreeing to drop it. The car is quiet as the older ones debate what to do. Finally, Minho shuts off the car.

"I'm going to go pay my respects to Y/n for a little bit. Whoever wants to, come with. The rest of you just relax back here for a little bit." He sighs before exiting the car. He opens Felix's door, putting his hand out for the flowers that Felix cradles close to his chest.

"I'll come with," Felix says quietly, still holding onto the flowers.

Ma-Ri and Hyunjin also file out of the car, leaving Jeongin and Seungmin alone. The four of them quietly walk to where you are buried. Any argument they have is left in the car.

When they get to your grave, they find dried-out flowers from whoever visited you last and burnt-out candles. A coin sits in the middle an offering would go. Staff members often replace the food offering with a coin to deter wild animals from coming and filling the cemetery.

"Hey, jagia. I brought some friends this time." Minho says softly.

Minho wastes no time getting to work, removing the dead flowers. Hyunjin helps him by grabbing what's left of the candles and scrapping the wax off. Felix fiddles with the flowers he brought from the car, making sure they're decent and surviving well. Ma-Ri pulls out a bottle of soju and a few candles from her bag.

"Noona, your boyfriend is dumb as fuck," Hyunjin says suddenly.

"Hyun," Ma-Ri warns.

"It's true."

"No arguing," Felix hums, adding the new flowers.

The four of them quietly finish preparing everything. Not wanting to argue in front of you anymore. Once they're done, the four of them sit down. They each pour a little bit of the soju on the grave and talk to you silently. Each with a different story of what's currently going on in their lives or a memory that they want to bring up.

They're there for a while. None of them want to cut off the time from the rest of the group. The air is cool, cooler than it should be for this time of year. There's a slight breeze that threatens to blow out your candles but doesn't. Wind chimes dangle in the distance, probably decorations from other graves.

It's a bittersweet moment. Minho and Felix visit you often but Hyunjin and Ma-Ri rarely do, they never wanted to come alone. For even part of the group to be there is comforting enough for them.

After a few minutes, Jeongin and Seungmin quietly walk up and sandwich themselves in between Ma-Ri and Felix. The four older members of the group all share a feeling of relief that the youngest two made their way over.

The only sound that can be heard now is Jeongin's sniffling. Ma-Ri wraps him in a hug, rubbing his back to comfort him. Felix places his hand face up, silently letting Seungmin that it's there for him if he wants it. And much to Felix's relief, he takes it. Hyunjin passes them the soju bottle so they can also pour a bit out over your grave, and they do.

Jeongin only cries harder as time goes on. Ma-Ri digs into her bag and pulls out a granola bar. She unwraps it and hands it to Jeongin, who takes it and shoves the whole thing in his mouth. Seungmin lets out a small chuckle, remembering something.

"What's so funny?" Hyunjin asks, smiling at the fact that this is the first time in months that Seungmin genuinely laughed.

"It's, uh, nothing," He says calmly.

"C'mon, share with the class Seungminnie." Ma-Ri pokes his side.

"Fine, it's just that...that day...when Y/n noona was...she said 'tell Innie to slow down when he eats, nobody is going to take his food from him.'" He explains.

"She did not, you're making that up," Jeongin says after swallowing the granola bar.

"Why would I lie about that?" Seungmin asks seriously.

"Because why would she be thinking that?" Jeongin argues back.

"She also told me to tell you that it's not the end of the world if your voice cracks while you sing, dumbass." He hits him with his knee.

"Yeah, that's something noona would say."

"I tell you that all the time, you punk." Ma-Ri flicks his forehead.

"What else did she say?" Hyunjin asks quietly.

"She said that you and Lix are going to burn yourselves out if you keep spending all your free time in the practice rooms and that you need to stop."

"Of course she did," Hyunjin groans.

"What'd she stay for me?" Ma-Ri asks, eager for your sage wisdom one last time.

"You're going to think I'm lying."

"Try me,"

"She said that if you want a girlfriend you're going to have to start talking to girls."

"Wha--Hey, why did she leave you guys nice messages, and I get roasted? Hey, Y/n, do you hear me? Not cool!" Everyone laughs at Ma-Ri's outbursts.

"If it makes you feel better, she said she'd haunt me if I blamed myself. And she is a woman of her word." He mumbles that last part.

"Seungmin, it's not your fault," Minho says, breaking his silence.

"I know it's not, logically. But realistically--"

"Did you know that any of that was going to happen? Did you plan it? Did you put her in front of that guy? Did you give him the knife?" Minho asks.

The others fall silent as Seungmin freezes for a second, taken aback.

"Of course not, don't be ridiculous."

"Then how could it be your fault?"

Seungmin's blood turns cold. He's spent the past couple of months blaming himself. If he hadn't asked to get driven to the mall. If he didn't ask to go as early as they did. If he had noticed sooner that you weren't walking behind him anymore. If only he paid attention, then maybe, just maybe, you'd still be there with them. But not once did he think about it in the way that Minho did.

"B-because," Tears fall out of Seungmin's eyes as his words fall short. Just like that, he couldn't find another reason to justify blaming himself. All of his reasons no longer made sense.

"She needed to go shopping anyway. For all we know, it still could have happened. The only difference is that she didn't die alone."

Silence washes over them again as they take in everything. Minho was right, it could have happened anyway, but at least you weren't alone.

"She's sorry," Seungmin whispers.

"What?" Felix asks, worried that Seungin could suddenly communicate with you.

"She said that she was sorry and that she never wanted to leave you. That she was in love with you." Seungmin's eyes are locked on Minho, who is now having trouble looking at him.

"Idiot," He mumbles, "Even while she was dying she was thinking about us."

"Of course, she would. That's just who she is--was. She's the best of us." Hyunjin adds.

"I only knew her for a little less than a year but in that short amount of time, she made me feel so welcome. Like I was her little brother."

"You were like a little brother to her. She said that we're her family. And that she loves us a lot."

"She really covered her bases," Felix adds.

Again, silence surrounds the group. They spent more time than they were planning, but all of them are glad for it. Their shoulders feeling significantly lighter than when first arrived. Seungmin and Jeongin aren't cured, but they're well on their way.

"Hey hyung," Felix suddenly speaks, "what did you do with the ring?"

"Ring?" Ma-Ri asks. She wasn't in the original group chat and it never felt like the right time to bring it up afterward.

"He had Lix and I go with him shopping for a promise ring," Hyunjin explains.

"Oh, shit," Ma-Ri breathes.

Minho silently pulls up the leather chain around his neck. At the end of the necklace, there is a completed scallop shell. His half and your half that he carefully put together. He gently pulls the two halves of the shell apart to reveal your unpromised, promise ring.

"She's always with me."

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Taglist

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QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 11

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n getting kicked out my house this week, got a new job, blah de blah. here's a chapter. oh, and a shameless self promotion, go read my skzflix fic leave? pretty please? it aint my finest work but i promise it's good?

previous | masterlist | next

---

The door is already open when you arrive, inviting you inside. Like someone had known exactly when you'd gotten in the elevator, or sensed the moment you stepped foot in their hallway. Or this was just how they lived, the door open to invite each other in and out, though that didn't seem likely. You shut it behind you when you enter anyway, the creak and slam of the heavy door loud enough to alert the occupants of the apartment to your presence.

The sound of Changbin shouting over someone follows, drowning out the noise of the door. Everything is normal, then. 

The short hall by the front door is empty except for a pile of scattered shoes - you add yours to the line as you pass through, glimpsing a group of the boys sitting on a couch at the other end. It feels weird to stand there and see them at the other end, the way they've been for years before you came; your empty hands feel awkward, and your feet are too soft against their floorboards, and the closer you get, the more rowdy they become, their eyes so fixed to some game they're playing on the TV that they don't even notice you slipping into the room. You pause for a moment, listening to them howl as their game characters slip off the screen, and then continue on your way to the kitchen, your fingers twisting together restlessly before you.

Chan and Minho are there, sequestered away from the chaos erupting in the other room while they move between the benchtop and the stove, avoiding each other in a way that seems practised. The air is filled with the smell of food cooking, the steam rising from the bubbling pot on the stove warming the air in the small kitchen. Chan turns as he sees you out of the corner of his eye, smiles, and then points back towards the other boys.

"Out," he says, in a voice that brooks no argument; and you'd almost think that you'd broken some rule, except for the grin that eats at his face, amused at himself without even trying.

You stop in the doorway, hovering between the two groups. "I was just going to see if you needed any help," you say.

"Nope," he answers. "You're not allowed in here. Go and sit down."

You pull a face, one that must be funny if Minho glances away, a smile struggling to break through the blank face he's trying to pull. "I already physically kicked Felix out of here," Chan adds, a wooden spoon brandished in the air in warning. "I'll do it to you too."

Your hands come up, your feet backing out of the doorway, and yet, you can't help but laugh. You're feeling...relaxed, here, in a way you haven't since leaving Midnight those two months ago. Maybe it's because you'd spent those months grinding away at what seemed like an insurmountable hill of work, maybe because in the last week, the days that had passed since you'd walked home with Han and Chan, things had suddenly become easier within this group. The reason doesn't matter, you suppose, only that you know now that he's joking, and that it's something you can laugh at. That he's included you in the same joke he's used on Felix.

"Hey, hey, hey," a voice says behind you. "Watch where you're going. You have enough trouble walking forwards."

You turn on your heel, already rolling your eyes at the shit-eating grin on Seungmin's face. Funny, how easy it  to fall into cameraderie with him once you've broken the ice between you; only a day ago, it'd still felt like you weren't much more than acquaintances, until you'd made the decision to fall over on the way to their shared vocal lesson, the only thing Seungmin had ever reached out to offer to you.

Well, made the decision is a stretch. Falling over is too. You'd only stumbled over the sidewalk, and you certainly hadn't planned to make a fool of yourself. Maybe the story that Seungmin was selling was so convincing it was starting to affect your memory. He wasn't mean about it at least, for all that he was known to pretend to be mean when the opportunity arose; if anything, the last few hours of him spreading increasingly wild tales and the others relaying them back to you had been fun. Something different than the usual grind of your days, a joke that might stick around longer than the few minutes in which it's being laughed at.

In this moment, you stand up a little bit straighter and hope that your cheeks don't turn red. "I'm great at walking," you posture, and then struggle not to laugh at how preposturous you sound, your lips fighting against you as they curve into a smile. Something to work on, maybe, if you wanted to compete with his and Minho's deadpan humour. 

"Except for the part where you hit the concrete," Seungmin says, unaffected by the way your eyes crease and your mouth splits in two. "Then you're really bad at walking."

"I tripped," you insist, and you move forward as if to slide past him to get to the couch that the others sit on. He falls in beside you without hesitation rather than letting you pass by, a ghost at your side. "I wasn't even close to falling."

"Everyone says that you fell though," Seungmin insists. "You think everyone would lie?"

"I think you would lie when you told everyone else the story."

Grinning, Seungmin strides out in front of you, leading the way around the couch so that he can stand right in front of the TV. "Move up," he tells Felix, who sits at the end of the couch, neck craned to watch the game the others are playing around Seungmin. 

His eyes slide from Seungmin to you, trying your best to stay out of the way despite having been dragged into mischief. "Y/N," he says, shifting over and patting the seat next to him. "You wanna sit here?"

A smile spreads out across your face. "I do," you reply, and slide past Seungmin to fit yourself in the small space he manages to make beside him. "Thanks."

"You said you would save my seat," Seungmin says, pointing a finger at Felix, who waves him out of the way. He sits on the arm of the chair instead, balancing precariously as he pulls out his phone.

"They kicked you out of the kitchen as well?" Felix asks sympathetically, one eye on the TV and the other on you.

You nod. "I was just going to see if they needed help."

"Yeah," Felix sighs. "I'm not even bad at cooking."

"I'm banned from the knives," Seungmin puts in without looking up.

You glance at him, staring intently at his phone. "Why isn't that surprising?" you question.

"Because he's Seungmin," Felix puts in. "Same way I know he's lying about seeing you fall over."

Seungmin sighs. "I didn't fall," you say, before he can decide which lie to seed this time. "I tripped. I didn't fall."

"It's no fun if none of you believe me," Seungmin grouses.

The game on the TV finishes with a fanfare that fills the whole room, drowned out only by the racous cries of cheating from the boys playing it. The sound makes you wince, leaning away from them; Felix's hands come up to cover his ears, his cry for help also disappearing under the noise they make. You wouldn't be surprised if the neighbours were doing the same thing, or marching towards their door with pitchforks in hand. How do they even have neighbours, when they're capable of noise like that?

"They're going to get complaints again," Seungmin says, like he'd been reading your mind. 

"Hey, hey! Hey!" a voice calls over the noise, and you turn in unison to see Chan's head poking out of the door, the wooden spoon waving in his hand once again. "No yelling!"

"I'd say he looks like he's our dad, but he just kind of looks unhinged," Felix comments, only his eyes and the blonde hair that tufts up on top of his head peeking up over the back of the couch. The rest of him has slid down out of Chan's sight, like if he hides, he won't get caught up in whatever trouble the others are causing.

"He looks like my grandfather," Seungmin adds as the older boy disappears, making no effort to hide at all. "He was crazy too."

Felix grins, wild and wolfish. "He just keeps getting older."

"It's so sad he's going to die so soon," Seungmin agrees.

The noise dies down, the game switched back to a more neutral home screen as boys wander off this way and that. Felix shifts over, enough that you can give Seungmin a space on the couch - you think, for a moment, about making him go around to the other side, but Changbin is still sitting there, looking peacefully unbothered by whatever chaos Seungmin is surely capable of unleashing and it's much easier to just shift over and let him slump down in the corner than to set him off. It disturbs Changbin anyway, somehow; as Seungmin sits down, he sits up straight, leaning around Felix to look at you.

"Hey, Y/N," he says, drawing your attention over to him. "Where were you this morning? I didn't see you in the practise rooms."

"She left the room?" Felix questions, turning to stare at you like such a thing is unheard of.

"I was there for three hours," Changbin confirms, "and I didn't see her at all."

"I was tired," you say, trying to ignore the feeling of your cheeks turning red, "so I slept in. And I left the room twice today, actually. I went to a vocal lesson with him."

Seungmin nods as your thumb jabs towards him. "She won't be dancing tomorrow either. She fell over on the concrete."

You don't even think twice about reaching over to push him off the couch. It catches him so off-guard that he actually does fall, sliding right onto the carpet and staring up at you in disbelief. The other boys howl with laughter, loud enough that you glance back at the kitchen door to check if Chan is coming back.

"I'm glad you took the morning off," Felix says warmly, ignoring whatever Seungmin mutters under his breath as he drags himself up off the floor. "We've all been worried about you."

"So I've been told," you say. "I promise, I know what I'm doing."

"I trust you," Felix says, and there's a glint in his eye that says he's telling the truth. It warms you to your core, just as sitting here surrounded by these boys does, and the sound of Minho's voice calling for Seungmin from the kitchen. It's nice, to come into the middle of their group away from the stage or the dance floor and feel like you're just in the midst of friends, somewhere where you belong. It's nice to see how they live. You hadn't let yourself see this before, too tied down to practise and the dream they've achieved that you're still chasing.

"Seungmin-ah! Come and help!" Minho calls again, and then he can be seen at the door, waiting with an unnerving kind of patience. You're not sure if the smile on his face is supposed to be encouraging or threatening, and you don't really want to find out; mostly, you're just kind of glad that he's not calling for you.

Seungmin isn't bothered by it, dragging himself off the couch with a sigh that reverberates through the room. "Coming, old man," he calls across the room, and ignores the double take that Felix does beside you, his eyes growing wide. 

"Ai-e," Changbin says, the sound whistling through his teeth. "Is he crazy?"

"You want to go in the oven?" Minho questions as Seungmin crosses the room.

