Archive of Our Own

The studio was thick with the kind of fatigue that settled into bones. Shoes squeaked against the floor, music still faintly playing from someone’s phone, but no one moved. Not really. They were all slumped in various corners of the practice room, sweat damp hair clinging to flushed skin, shirts sticking to backs. The mirrored wall reflected eight worn down versions of themselves.

Hyunjin sat cross legged on the floor, head tilted back against the wall, chest rising and falling in slow, heavy breaths. His water bottle sat untouched beside him, condensation pooling on the floor.

Across the room, Felix was still smiling.

“Lix, I’m serious,” Han groaned, collapsing dramatically onto the floor. “If I move one more muscle, my body’s going to file a formal complaint.”

Felix let out a soft laugh—the kind that lit up a space even when the lights were already on—and crossed the room in a few quick steps. He bent down and wrapped his arms around Han’s shoulders from behind, pulling him into a quick, warm hug.

“Hannie,” he said, cheek pressed against the top of Han’s head. “C'mon you can do this, just one more yeah”

Han grunted something between a laugh and a wheeze. Hyunjin didn’t say anything. He just watched.

Felix’s shirt was slightly untucked, the hem damp with sweat, his hair messier than usual—framing his face in soft strands. There was a shine to his skin, a flush to his cheeks, and yet—somehow—he still looked like he’d stepped out of a painting. His smile hadn’t dimmed once. It never did, even after hours of dancing.

Hyunjin blinked slowly, letting his eyes linger a second too long. The sounds in the room faded to a hum. All he could hear was the echo of Felix’s laugh. He took a quiet breath and looked away.

It didn’t take long.

Felix, having released Han from his dramatic hug, turned around like he’d been pulled by a string. His eyes scanned the room once before landing on Hyunjin, still propped against the wall, quiet as ever. With slow, quiet steps, he padded over—barefoot now, socks sliding soundlessly across the floor—and without a word, he lowered himself down and laid his head gently in Hyunjin’s lap.

Hyunjin blinked in surprise, breath hitching just a little. Then he laughed softly, almost under his breath. “How do you still have energy?”

Felix smiled up at him, lashes fluttering just slightly. “I don’t,” he murmured. “I’m just trying to keep everyone from collapsing in a puddle of despair.”

Hyunjin huffed another quiet laugh, warm and fond. 

Felix’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his features soft in a way that made something in Hyunjin’s chest ache. The bright lights overhead didn’t touch the gentleness of his expression, the calm that settled over him now that he wasn’t performing for anyone—just existing, quiet and close.

Without thinking, Hyunjin raised a hand and combed his fingers gently through Felix’s hair, slow and careful. The strands were soft with sweat and warmth, a little damp at the roots, and they slipped between his fingers like water.

Felix let out a content sigh, barely audible. “If you keep doing that,” he murmured, voice low and half-laced with sleep, “I’m gonna pass out right here.”

Hyunjin smiled, gaze never leaving him. “Then I guess I’ll have to stay right here, too.”

Felix didn’t reply, but the corners of his lips curled just a little more.

“Alright, break’s over,” Minho called out, clapping his hands once, sharp enough to echo through the studio. “Let’s run it again from the top.”

Groans filled the room like a chorus, bodies shifting reluctantly, limbs stretching with half hearted effort. Hyunjin didn’t move.

In the five minutes—barely—that Felix had laid in his lap, he’d somehow drifted off. His breathing had slowed, lips parted slightly, lashes resting gently on his cheeks. He was fully asleep, and Hyunjin could feel the warmth of it, the quiet trust in the way Felix’s head nestled more heavily into his thigh.

He should have woken him. He knew that. But his hand had stilled in Felix’s hair, fingers still threaded through those soft, sun warmed strands, and he couldn’t bring himself to move.

“Hyunjin!” Minho barked again. “Let’s go!”

Chan glanced over from where he was stretching and paused mid-motion. His gaze softened, and a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Awn,” he said, nudging Minho lightly. “Look.”

Minho turned, brows raised, and sighed when he saw them—Hyunjin leaned against the mirror wall, his eyes half lidded with sleep, Felix curled in his lap like something delicate and utterly at peace.

“You two are too cute, seriously,” Chan said, reaching for his phone and snapping a quick picture before Hyunjin could protest.

Hyunjin didn’t even glare. He just smiled, barely there, drowsy and content.

Chan tucked his phone away and walked over, crouching beside them. His voice dropped low, gentle. “Felix— Lixie, time to wake up.”

Felix stirred, brow crinkling slightly. He blinked up at Hyunjin first, like the rest of the world hadn’t quite caught up yet. Then he yawned, small and muffled.

“Already?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“Yeah,” Chan said, rubbing his back. “But take your time. You looked cozy.”

Hyunjin shifted just enough to slide his arm around Felix’s shoulders, his other hand brushing gently down Felix’s arm.

“C’mon, baby,” he said softly, coaxing him upright.

The nickname wasn’t unusual—everyone used it, usually in loud, dramatic voices to tease or mock scold each other. But from Hyunjin, in that moment, it was different. Softer. Warm in a way that settled in Felix’s chest and made something flutter behind his ribs.

Felix smiled without even thinking, eyes still a little glazed from sleep. “Okay, okay,” he mumbled, starting to push himself up.

He moved too fast. The moment he straightened, a sharp pull laced through his lower back and he winced, one hand flying to the spot as his body tensed.

“Lix?” Chan’s voice snapped up, immediate and alert. “You okay?”

Felix straightened slowly, forcing the stiffness from his spine and the tension from his face. He turned to Chan with a sunny smile, one he knew would do the trick.

“Yeah, just a little sore. I’m good,” he said, voice light, easy.

Minho, stretching his arms overhead, shot him a look. “You were wincing yesterday too. During the chorus.”

Felix shrugged one shoulder, brushing it off like dust. “It’s fine. We’ve had a packed schedule, there's not much to do about it.”