"You'd have to get me in it first," Seungmin says, and then yelps as Minho's arm wraps around his neck, dragging him into the kitchen in a headlock. 

"He's going to die," Felix says gleefully. 

"Winning the bet was not worth it," you agree, your eyes still on the empty doorway to the kitchen. No one emerges except Chan, holding a pot of whatever they've cooked for dinner and looking disturbingly peaceful despite the chaos he has just left behind.

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids @hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts @puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night @d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk @minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification @starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace @amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002 @hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff @splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969 @crabrangoongirl25 @enzos-shit @jabmastersupriseee @kayleefriedchicken @slutfortits @duhgurl @cheshireshiya @worcesheshestershiresauce @defnotfertilizedtoesw @rensahazard @greyyeti

---

Seasons

Pairing: Lee Felix x fem reader

W/c: 24.1k

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of a hospital, alcohol, smoking, erotic photography, use of pet names, clitoral stimulation, breast/nipple play, unprotected sex, creampie, dry humping, sex in a semi-public place (no one is around), oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, cum eating

Synopsis: Seasons come and go like your love for Felix once did- but when he reappears in your life several years later, things are much different.

[this work was based off a request from @crookedt44th - thank you for requesting!]

18+. Mdni!

•

Small town at the edge of the world. 11:30am. A Tuesday in Autumn.

If you told the average person to shut their eyes and think of their favorite city, they’d probably conjure up a lengthy description about the booming skyscrapers, the bumper-to-bumper traffic, the fancy restaurants and the well-kept people. Point it out on a map, you’d tell them, and their finger would land in the heart of the amorphous blob of whatever state they’ve chosen.

Now move your finger to the right- keep going, and going, and don’t stop until you’re almost off the map entirely. There will be no major indicators, no colorful dots on this area of the map. You might miss it, in fact, if you shoot too far.

That’s the town of Ember.

A town so insignificant, the only name they could think to give it was based on the fire that plagued it almost 50 years ago, which begged the question to those in neighboring cities- who even lives there?

Famous for absolutely nothing of importance, population who-knows-these-days, nothing to do and nowhere to go.

And the place you call home.

*

“Pieces of a Dream. 1970’s.”

“Yellow,” your manager responds, and you unravel a bulky roll of discount stickers, thumbing one off the adhesive and placing it gently in the corner of the plastic-wrapped vinyl.

“The rest of those should be discounted,” he says, quickly shuffling through the stack and giving them a little slap with the palm of his hand.

He slides the stack over to you, taking his spot on the wooden stool by the register again and flipping through a stack of pages on his clipboard.

Chris, your manager, has been the owner of Ember Records for the better part of a decade now. He succeeds his father’s role as store owner, who succeeded his father’s role, back when the record shop wasn’t mostly lost to the fire. Since its relocation, it’s much smaller, so you’ve heard, only about half the shelf space available to house the generous collection of records his great grandfather used to collect and sell.

This is one of just a handful of shops around here, located in the heart of the tourist attraction that is the town’s square. Thus, you’re well-acquainted with the baristas from the coffee shop across the street, the waiters at the diner, the librarians and even the car mechanics. You’re all familiar with the businesses you run to keep this town on its feet, many of you having chosen to stay here for a simpler life.

“I dig the grays,” you tell Chris, crossing your arms as you lean against the counter and slide him the finished stack of tagged vinyl.

He sighs, cocking his head and uncapping his pen between his teeth. “They creep up on you when you least expect it. You know this shit costs like, hundreds to get dyed?”

“Leave it,” you say to him, giving a small nod as you speak. “It makes you look more mature. I mean, what does Yena think of it?”

“She loves it,” he says, catching a glimpse of his reflection in one of the glass cases and running his hands through his hair. “But she’d also love if I shaved my eyebrows off. She’ll compliment anything.”

“Then shave your eyebrows,” you say, chuckling, as you stuff your phone in the back pocket of your jeans. “You’re lucky to have a wife who’s so supportive of your decisions. I’m taking my lunch!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chris says, laughing as he shakes his head. “Oh, and Yena left you some pie in the back room.”

“Tell her thank you!” You call over your shoulder as you make your way to the back.

The back room is just a glorified storage closet, one dingy table pushed up against the wall, one wooden chair and shelves of records that need to be pushed out to the sales floor, or should’ve just been burned in the fire. You have to duck your head to not hit it on the hanging pendant lamp, its bulb buzzing concerningly loud as you take your seat and pry open the Tupperware container Yena left for you in the fridge- cherry pie, your favorite, from the diner down the street where she works.

As you take generous bites of your first meal of the day, you shuffle through a stack of records neglected on the table from last week’s donation. There are a myriad of genres- old jazz bands, electronic records, synth pop and even a few ambient pieces. As you flip over one of the covers, Chris calls to you from the front, his voice echoing around the dingy little storage closet.

“Y/n! I need you to come help out!”

And you sigh, promptly shutting the Tupperware closed again and making your way out to the front.

That’s the thing about this job- it’s small, but it’s busy, the hundreds of records demanding your very precise attention at any given moment of the day. You live to serve the people here, suggesting records to those seeking new sounds or curiously peering at genres unknown to them. And tourists are drawn to the place, often leaving with armfuls of old vinyl to add to their collections. It’s not a town they’ll likely ever visit again, you’re well aware, but the shop allows people to take a little piece of Ember with them wherever they go. And though the lack of grandiosity might not bring them back, your attentiveness to detail and passion for music sometimes do.

*

“Coffee?” Yena asks you, as you slide into the familiar spot of your favorite booth, next to the window in her diner. She saunters over with the pot anyway, setting a little white mug down in front of you and filling the cup halfway.

“Thanks,” you reply, already tearing open packs of creamer.

At half past 8, the record shop closes in only an hour, Chris taking on the role of closing procedures in your absence. It’s a routine life you lead, tending to the record shop by day and basking in the town’s simple pleasures by nighttime. And with all the people you love in it, you have no reason to leave, no rush to migrate elsewhere.

“How’s work?” Yena asks, sliding into the booth across from you and pulling a notepad out from her apron. She flips through the pages, stopping on a blank one and adding up her tips for the evening.

“Fine,” you say to her, taking a generous sip of coffee. “Just mostly repeat customers for today. But we did have a pretty hefty donation, so that’s a plus.”

“Anything good?” She questions, without looking up from her notepad.

“Negative. A lot of older stuff I used to listen to in high school.”

Yena finishes tallying up her tips, shutting her notepad and finally meeting your gaze.

“Hey, if that’s old, then I’m ancient.”

You both laugh, and she keeps her gaze on you for a moment before speaking again.

“Gosh, I still remember when you moved here. You were so… wide-eyed. And quiet.”

“I was so lost,” you say with a small chuckle. “I don’t even think I knew how to work a record player.”

“And now look at you,” she emphasizes, gesturing to your face. “You just seem… happy these days.”

She smiles for a moment, before gathering the empty cups of creamer off the table and sliding out of the booth.

“I hope you’ll stay here, if it means you’re always going to be this happy.”

You smile to yourself as she begins back toward the kitchen, humming to herself.

“Wasn’t planning on leaving!” You call out, and without turning around, she gives you a thumbs up before disappearing into the kitchen again.

*

Some days, your shifts feel like 5 minutes. Other days, they feel like 5 days. Today is the latter, the clock on the wall above the register ticking away by the second, and yet seemingly no closer to the end of your day. You’re on closing procedures this evening, Chris and Yena having taken the day off to have a much overdue date night. And it’s empty, like it usually is on Wednesday evenings, not a soul in sight as the town tends to their own duties, the tourists all working busy jobs in the city.

You slouch your shoulders over the wooden stool, dusting off a pile of folk records and shuffling through them, admiring the intricate paintings on the covers. It’s one of your favorite things about working here- locating the beautiful paintings and photographs that graze the covers of records, all of them vastly different from one another, but equally as evocative. You trace your fingertips over what appears to be a Polish record, a couple dressed in fancy colorful fabrics as he dips her into a bow. You can’t help but wonder what the atmosphere would be like if they were here in front of you, the whole room teeming with the choral ensemble as they’d tap their fancy shoes along the tile flooring and invite you to dance, too. The thought circles your mind with a smile, and you barely hear the next customer enter when they do.

The little gold bell hanging on the door chimes just once when they enter, indicating the arrival of a man, who promptly rushes to the back shelf without so much as a hello. Welcome, I guess, you want to say, dismissing their curtness with a shake of your head as you go back to organizing records.

You shuffle to the next record, admiring the black and white photo of a man with his guitar, a panama hat atop his curly head of hair as he sings into a microphone. It reminds you of the ones your dad used to collect before he passed.

“Excuse me?” A voice interrupts, and you practically jump, startled at the way he navigates the shop without a sound. He’s right in front of the register now, holding a CD in his hands and setting it down in front of you.

“I’d like to pay,” he continues, his baritone voice sounding painfully uninviting.

Without looking up at him, you take the CD from the counter, flipping it over to scan the barcode on the front. Four Decades of Jazz, the cover simply displaying the title in funky purple block text.

“This one’s actually on clearance,” you say, sliding the CD into a small paper bag. “Just 5.”

He pulls out a brown leather wallet, flipping through crisp bills as he searches for exact change. As he does, you take notice of the collection of silver rings that decorate his shorter fingers, a few of them painted with chipping black nail polish. Your gaze fixates on a thicker silver band, carved with black fleur de lis patterns that circle the band all the way around. You cock your head slightly, mapping out the pattern in your head as his hands move, the ring glistening under a beam of light that shines through the window and sets it aglow.

“It was a gift,” the man says when he notices you staring, and he holds out his index finger, rotating his finger to give you the full view.

You say nothing, your lips parting slightly as he does, transfixed by the way the silver hugs his finger and frames his veiny hands. The man stays silent, his gaze on the ring, too, as he pulls it off with a gentle tug and holds it up for you to see.

“Do you want to see it?” He asks, pinching the band between the pads of his fingers as he rotates it under the same beam of sunlight.

“No, thank you,” you reply, your mind still in a trance. “It just… reminds me of…” and your voice trails off, finally allowing your gaze to look up and meet the stranger’s.

His big brown eyes seem to widen when you finally lock eyes, his plump lips parting open as he scrambles to pull the ring back on.

“Something,” is all you can utter, folding the brown paper bag once in your hands and sliding it across the counter. “It reminds me of somebody I used to know.”

His breath hitches his throat as he finds the words to say, unable to string together a cohesive sentence as memories run rampant in his mind, everything coming back to him like a painful wound being reopened.

“Sorry,” is all he can say, clutching the brown bag in one hand as he gives you a small nod. “And thanks. For the CD. Or for ringing me up, rather. Thank you-”

“You’re welcome,” you reply briskly, pivoting on your heel to organize a stack of already-sorted records on the shelf behind you.

And you can still feel him there for a moment, his gaze boring into the back of your head like he wants to say something. But he doesn’t, instead observing the way your hair, a little shorter than he’d previously remembered it, sways gently in its ponytail as you go about your job.

You listen to the way the brown paper bag crumples in his grasp, before he finally retreats and exits, the little bell above the door indicating his departure.

And when you turn around again, there on the counter, his silver ring sits, glistening in the waning glint of the evening sun.

*

“The lattes are so expensive out there,” Yena says, as she takes a sip from her iced coffee. “I’d drink this gas station coffee any day over that stuff.”

You chuckle lightly, shaking your head as you wipe down the counter with a rag. Chris counts change in the register beside you, muttering counts to himself as he scribbles onto his clipboard and listens to your conversations.

“But hey, we still had a good time,” Yena continues, smiling over at Chris. “Sometimes leaving this town keeps you on your toes.”

“Yeah, well, I’m on my toes enough here as it is,” you respond, the three of you chuckling lightly amongst each other.

The bell atop the door chimes once, signifying the arrival of a new customer, and Chris gestures to the door as you look up.

“All you,” he says, going back to his work.

You fold the rag neatly, setting it on the counter and making your way over to the clearance aisle where the stranger stands. His back is turned toward you, his lanky frame towering over stacks of CDs as he thumbs through them casually.

“Can I help you find anything?” You chime in, your hands behind your back as you watch him. As you speak, he turns to face you, and you breathe a deep sigh of annoyance.

“Seriously?” You say, already retreating back to the counter again and turning away from him.

“Wait,” he calls, rushing after you and standing in front of the counter awkwardly. Chris looks up from his clipboard, furrowing his brows together as Yena shoots him an equally questioning look.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” you respond, unfolding the rag again and wiping down the register.

“Hey, hey,” Chris says, giving you a confused look.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say to Chris through gritted teeth, brushing off the interaction.

“I just wanted to-” the man begins, as he looms behind the counter, fiddling with his fingers nervously.

“Why would you come back?” You question, not looking at him still. “Wasn’t one time awkward enough?”

“I left my ring,” he finally says, dropping his hands at his sides.

Both your gazes fall to your hands, where the silver band rests comfortably on your index finger, almost like it’s always been yours.

“Yeah, whatever,” you reply, pulling it off and sliding it across the counter to him. “Here.”

He doesn’t say anything, not yet reaching for the ring, nor telling you to put it back on. A part of him is fascinated at the prospect you chose to wear it around at all.

The silence that falls over the shop is painfully awkward, Chris and Yena keeping their gazes locked between the two of you as you angrily scrub at a stain on the counter.

“Hey,” Chris says, finally pulling the rag from your grasp. “You’re scratching the wood, kiddo.”

“If no one wants that ring, give it here,” Yena says with a smile.

The ring is slowly lifted from the counter again, slid back onto the finger of its respective owner.

“We’ll give you guys a minute,” Chris says, motioning to the back room with the tilt of his head. And Yena follows him to the back, the till of the register balanced in his arms.

“What do you want?” You ask, finally meeting his gaze again. “I’m working right now.”

His face drops a little, giving you a small shrug before he speaks.

“I was just wondering how you were doing. And I thought-”

“Felix,” you say brazenly, your heartbeat quickening a little at the feeling of his name leaving your lips again after so long. “Cut the small talk. Just tell me why you’re here.”

He sighs as he fiddles with the band around his finger, the metal still warm from the contact against your skin.

“That’s it,” he explains. “I didn’t expect to see you here. And I wondered how you were doing.”

“So leaving your ring here wasn’t an elaborate plan to come back for it?”

“It… was,” he says sheepishly. “I needed an excuse to come see you again.”

“We sell records,” you emphasize. “That’s the only reason you should be here. And if it’s not, then leave.”

“Y/n,” Felix says frustratedly. His eyebrows arch up in an almost pleading manner, his lips quivering as he struggles to find the words to say.

It’s the first time you take notice of his changed appearance, completely opposite to the Felix you last spoke to. His once blonde locks are grown out, grazing over his bony shoulders, a robust shade of ebony that contrasts against his pale skin, tied up into a half ponytail. His plump lips glisten under a glossy coat of peach tint, and his freckles are almost unnoticeable from this distance. You furrow your brows to get a better look, trying to make out the beige constellations you remember so well. But you can’t locate them- not on his nose, or his cheeks or even around his eyes.

He dresses differently, too, a baggy white tank top under a black leather vest, almost too big for him as it swallows his lean figure. And he flaunts a hefty collection of silver jewelry- rings, rows of ear piercings, a chain link bracelet and layered necklaces. If you didn’t know his eyes like the back of your own hand, you might’ve not even recognized him to be Felix.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” You finally ask, your voice softening a little as he toys with the rings on his fingers.

“This is my favorite place for CDs,” he responds, his shoulders relaxing a little as he speaks. “I used to come here every weekend back in high school. I didn’t know you worked here now, I promise I’m not trying to make things weird.”

You sigh a little, shifting your eyes to the shelves and then back at him.

“Well what are you doing here now? Shouldn’t you be in school or something?”

Felix shrugs a little, his expression unchanging. “It’s complicated, I guess.” And then he furrows his brows at you, gesturing to the shop. “I could ask you the same question.”

“It’s complicated,” you reply, echoing his statement back at him. “And I’m not in the mood to indulge you with the story of my life.”

“I have time,” Felix says with a chuckle, and he’s met with your deafening silence.

“Sorry,” he follows, fiddling again with the rings on his fingers.

As you begin to ask him to leave, Chris and Yena enter from the back room again, carefully making their way toward you with hands shoved in their pockets.

“Hey,” Yena says, nudging you gently. “Everything okay, you guys?”

“Yes,” Felix is quick to chime in. “My apologies- I’m Felix,” he says with a beaming smile, holding out his hand to shake Yena and Chris’. They comply, exchanging warm smiles with him, still confused at why you seem so irate.

“I’m sorry to disrupt the peace,” Felix continues, giving them a little bow. “We’re just-”

“Old friends,” you interrupt, rolling your eyes at this act he puts on. “And he was just leaving.”

“Right,” Felix says, his lips pulling into a disheartened expression.

“Y/n doesn’t bring too many friends around here,” Chris chimes in. “What’s the rush to leave?” He chuckles as he finishes, and Yena hits him lightly as if signaling for him to stop.

“Actually,” Felix begins, and you sigh when you realize he’s not done talking yet. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner, or a coffee or something.”

“Felix, I really don’t think-”

“It’s on me if you wanna come to the diner tomorrow,” Yena chimes in. “We still have leftover pie.”

And you pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing deeply as Felix stares at you with a hopeful expression. His eyes are big, gauging your response curiously as you shift your gaze amongst the three of them. Chris watches Yena, who holds her breath as you think. And Felix’s lip seems to quiver when you open your mouth to speak.

“No dinner. Just coffee. And Chris covers my closing shift.”

*

Felix is at the diner much earlier than you are, comfortably reserving a spot for you on a table in the middle of the room and allowing Yena to fill your mugs with hot coffee. He adds three packs of sugar, two cups of creamer and a dollop of whipped cream he requests from Yena. And he waits for you patiently, stacking the spare cups of creamer into an organized pyramid, in between nervous glances out the window.

Yena wants to ask who he is exactly- why you’d seemed so off yesterday, and whether he’s here for a reason, or just to catch up as the old friends you claim to be. But she refrains, knowing to stay out of your business the way you so graciously stay out of hers.

“More coffee?” Yena asks as she approaches Felix, taking note of the near empty mug in front of him now.

“Sure,” Felix replies, shooting her a nervous smile. His hands tremble a little as he shoves the pyramid of creamers away from him, pretending to look occupied with his phone instead.

Yena fills his mug to the brim again, sliding him the mug across the table and giving him an empathetic look.

“I’m sure she’ll be here,” Yena says, nodding affirmatively. “She’s usually a little late getting off work.”

And Felix just nods, keeping his gaze on the giant glass windows. Outside, the sun has already set for the evening, darkened skies casting over the little square of Ember. The streets are sparse at this hour, just a few pedestrians who also flock here after their shifts, and the diner is fairly empty with the exception of a few young couples. Felix scans the atmosphere as he waits, observing the way everybody seems so acquainted with the place. Red vinyl booths line the large glass windows, dimly lit by hanging pendant lamps that give a yellow hue to the wooden tables below them. Each table is neatly paired with a silver napkin holder, salt and pepper shakers, hot sauce and a myriad of syrup flavors. And a bright neon red sign advertising fresh pies flickers over the kitchen, which is hidden behind silver swinging doors. It looks like something straight out of a movie, he thinks to himself, as a table nearby is served steaming plates of omelets and fries. And as Felix turns his attention back toward the glass windows, he finally sees you approaching, earbuds in and a nonchalant expression on your face. Your hair is tucked loosely behind your ears, a simple ensemble of loose fitting jeans and a sweater complementing your worn down sneakers. The bell on the door chimes as you make your way inside, a smile on your face as you talk briefly with Yena upon entering. And she gestures back to Felix, who gives a little wave from where he’s sitting, in time for his third coffee refill of the evening.

“This isn’t my table,” you say to Felix when you approach, gathering your mug of coffee and gesturing to your favorite booth against the window. Felix’s eyes flicker to the booth, a confused expression on his face as you wait for him to relocate.

“Well? Are you coming, or what?”

“Yeah, um, sorry,” Felix responds, clutching his mug in one hand and carefully bringing it across the room to the booth.

You furrow your eyes when you look back at the table, a tall pyramid of creamer cups placed where Felix was sitting.

Felix slides in the booth across from you, gesturing to your mug and meeting your gaze.

“Do you take cream? Or sugar?”

“Just two,” you say, picking your cups from the little bowl at the end of the table and tearing them open.

He nods, stirring his coffee around with a spoon as you prepare yours.

“Let me guess,” you say with a knowing smile. “8 packs sugar, 4 things of creamer and an entire can of whipped cream.”

He chuckles lightly, angling you the contents of his cup, which now contains a mixture of frothy melted cream and coffee the color of chocolate milk.

“You always did have a sweet tooth,” you respond, laughing and shaking your head. “Might as well just have a sundae while you’re at it.”

When you’re finished, you hold your mug in both hands, taking a generous sip of the steamy beverage and setting it back down with a gentle thud. Felix watches you intently, like he’s waiting for you to initiate the conversation, but you don’t, raising your eyebrows at him as you wait for him to speak.

“I’m just visiting for a bit,” Felix finally says, twiddling his thumbs on the table in front of him. “I’m doing my classes remotely this semester.”

You nod, saying nothing, as he searches for more words to say.

“Are your classes remote, too?” He continues.

“There are no classes,” you interrupt quickly, before he can press you for more information about school. “I dropped out of college.”

“You did?” Felix retorts, his eyes widening a little at how easily you admit to it. Not an ounce of shame, like it was planned from the start.

“Why?” He follows, tracing mindless patterns into the wood of the table below him.

“Because I hated it. Anything else you want to know?”

“Why are you all the way out here?”

“Because I love it here.”

“And how are your parents?”

“My dad died. Last spring. Are we done now?”

Felix swallows nervously, averting your gaze as he taps his knee nervously under the table.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

You just nod at him, pursing your lips a little and toying with the handle on your mug.

“Are you going to tell me about yourself, or do I need to play 20 questions, too?” You ask him, rolling your eyes as a smile grows on his face.

Felix chuckles lightly, relieved that you’ve already forgiven his clear overstepping here.

“I’m still in college. I’m just… undecided. I took a semester off a little while ago because I don’t know what I want to do. I haven’t actually been to class physically in… a good while.”

You nod empathetically at his words, the reality of them contradictory to the Felix you once knew. He was a straight A student when you knew him last, quick to join campus clubs and gain popularity wherever he went. People often commented on how different both of you were from each other- Felix, a bright young student who could light up a room with his smile, always so eager to ask questions and familiarize himself with the world around him. And you, a bit more reserved, your world often tainted by the reality of the hardships you’d faced, and the knowledge that life, when not lived for yourself, is often arduous.

“So you’re doing a bit of soul-searching,” you say to Felix, no stranger to the concept of tourists stopping through here to ‘start life anew’ at the sight of run-down coffee shops and bookstores. And when they find what they’re looking for, they’re gone again, like a soul could never thrive here in the town of Ember, even if it’s where it materialized.

“You could say that,” he responds, swirling the remainder of whipped cream around his cup with a spoon. “Things just haven’t been… great.”

You nod in response, averting his gaze as you study the wooden table below him.

“Well good luck,” you finally say, taking a generous gulp of your coffee and scanning the room for Yena before the conversation can go any further than the base-level declarations of your new separate lives.

“Do you remember that night we snuck out of your house?” Felix asks suddenly, just as you begin to get up.

“What?”

“It was raining. I think it was like 3 in the morning.”

You turn to face him again, narrowing your eyes as he speaks.

“I didn’t have a car at the time,” Felix continues. “So you rode on the handles of my bike in the pouring rain. We went to watch the sunrise, only we didn’t realize that of course because we were in the middle of a storm, there was-”

“No visible sunrise,” you interrupt quietly. “We just watched the clouds turn a lighter shade of gray.”

Felix grins a little as you finish, nodding his head.

“Exactly. And when we got home at 5am, your dad was already awake. And he’d never met me before- we swore he’d have it out for me. But he didn’t- he brought us blankets, and he made us tea and laughed his ass off at our stupidity.”

“There’s no sunrise in a fucking storm!” You exclaim, echoing your dad’s lighthearted lecture from so long ago.

Felix laughs with you, the warm memory circling your minds, both of you equally as endeared by the tale you so vividly remember. As your laughter dies down, Felix keeps his gaze on yours, shooting you a half smile as he speaks again.

“Your dad really loved you. And… it’s one of my favorite memories, even today.”

You hold his gaze too, clutching the handle of your mug again and giving him a small nod, your lip quivering a little at the mention of your father.

“Thanks, Felix,” you say in a melancholy tone, taking a deep breath in an attempt to hold back your tears.

When the feeling’s passed, Felix spoons another dollop of whipped cream into his cup and brings it up to his lips.

“Your hair’s shorter,” he says with a chuckle.

“Yours is longer,” you retort. “And black.”

“I’m trying something new.”

“I can tell,” you say, laughing lightly. “And what’s with all the screws and washers in your ears?”

“My piercings?” He replies. “They’re a fashion statement!”

“They look painful.”

“This one was,” Felix says, toying with the silver helix piercing in his lobe.

“And this one,” his fingers trail down to another silver stud, just below the first. “And maybe this one.”

“At what point is this just inflicting pain on yourself for fun?”

“I’m not finished!” Felix says, as you both share amused laughter. He thumbs over another row of silver studs, thinking intently as he speaks. “This one hurt, this one definitely hurt…”

*

“How was your dinner thing last night?” Chris asks in the morning, shooting you a knowing smile as he breaks a new roll of quarters in the till.

“Coffee,” you emphasize.

“Coffee,” he echoes. “How was coffee, with your old friend?”

“It was okay,” you respond, organizing a stack of records on the shelf across the counter. “Just catching up, mostly.”

“Yena said you guys were there for hours.”

“Maybe we were.”

“Hours?” Chris repeats, shaking his head. “What could you have possibly talked about that lasted hours?”

“Friend stuff,” you reply to him. “Maybe if you had some, you’d know.”

“Ouch, kiddo,” he says, clutching his chest in a joking manner as you both laugh.

As you turn to grab another stack of records, the bell over the door chimes, and your heads snap in the direction of the noise. And like you’d accidentally spoken him into existence again, Felix saunters in, a shy smile on his face. He looks a little more casual this time, in just jeans and a black t-shirt, but still different than you remembered him nonetheless.

“Speak of the angel,” Chris mutters, nudging you with his elbow as he waves at Felix.

“Hi,” Felix says cheerfully. “It’s nice and warm in here. Outside’s really cold.”

“Felix, what are you doing here?” You sigh, averting Chris’ shit-eating grin.

“What? I’m buying some CDs.”

“We have a good amount on clearance,” Chris says from where he’s standing. “Back shelf.”

“Thanks!” Felix replies, and you pinch the bridge of your nose in annoyance.

“Chris, would you give us a minute?”

And he nods, shooting Felix a thumbs up, before disappearing to the back room with a stack of papers.

“Look,” you begin, turning to Felix. “Last night was fun and all, but I’m still working a job. This doesn’t just make amends or something. It was great catching up, but respectfully, I really don’t want to see you again.”

Felix nods a little, and then he hoists something over his arm. It’s the first time you take notice of it- a black crossbody satchel, draped over one arm, his hand resting casually on the zipper.

“Then I suppose getting help for my project is a no?”

You narrow your eyes at him, gesturing to the bag with a tilt of your head. “What’s in the bag?”

“You don’t get to know if you don’t help me.”

“Just tell me.”

“Promise you’ll help me.”

“Felix-”

He holds the bag a little further away from his body, effectively shielding it from your view and shaking his head. “And it was such a good surprise, too.”

“Just tell me what’s in the stupid bag!”

Felix finally holds the bag out in front of him, unzipping it and carefully pulling out its contents. He reveals a digital camera to you, slinging the strap over his neck and holding it up to squint into the lens. “Smile!”

“What- that’s it?” You question, shielding your face from his view. “How does this pertain to me?”

“I’m photographing the town,” he replies, fidgeting with the lens in his hands. “I need some help.”

“Why would you need my help with that? I’m not a photographer.”

“Yeah but you know this town, and all of its little quirks.”

“There’s a maps app on your phone for a reason, Felix.”

Felix gets quiet again as he fidgets with the lens on his camera, doing nothing particularly useful as he prays you’ll change your answer. And he’s not lying- he does need to photograph this town, and all of its hidden gems for his creative project this semester. But he would be lying if he said having you keep him company wasn’t all he thought about when he went to bed last night, and woke up this morning and inevitably found himself back at your record shop.

“You used to be the best model,” Felix says just above a whisper, letting his camera hang loosely at his waist now. “I still have all my film photos of you.”

The room gets a little quiet as you meet his gaze, not missing the way his eyes seem to soften into a somber expression. He’s always had this way of begging- pleading for what he wants, and you’ve very seldom been able to say no to him. Seeing him stand in front of you now, heavy camera in his small hands and a dream circling his mind, you know the fact still stands true.

“If I do this for you, this is the last favor I run you.”

His lips pull into a toothy smile, his eyes forming little crescents as he nods eagerly.

“I promise. I won’t ask you for anything else.”

When Chris reenters the room, he shoots you a questioning look, which you wave off with a casual roll of your eyes.

“What time are you off today?” Felix asks, and Chris purposely nudges you as he passes by.

“Later. Just come by at closing or something.”

“Yeah, I can do that. Do you want me to bring a coffee or anything-”

“See you at closing, Felix,” you respond with a smile, and you gesture back to the door.

He nods, seeing himself out, camera firmly grasped in his two hands as he waves again through the window.

*

Felix drives the same shitty car he did when you last knew him. Its chipped navy blue exterior clashes horribly with the beige leather seats, the inside tainted by the permanent odor of cigarettes from its previous owner, Felix making futile efforts to mask the smell with pine tree air fresheners. The seatbelts are frayed, the legroom is nearly nonexistent and the live radio is completely busted, with the exception of the CD player.

“All jazz?” You question, shuffling through a neat book of Felix’s CD collection.

“Yeah,” Felix replies, two hands gripping the steering wheel as he adjusts in his seat. “They’re mostly just whatever’s cheapest.”

“I can tell,” you say with a chuckle, reaching the last page, where Four Decades of Jazz now occupies a sleeve of its own. You pop the CD into the player, turning the volume up a few notches and sitting back comfortably as the melodic tune of a saxophone fills the space around you.

“What’s this next place again?” Felix asks, as you shut your eyes and listen to the jazzy beat.

You’ve stopped at three locations already, all spots in Ember you’re particularly fond of. The old bridge that runs over train tracks, a narrow pathway into another world in late evenings. It’s always surrounded by starlings, which flock when the trains pass through and chirp songs that mirror the train’s cacophonous whistle.

The cathedral just north of your record shop, which you don’t attend regularly like the other town-goers do, but always greets you graciously with its towering stained glass windows and crested walls.

And a now abandoned grocery store just a few blocks away, the walls on the back now housing impressive graffiti murals and doodles.

“This last one is a more scenic spot,” you finally respond, opening your eyes as his car passes over a speed bump. “It’s my favorite one.”

Felix just nods as he continues driving, the road narrowing into a one-way route, the area surrounded by wet grassland and barely visible amidst the thick fog.

“What’s the whole premise of this project?” You ask him, realizing you haven’t quite figured out what part you play in this, anyway.