Chan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You still need to get some rest, yeah? We’ve got the fan meet, but after that—you’re resting.”

Felix gave him a tired but genuine smile. “Got it, hyung.”

He rolled his neck once, shaking out the stiffness, then moved to his spot in the formation. The others followed, falling into place one by one, the room shifting from softness to focus.

But Hyunjin stayed still for just a beat longer, eyes fixed on Felix. There was something about the way he held himself—shoulders tense beneath his smile, steps just a touch slower than usual. It tugged at something in Hyunjin’s chest.

Then the music clicked on, and he turned forward, slipping back into formation with the others.

Practice stretched on for a few more hours, the kind of long, dragging grind that blurred together into muscle memory and quiet determination. They ran formations again and again, fixed angles, polished transitions. No one complained anymore—not out loud. It was the kind of tired that made words feel too heavy.

When they were finally dismissed, the silence in the room was almost louder than the music had been. They gathered their things in a slow shuffle—water bottles, jackets, bags half zipped. The energy in the air had dipped into that soft, quiet exhaustion that settled between people who’d worked hard side by side. Hyunjin slung his bag over one shoulder and glanced back. 

Felix was a few steps behind him, hands inside his hoodie and hood pulled up looking very tired. His steps were small, careful—like each one was being measured before it was taken.

Hyunjin slowed his pace without a word, falling in beside him. As they moved down the hallway toward the car area, he reached out and let his hand rest lightly on the small of Felix’s back. Just in case, just to steady him if he needed it. Felix didn’t say anything, but the corner of his mouth lifted into a soft smile.

They walked like that—quiet, close—until they reached the curb where their cars would pick them up one by one. The others were already scattered around the lot, half sitting on low walls, checking phones, yawning into sleeves. Hyunjin kept his hand where it was, warm through the fabric of Felix’s shirt, until the first headlights rolled in.

Hyunjin’s car was the first to pull up, sleek and quiet as it rolled to a stop in front of the curb. He didn’t question why the company had decided on separate cars tonight—even if they were all just going back to the same two dorms. It didn’t make much sense, but nothing really did when schedules were tight and everyone was too tired to care.

He turned to Felix one last time, his hand brushing gently against his arm. “Get some rest, okay?”

Felix gave him a small nod, eyes soft. “You too.”

Hyunjin hesitated like he wanted to say something more, but the driver was already out, trunk popping open. So he just smiled—quiet and fond—and slipped into the car. The door shut with a soft click, and then he was gone.

One by one, the others were called out as their cars arrived. Seungmin with his earbuds still in, Jeongin half asleep, Han yawning dramatically as he flopped into his seat. Everyone said quick goodbyes, voices low, waves lazy.

“Night, Lix,” Changbin said as he stepped into his car, ruffling Felix’s hair on the way by.

“See you tomorrow,” Chan added with a tired smile, pulling Felix into a one armed hug before heading off.

Felix nodded at each of them, hugging his hoodie closer to himself as the night air settled cool around them. He waited near the edge of the lot, quiet now, one of the last left standing beneath the streetlights as the sound of engines faded one by one into the distance.

Eventually, his car pulled in—headlights washing over the pavement in a slow arc before coming to a stop in front of him. Felix stepped forward, pulling the door open and sliding inside with a soft sigh. The seat cradled his sore back a little too well, and he knew the second he let himself relax, it was game over.

So, he fished his phone out of his bag, unlocking it with muscle memory more than thought. If he didn’t do something—scroll, text, tap through stories—he’d fall asleep before they even left the parking lot. It was a bad habit. One he’d never quite shaken.

The others knew it well by now. More than once, the staff had politely knocked on the window, hesitant to wake him. And when that didn’t work—which it often didn’t—it was usually Seungmin or Minho who had to come down to the garage, yank open the door, and physically drag him upstairs.

Felix smiled faintly at the thought, thumb lazily swiping across his screen. His eyes were already starting to blur a little, the words on his phone losing focus.

Felix wasn’t sure if he’d dozed off or not. One second he was scrolling through his messages, screen brightness dimmed to a soft glow, and the next— A violent jolt. The car lurched with a sudden, jarring stop, the screech of tires cutting through the quiet. His body flew sideways before he could react, slamming hard into the door.

Pain bloomed instantly.

His right arm lit up in sharp, flaring heat, like nerves misfiring all at once. His back screamed in protest, every muscle that had been tight during practice now pulled too far, too fast. And then—his head. A dull thud against the window, sharp and fast. Glass cold against his temple. A sting followed. Warmth.

“Ah—” he hissed, breath catching.

The driver whipped around, eyes wide with panic. “Felix–ssi—are you okay? I’m so sorry. Someone cut into the lane—”

Felix didn’t answer right away. He blinked, dazed, trying to gather the pieces of what had just happened. He reached up, fingertips brushing the side of his head. They came away slightly red.

The driver, already fumbling with the car phone, pressed a button. “Yes, this is Team Van 03—I need to report a collision. Minor—no visible damage to the car, but the passenger—yes, Felix–ssi—he might be hurt.”

Felix leaned back slowly, head resting against the seat, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. 

Another car pulled up within minutes, sleek and unmarked, headlights off until the last second as it coasted to a stop beside them. Two staff members stepped out quickly, scanning the area before one of them opened Felix’s door.

“Felix–ssi,” one said gently, voice low but urgent, “can you move?”

Felix nodded, barely.

“Okay. Pull your hood up, mask high. We don’t want any photos, just in case.”

He blinked, registering the words through the fuzz in his head. His fingers moved sluggishly, gripping the edge of his hoodie with his left hand. His right—he barely managed to lift it. The pain was sharp, unforgiving, pulsing from shoulder to fingertips.

Gritting his teeth, he pulled the hood over his hair, hissing softly at the stretch in his back. Then, with shaky fingers, he adjusted his mask higher over his nose, hiding most of his face. The staff member reached out to steady him as he slid carefully out of the seat. His legs felt weak beneath him, but he stood. Barely.