Felix is silent for a moment, his hands rotating over the wheel as he turns into another narrow road.

“It’s just a photography project. About observing your surroundings.”

“Why does it have to be here?”

And he smiles, chuckling lightly to himself, as he reaches a hand out and sprawls his palm over your mouth.

“You ask so many questions! You haven’t changed at all.”

You respond in muffled laughter, prying his hand off your mouth with two hands and shoving it back toward the steering wheel.

“I’m just curious!”

Your shared giddy laughter fills the car for several minutes, exchanging amused glances as he pulls into an open parking lot and circles around to look for a spot. And you let your fingertips graze along your cheek, briefly, remembering the sensation of his hand on you very well.

*

The fourth spot is a spacious grassland just past the hills, not necessarily a hidden gem by the town’s standards, but a place you discovered shortly after you moved out here. It requires hopping a fence to access, jogging down a steep dirt path and then marching back up a grassy hill to make it to your “sweet spot”- or a little dip in the top of the hill, perfect for setting up a picnic blanket and sitting upon for hours.

And of course the best part about it- the view. The whole town is visible from up here, the little buildings and shops you know so intimately an entirely different perspective from this height. Sometimes you imagine what you look like from this view- just a tiny speck of a human in a town not much bigger, crossing back and forth between your apartment, the diner and the record shop.

“You got it?” You ask Felix as he hoists himself up the last stretch of grass, balancing his camera in his hands and dusting off his jeans.

“Yeah,” he replies, coming around to occupy the spot next to you on the grass. You sit back on your hands, your legs crossed at the ankles as you take in the view you know so well. Felix sits cross-legged, toying with the lens of his camera as he prepares to snap a few photos.

“It’s nice up here,” he comments, filling the silence with the clicking noises of his camera.

“Yeah,” you respond shortly, your gaze fixed on the record shop. “It’s a pretty special place.”

He turns the lens, bringing his camera up and snapping a series of photos as you watch him out of your peripheral vision.

“How’d you find it?” Felix asks, scanning the photos and going to take another set.

“I get around,” you reply with a smile, keeping your answer short.

He takes one last set of photos, angling his camera at different sides, and when he’s done, he carefully places the camera in his carrier bag and leans back on his hands, too.

“You really have things figured out here,” Felix says a little quietly, turning to look at you while you keep your gaze straight ahead.

“I didn’t have a choice. It was up to me to keep things going.”

“And… how’s your mom?” He replies quietly.

You shake your head, adjusting your position so that you’re sitting cross-legged, too.

“I don’t know. Last I heard she was out west. New boyfriend or something.”

Felix nods reluctantly, not wanting to press the issue further.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he chimes in suddenly. “I hope you didn’t leave thinking that.”

“It’s fine,” you reply, brushing him off.

“No, listen to me,” Felix continues, turning to face you. “I know you hate talking about it. And I won’t bring it up again. But none of this was your fault. And that summer I wanted so badly to fix everything and take away your pain, and I just… I couldn’t. And I’m sorry.”

You don’t say anything to him, fidgeting with a blade of grass on the ground below you and reminding yourself to keep it together. Don’t cry. Don’t feel.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Felix says bluntly, like he can read your thoughts.

“What thing-”

“That thing. Where you don’t let yourself feel.”

“I feel a lot of things, Felix.”

“Then why haven’t we talked about it yet?”

“Talked about about what?”

“Why you left,” he finally finishes, huffing frustratedly. “Why are we not addressing it? Am I supposed to just act like it didn’t happen?”

“Felix, I really think-”

“You said you would stay and fight for what was ahead of us. And then you disappeared on me. You know how hard it was to go on with my life like you weren’t a missing person for all I knew? You didn’t even call.”

“I changed my number,” you say quietly.

“Yeah, I figured that much after three years.”

Felix gets quiet again, shaking his head as he turns his gaze back to the view. You don’t say anything for a moment, his words swirling in your mind as your heart beats erratically. There’s so much to say- so much you want to explain to him. But the words are caught in the back of your throat, dissipating with every passing second you fail to vocalize them. He glances at you again, hoping you’ll come around- but you don’t, your gaze now transfixed on the blade of grass that rolls between the pads of your fingers.

“I understand if you don’t want to talk about it,” Felix finally says. “And… I’m sorry.”

A copper sunset falls over the buildings below you, casting shadows around you that dance along the blades of grass and disappear over the rolling hills. They shift from massive charcoal forms into smaller shapes that sway with the setting sun, quick to get away from you and disappear when they graze over your seated figures.

“You know there was a fire here, like, 50 years ago,” you say to Felix, still averting eye contact.

“There was?”

“Mhm. See there?” You question, pointing out a vast, empty field and gesturing to the buildings across from it.

“It started east, and it traveled west. And everything there burned, and a few people even died.”

“Wow,” Felix responds. “I didn’t know that. That’s terrible.”

“A lot of the neighboring cities didn’t know this place existed. But when they heard about the fire, many of them came out here, just to donate and help build things back up. Even the record shop burned. The one we have now is a lot smaller.”

He nods as he listens to your story, glancing back at the town as he pictures the blazing flames that ate away most of its structure back then.

“I always think about it,” you continue. “Everyday I imagine how hard it must’ve been to pick up and build things from the ground up again. Chris’ grandfather did it, with the record shop. And the diner did it. And they’re still doing it, keeping things running the way they are.”

Felix nods again, turning to look at you as you watch the town.

“No one could’ve prevented the fire. They could pick up and move on, but things still burned before they did, and people still died.”

Felix begins to say something, his lips parting, but his breath hitches in the back of his throat, and he settles in silence as you finish.

“I’m somewhere there,” you say to him after a silent pause. “I’m somewhere between the fire and the mending.”

And he doesn’t have to say anything else, understanding that this is your way of explaining things.

As darkness begins to fall over you both, you think back to the last time you sat with him like this, on the old hill in your hometown, waiting for a sunrise that never came around. You had passed the time kissing and touching each other so desperately, speaking visions of a new life into existence and making hushed promises to embrace the end together. An end that came to fruition without him, one you ran from before could look it in its face and brave it with Felix by your side.

But here on the familiarity of your hill, looking over a town that burned like the flames inside of you do now, you know there’s good, there are people who will make the journey to help you rebuild no matter what their reservations previously were. But it also takes time, and patience, and the strength to admit things have turned to ash in the first place.

And sometimes, like this town, things and people turn to Ember, a dim glowing reminder of what happened always present still.

*

Soul-searching capital of the world. 6:00pm. On the cusp of winter.

“Think you’re ready?” You query at Felix, pulling the straw out from your vanilla milkshake to lick the other end.

“I think so,” he responds, sorting through a stack of photos on the table.

“Felix, your whipped cream,” Yena says as she turns the corner and sets a small bowl down in front of him.

“Thank you,” Felix replies with a small smile, already spooning a generous amount into his coffee.

The last two weeks have been cordial between the two of you, a sense of normalcy finally present during your time together as Felix wrapped up his photography shots and developed them at the convenience store in town. The pictures are beautiful, little precious neutral-toned glimpses into your everyday life and the town you love so much. It feels like Felix finally understands you, neither pressing you for answers anymore, nor trying to initiate anything more between the two of you like you’d feared. And although the photography sessions have spanned a little more time than you’d originally anticipated they would, you’re well aware this will all be over soon, and then you can get back to the normal, simple life you lead, without having to look introspectively at the state of things. You’re fine, and Felix doesn’t force you to think about it anymore.

“I just have to submit these, and then I’ll be done for the semester,” Felix explains.

“Are you staying in town for the holidays?” You ask suddenly, realizing you’ve never even inquired what his plans are for after this photography project is finished.

“I don’t know,” Felix responds, glancing at the stack of photos. “I don’t really have any solid plans.”

You don’t miss the way he fidgets with the ring on his finger, averting your gaze and swallowing nervously. It’s another habit Felix possesses, getting you to drag him along practically anywhere, but it’s hard to say no when he makes every effort to be so polite and forgiving.

You sigh deeply, praying you won’t regret the words before they leave your mouth.

“Look, a couple friends I have throw a party every year around the holidays. We just get together to smoke and talk. You can come, if you want.”

Felix’s expression brightens almost instantly, meeting your gaze again with big hopeful eyes and a beaming smile.

“Really?”

“Don’t make it weird,” you say, chuckling softly. “It’s just a small thing to unwind.”

“I’ll be there,” Felix responds with a nod. “And I won’t make it weird, I promise.”

“So…” Yena teases, sliding into the booth across from you and raising her eyebrows. “What’s… going on between you two?”

“Who?” You question, cocking your head slightly.

“Oh come on,” she emphasizes. “You guys are attached at the hip. We barely get girl time together anymore. He can’t just be an old friend.”

“He is,” you voice back. “We just go way back, that’s all.”

“He’s cute,” she says, glancing out the window at Felix’s lanky figure making his way back to his car. You both watch as he struggles to get his car open, yanking on the door handle a little hard and stumbling back.

“Well he’s single,” you retort with a soft chuckle. “So if you ever get tired of Chris, he’s your guy.”

“I see the way he looks at you,” Yena explains, as she pulls out her notepad and adds her tips for the evening. “Like he has stars in his eyes or something. I remember when Chris and I met, he was a lot like that.”

“Yena, we’re really not-”

“I know,” she says, shaking her head with a smile. “Feelings, feelings. Yuck. I’m just saying.”

You turn your gaze toward the window again, watching as Felix starts his car and backs out of the parking lot, strands of his ebony hair falling into his eyes as he checks behind him.

And Yena smiles, taking notice out of her peripheral vision at the stars in your eyes, too.

*

Seungmin’s annual holiday party is a tradition you joined in on the first year you moved out here. Working at the record shop your first year, you had no friends, no family and you were completely isolated from the town when you weren’t picking up shifts. He was a regular customer with a knack for old rock records, and he pitied the shifts you worked while the rest of the town mingled at their annual holiday events you’d hear so much about. An invitation to his holiday party was a big feat for you, not only because it was one of the first events you attended here, but because it allowed you to spend the holidays alongside people again, something you hadn’t done since your father’s passing. And thus, Seungmin invites you back every year, never missing a chance to talk records with you and challenge you to eggnog shots.

“I just want to pop these in the trunk really quick,” you say as you open the car door on the passenger side and gesture for the key from Felix. “I usually lend Seungmin a few spare records we have-”

Felix hasn’t registered a word you’ve said, completely entranced by the way your short skirt hugs your hips, a black leather coat thrown over your shoulders and a different pair of sneakers than he’s used to seeing. It’s much different than how he’s normally seen you, dressed down in sweaters and baggy jeans.

And Felix looks particularly dashing, too, his ebony hair tied up again to display his impressive collection of ear piercings, a fitted leather jacket hugging his slim figure and black jeans that elongate his legs. You give him a once-over as he cranes his neck from the driver’s seat and tosses you the keys, unable to verbalize his regard for your outfit. But as you make your way around the car to the trunk, popping it open and placing Seungmin’s stack of records inside, he can’t help but stare in the interior view mirror at the way your skirt rides up when you bend over, exposing a little more of your thighs and leaving little to the imagination.

The drive to Seungmin’s is only a few blocks down from Ember Records, one which Felix completes while stealing very obvious glances at you and making every attempt to calm his erratically beating heart. You pretend the glances go unnoticed, keeping your gaze on the darkened road ahead and making small talk about the party. But you don’t miss the way Felix’s voice hitches in the back of his throat when he speaks, his trembling hands turning the wheel as he pulls into the cul-de-sac and puts the car in park.

And he wants nothing more than to stay here, with you, to sit in his dingy little car and talk with you about everything that happened, to assure you that you’re not alone in your process of mending- he’ll love you through it, regardless. But as Seungmin makes his way out the front door with a red solo cup in hand, calling loudly for you, Felix knows that’s not a possibility.

“Y/n!” Seungmin exclaims, a big toothy grin plastered on his face at the sight of you. He’s a bit taller than Felix is, long legs that frame his slim torso, and a chiseled jawline that makes Felix a little jealous. His voluminous chocolate tresses fall into his eyes as he speaks, and he uses a slender hand to push them away again, shooting you another flashy smile as he chuckles lightly.

“What’d you bring me this time?” He asks, balancing the presumed cup of alcohol in one hand as he watches you retreat to the trunk of the car.

“Couple rock, some alternative and that one artist you liked last time?”

“Hell yeah,” Seungmin replies, as he takes the records from your grasp and shuffles through them eagerly.

Felix clears his throat as he stands beside you, his hands shoved awkwardly in the pockets of his leather jacket as he waits for an introduction.

“Sorry,” you voice, stepping aside and gesturing to Felix.

“This is Felix. He’s an old friend of mine.”

Seungmin hardly looks up from his stack of records, just briefly glancing at Felix and giving him a small nod.

“Hey man. Cool to meet you.”

And Felix’s lips pull into a thin-lipped smile, averting his gaze, too, as he nods.

“Yeah. Same.”

Your eyes dart between Seungmin and Felix, both of them painfully awkward as they stand beside you, avoiding eye contact like some unspoken challenge and looming over you like you’re meant to be the host.

“Should we get inside?” You finally ask, wrapping your arms around yourself and gesturing to the house with a tilt of your head.

“Yeah, sorry,” Seungmin says with a soft chuckle, still averting Felix’s gaze and pivoting on his heel to begin toward the house. Felix gestures for you to follow, trailing behind you and doing his best to steady his nerves as the three of you finally make your way inside.

The house is already crowded for the evening, people standing just about everywhere, red cups in hand and joints pinched between their fingers. They exhale white clouds of smoke as they converse amongst themselves, their eyes all tainted red, as they let all the weed and alcohol consume their consciousness and instill a calm demeanor in themselves. Felix finds himself standing a little closer to you as you approach the sofa everyone’s sitting around, their bodies lazily slung over one another as they chat and drink.

“Y/n’s here,” Seungmin says, as he passes the sofa and heads into what Felix presumes to be his bedroom, with the stack of records in hand.

“Hey!” They call in misarticulated voices. You make your rounds, greeting each of them and exchanging brief anecdotes with them, while Felix remains standing with his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the way you smile cheerfully and acquaint yourself with everyone in the room.

You look so relaxed, so well-adjusted to your new life in this little town. As stories are thrown back and forth between yourself and the guests, Felix wonders how long you’ve known them to be able to converse with them to such an intimate extent. They share stories of your shifts at work, stories of previous parties, tales of past lovers they’ve had and late nights all of you spent up in this exact household. Felix can’t help but wonder what he was doing during those moments- probably studying for a test at university, or hooking up with someone he didn’t exactly care for. And by nighttime, he was likely up thinking of you- pondering where you’d gone, what you were up to. If you thought about him just as much as he thought about you.

Part of him wants to be angry, listening in on your stories like this- you’re laughing about parties, exchanging tales of difficult customers- moments that occurred while he was up waiting for you, hoping one day you’d change your mind about everything and return. Felix swore every sunset began to look the same without you there to watch them alongside him, every sunrise much bleaker than the last- even the stars he’d gaze at through his window seemed to lose their meaning.

But watching you like this, a smile that hasn’t left your face once since entering the house and the familiar sound of your harmonious laughter, he knows maybe you did the right thing, after all. Maybe Felix wasn’t a part of this plan life had for you- and perhaps, it’s time to come to terms with the fact that he never will be.

“Felix?” You question, effectively snapping him out of the trance he’s fallen into just by watching you.

“Huh?” He responds, aware that the row of guests on the couch appear to be waiting for him to say something.

“How long are you here for?” One of them repeats, his stare a little cold as he raises his eyebrows and prompts an answer out of Felix.

“Oh, uh… I’m not sure yet. Just for the holidays, I guess.”

They nod in collective unison, no one saying a word as they gauge how nervous he seems to be. And you shoot them an apologetic smile, also clocking Felix’s awkward demeanor as he remains silent and avoids carrying on with the conversation.

“Anyone got a light?” You finally break the silence, and everyone chimes in to answer, offering you joints from between their fingers and fishing colorful lighters out from their pockets. You take a seat on the rug, patting the space next to you, and Felix follows your lead, crossing his legs in the spot beside you and taking a hit from the joint you offer him.

Felix feels himself calm a little as the mellow sensation begins to wash over him, his worries dissipating as he listens to you begin to share another story with the group of people. And his mind wanders back to the past, contemplating your actions and mirroring them with the current state of things.

Three hours into the party, you’re both a little buzzed, feeling much more mellow than you had upon entering, despite taking only one hit from a joint. The room is heavy with thick clouds of smoke, the pungent smell of weed and alcohol present at every corner of the room. Just sitting here and talking gets you high, and you find yourself enjoying the company alongside Felix.

It reminds you of back then, when you and Felix used to attend parties together and run off to random bedrooms for a quick fuck. You’d often find yourself leaving early to spend time just between the two of you, hitting all your signature spots to catch sunrises or binge greasy food. And Felix feels much more relaxed around you now, making small talk with the guests and observing the way you try your hardest to include him in the conversations. As Seungmin takes another hit from his joint, he slouches back in the concave leather of the couch, his gaze darting over the two of you as Felix eyes you curiously.

“So what’s the deal between you two?” He asks, narrowing his eyes as he awaits a response.

“We’re just old friends-” Felix begins to say, but you interrupt him before Seungmin can catch the answer.

“He’s my best friend.”

Felix’s head snaps in your direction, unsure if maybe he heard you incorrectly, or if you’re genuinely claiming that Felix, whose guts you’ve hated for the better part of three years now, is your best friend.

“Best friends?” Seungmin repeats in slurred speech, and you give him a nod.

“Yeah,” you say again confidently. “He’s my best friend.”

And Felix’s lips pull into an involuntary smile, the tips of his ears turning a bright shade of red as he reaffirms your words.

When you turn to smile at him, he pats the space in front of him, extending his legs so that he’s created a spot for you to settle in. And in your buzzed, mellowed out state, you comply, scooting back and slotting yourself between his long legs, letting yourself lean back against his chest and shutting your eyes briefly. Felix reluctantly brings two hands around you, holding you a little closer to him, but you don’t protest the action, the familiar sensation of his arms around you feeling comfortable and safe like it always used to.

“I’d think you guys were fucking if I didn’t know any better,” Seungmin voices, joining a chorus of laughter as he brings the joint up to his lips again.

“So what if we were?” You retort casually, feeling the way Felix’s embrace gets a little tighter around you.

“Nothing wrong with it. It’s just easy to see through you guys. Especially the way this Danny from Grease wannabe looks at you.”

And Felix’s eyes furrow at the statement, well aware of the fact that Seungmin’s begun to get a little aggressive, but not wanting to incite anything that might jeopardize your friendships.

“I should probably go,” Felix says just above a whisper, his mouth hovering just over your shoulder so that you can hear him over all the noise.

“What? No,” you reply, turning your head to meet his gaze. His eyes are wide, his lip trembling a little as he speaks. Felix isn’t confrontational- a fact you’re very aware of.

“I don’t want to start anything-” he begins to say, and you place a hand on his forearm comfortingly.

“Then let’s both get out of here. I’m kinda bored, anyway.”

He’s surprised at the offer- and undoubtedly moved by the prospect that you’ve chosen to stick with him instead of stay here at the party with all your friends. And because he wants to spend the time with you, he doesn’t protest when you turn to voice your decisions to the crowd.

“Well Danny from Grease and I are getting out of here. So you can let your imaginations run wild since you’re so obsessed with us.”

Seungmin chuckles lightly, too stoned to ask you to stay, and candidly, to care about any of it.

“My old records are on the kitchen table,” Seungmin says, as he shuts his eyes and exhales a generous cloud of smoke. “Catch you guys later.”

*

“Where are we going?” Felix asks, as he puts the car into park and watches you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“I have to put the records I lent to Seungmin back in the shop. It’ll only take like two minutes.”

He nods in response, his gaze fixed on the darkened record shop, not used to seeing it at this hour.

“You coming?” You ask him, gesturing to the door, and Felix snaps out of his tranced state, unbuckling his seatbelt, too.

As you twist your keys and push the door open, Felix feels a bit unsettled seeing the shop at this hour. The shelves are pitch dark at the hour, the usually colorful vinyl all looking indistinguishable as they sit in stacks against each other and gather dust. The neon sign above the CD wall is shut off, not even the gentle hum of the bulb present amongst the silence. And the doorway to the back room looks like something out of a horror movie, seeming as though someone- or something, could pop out at any given moment. It feels wrong being here- and he knows he probably shouldn’t be, but he’s not in the place to leave your side just yet.

“Don’t turn on the lights,” you say to Felix when you enter, him following closely behind you. “I don’t want anyone to know we’re here.”

You begin toward the back room, glancing over your shoulder to ensure Felix is following. And he is, albeit reluctantly.

The back room is much smaller than Felix had originally anticipated it to be. It smells of paint, looking far more run-down than the rest of the store, and he’s not sure how anyone can take a lunch break back here considering the lack of table space and seating options.

“This is the break room?” Felix asks, squinting his eyes when you pull the chain beside the medallion lamp and illuminate the room with a dim, orange glow.

“Yeah,” you reply, now shuffling through Seungmin’s old records and putting them in their respective genres. “This is where I eat my sandwiches.”

He chuckles softly, running his hands over the series of music posters pinned to the cork walls, taking in the view you see everyday at noon.

“There’s a record player in here!” Felix exclaims, bending down to examine the 6200 marantz wood turntable on a little cart, just to the left of the dining table.

“Well this is a record shop, you reply with a chuckle, slotting the last few of Seungmin’s vinyl into the shelf. “It wouldn’t make sense if we didn’t have one.”

“Does it work?” Felix asks, tracing the silicone grooves of the platter with his fingers.

“Of course,” you respond, finally turning around to meet his gaze. “Pick something.”

Felix scans the shelves at the neat rows of vinyl, all packed together and indistinguishable from their thin colorful spines alone. He pulls one out, examining illustrations of flowers on the cover, and then slots it back into its respective home. Another flaunts an abstract pattern of cool-toned hues, which Felix observes briefly, and places it back where it belongs, too.

“I can’t decide,” he voices plainly, his eyes scanning over the rows that span the entire length of the room, some of them visibly much older than the rest.

Your fingers graze the spines, too; letting the cracked ridges serve as indication of their age, and then you pinch one between the pads of your fingers, pulling it out to examine the cover. It’s painted sky blue, with images of autumnal trees that stand tall and contrast the gentle hues nicely. In bold red cursive text, the title is scrawled at the top, followed by a brief list of credits and arrangements.

“The Seasons, by Tchaikovsky,” you read aloud.

You recall putting this one on the shelf after a donation a few weeks prior, never having listened to it yourself.

“Will you play it?” Felix asks, and you nod your head in response, already pulling out the black disc and placing it neatly on the record platter. You flip it on, and then bring the tonearm to a random spot, letting the cue lever lower it into place and begin playing. After a few seconds of fidgeting with the volume, the soft sounds of piano begin to fill the room, a somber arrangement that slows into gentler, discoordinate notes.

“This one’s probably winter,” you say to Felix, hoisting yourself up on the table and sitting on your hands. “It sounds sad.”

“Yeah,” he responds, his eyes fixated on the slow turn of the disc, a soft crackling noise emitting as the tonearm runs over the grooves.

Felix suddenly reaches for the bag slung over his shoulder, unzipping the pouch and pulling out his camera.

“What are you doing?” You ask with a soft chuckle, amused at the way he so quickly rushes to adjust the settings.

“I want to take a picture. It’s a nice record player.”

And with the rhythmic click of the lens, he snaps a series of photos, angling himself a bit higher to capture every moving part of the old thing. When he’s finished, he examines the photos himself, a small smile tugging at his lips as he looks over the moment in time captured so perfectly on the little screen of his device. Without warning you, Felix then holds the camera up once more, snapping a quick photo of you and chuckling softly to himself.

“Stop!” You say through laughter, holding a hand up to shield your face as he snaps a few more. “Felix, I’m serious!”

“It’s just for me!” Felix exclaims, bringing his camera down again and scrolling through the candid photos.

As he examines them, you notice how close he is to you now, standing in between your legs that hang lazily off the edge of the table, his frame towering over yours.

He meets your gaze again after a moment, taking notice of the proximity, too, and swallowing nervously.

“You used to let me take pictures of you,” Felix says after a moment of silence.

“That was so long ago,” you reply with a smile. “Things are different now.”

His eyes dart over your bare face, your eyes a little hooded from exhaustion and the mellowed state that overtake your body. It’s a sight familiar to him, still, the way you keep your words short when you’re not asking him questions, nothing except a small knowing smile on your face. But it’s one he’s thought about for so long, painting pictures of you in his head and scanning old photos, like your physical state would somehow come to fruition the more he studied it.

“Please let me take a few more,” Felix says, his voice dropping an octave as his eyes flicker between your lips and your gaze. He knows you’re going to say no, go away, or some other version of it.

But this time, you don’t, taking careful note of the way he so politely asks for what he wants. Memories of him have plagued your mind all night, the feeling of his hands around you still lingering on your body, recalling the way he used to ask so politely to fuck you in the bathroom of house parties like you wouldn’t say yes every single time.

And in the absence of your words, you slide your coat off, discarding it on the table behind you and keeping your gaze locked on his, in just a tight-fitting t-shirt and skirt.

Felix brings his camera up immediately, lest you change your mind like he knows you probably will, and adjusts his lens again, before snapping a single photo of you, sitting so innocently on the table in the back room of the record shop. Your expression remains unchallenged, your eyes softening a little as he pulls away to look at you again. And this time, you let two hands cross over your torso, pulling up the corners of your shirt and letting it ride up until it’s nearly off of you. Felix doesn’t waste any time, bringing his camera to eye-level again and snapping a photo eagerly, his eyes wide as he observes the sight of your hardened nipples through the lens.

The discoordinate piano music still plays from behind him, its tempo increasing gradually as you let one hand position itself over the mound of your breast, kneading gently as Felix positions his camera to zoom in. He snaps another set of photos, bringing his camera even closer to capture you at every erotic angle, and then he pauses briefly, as your hands move to your skirt.

You tug gently, not yet pulling it off, and his photos capture the moment you finally undo the small zipper on the side, revealing the hem of your lace panties to him and looping a finger through them. He feels his breath hitch in his throat, wanting to clarify that he’s not forcing you to do any of this, but too mesmerized to ask you to stop.

And then before he can verbalize his thoughts, you’re tugging the skirt down, too, pulling it off over your sneakers to discard it on the floor below you. Felix can’t look away from the sight, your body hugged so delicately in lace lingerie, your legs parted a little for his photos and practically begging him to come touch you. And yet you say nothing, amused at the sight of Felix gasping over your sitting figure, letting him take the reins and do whatever it is he pleases, even if the implications are clouded by your past.

Felix’s slender hands snap a few more photos, focusing meticulously on your clothed core and your hardened nipples for his own personal use. And then he sets his camera down at his waist again, pulling the camera strap off his body and shoving it back into his satchel. When he turns to say something, he can’t, still entranced by the familiar feeling in his stomach at the body he’s bore witness to so many times.

“Felix,” you say softly, coaxing him to come a little closer.

He obliges, lips parted nervously, as he takes another step forward and allows your legs to rest casually on his.

“I meant to ask you,” you say, cocking your head slightly, bringing one hand up to caress his cheek with your thumb.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice just barely above a whisper. “Anything.”

“Where have all your freckles gone?” You finally ask, observing the way his skin still runs completely clear around his cheeks and eyes, not a hint of a galaxy visible to you, even at this proximity to him.

“Makeup,” Felix responds with a soft chuckle. “They didn’t match my new look.”

And you bring your other hand to his other cheek, grazing your thumbs over his soft skin, before pressing down a little harder and wiping the foundation off of him. He’s right- the beige stars you’d remembered so well begin to appear once again, scattered generously across his button nose and his big eyes. He lets you rub it off of him, not taking his eyes off of yours as you rid him clean of the stuff and then graze your thumbs over him again, in much gentler motions.

“That’s better,” you reply, your eyes darting between his now visible freckles and his plump, parted lips. “They’re my favorite part about you.”

And Felix doesn’t respond, his mind running rampant with thoughts and intentions, as he brings his lips a little closer to yours and finally kisses you, like he’s been dreaming of doing all winter.

You reciprocate instantly, your hands cupping the back of his neck as his lips work against yours, desperately leaning into you and letting his hands snake down the sides of your waist. His kisses are familiar, so reminiscent of years past when he’d kiss you exactly like this, in the proximity of whatever house party bathroom you could run off to and let him have his way with you. And Felix remembers the sensation all too well, this mutual pining of silently yearning for each other in the presence of other strangers until he could confess his love to you through whispered love making sessions when you were finally alone. Felix whimpers softly between kisses, as your hands snake up his t-shirt and graze along the toned flesh of his abdomen. You hum in response, letting your hands tangle in his hair now as he presses further into you and works gentle kisses down your neck. Both your hands find his silky ponytail, pulling off his hair tie in one swift motion and tossing it aside so that his long tresses hang loosely in front of his face, and you tangle your fingers in his ebony roots, tugging slightly as you pull him into your embrace and feel him trail back up to your lips. He pulls away momentarily to gauge your expression, worried you might ask him to stop, but your eyes are wide with anticipation, your breaths labored as you pull him into you again and arch your back into him. You can feel Felix smile into the kiss, satisfied with the turn of events from tonight's party- he’d been so certain you would leave with Seungmin, or shut him out again. But here in the dimly lit room of the record shop, your lips on his as your hands trail lower to unbuckle his belt, there’s no denying you want this just as badly as he does.

And Felix can’t help but wonder how long have things been this way- had something changed at the party? Something that would’ve led you to call him a “best friend” rather than an old one, leave the party with him and even drag him to the record shop after hours, knowing very well you could’ve come alone? Something that instilled an equal sense of desperation in you, to want his lips on yours as badly as he does right now, your bodies yearning for each other like you once did, as you undo his belt buckle and snake it out from his belt loops to discard it on the floor?

He’s not entirely sure- but he also can’t think straight when your hands are tugging at the hem of his jeans, begging him to take them off and mirror the same level of undress you are now. What he can think about are your lips working against his, the gasps that escape you when he grazes his fingers down your sides between kisses and the forte echo of Tchaicovsky’s piano record filling the room with sultry harmonies.

As Felix unbuttons his jeans, you help him tug them down so that they’re pooled around his ankles, the two of you now equal parts undressed and grabbing desperately at the now exposed flesh. You let your hand find Felix’s, wrapping your fingers around his slender wrist, and then bringing it to your panties, where you rest his hand against your clothed core and allow him to graze over your growing wetness.

“Jesus,” Felix exhales, pressing his middle and ring finger down against your core and rubbing in slow, back and forth motions. “I forgot how horny you get when you smoke.”

And you chuckle lightly, not breaking eye contact as he continues to rub you over your lace panties, the wetness against your thin fabric increasing with every gentle movement of his fingers.

“Will you do something about it?” You ask sweetly, one hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

Felix cocks his head slightly, a smug expression pulling on his lips as he works you a little faster now.

“What do you want me to do about it?”

You chuckle in response, growing impatient as he teases your aching clit over the fabric of your panties and keeps his gaze on yours. He’s calculated with his movements, rubbing in gentle motions, pressing down firmly with every other stroke to watch the way your legs squirm desperately around him and ache for more.

“Don’t make me ask,” you say shyly, your hips rutting toward him to chase the friction of his fingers.