The blood at his temple had dried, crusted just along his hairline. It wasn’t deep— thankfully— but it throbbed, a dull ache against the sharper pain radiating through his arm.

“I don’t know if it’s broken,” he murmured, mostly to himself.

But what he did know, clear and certain through the fog of adrenaline, was that it hurt.

The ride to the hospital was fast—sirens off, but the streets cleared like the car had somewhere urgent to be. Felix sat hunched in the back seat, cradling his right arm against his chest, every bump in the road sending another wave of pain radiating through him. He kept his hood up, mask on, head tilted down, trying to disappear into the fabric of his clothes.

By the time they arrived, staff were already waiting with a wheelchair, but Felix waved them off, teeth gritted. He could walk. 

Inside, the lights were harsh, the air too cold, and the smell of antiseptic clung to everything. They brought him into triage fairly quickly, though the nurse who met him looked apologetic.

“There’s no emergency orthopedist on tonight to check whether it's broken,” she said gently, eyes flicking to his arm. “But we’ll do what we can for now. Let’s get you looked at.”

Felix nodded numbly and sat where she pointed, letting his body ease into the chair with a quiet wince. She crouched in front of him, clipboard in hand.

“Can you describe what you’re feeling? Any numbness? Tingling?”

He tried to form the words, tongue thick in his mouth. “It’s sharp,” he said, voice rough behind the mask. “Not... not like the bone, I think. Not directly. Just—” he paused, blinking through the sting behind his eyes, “like... underneath. Inside. And it won’t stop.”

The nurse gave a small, understanding nod. “Could be nerve related,” she murmured, making a note. “Okay. We’ll get you into imaging when we can. Just hang in there, Felix–ssi.”

He nodded again, resting his head against the cool wall behind him, trying to breathe through the pain.

Back at the dorm, things were quiet. The lights were low, a soft glow from the TV casting shadows against the walls. Hyunjin sat curled up on one end of the couch, legs tucked under him, head leaning lazily against a pillow. Chan sat on the other side, half lying down, a blanket tossed over his lap, both of them bathed in the flickering colors of whatever show was playing.

Neither of them were really watching anymore.

Hyunjin’s eyes blinked slower with every minute, the day’s exhaustion pulling at him like a tide. Chan wasn’t far behind, arms folded across his chest, head bobbing every now and then in that way he always did right before he fell asleep sitting up. Sometimes they’d both just knock out like that—TV still running, lights still on, too tired to care.

The dorm was peaceful, the kind of silence that felt earned after a long day. Then—suddenly— A shrill ring cut through the room, sharp and jarring against the low volume of the TV.

Chan jolted upright, already reaching for his phone. The screen lit up with a number he recognized, and his expression changed instantly—bleary confusion tightening into something more alert. Concerned.

Hyunjin blinked awake, brows furrowing as he straightened. “Who is it?”

Chan didn’t answer right away. He just put the call on speaker.

Chan cleared his throat, voice still rough with sleep. “Yeah, what’s up?”

There was a sigh on the other end, heavy and tired. Their manager’s voice came through, low but urgent. “There’s been a small incident.”

Hyunjin sat up straighter instantly, heart stuttering in his chest.

Chan leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “What kind of incident?”

“It wasn’t the driver’s fault,” the manager rushed to say. “Another car cut across lanes. Felix’s van was hit. He’s okay,” he added quickly, “but he’s on the way to the hospital now. For evaluation.”

Chan’s face twisted, something hard flashing behind his eyes. “What the hell? How did that even happen?”

“We don’t have all the details yet,” the manager replied. “We haven’t spoken directly to the driver—he’s still with the staff team. I wanted to let you know first. Before word gets out.”

There was a pause. Hyunjin didn’t speak. Couldn’t. He was just staring at the phone, lips slightly parted, fingers clenched in the edge of the blanket without realizing it.

Chan’s voice was quieter when he spoke again, but colder. “Is he hurt?”

“They’re not sure yet. He said he was in pain—his arm, back... possible nerve involvement. And he hit his head, but it wasn’t bleeding badly. They’re checking everything.”

Hyunjin’s chest tightened. The quiet hum of the TV faded beneath the rush of blood in his ears.

“Can we go see him?” Chan asked, already sitting forward, one hand gripping the edge of the couch like he was ready to get up and leave that second.

There was hesitation on the other end. “He might need to be moved to another hospital,” the manager said carefully. “They don’t have a specialist available tonight, and we’re waiting on imaging results. It’s better to wait until morning.”

Chan’s jaw clenched. “Wait until morning?” he repeated, incredulous.

“Chan—”

“No,” he snapped, standing now, pacing toward the middle of the room. “He’s our responsibility. My responsibility. And you’re telling me to wait until morning when one of my members is in the hospital by himself?”

Hyunjin watched from the couch, quiet but tense, his stomach coiled tight. His fingers had curled into fists in his lap.

“I get the schedule thing,” Chan went on, voice tighter now, angrier. “But don’t give me that line about not interrupting the others’ rest. None of us are going to sleep until we know he's okay. You know that.”

On the other end, the manager sighed again. “I’ll update you the moment I hear from the hospital team directly. I promise. Just... try to rest in the meantime.”

Chan didn’t answer right away. The silence sat heavy in the room. Hyunjin could hear his heart pounding. The moment the call ended, Chan let out a sharp, frustrated breath—and then cursed, loud and unfiltered. 

“Fuck—”

The sound echoed through the quiet dorm, sharp enough to stir movement down the hallway. A door creaked open, and a few seconds later, Changbin padded into the living room, hair tousled, eyes still heavy with sleep. “What’s going on?” he asked, voice groggy but laced with concern.

Jeongin followed close behind, hoodie half zipped, rubbing at his eyes. “Hyung? What happened?”

Chan turned to them, raking a hand through his hair. “Felix’s car got hit. Some asshole cut into the lane. He’s at the hospital now.”