Felix’s gaze drops to your core, his lips parted with curiosity at the sight of you now rocking gently toward him, letting your movements do the pleasing as he almost entirely stops rubbing you.

“What if I wanted you to ask for it?” Felix says briskly, a serious expression on his face as he pulls his hand away from you momentarily.

“Felix, you already know what I-”

“Ask for it,” Felix interrupts, keeping his gaze locked on yours now. His eyes are hooded with lust, his eyebrows slanted in a challenging expression as he waits for you to say something. And he knows he’s never been one to make you ask for it- in fact, he was usually the one doing all the begging, whining when you’d take too long to touch him or begging you to let him finish. But coupled with the recent development of his new look, you can’t help but wonder if it’s not the only thing that’s changed about him.

“Ask for it,” Felix states again. “Or I’ll get dressed again.”

And you can’t bring yourself to, still riddled with questions at the peculiar phenomenon of Felix making you ask for sex, desperate to ask if this is a one-time occurrence, or if he’s intent on getting you to beg for his cock from here on out. Does he make all his hookups beg for it like this? Do they oblige without question, or are they just as taken aback with it as you are?

When Felix takes note of your silence, he doesn’t waste another second, pulling up his jeans again and beginning to work the buttons once more. And you feel your heartbeat quicken at the sight, disheartened at the action and still desperate for him to touch you, to fuck you, like your body’s been craving the past hour you’ve been back here.

In a desperate attempt to stop him, your hands reach out, grasping his wrists in yours and watching the way his cock remains tented under the denim fabric of his jeans.

“Please,” you say shortly, a sheepish pout on your face.

“Please what?” He responds, cocking his head to gauge your reaction.

“Please would you fuck me?” You finally say, exhaling frustratedly and flickering your gaze away from him, almost embarrassed to be asking him like this. But Felix’s lips pull into a toothy grin, leaning back into you for a kiss and beginning to work his jeans off of him again.

“Was that so hard?” He mumbles against your lips teasingly.

“Mhm,” you murmur back against him, hearing his jeans pool around his ankles once again as his hands cup around the small of your back.

“It was?” Felix queries, one hand looping through the hem of your panties and grazing along the elastic. “If I remember correctly, we used to play this little game all the time.”

You gasp a little as he pulls the elastic between the pads of his fingers, letting it snap against your delicate skin again and rest against your reddened skin momentarily. Felix observes the way you say nothing, waiting for him to undress you, touch you- anything, without so much as a plea for him to do so. And he’s undeniably roused seeing you this desperate for him, adjusting your position on the table to calm your pulsating core, your hands searching for him and your lips trying so hard to keep purchase on his. Felix feels his cock swell at the confirmation that perhaps you have been thinking of this just as much as he has, and that maybe leaving was the hardest thing you ever did, the way he always hoped it was.

“Are you sure about this?” Felix asks before he can ponder the words.

And in painfully slow movements, you find the hem of your elastic waistband yourself, tugging it down and breaking away from the kiss to snake it off your ankles and discard it onto the floor. The sight alone is confirmation enough for him- your pussy is glistening with wetness, your folds coated generously in your own arousal and your aching clit a robust shade of pink as you wait for him to finish his little game of neglect. Felix can’t even respond at the sight of your cunt on display for him, too engrossed in the familiarity of what it looked like all those past years, exactly like this, begging for him and only him. On the counters of bathroom sinks, in empty fields, in the back of your car and even when his fingers were shoved in it under blankets in a room full of people. Always taking him so wholly and effortlessly, like your cunt was made to have him fill it, squirming around him with hushed moans and whimpers, your bodies intertwining into one tangled mess of pleasure and pure, unadulterated love for one another.

“Felix, please fuck me,” You repeat, a small smirk on your face as you watch Felix stumble over his words, his cock fully erect in the fabric of his boxers.

And Felix can’t answer you, already attaching his lips to yours again and letting his hands come around your back to unclasp your bra. His motions are much quicker now, no lingering intention to make you ask for it or confirm your stance- but every intention to fuck you, fill you, like he knows you deserve.

When your bra is unfastened, he tosses it aside, letting his hands find the mounds of your breasts and kneading them with steady motions. You moan into his mouth as he works you, your legs wrapping around his hips to press his clothed cock into your wetness and grind softly against you. Felix winces at the sensation, doing his best to stave off a premature orgasm while you rut your hips gently against him and let your head fall back in pleasure. And mirroring the pleasurable sensation of his thumbs rubbing circular motions over your nipples, he brings his mouth down to your chest, taking a breast in his mouth and sucking with little whimpers. Your head comes forward to meet his gaze again, his big, innocent eyes locked on yours as he takes the flesh between his lips and swirls his tongue around your nipple. His plump lips remain locked around your mound, alternating between gentle kisses and then back to sucking on your nipple, like he might coax fluids out of it if he tries enough. And he looks so guiltless, so incorrupt as he lets his eyelids flutter shut and your nipple graze his teeth. His actions almost don’t match this darkened, grunge appearance he now sports- and you swear you can still see the blonde locks that once framed his wide eyes and his bright appearance.

As Felix moves to your other nipple, you wrap your legs tighter around him, swaying your hips in gentle rocking motions to stimulate his clothed erection against your wetness and provide some relief to both of you. And he arches his eyebrows up in pleasure, stifled moans escaping his lips as he finally releases your breast from his mouth, a string of saliva connecting you still, as his gaze drops to his boxers.

Hard- he’s unbearably hard underneath his boxers, the tip of his cock kissing the constraining fabric of his boxers that ruts against your exposed clit and sends waves of pleasure through both your listless bodies. And Felix knows if he doesn’t fuck you now, he might finish at the sight of you alone, your cheeks flushed a dark shade of pink and your cunt arching desperately into him as you wait for him to undress. So he does- one hand finds the elastic waistband of his black boxers, pulling them over his cock and wincing as it grazes against the precum dribbling down his tip. You run your hands over his toned abs, letting your eyes meet his cock as it protrudes so eagerly for you, and it looks almost painful how hard he is for you, reddening at the tip and dripping with beads of his preemptive arousal.

Felix leans in to kiss you again, and as he does, the bare flesh of his cock finally grazes your clit, running smoothly over your arousal and making you clench around nothing. You gasp at the sensation, scooting closer to him as your clit finally gets some attention from him, and Felix smiles as he trails his kisses down to your neck. While he sucks little bruises along the flesh there, he brings a slender hand around the base of his cock, guiding his tip back to your clit and rubbing his length along your flesh with more pressure now, a fervent moan escaping your lips as he does. He glides so effortlessly along you, your arousal allowing him to move so freely against you, still eager for him to fill you up. And when his lips move back up to yours, his hand guides his tip back and forth again, now rubbing against your clit in steady motions. He mimics the way his fingers stimulate you, only it’s better like this, your cunt contracting as you prepare to take his length.

“Felix,” you whine, as his cock rubs back and forth over your wettened entrance.

“What is it?” He coos gently, smiling into you as saliva dribbles between your hungry mouths.

“Put it in,” you order plainly, parting your legs a little further to signify what it is you want so badly. And Felix already knows, pressing his tip into you just a mere centimeter to gauge your reaction, satisfied at the way you whimper and push yourself against him even further.

“Is this what you want?” Felix muses, holding his base to keep from sliding into you involuntarily.

“Yes,” you whine again, tangling your hands in his hair. “Just fuck me like you used to.”

And Felix feels his heartbeat quicken as the filthy memories grace his mind again, images of you exactly like this.

He says nothing, opting to end his teasing streak, as he finally steadies his hands on the sides of your waist and pushes into you, your sopping pussy taking him with complete ease. You let out a fervent moan at the feeling, your cunt clenching desperately around him as he works to bottom out inside of you and find his footing. His girth takes little to adjust to, but he’s long, taking a good minute or two until the base of his cock is disappearing inside of you and being coated in your arousal. Before even moving, his tip is grazing your cervix, the familiar feeling making your stomach turn with anticipation as you remember what it feels like.

Felix’s lips part in pleasure, his eyebrows arched up as he pulls out again and then thrusts just once, relishing in the way your pussy contracts around him again and takes him so perfectly. Your hands find purchase in his hair again, tangling in his ebony roots, as he pulls out a little, and then begins to move. His cock fills every inch of you so well, grazing every corner of your dripping cunt with such fullness, as his wet kisses work against your lips and coat your mouth in his needy saliva. Felix has always been a particularly vocal lover, you remember, as the room fills with his deep grunts and moans at every thrust. His fingers dig into your flesh, holding onto you with strength as your legs wrap around him to steady yourself and push him into you fully. Your bodies one again, your limbs tangled until it's discernible who is who atop the table like this. But when he slows his movements and kisses you tenderly, you don’t care about the implications, about the past or what this will mean for your future. All you care about is Felix inside of you like he used to be for most of your relationship, making up for all this wasted time as he fucks you and breathes heavy grunts into the shell of your ear.

“God, I missed this,” Felix breathes, his voice shaky as he continues to pump into you.

“Me too,” you moan back, lining his jaw with kisses as he moves a little faster.

“You used to let me take pictures of you,” Felix repeats for the second time this evening. “You remember? Used to touch yourself while I’d snap photos of you. God, the way your fingers would disappear into your tight little pussy. Had me begging to fuck you at the end of every session, baby.”

“I remember,” you voice back in labored breaths. “You’d fuck me so well. All you had to do was adjust that stupid lens and you had me dripping for you.”

“Fuck, baby,” Felix groans, shutting his eyes as he thrusts a little harder. “Gonna make me cum for you.”

“Yeah?” You echo, wrapping your legs a little tighter around him and crossing them at the ankles. “Will you fill me up like you used to?”

Felix nods as his eyes remain squeezed shut, the room teeming with the squelching sounds of his cock thrusting in and out of your cunt.

“Come on, baby,” you plead, one hand angling his face toward you to press repeated, chaste kisses to his lips. “Fill me up. I know you want to.”

“I do want to-”

“Cum for me,” you order, grazing your free hand over his abdomen and tracing little circles over his v-line.

And Felix’s cock twitches inside of you twice, signaling his nearing finish as he quickens his pace again, now fucking you with even more force and hitting your sensitive cervix with every thrust.

“I’ll let you take whatever pictures you want,” you say to him as you pull him close and nibble the lobe of his ear. “As long as you fuck me like this every time you’re finished.”

And the promise is all it takes for Felix to reach his orgasm, his cock twitching inside you once more before he spurts ropes of his warm cum inside of you, filling your cunt with copious amounts of his arousal for you and fucking every last drop back into you. Your pussy contracts at the sensation of his warm cum grazing your insides, reaching your finish, too, as he brings a hand to rub your clit through your release. The table below you is sticky with your juices as you steady your breathing, Felix bringing a hand around the base of his cock to pull out of you and rest limply against your pulsing, sore entrance.

The room around you is quiet again, the gentle buzz of the pendant lamp replacing your moans as you let your hands wrap around him and hold him in your embrace. Felix presses a series of tender kisses to your forehead as you remain, his slender hands moving strands of sweaty hair out of your forehead to replace them with his loving kisses.

And the record has run through all its seasons now, having ended several minutes ago, as the needle runs over the last groove in repetitive clicking sounds, an indication to flip it over.

*

A precious town once set ablaze. 4:00pm. Spring on the horizon.

“To have hysteria or mania. 7 letters.”

Felix thinks for a moment, his eyes darting up to the ceiling and then back to where Yena is sat across from him.

“Madness?”

She glances over the crossword puzzle once, counting empty little boxes, and then begins to pen in his answer.

“How are you so good at this?” Yena asks, shaking her head. “You could be on a crossword puzzle reality show. If that exists.”

He chuckles lightly, observing as Yena checks her watch, and then shuts the book in front of her.

“My break is almost done,” she says as you chew on a French fry. “I’m gonna catch the bathroom really quick. You guys need anything?”

“I’m good,” you chime in, and Felix shakes his head from across you.

“Thank you,” he says politely, shooting her a little smile as she slides out of the booth and back toward the kitchen.

Felix’s gaze turns back to you now, a smile on his face as you nibble the remainder of the french fry, cocking your head at his curious gaze. He doesn’t say anything, but you feel his sneaker glide gently up your ankle, grazing your bare skin with the sole of his shoe and shooting you a knowing smile.

“Felix, not here,” you say, pushing him away gently with your own shoe and letting your soles rest atop his laces.

“That’s not what you said this morning,” Felix says, swirling half-melted cubes of ice around in his glass of water.

“Harder Felix, harder!” He mimics quietly in a high-pitched voice, as he brings his glass up to his lips and takes a generous sip.

You stomp on his laces as he chuckles between sips of water, dribbling a stream from his lips when you kick him lightly in his ankles.

Don’t fuck your exes.

Advice that anyone with half a brain would give you- and advice you really should’ve taken to heart. But you can’t help it, finding yourself between the sheets with Felix nearly every night for the past two weeks, his lips all over yours and pleasuring you better than you’d ever remembered it. You tell yourself you’re just making up for lost time, both of you still young and naive, all of this over once he actually leaves for college again. He stayed for Christmas, gifting you a new pair of canvas sneakers and fucking you while reruns of Christmas rom-coms played in the background of your apartment. He was your New Year’s kiss at Seungmin’s party, where you swore again that the two of you weren’t dating, forcing you to press your lips to his only when you were sure the others weren’t paying attention at the drop of the ball. And when you’re not picking up shifts at the record shop, you’re with him every waking second of the day, keeping Yena company during her shifts as you feign your giddy attraction to him while she’s not looking.

We’re not dating, you’ve emphasized to Felix several times, and he doesn’t fight it, giving you a knowing nod as he utters a repetitive yeah, yeah. But it’s mostly because he knows you can’t say no to him, not when he’s bringing you slices of pie at work and burning CDs with all his favorite songs for you, slipping them into your bag without you even noticing until you’re home again. Of course there’s the physical factor, too- Felix is undoubtedly your best sexual partner, and he always has been. He’s quick to recognize when you’re aroused, slipping away with you in the backseat of his car to pleasure you, without any protest from you. He’s also understanding of all your intimate moments together, not fighting it when you remind him this is just temporary, all while he’s thrusting into you on the back room table of the record shop at late hours of the night. He just smiles against your bruised skin, reminding you that you have yet to push him away yet. And when he’s holding you in the gentle embrace of your afterglow, pressing kisses to your skin and reminding you how beautiful he’s always thought you are, he’s right- you don’t push him away from any of it. Maybe it’s the physical factor, maybe it’s little acts of service he performs to win you over. And perhaps it’s also because you don’t feel so lonely for once- the last time he was beside you like this, you still had a family, one that loved Felix like their own and encouraged this shared life with him. You still had dreams of being something bigger, aspirations while you were in school and visions of a life with Felix, because back then, he was always a part of your plan. And though things are different now, his beaming smile and lighthearted jokes serve as a reminder of a simpler time, and it feels right. So you don’t push him away- it’s a secret kept between the two of you, but he’s here with you, regardless.

“Will you let me take some photos of you today? ” Felix inquires, flipping through the book of crossword puzzles left on the table by Yena. You watch as he adjusts the familiar fleur de lis ring on his finger before uncapping a pen and filling in one of the words.

“I have an early shift tomorrow,” you reply, toying with the crumpled straw wrapper in front of you.

“I won’t be long,” Felix retorts.

“I know, Felix, but I have to get up really early tomorrow and I-”

“Let me take you out,” Felix says, not looking up from the crossword puzzle in front of him. “Just tell me where.”

You sigh, scanning the empty tables around the diner. There are only a handful of guests at this hour, most of them elderly folk chatting quietly amongst themselves. A slow jazz tune plays overhead, and sunlight beams through the large window beside you as Felix finishes penning in an answer, shutting the book again and folding his hands in front of him to meet your gaze.