“What?” Changbin’s eyes snapped fully open, the sleep gone in an instant.

Jeongin blinked, stunned. “Is he okay?”

“They don’t know yet,” Chan said, his voice tight. “His arm’s hurt apparently— back, too and they mentioned he hit his head.” He glanced toward his phone like he could will it to ring again. “They said he might have to be moved to another hospital. We can’t see him tonight.”

Jeongin was already reaching for his own phone. “I’m gonna try calling him.”

The room went still again, everyone holding their breath as the call rang once… twice…

Then the soft, impersonal voice: “Sorry, the person you’re trying to reach is unavailable…”

The moment it hit voicemail, Jeongin let out a curse under his breath, harsher than usual for him. “Shit—”

They all sat there for a second, the weight of worry pressing down like gravity, thick and unmoving. The silence was louder than the TV still humming quietly in the background.

Hyunjin stood, slow but deliberate, every muscle in his body tense. His fists were clenched at his sides, jaw tight. His voice came out sharp, low with frustration. “Well now what? We need to go see him—”

Chan didn’t answer right away. He looked at Hyunjin, eyes rimmed with exhaustion, with worry, with that helpless anger only leaders carried. “I know,” he said finally. “You think I don’t want to? But if they move him to a bigger hospital, and we show up, we risk drawing attention. One photo, one fan, one rumor—it’ll spiral. That’ll only make things worse for him.”

Hyunjin let out a shaky breath, chest rising fast as the weight of that logic crashed into the heat of how he felt. “Then what the fuck are we supposed to do?” he asked, voice cracking on the last word.

Chan didn’t respond. The silence stretched long between them.

Then, with a quiet curse under his breath, Chan grabbed his phone again and turned toward the balcony. “I’ll try calling them again,” he said, already moving. “Someone’s gotta pick up.”

He slid open the glass door and stepped outside, the cold air washing in behind him before it clicked shut. Hyunjin stood there, still trembling with the urgency of everything he couldn’t do.

It didn’t matter. Chan came back inside fifteen minutes later, face drawn, phone still clutched tightly in his hand. The look in his eyes told them everything before he even spoke.

“I called three different people,” he said quietly, his voice was tired, not weak—just worn down, fraying at the edges. “They all said the same thing.”

Hyunjin’s eyes snapped up, hopeful and furious all at once. “And?”

“They took Felix’s phone when he got to the hospital,” Chan muttered, running a hand down his face. “Said he needed rest, and they didn’t want him trying to contact anyone or answering calls in case he was in shock.”

Jeongin cursed again under his breath, pacing a slow line across the living room.

“They promised they’d update us as soon as they had news,” Chan went on. “Vitals, test results, any movement to a different hospital... but that’s all we’re getting right now.”

The silence that followed was sharp and bitter. Hyunjin sat down again, slower this time. “It’s not the same,” he murmured. “Getting news isn’t the same as being there. ”

“I know,” Chan said. But there was nothing left to say. Nothing they could fix by sitting there, wide awake and helpless.

He sighed, dragging a tired hand down his face, fingers pressing into his eyes like he could rub the weight away. “I’ll call the others at the other dorm… see if anyone’s still awake. Let them know, but for now…” His voice trailed off, low and worn. “All we can do is rest.”

No one argued. Hyunjin nodded slowly, the motion stiff, like it hurt. Jeongin lowered his head, lips pressed into a thin line. Changbin ran a hand through his hair, already turning toward the hallway.

They all knew— really knew—that if there was anything else they could do, Chan would’ve done it. He already had. Every call. Every question. Every push. And the fact that he had to say “rest” made it clear they had no choice. So they went. Quietly, without another word. The soft sounds of doors clicking shut behind them were the only noise that remained, the dorm falling into a silence too heavy to be peaceful.

Morning came like it hadn’t slept either.

Hyunjin sat up in bed, eyes gritty, muscles stiff from a restless night. He didn’t remember falling asleep—if he even had. It felt like he’d blinked, not rested. The dorm was quiet, the kind that didn’t feel peaceful. Just tired. When he stepped out of his room, Chan was already up, seated at the table, staring blankly at his phone. A half drunk glass of water sat in front of him, untouched toast on a plate nearby. He looked like he hadn’t slept either—eyes dull, hoodie wrinkled, hair still uncombed.

Their phones buzzed at nearly the same time. Hyunjin blinked down at the notification. A message from their manager.

Manager: You can visit Felix this morning. He’s stable, and they moved him to a private room. I’ll send the address. Van’s coming in 30.

Hyunjin exhaled—shaky, quiet. Across the room, Chan let out a soft “finally” under his breath and stood up, already reaching for his bag.

They moved fast after that. Neither of them said much—just the shuffle of chairs, the clink of silverware, a quiet “pass me the milk” as they powered through a quick breakfast. It wasn’t about hunger. It was just something to do.

Fifteen minutes later, they were dressed and packed, masks on, hoods up. As they stepped into the elevator, Hyunjin glanced at Chan, who gave a small nod. They didn’t need to say it: they were going to see him now. Downstairs, the van was already waiting.

The van door slid open with a soft hiss, and inside, the others were already there.

Minho sat by the window, hoodie pulled up, arms crossed, his eyes heavy with the same exhaustion Hyunjin felt in his own bones. Han was next to him, slouched low in his seat, head tipped back against the window, looking like he hadn’t slept at all.

Seungmin was in the far back, sitting too still, too quiet—his hands folded neatly in his lap, gaze fixed on the floor like he was somewhere else entirely. No one said anything as Hyunjin and Chan climbed in, Changbin and Jeongin after. Just a few soft nods, the kind of greeting you gave when words felt too heavy.

The van pulled away from the curb and eased into traffic.

Hyunjin leaned against the cold glass of the window, his breath fogging faintly with each slow exhale. The city passed by in blurry streaks of morning light—too bright, too fast, and still somehow not fast enough. He watched the buildings blur past, eyes half-lidded, heart thudding louder than the quiet hum of the engine.