“I have something for you,” Felix adds.

“You don’t have to buy me gifts, Felix.”

“I’m aware. But this one’s special for me, too.”

“What is it?”’you ask, a growing curiosity at his words.

“I don’t have it with me. You’ll have to let me give it to you later today.”

You sigh, crossing your arms in front of you and rolling your eyes sarcastically. He’s always known how to get exactly what he wants.

“Just this one time,” you reply, knowing you sound like a broken record at how many times you’ve sworn it to be just one more time.

“Just this one time,” Felix echoes, toying again with the ring on his finger.

And you nod reluctantly, agreeing to whatever he’s planned, for the purpose of pleasing him and because you’re unable to decline.

As he flips open the book again, he uncaps the pen once more, picking up where he left off and reading the question aloud to you.

“A discussion aimed at reaching an agreement,” he voices, nibbling the cap of his pen again.

“Negotiation,” you say, observing the way a smile grows on his face as he pens in your answer.

“That’s it,” he says, gripping the pen enthusiastically as he crosses out the question.

And the sole of his shoe grazes your ankle again, trailing up your flesh teasingly as he moves onto the next.

*

“Where’s she going?” Felix queries, reaching into the bowl of popcorn in his lap to grab another mouthful.

“I don’t know,” you respond, chuckling at the way he shoves a generous portion into his mouth and chews loudly.

“Is she leaving him?” He says, pausing his chewing as the main lead in the movie makes a dramatic exit on screen.

“Felix, I’ve never seen this movie either,” you state, chuckling as he finally resumes his chewing and brushes stray kernels off his shirt.

He reaches into the bucket again, gathering a generous handful of popcorn, and then he sprawls his hand over your mouth, pushing the popcorn into your still-laughing mouth as he moves a little closer to you.

“You argue too much!” He says between giggles, throwing his head back as he watches you try to down the handful, failing as loose kernels find purchase on your shirt, too.

You reach out to shove him playfully, and Felix intertwines his hands with yours, pulling you onto his lap as the bucket of popcorn is promptly set aside and neglected.

He doesn’t even give you time to finish chewing before his lips are on yours, kissing you with such tenderness and warmth. It’s moments like these you find yourself glad he’s here with you, grateful for his unwavering persistence to account for lost time and make amends. Of course you also know he’ll be gone soon, back to university to proceed with his education while you tend to the record shop. And you’re undoubtedly a little sad about it- but you also know it’s the way things have panned out to be. Felix has blossomed into the bright young soul you always knew he was, filling the shoes of a generation of good-natured people that came before him. He’s generous, and unselfish in his ways, and a part of you knows that leaving him was the best thing that could’ve happened to both of you.

Was sleeping with him a mistake after all this time? You would’ve answered yes in a heartbeat, at the first instance it happened, feeling you might accidentally led Felix on and ruined things between the two of you. But the more it happened, the more it affirmed the beautiful notion that he’s just a fleeting part in this process of mending- your souls intertwining to relive memories of simpler times, connecting like they had when you once belonged together. He gives himself to you as a way of saying I’m still here, if you need me. And you give yourself to him to respond I know, and I’m still healing.

“You want your gift?” Felix asks as he pulls away, his hands grazing the small of your back.

“Depends,” you say with a small smile. “If it’s anything like your gift this morning, then yes.”

He chuckles softly, caressing the dimples in your lower back as he sits up and nods in the direction of the kitchen counter.

“I’ll go get it. Be right back.”

And you slide off of him, crossing your hands between your thighs as he exits the room, the soft-spoken dialogue of the movie still playing as he shuffles about in your apartment kitchen. When he returns, his hands are behind his back, a smile plastered on his face and his eyes forming little crescents as he approaches you.

“You have to close your eyes,” he says, kneeling down and sitting cross-legged in front of you. “And put out your hands.”

You oblige with an equally endeared smile, closing your eyes and cupping your hands in front of you. Felix seems to get something situated in front of you, and then you feel him place something small in the palm of your hand. It’s cold to the touch, no bigger than an inch, and he positions it so that it’s centered perfectly in your hand.

“Now open,” Felix finally says, pulling his hands back and folding them in his lap.

You do as you’re told, your eyes fluttering open again and your gaze falling into the palm of your hand. And your heart melts instantly at the sight-

It’s a ring- his ring, the silver fleur de lis one he always catches you staring at.

“I can’t take your ring,” you say, your wide eyes meeting the crescents of his eyes that remain as he grins.

He holds his hand up, flashing you his own fleur de lis, and wiggles his fingers to show it off.

“It’s not mine,” Felix says. “I got you your own.”

And you feel tears prick the corners of your eyes, doing your very best to pull back and avoid crying in front of him. But Felix takes notice at the way your face contorts sadly, scooting closer to you and taking your hands in his.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his face full of concern as you examine the ring.

“Nothing,” you’re quick to respond, sniffling and rotating it between the pads of your fingers. “I just…”

Felix waits for you to answer, giving your hand a little squeeze as you struggle to find your words. He knows that verbalizing your feelings isn’t exactly your forte, giving you time to think over the action and speak when it feels right to you.

“Your ring,” you say with a soft chuckle. “It was a gift from my dad.”

His expression turns serious, holding up his index finger to rotate it around in front of you. “This one?” He inquires.

“Yeah,” you respond with a smile. “The one I gave you before we broke up. I know I’m not the best with my words, but I never got to say thank you. You stayed up with me the night they told us he was nearing the end. And again when my mom left. And somehow you found me in this shitty little town, and I like to think it’s so that I can properly thank you for everything. That’s why I wanted you to have the ring.”

Felix can’t properly reciprocate with a kiss while he’s sat below you like this, but he brings his lips forward to kiss your knee tenderly, staring up at you through innocent eyes and humming against your flesh.

“You were not alone,” he says, pressing another kiss. “You’re never alone. I would do it all over again.”

And you smile down at him, as he takes the ring from the palm of your hand and slides it onto your ring finger, an unspoken promise that he’s always going to be here to help build you up again, regardless of your reservations or your conditions. That just like this town lost itself so many years ago, there’s always a way to build things back up again, you just have to hold onto the hope that it’s possible.

“I love it,” you say, examining the way it sits around your fingers just like his does. And Felix doesn’t answer, pressing more kisses on the pads of your knees and using a hand to part your knees slightly. You take note of the way he keeps his eyes shut as he trails kisses, relishing in the way you give into his actions, laying back to part your knees and observing his eager state.

“Can I take a picture of you?” Felix asks shyly, his eyes darting over your visible crotch as your skirt rides up. You shoot him a little nod in response, gesturing for him to go get his camera, which he wastes no time doing, pulling it out of his black carrier bag and slinging it over his neck. Felix sits cross-legged in front of you again, watching intently as you flip your skirt up and let your fingers graze over your soaking panties. Your new ring glints in the dim glow of the overhead lamp, glistening as you rub your clit over the thin fabric of your underwear and stare into the lens of his camera.

Felix clicks a set of photos, his breath hitching in the back of his throat at the sight of you tugging on your panties and spreading even further for him. You make a big show of staring innocently into his lens, your eyebrows arched in curiosity as you toy with your waistband and tug it down a little further, your hips swaying a little as you struggle to pull it off entirely. And Felix takes note of your struggle, snapping one more photo of your desperate state and slinging the camera back off.

“Let me help you,” he says with an amused smile, placing the camera on the bag beside him and scooting closer to you. His hands loop themselves in the hem of your panties, keeping his gaze locked on your core as he pulls them down, being met instantly with the sweet aroma of your arousal and your glistening folds.

“Fuck,” Felix breathes, swallowing in anticipation at you spread for him.

You let yourself slouch back into the dip of the couch cushion, propping a leg up to give him a better view, and your hands graze over your breasts as you watch him struggle to comprehend the sight.

“Go on,” you order simply, biting your lip as his eyes widen when you knead your breast gently.

And Felix doesn’t spare another second, his hands finding purchase on your inner thighs, as he brings his face forward and licks a long stripe up your folds. His tongue is instantly coated in your arousal when he does, moaning at the taste of you as you writhe in pleasure below him and clamp your knees around his pretty face. He holds them open again, letting his tongue graze over your pulsing clit, before licking another stripe and then latching his lips around your bundle of nerves, pressing a chaste kiss before sucking harshly.

The room fills with your high-pitched moans, gasping for air and clutching desperately onto the fabric of the couch as he works you, alternating between sucking your clit between his teeth and grazing his tongue over your entrance. He darts his tongue into your sopping entrance to gather more of your arousal, spitting harshly onto your cunt and grazing it around your folds using his tongue. And the more you writhe desperately below him, the more his movements become ravenous, working you like a starved animal as he eats you out and pries your legs open.

“Felix,” you groan, reaching a hand out to push his face further into you. “Feels so fucking good.”

He smiles against you, responding with little kisses peppered on your inner thighs, before moving back to your clit and licking in harsh back and forth motions. Your cunt clenches around nothing, desperate for him to fill you, but not wanting him to halt the motion of pleasuring you with his tongue. And as his fingers graze along your thigh to pry you open again, you gasp when he brings the same hand to your clit and rubs vigorously.

Your body is shaking now, trembling with anticipation as you approach your orgasm. But Felix doesn’t stop to gauge your reactions at all- in fact, if you were to cum right now, he’d keep going at this pace regardless. He’s too fixated on the taste of your arousal in his mouth, the melodious moans you let out for him and the way you reach for nothing tangible as he works you.

As your head throws back in pure ecstasy, you feel his fingers move lower, and lower, until he’s grazing your entrance with his knuckles in a teasing motion. And before you can ask him to fuck you with them, he’s already inserting two fingers, increasing the pace of his tongue as he begins to thrust in and out of you. Your cunt contracts eagerly around his fingers, desperate for release now as he matches the rhythm of his tongue with his fingers, the room teeming with the sounds of your squelching pussy. As he pushes deeper into you, you feel his ring- the cold, stiff metal of your now matching rings, graze your entrance, sending a wave of pleasure over your trembling body. His fingers work in and out of you, the cold metal pressing itself on your clit as he bottoms out inside of you and moves his fingertips in quick come hither motions to stimulate you. Your abdomen contracts harshly with every thrust now, your clit throbbing as he traces it with his tongue and peppers it in hot, wet kisses.

“Felix, fuck, I’m- gonna cum for you,” you warn, your voice shaky as he moves even faster, showing no mercy with his movements as he groans against your exposed flush.

“Let go for me,” he commands plainly, his deep voice vibrating against your clit as he holds his tongue there. “Always give me such a fucking show, baby. Make a mess for me.” He speaks between kisses on your glistening folds, alternating between pouting his lips to make out with your cunt and let his tongue wag over your sensitive core.

As you feel his fingers thrust into you one last time, the cold metal of his ring gliding over your folds in its coat of arousal, your abdomen contracts over him, your cunt clenching in syncopation with your fervent moans as you finally let go and dribble your juices all over his freckled face. He wastes no time cleaning you up, lapping at your core to swallow your release and pepper your dampened flesh with tender kisses.

“Stay there,” Felix orders, reaching beside him as your eyes flutter shut in overstimulation. You lie completely listless, your limbs languid and heartbeat pulsing at a now slowing rate throughout your body.

Felix brings his camera up to you again, sitting up on his knees and snapping a photo of your wearied state, his eyes wide with lust as he admires the way your legs hang loosely at your sides. His lens adjusts to capture your parted lips and flushed cheeks, your hands tugging your skirt down again and the smile on your breathless lips when you open your eyes again.

Felix stands up now, approaching you with the camera and letting his slender fingers graze your lips.

“Suck,” he orders, inserting the same two fingers down your throat as his other hand positions the lens in front of you. And you oblige eagerly, your lips wrapping around his digits to suck your own arousal off of him, your tongue swirling around the salty metal of his ring to rid him of your juices.

His photos capture exactly that- your lips wrapped around his knuckles, the kisses you trail down his fingers and the way your tongue licks the perimeter of your matching jewelry clean.

When you’re finished, you release him with a gentle pop, Felix letting his camera hang loosely at his waist again and using his now free hand to tilt your head up to meet his gaze.

“So beautiful,” he says resolutely, bringing you up for a gentle kiss. “You were always such a good model for me.”

*

When you work an early shift, you make it a point to kick Felix out of your apartment no later than 9, or sometimes 10. You’re not staying the night, you’d explained as a non-negotiable condition, wanting to avoid the awkward antics that come with sleeping alongside each other and waking up in his arms. But tonight, you can’t seem to let go of him, letting his arms wrap you in their warm embrace as he presses kisses to your forehead and tells you stories of college that you weren’t around for.

“It was the worst group I ever had for a project,” Felix says in a chuckle. “I don’t know how I passed that course.”

“You should’ve requested a different group,” you say in a sleepy voice, smiling as you play the humorous tale in your head.

“I did!” He exclaims. “I don’t think the professor liked me enough to let me switch so late in the semester.”

“Well, you got through it,” you reply, letting your hand intertwine with his as your rings rub tenderly against each other. “I can’t say the same.”

Felix chuckles lightly, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand and letting your hands rest against each other. He thinks for a moment, and then rubs his thumb along your hand lovingly as he begins to speak again.

“I want to take so many photos of you in the spring. There’s this new lens I want to try.”

You pause briefly, opening your eyes to look at him, and then you cock your head slightly before responding.

“You won’t be here for the spring, Felix. You’ll be back at school.”

He swallows nervously, pondering your words, and then he exhales deeply before continuing.

“I don’t think college is for me, either.”

The words hit you like a truck the second they escape his lips- you sit up in bed to look at him, releasing his hand from yours and furrowing your brows together.

“What?”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you, I just wasn’t sure how to bring it up. I want to stay here, with you.”

“No, you don’t,” you’re quick to say, shaking your head.

“I do,” Felix admits sheepishly. “Everything makes sense here. Being with you, the town, the people- I think I’m meant to be here, too.”

“No, you’re not,” you say, pulling away from him even further as he sits up now, too. “Felix- this isn’t your life. You need to go back to school, and pick a major and live your life.”

“I don’t want those things,” Felix responds frustratedly. “I want you. I want this town. I don’t care if you don’t want to date, I’ll stay by your side regardless. I can’t just leave you.”

“You can, and you will.”

Felix narrows his eyes, anger quickly overtaking him as his face flushes a dark shade of red.

“So you’re allowed to and I’m just not? Who are you to dictate what I do with my life?”

“This is the life I made for myself,” you reply, exasperated. “It’s not some soul-searching pit stop like it is for you.”

“Maybe it’s not for me, either.”

You’re entirely off the bed now, your hands making angry gestures as you try to verbalize your feelings toward him, Felix’s voice growing increasingly irate as you attempt to.

“You know why I left you in the first place?” You question. “Because I was dragging you down. You had everything- a family, a future and a girlfriend who didn’t quite have things made the way you do. No one even understood why we were together, Felix. I’m not gonna drag you down a second time just because we had sex a couple times.”

“Is that all this is to you?” Felix inquires angrily. “Just sex? It doesn’t seem that way when you’re all over me at Seungmin’s parties calling me your ‘best friend’. That doesn’t sound like just sex to me-”

“You are my best friend,” you interrupt frustratedly, tears falling from your eyes now as you try to make him listen.

“You are my best friend, and I don’t want this life for you. The night I left you, my dad was moved to hospice, and my mom decided she wanted nothing to do with it. I knew you’d be wasting the best years of your life taking care of me, staying by my side like the good person you are, but that it would get in the way of college and your life. It wasn’t easy for me to do, Felix, breaking up with you and getting as far away from you as possible before I could change my mind. But you have a life outside of me, and I need you to go be that person still.”