The van pulled into the hospital’s back entrance, the tires crunching softly over the pavement as they came to a slow stop near a quiet staff entrance. A security guard waved them in, clearly briefed in advance.

Their manager was already waiting just inside the door.

He smiled when he saw them, but it was the kind of smile weighed down by a long night—tired around the edges, worn from hours of waiting and worry. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair a little out of place, but there was a kind of calm in his posture now. A quiet relief.

“Hey,” Chan said, stepping forward first. “How is he?”

“He's okay,” the manager replied with a small, reassuring wave. “I slept here last night, just in case, but he managed to sleep through the night.”

All eyes snapped to him at once.

“They confirmed his arm isn’t broken,” he said, voice steady, gentle. “It's still hurting though and they don't know what's wrong so they'll run some tests today. He’s got a mild concussion and two stitches on his temple, but no internal injuries. They’re keeping him under observation for another day, just to be safe.”

Hyunjin exhaled slowly, shoulders dropping just a little. The pressure in his chest loosened—not gone, but lighter.

“He’s still asleep,” the manager added, glancing toward the hallway behind him. “But it’s about time they checked in on him anyway.”

The members nodded, the quiet shuffle of feet filling the hallway as they followed him through the sterile corridors. No one said much, but every step toward Felix’s room felt like a knot untying in slow motion.

When they reached the room, the door was already slightly ajar, soft morning light spilling in from the window. The monitor beside the bed beeped quietly, steady and calm.

Felix was awake. He blinked slowly up at them as they entered, eyes a little glassy, lids heavy with sleep—and pain meds, clearly—but there was recognition in them. A soft, sleepy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Hey,” he mumbled, voice scratchy but warm.

The tension that had wrapped itself around the group since the night before seemed to dissolve all at once. Their smiles came fast and easy, like a breath they’d all been holding had finally released.

Minho was the first to approach, stepping over and ruffling Felix’s hair without hesitation. “You look like a mess,” he said, but his voice was fond.

Felix grinned under the touch, eyes fluttering. “Feel like one.”

Han leaned over the bed rail next, grinning wide. “You’re still prettier than me and I resent that.”

Felix chuckled softly, the sound small but real.

Seungmin hovered close behind, gaze gentle as he looked over Felix carefully. “You scared us.”

“Sorry,” Felix murmured, and even loopy, he sounded sincere.

Chan stepped in quietly from the side, lowering himself just enough to wrap Felix into a careful hug—tight, but mindful of the IV line and his injured arm. He pressed a soft kiss to Felix’s hair, lingering just a second longer than usual.

“You’re okay now,” Chan whispered. “That’s all that matters.”

Felix melted into it, visibly pleased, smile dopey and genuine. The room filled with soft laughter as he hummed under the touch, clearly content.

“You're loving all this love aren't you?” Changbin said with a small smirk, stepping up to the other side.

“I deserve it,” Felix replied, eyes twinkling just a little. “Almost died.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “You got a scratch and a nap.”

“Exactly,” Felix said, smiling wider. “Almost died.”

They all laughed again, the sound filling the room like sunlight—warm, light, and impossibly soft. Felix closed his eyes for a moment, surrounded by them, and exhaled like he was finally safe.

Hyunjin hung back a little, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket as the others surrounded Felix’s bed. He smiled quietly, eyes soft as he listened to the playful teasing and gentle reassurances, but he didn’t speak—not yet. He just watched.

Watched how Minho kept ruffling Felix’s hair like it might anchor him. How Han leaned close like he needed to see Felix breathing to believe he was okay. How Chan kept one hand resting on Felix’s blanket, thumb rubbing small, thoughtless circles into the fabric. But more than anything, Hyunjin watched Felix.

He was still smiling, still joking, but now that the excitement had died down, the haze of medication was easier to see—especially in the way his eyes would occasionally lose focus, or the way his smile would falter when no one was looking directly at him.

And Hyunjin noticed something else, too.

Every now and then, when the others laughed or shifted positions, Felix would move just slightly—trying to sit up straighter or adjust how he was lying. And each time, there was a flash of discomfort behind his eyes. A twitch of his brow. A subtle wince, masked quickly with a smile or a breathy laugh.

His right hand twitched once, fingers curling tight into the blanket. Hyunjin caught the way his jaw clenched when his back hit the wrong angle. No one else saw it, but Hyunjin did. He stood there silently, gaze fixed, something warm and aching stirring low in his chest.

Their manager shifted a little by the door, clearing his throat gently before speaking. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, voice low, “but… we’ve got a full schedule today.”

The room quieted just slightly, the warmth thinning into something a bit heavier.

“We need to run through the full rehearsal and finalize the transitions before the fanmeet tomorrow,” he continued. “If we stay on track, and nothing runs over… there’s a chance we can come back this afternoon.”

Chan straightened from where he’d been perched at the edge of the bed, his expression hardening. “Hyung, come on—”

“I know,” the manager said quickly, hands up. “I know, but it’s not just choreography today. It’s stage cues, VCRs, sound checks, wardrobe—everything has to be locked in. It’s our last window.”

Hyunjin’s eyes dropped to the floor, his jaw tight.

Felix blinked up at them all, still drowsy but catching the shift in mood. “It’s okay,” he murmured, voice still hoarse. “I’ll be here.”

That didn’t make it easier. But they all nodded—one by one. Not because they were ready to leave, but because they knew they didn’t have a choice.

Felix’s smile had faltered, just slightly, at the mention of the fanmeet. He didn’t say anything, didn’t ask—but they all saw the way his gaze dipped for a moment, the way his fingers picked at the edge of his blanket, like he was trying to keep himself from showing too much.

They didn’t bring it up. None of them said what they were all thinking—that he wouldn’t be on stage tomorrow. That his solo, his moments, wouldn’t happen the way they’d practiced. Instead, Han nudged him gently and grinned. “If you were there, you’d definitely outshine the rest of us anyway. It’s kind of a relief, honestly.”

Felix huffed a small laugh. “Yeah, right.”

“You’re the only one who looks good in that god awful stage lighting,” Seungmin added, deadpan.

“And the glitter,” Minho threw in. “Let’s not forget how you somehow make glitter tragic and elegant at the same time.”

Felix laughed again, softer this time. “I’m flattered, I think.”

Chan just smiled from beside him, leaning an elbow on the edge of the bed, and Felix smiled trying to match their energy, trying to hold the mood together. He was glad. Glad they were trying. Glad they didn’t make it worse by saying things like you’ll be back on stage in no time or don’t worry about it. That they just… stayed.

But it was hard. Because no matter how much he smiled, it still felt like something had been taken from him.

A few minutes before they had to leave, Han, Seungmin, Changbin, and Jeongin slipped out with quiet promises to bring back snacks. Something better than the bland hospital meals, they’d said—just enough to set Felix up for the day. He’d smiled at that, watching them go with a fond look, grateful even for the small gesture.

That left only Minho, Chan, and Hyunjin in the room. The energy had softened, quieter now. Without the teasing voices and footsteps, it settled into something gentler—almost still.

Felix shifted slightly in the bed, trying to prop himself up a little more. He used his left arm to push, careful and slow, but as he adjusted his position, a sharp jolt lit up through his right side. His breath caught—then a strained sound escaped him before he could swallow it down.

Minho’s head turned instantly. Chan straightened, concern flashing in his eyes. But Hyunjin moved first.

He stood up from the corner where he’d been lingering and crossed the room in two quick steps. His voice came out low, urgent. “Lix, you okay?”

Felix exhaled through clenched teeth, his brow furrowed tight. “It’s fine—just my arm again,” he murmured, clearly trying to downplay it, but the way he cradled it against his side betrayed the truth.

Hyunjin stood at the edge of the bed now, his hands hovering like he wanted to help but wasn’t sure how. “Did you move it too much?” he asked, eyes scanning Felix’s face, watching every twitch, every flicker of discomfort.

Felix gave a small nod, eyes fluttering closed for a second. “Yeah… I just—sat up too fast, I think.”

Chan frowned from where he stood, arms folded. “They said the meds might not hold long once he starts moving more.”

Minho leaned forward slightly. “You should’ve asked for help, idiot.”

Hyunjin didn’t laugh. He just stayed there, watching him with that same, unreadable look—like he was memorizing every wince. He clenched his jaw, the tension settling deep in his shoulders. He hated this— hated watching him like this and not being able to do a single thing about it. His hands were useless, hanging at his sides, itching for something to hold, to fix.

But there was nothing. Not right now.

The door opened behind him, their manager stepping in with the others close behind. Han held up a small plastic bag triumphantly, jingling with the sound of snack wrappers. “Mission success,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “One vending machine and a very confused nurse later.”

“Sorry, Lix,” Seungmin added. “No honey butter chips. I think they’re banned in hospitals or something.”

The laughter was quiet, easy, but it didn't last long. Their manager gave them a look, soft but firm. “Time to go.”

A low wave of disappointment passed through the room. They all shuffled closer to say their goodbyes—quick touches to Felix’s hand, a few quiet jokes, another promise to come back later. One by one, they filed out.

Chan stayed back a moment longer, shifting to the side of Felix’s bed and lowering himself slightly. His voice softened as he switched to English, letting it roll gently into the space between them. “I know it sucks, but you’re doing really well, alright? Don’t push yourself. Just focus on healing. That’s your only job right now.”

Felix blinked up at him, lips twitching faintly. “I hate this.”

Chan smiled, brushing a hand through his hair. “I know.”

He ruffled Felix’s hair one last time, fingers lingering for a moment before pulling away. Then he turned, stepping aside, glancing once at Hyunjin and giving him a small nod—silent permission. Hyunjin hadn’t moved from his place by the wall, but now he did, slowly crossing the room until it was just the two of them.

Felix looked up at Hyunjin, eyes still glassy, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I don’t want you guys to go,” he said, half joking, but the crack in his voice gave him away.

Hyunjin’s frown deepened. “I don’t want to go either.”

Felix blinked a few times, trying to keep the burn in his eyes from spilling over, but one tear slipped down his cheek anyway. Hyunjin’s jaw clenched again, teeth tight behind closed lips. Without saying anything, he lifted a hand and gently wiped the tear away with the pad of his thumb. His touch was soft, careful, as if Felix might break under it.

“You miss us that much already?” he said quietly, trying to tease just enough to pull Felix back into a smile.

Felix laughed through a sniffle, voice hoarse. “It’s the concussion. I’m not emotionally responsible for anything I say today.”

They both chuckled, and for a second, the tension eased between them, settling into something warm and unspoken. From behind them, the soft sound of someone clearing their throat broke the moment. Their manager, gently reminding them time was up. 

Hyunjin exhaled through his nose, slow and steady. He leaned in without hesitation, brushing a kiss to Felix’s temple—right near the stitches, careful, reverent. He lingered for a few beats longer than usual, eyes closed, fingers brushing lightly against Felix’s blanket. Then, finally, he straightened, taking one last look before turning to go.

The day moved by fast—at least for those still moving.

From the moment they arrived at the venue, it was nonstop. Run throughs, blocking, sound checks, camera angles, adjusting timing between solo transitions—it all blurred together into a constant rhythm of motion and instruction. No one really stopped long enough to think, which, in a way, was a relief.

It was tiring. Bodies ached, sweat soaked through stage clothes before lunch, and everyone was pushed to their edge trying to make up for the missing piece in their lineup. But time, mercifully, didn’t drag. Hyunjin threw himself into it with tunnel vision.

Every note of Felix’s choreo that he had to rehearse, he hit harder. Every formation change, he memorized faster. Every time he felt the ache in his muscles or the pull in his shoulders, he pushed past it. Because every second saved was a second closer to getting back to the hospital. Back to him .