Felix says nothing in response for several minutes, his eyes welling with tears, too, as you wipe your eyes with your inner wrists and avert his gaze. You hate when Felix sees you cry- it’s embarrassing, and it feels shameful. It feels the way it did when Felix skipped classes to be with you, neglected studying for his exams to hold you as you cried, rain checked his own family to be with yours and dragged you to every house party, so that he could fuck your sadness away in an environment that wasn’t a hospital bathroom or your childhood room.

“How dare you imply the time I spent with you was wasted,” he scoffs, his lip quivering as he wipes his own eyes. “You were my life, outside of all of this. And you still are, and you’re so stubborn in doing that thing where you don’t let yourself feel.”

You watch as Felix gathers his camera, stuffing it back into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“You said you’re somewhere between the fire and the mending. But you don’t talk about the fire. You just shut it out like you do with everything else.”

He pivots on his heel, making his way toward the door and walking with loud, purposeful strides. You begin to say something, quickly swallowing your words again as he reaches for the doorknob and turns it slowly. Felix pauses momentarily, hoping you’ll ask him to stay, apologize, forgive- anything, any sort of indication that this is what you want, too. But as the door opens, your silence is answer enough for him.

“No one could have prevented the fire,” Felix says before leaving, echoing the words you told him so long ago. “You can pick up, and move on, but it still happened. And just because things burned, doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to thrive again.”

Without another word from you, he’s disappearing out your front door, his camera bag swaying on his side as he marches out the building and back to his car.

And you feel yourself begin to cry, your heart contracting painfully in your chest, a pit forming in your stomach as you witness him walk out of your life again. The flames burn inside of you all over again, turning organ to ash as you wipe your never-ending tears and slam the door behind him. It’s akin to when your mother left, when your dad passed and when you left Felix the first time. It’s overwhelming, it consumes you whole, your entire figure trembling as you fail to extinguish the flames. The phenomenon begs the question- had the fire ever really stopped? Were you ever in the process of mending if not wailing like this, your vulnerability on display for the world to see as your walls are finally let down? Is this what it means to feel?

*

There are few people in this world who have seen you cry. Your mom, one of them, when you begged her to stay. Your dad, another, when you held his hand through his last breath. Felix, the third, several times throughout your relationship with him.

And the folks in this town- never. Not once have they witnessed you wail the way Felix has, tears brimming your eyes as you fail to keep your emotions at bay, mucus trickling down to your lips in an inelegant manner as you cry, and cry and cry.

“You want some coffee?” Chris asks awkwardly, scratching the back of his head as he watches you bury your face in the sleeves of your sweatshirt.

“No.”

“Yena should be here any minute,” he adds, his voice softening as he watches you lift your head to give him a nod.

“Hang in there, kiddo,” Chris finishes, rubbing your back in small circles and giving you a gentle pat.

As you rest your chin in your hands, a pounding headache overtaking your whole being, a knock at the front door catches your attention. It’s Yena, a hood thrown over her head as she balances a tupperware container in her hands and peers through the window. Chris gives her a knowing look, making his way to the door and unlocking it for her.

“Hey,” Yena says softly as she enters, setting down a slice of pie in front of you and taking a seat on the stool beside you. “You okay?”

You sniffle once, shaking your head sorrowfully as she awaits your explanation. But nothing is verbalized yet, and for a good few minutes, all you can do is cry.

Yena wraps you in her loving embrace, letting your tears stain the shoulder of her hoodie, as Chris shrugs from behind you and delivers reassuring pats to your back. They’re just as confused as each other, awaiting a reason or some story, but you can’t bring yourself to vocalize your thoughts, especially when you’re a crying mess like this. Chris finally ushers Yena to say something, and she does, albeit reluctantly.

“You know, just between us, I think he’s a little dorky, anyway. It’s his loss if he can’t see what he’s missing.”

And to their surprise, you chuckle lightly, still wiping tears with the corners of your sweatshirt.

“What?” You question, a soft hiccup escaping your lips as you speak. Yena furrows her brows, together shooting a questioning look to Chris, who shrugs in response.

“Is this… not about Felix?” She queries hesitantly.

“It is,” you emphasize, another giggle escaping your lips. “But it’s not that he’s not interested. We used to date, Yena.”

At this, Yena reaches around to swat Chris’ shoulder, pursing her lips together as she speaks again. “I knew something was up,” she voices, swatting Chris again. “Christopher over here was convinced he was too into you.”

“You guys talked about it?” You add, giggling softly into the sleeve of your sweater.

“It was hard not to,” Yena responded, giving you an empathetic look. “The way you guys light up a room when you’re together, it’s like winter turns to spring or something. I was so certain he was the one.”

At this, more tears escape the corners of your eyes, falling onto the counter below you as you nod slowly in regards to her words.

“I love him,” you finally say, and the room goes silent when you do.

“I love him, and he deserves better than me. Than this,” you finish, gesturing around you to the town. “He wants to drop out of college and stay here. Like that’s a good idea for anyone except me.”

Yena and Chris give each other staggered looks, unsure of what to reply to first. They’ve never heard you speak of your emotions like this, never seen you cry and never would’ve guessed that you would let down your guard to this degree around them. It’s a little frightening, at first, to watch you tear down your own walls so much, like watching a different person than the one they’ve known for all these years. But it’s also reassuring to see that you are capable of letting yourself open up for the right people. It takes a weight off their shoulders to bear witness to the confirmation that they’re the people you can go to when you need help, the same way they don’t hesitate to lean on you. And it especially gives solace to know that you feel so deeply at all, a trait Yena and Chris have always pushed you to familiarize yourself with.

“Well what’s stopping you?” Yena asks, threading her fingers in your hair and combing it back like your mother used to.

“Exactly that,” you respond. “I don’t want to confine him to this life of mine.”

“Let me ask you something,” Yena states, taking your hands in hers and bringing your gaze up to meet hers. “Are you happy?”

And the question throws you off guard, requiring a moment to think before you can say anything in response. It’s a fair question, too- one you should’ve asked yourself when you agreed to move here years ago. But it’s not a difficult one to crack, either, when you take in your surroundings. The diner across the street is packed with patrons, happily sipping away at milkshakes and glass bottles of soda. This old record shop, with its dingy back room and rows of genres you make an effort to learn about whenever you get a chance. The starlings that flock when the train travels through, the holiday parties you find a home in and your favorite spot on the hill, overlooking all of Ember. They’re all working parts of one larger phenomenon- that of happiness.

“Yeah,” you reply, nodding to affirm your answer. “I love it here. And I love you guys, and I’m still healing most days, but I wouldn’t want to be doing it anywhere else.”

A smile grows on Yena’s face as she glances back between you and Chris, and he shoots her a little nod.

“Then do something about it,” she finally says, giving your hands a little squeeze. “The first step is letting yourself feel. The rest is up to you to run with.”

And when you meet her gaze, and Chris’ gaze, their loving expressions looking down at you like you’re one of their own, you can’t help but pull them into a hug, letting yourself cry a little harder at the prospect of your found family, these tears ones of happiness.

“I love you guys,” you voice confidently. “And I’m sorry if I’ve never said it out loud.”

Chris’ hand pats your back, Yena’s combing through your hair tenderly, as they hug you with equal enthusiasm and allow you to cry as long as you need.

“We love you, kid,” Chris answers.

And when you pull away again, the three of you laugh, your tears staining your reddened faces as you bask in this unconditional appreciation for one another.

“Eat your pie,” Yena says, shoving a fork toward you. “And Chris, play some music, will you?”

Chris salutes her, pulling a random record off the shelf and scanning its contents.

“Polish folk?” He questions, and you glance at the familiar cover of the record, the same couple dipping into a bow as they dance in their colorful fabrics.

“This one’s really good,” you chime in, taking a bite of cherry pie as you nod toward the record player. “We should dance to this one.”

And as Chris starts the upbeat music, pulling Yena in for a comedic waltz, you can’t help but laugh through your tears, at the home this town’s given you in all your mending.

*

Felix hasn’t been at the record shop since your fight. He hasn’t been at your apartment, nor the diner, or even Seungmin’s place (and yes, you did ask). There’s only one place you know Felix would flock to after a night like the one you shared, and if you’re lucky, you should still be able to catch him on his supposed last night here.

The grassy hill is a little slippery at this hour, caked mud enwreathing your sneakers as you trudge your way up the hill and into the familiar dip of the land. And as the horizon becomes visible to you, spanning the length of the town and showcasing all the bright lights the nighttime flaunts, so does Felix, sitting with his back to you in a plain white t-shirt and jeans. He looks more casual tonight, less dressed with the intention to look a specific way, and you can’t help but smile at the sight of his slim frame taking in the view you led him to. He leans back on his hands, eyes scanning the sight of the town, before picking up his camera and snapping a series of photos.

When you occupy the spot next to him, he glances over at you briefly, before turning his attention back to the camera and waiting for you to speak.

“It’s prettier at night, isn’t it?,” you finally say, breaking the silence, and Felix fixes his gaze on the blurry lights of the record shop.

“Yeah,” he responds curtly, swallowing nervously as he ponders what to say.

And you know if you let him facilitate this conversation, it’d be over much sooner rather than later, but you also know that it’s up to you to make amends now.

“Your photography is still so beautiful,” you state, gesturing to the camera in his hands. “It’s always been so artistic.”

Felix remains quiet, toying with the strap on his camera as you speak.

“You’re artistic,” you continue. “And that’s why I want you to finish college. Don’t throw all this away for me.”

He turns his face to meet your gaze, his eyes trembling a little as you give him an empathetic look and shrug.

“I don’t want to go where you won’t follow,” Felix says, his voice coming out a little shaky.

“But I’ll always be here,” you retort, tears beginning to prick the corners of your eyes again. “Don’t put your life on hold for something that already lives in your past. You are an incredible person, Felix, and I’m not gonna drag you down a second time.”

Felix thinks for a moment, swallowing a lump in his throat as he thinks over your words. And he knows that there’s a possibility this isn’t what he wants, either- to stay in this little town with your friends he’s not even sure like him very much. But he does know he wants you, and that staying here would mean sacrificing his old life.

“I want you to know it wasn’t your fault,” Felix says after a brief pause of silence. “Nobody who walked out deserved you. And your dad loved you- a lot. I think about that moment watching the sunrise with you every day. He’s there too, part of that memory tucked away in my mind. I’m sorry it happened so suddenly and disrupted things. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy, Felix,” you tell him, chuckling lightly as you respond. “I have a whole family here. I don’t spend my holidays alone, I meet new people working at the shop everyday. There’s so many people I haven’t introduced you to. There are coffee shops, and parades on weekends, and I’m happy. I’m still healing, but I’ve also realized that being healed doesn’t equate my happiness. I can be one without the other, and still get by just fine.”

Felix’s gaze is fixed on yours for a moment, not saying anything as he lets your words circle his mind. And there’s so much he wants to say in response, so many questions about what the future means for you both, but he also knows very well that the rest is up to him to figure out, just the way you did when you moved out here. Maybe you’re still healing- and maybe Felix is still figuring out the rest for himself, too. And though the past may be clouded by a story much more complex than either of you can even begin to comprehend, the happiness you seek is attainable, whether or not you’re together to see it through to the end. That although sometimes things may burn and decay like this town once did, there are people who will make the journey to help in the process of rebuilding, and you can thrive again. You can always thrive again.

“You’re right,” Felix says, as he looks over the horizon again. “It is prettier at night.”

The dim glow of the streetlights contrasts the flashy signs of the diner and the record shop, painting the blackened town with vivid color and bringing life to the small town of Ember.

And with a half smile, Felix pulls you in for a tender kiss, the two of you letting your apologies flow through each other in the gentle embrace of your lips and your hands intertwining atop the grassy hill.

Felix pulls you close, letting your head rest comfortably against his chest, as he caresses your hand softly in the grasp of his. And his index finger rubs lovingly against your ring finger, your matching rings grazing against each other as if to say I’ve always loved you.

*

Small town at the edge of the world. No particular time of day. A blossoming summer.

If you told the average person to shut their eyes and think of their favorite city, they’d probably conjure up a lengthy description about the booming skyscrapers, the bumper-to-bumper traffic, the fancy restaurants and the well-kept people. Point it out on a map, you’d tell them, and their finger would land in the heart of the amorphous blob of whatever state they’ve chosen.

Now move your finger to the right- keep going, and going, and don’t stop until you’re almost off the map entirely. There will be no major indicators, no colorful dots on this area of the map. You might miss it, in fact, if you shoot too far.

That’s the small town of Ember. A town Felix holds very close to his heart. And one you call home.

The cicadas buzz with high-pitched melodies of summer as you slip your sneakers on, the piercing blue sky around you almost too bright to look directly in its face. The clouds seem to shift with the summer breeze, drifting along the canvas sky like a painting in motion as you take in the sight around you

“Let’s go!” Yena calls, honking her horn twice to signify her arrival.

“I’m coming!” You call back, making your way down the stairs of her porch, balancing trays of food in hand as you account for everything you’ve agreed to bring. Drinks, plates, pie, napkins- your signature arrangement for the town’s summer festival you attend alongside Chris and Yena every year.

“Slow down, kiddo,” Chris says with a chuckle, as you rush to place everything in the backseat. “Oh, and there’s a letter for you on the porch table,” he adds, shooting you a small wink.

“I’ll be right back!” you call to Yena, jogging back up the stairs to collect the little beige envelope that rests atop the wooden surface.

It’s addressed to you, the handwriting in neat swirly black cursive letters, the envelope feeling sturdy between your fingers. You tear it open with no real aim, a giant gash working down the envelope as you rush you pull out the contents and examine them.

It’s a stack of photos, you quickly realize, sorting through them to make out the glossy digital prints.

There’s a photo of you in the back of the record shop, your hands brought up to your face and your legs hanging lazily off the table. Another showcases you in the familiar beige interior of the passenger’s seat, laughing cheerfully and staring out the window. There are photos of the town’s horizon, photos of the record player at your work, Yena’s famous pie, Seungmin’s holiday party and even the matching rings, intertwined hands that rest on the car console. As you shuffle to the last photo, you recognize it to be much more recent than the others, even the quality looking clearer, perhaps a new camera or a different roll of film.

It’s a still photo of Felix, from the waist up, holding a peace sign up to the lens with a small smile. He’s dressed brightly in a white vest and layered jewelry, the background showcasing a blue harbor with rows of boats, the location indistinguishable to you. He’s blonde again, his now shorter golden tresses framing the myriad of freckles that scatter his face once more. And he looks happy, much like himself again.

You wonder briefly who took the photo of him, the angle being of very close proximity. And you can’t make out which hand usually houses the ring you both wear, the only hand visible to you covering his ring finger, regardless. You scan the photo for a moment, running your fingertips over his figure, before turning it over and reading the neatly scribbled text on the back:

Sydney, last fall. I think I’m the only photography major who doesn’t drink my coffee without sugar. And you were right, the freckles do suit me better.

All my love,

Felix.

SHATTERED PUZZLES | 1

 PAIRING: Hyunjin x reader, slight Minho x reader

 CONTENT/WARNINGS: fluff, angst, a slight love triangle (i gotta stop with the skz love triangles–), amnesia!Hyunjin, Doctor!Chan, Rude!Hyunjin, car accident, trauma

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

 RATING: pg13

 SUMMARY: a rude and arrogant patient with no identification wakes up from a year-long coma and develops temporary amnesia. Assigned to you, a volunteer who’s not going to put up with his attitude, you’re both in for a rough ride.

SERIES SONG: I Don’t Remember Me (Before You)

 A/N: I know I suck at summaries but like, I needed one. If you have a better one I’m all ears lol. This is a multi-part fic which was originally going to be a oneshot, but it’s ending up longer than anticipated and I’ve got a plot that I wouldn’t be able to fit into a oneshot anyway lol. Anyway, lmk what y’all think with likes and reblogs please! HAPPY HYUNJIN DAY!

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