So he rushed between segments, reviewed everything he needed to with a kind of quiet determination, and barely took breaks. Not because he didn’t need them—but because the sooner it was all done, the better his chance of getting to see Felix again before the day was over.

Hyunjin didn’t know exactly what he was feeling—and that was the part that unsettled him the most. There was anger, for sure. A quiet kind that simmered under the surface every time he remembered Felix’s wince, the way his hand trembled against the hospital blanket. He hated that Felix was hurt. Hated that it happened at all, that he hadn’t been there, that none of them could’ve stopped it. It sat in his chest like a rock he couldn’t shake.

But it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t just the worry, or the ache, or the way he knew— knew —Felix would be blaming himself soon enough. That he’d smile through it and pretend it was fine, but deep down, he’d be hurting in ways the doctors couldn’t treat. Missing the concert, missing the fanmeet, missing the stage they’d all built together—it would eat at him. 

What confused him most, though, was this overwhelming need to be near him. It wasn’t new, not really—he’d always gravitated toward Felix, leaned into his warmth without thinking. But now, that pull felt heavier, more urgent. And all Hyunjin had wanted— wants —is to wrap his arms around him, to feel him solid and close, to press his forehead to Felix’s and just be there.

It wasn’t just worry. It wasn’t just friendship. It was something else, something more tender and unspoken, something blooming in the quiet moments between panic and peace. And maybe that was what scared him most—how natural it felt to want him like this.

By the time the clock hit 6 p.m. Hyunjin had managed to run through everything.

He’d eaten lunch faster than everyone else—barely tasting it, barely sitting still long enough to finish. Then he was back on his feet, running through his formations, dancing through Felix’s solo with a sharpness that left no room for error. Every time the choreographer called for a take, he forced himself to nail it the first time. There was no space for do overs, no patience for corrections. He had somewhere he needed to be.

As he zipped his bag and grabbed his hoodie, footsteps approached behind him.

“You’re done already?” Chan asked, a little breathless from the last full group run.

Hyunjin turned to him, nodding once. “Yeah. I’m gonna try to go see Felix before the concert tomorrow. Just for a bit.”

Chan blinked, then offered a small, tired smile. “Okay, good— Tell him we're sorry we couldn't go.”

The others nearby—Minho, Seungmin, Changbin, Jeongin—overheard and looked over. Their faces softened, expressions a mix of understanding and something quieter, something heavy. They all wished they could go too.

“We’ve still got to finish the VCR revisions,” Minho said, rubbing the back of his neck. “And wardrobe’s not done messing with our outfits.”

“But tell him we said hi,” Seungmin added, voice soft.

“Tell him we miss him,” Jeongin murmured.

Hyunjin nodded again, clutching the strap of his bag a little tighter. He didn’t say much else—just smiled in that quiet way he did when his chest was too full for words—and turned toward the door, moving fast. 

Back at the hospital, the evening air had cooled, and the corridors were quieter now—just the soft echo of footsteps and the occasional hum of machines.

Hyunjin kept his hood pulled low, mask tight over his face as he moved quickly but carefully through the building. He knew better than to draw attention. Even if Felix was in a private room, this was still a public hospital. One photo, one whisper, and it could all spiral. So he kept his head down, nodded politely at the nurses who passed him, and followed the route their manager had texted him earlier.

When he reached Felix’s room, the door was slightly open. He could hear voices—low and serious. Pushing it open just a little more, he stepped inside and immediately noticed the shift in the atmosphere.

Felix was sitting up in bed, hair slightly messy, brows drawn together. He looked a little upset, lips pressed into a thin line. The manager stood at his side, arms crossed, while a doctor in a white coat stood at the foot of the bed, glancing down at a chart.

The conversation stopped when they heard the door creak. All three turned. Felix’s eyes met Hyunjin’s, and even through the mask and under the shadow of the hood, something in his face softened.

Hyunjin stepped inside, quiet but purposeful, closing the door behind him. “Hey,” he said gently, voice muffled but warm.

Felix blinked slowly, tension in his face easing just a little at the sound of him. “You came.”

The doctor gave Hyunjin a polite nod, then turned back to Felix with a reassuring smile. “We’ll continue monitoring everything. I’ll check in again later tonight.”

With that, he stepped out quietly, leaving the room in a stillness that felt too heavy for how softly the door clicked shut behind him.

Hyunjin moved closer to the bed, lowering his hood but keeping his mask up as he looked between Felix and their manager. “What’s going on?”

Their manager sighed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “His arm’s still hurting pretty bad. It’s not just the muscle—seems like there’s some nerve involvement. They’re trying to figure out the right pain management. Something strong enough to help, but not so strong it knocks him out or makes him too foggy.”

Felix glanced down at his lap, then back up at Hyunjin with a small, tilted smile. The kind that tried to say I’m fine even when it clearly wasn’t. Hyunjin’s jaw tensed, the muscle twitching slightly. He hated this—watching him try to downplay it, trying to sit still with pain lighting through his arm while everyone tiptoed around how bad it really was.

Felix held his gaze, still smiling softly, like he knew exactly what Hyunjin was thinking. It’s okay, that smile said, even if it wasn’t.

Their manager’s phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking the silence. He glanced at the screen, sighed, and stood up. “I need to take this. I’ll be right outside,” he said, already moving toward the door. The moment it clicked shut behind him, Hyunjin was beside the bed—no hesitation. He pulled the chair closer and sat, leaning in, his gaze already softening as he looked at Felix.

Felix turned his head slightly, eyelids heavy. “Hey,” he murmured, voice quieter than before. “How was practice?”

Hyunjin smiled, just a small one. He reached out and gently took Felix’s hand, careful not to touch too close to the IV. His thumb found the silver ring on Felix’s finger and began to turn it slowly, back and forth, like he had a thousand times before.

“It was fine,” he said softly, eyes still on their hands. “Busy, and tiring.” He paused, then looked up. “I missed you.”

Felix let out a soft laugh, eyes crinkling faintly despite the lingering pain. “You’re just saying that because you had to sing my part.”

Hyunjin let out a soft laugh, thumb still brushing over the ring as he looked down at their hands. The kind of laugh that didn't need to be loud to be real—gentle, like everything else between them in that moment. They sat in the quiet for a while after that. No need to fill the silence. Just the hum of machines, the soft shuffle of footsteps outside the room, and the steady sound of Felix’s breathing.

But then Hyunjin looked up again, really looked—and saw it. The slight crease between Felix’s brows, the way his lips pressed together when he thought no one was watching.

“Hey,” Hyunjin said, voice low, careful. “What’s wrong?”

Felix blinked like he hadn’t expected the question, then shook his head too quickly, too easily. “It’s nothing,” he said, the kind of nothing that meant everything. “The company finally put out a statement, about the accident.”

Hyunjin didn’t say anything—just waited.

Felix glanced away, toward the window. “They confirmed I won’t be at the fanmeet,” he said, voice softer now. “Won’t perform.”

And there it was.

“It's stupid, I know,” he added quietly, even smiling lightly—tight and brittle, not reaching his eyes. Like it didn’t bother him. Like he hadn’t been waiting for that moment to hit all day. But Hyunjin saw through it. Saw how much it hurt. How hard Felix was working to make it look like it didn’t.

Hyunjin reached up without thinking, his fingers moving gently to brush a stray piece of hair away from Felix’s face. It was such a small thing, but it felt like the only thing he could do in the moment—something kind, something soft.

“Hey— It’s not stupid,” he said quietly, voice like a whisper meant only for him. “You have every right to be upset.”

Felix didn’t respond right away. His gaze stayed on the blanket pooled in his lap, lips pressed together, the tension in his jaw barely held back.

“It’s not even about me,” he said finally, voice raw around the edges. “I mean… yeah, it sucks. But I know I’ll perform again. I’ll be back soon.”

He swallowed, eyes starting to shine again. “But the fans… They’ve been waiting. For this . We’d planned everything for them. And now… we can’t give it to them. Not completely.”

Hyunjin’s heart clenched.

“And it’s not anyone’s fault,” Felix added quickly, still trying to explain it away, still trying to make it sound smaller than it felt. “But they deserve all of us, you know? Not—just seven.”

The first tear fell silently, slipping down his cheek before he could blink it away. And Hyunjin didn’t wait.

He leaned in slowly, carefully—so carefully—and wrapped his arms around him, one hand curling behind Felix’s back, the other cradling the back of his head. He didn’t squeeze, didn’t pull too hard. He just held him there, steady and close, warm and quiet, like he could carry the weight for a little while.

Felix melted into the embrace, his fingers curling weakly into the fabric of Hyunjin’s sleeve.

The hug didn’t last long. Felix let out a small wince, just a sharp breath through his teeth, and immediately pulled back a little, guilt flashing across his face. “Sorry,” he murmured, voice still thick.

Hyunjin shook his head, brushing his fingers gently against Felix’s shoulder.

 “Is the pain any better?” he asked softly.

Felix gave a half shrug, his lips twisting into a hesitant smile. “I guess. I don’t really know. I haven’t tried to move much,” he added with a weak chuckle, “I’m not even sure my legs work anymore.”

Hyunjin let out a quiet laugh, the sound light and genuine. Felix grinned, still a little teary eyed but warming at the sound of Hyunjin’s laughter.

“Well,” Hyunjin said, sitting back a bit, still watching him carefully, “you wanna test it? We could try moving around a little. Just here, in the room. I’ll help you.”

Felix nodded, eyes still a little unsure, but there was a quiet determination in the way he set his jaw. Hyunjin moved without hesitation, rising from the chair and gently shifting the blanket aside. He took care not to tug at the IV line in Felix’s arm, moving with the kind of patience that made it clear he’d been thinking about this moment longer than he’d admit.

Slowly, Felix swung his legs over the edge of the bed, wincing slightly as his feet touched the floor. Hyunjin was already there, slipping an arm around his waist, steadying him without pressure, fingers splayed gently across the hoodie he wore. He held him just firmly enough to ground him.

At first, Felix kept one hand loosely on Hyunjin’s forearm, using him as an anchor while he adjusted to standing again. His knees wobbled slightly, and his back tensed with every small movement, but he breathed through it. He didn’t want to fall—didn’t want to look like he could.

Eventually, he let go, arms falling to his sides as he straightened. The stiffness in his spine made it hard to move fluidly, and every step was deliberate. His arm ached, and his back still whispered sharp reminders that he wasn’t ready for much, but it didn’t matter—not with Hyunjin by his side.

They walked slowly, just a few careful laps around the room.

Hyunjin stayed close, his hand never fully leaving Felix’s waist. They talked about nothing and everything—soft, casual exchanges, quiet smiles passed between glances. Felix pointed to the ugly art on the wall with a smirk; Hyunjin chuckled, shook his head. They didn’t need to fill the silence with anything deep. The way they moved together—light, steady, wordless—was enough.

Eventually, Felix slowed, his steps growing heavier, breaths a little shorter. Hyunjin noticed before he even said anything, guiding him gently back toward the bed. He helped him sit, careful of the IV, adjusting the blanket around him as Felix leaned back with a soft sigh, eyes fluttering closed for a second too long.

Maybe it was the meds—Hyunjin remembered the nurse mentioning they'd upped the dosage a little while ago—or maybe it was just the tiredness catching up to him, but Felix blinked up at Hyunjin a moment later, brows furrowed slightly.

“You’re too far,” he mumbled, voice low and drowsy.

Hyunjin laughed, warm and quiet, sinking back into the chair just a few inches from the bed. “I’m literally right here.”

Felix frowned, barely, the kind of sleepy pout that made Hyunjin want to melt. “Still too far.”

Hyunjin tilted his head, teasing. “What, you want me to get in bed with you or something?”

Felix didn’t hesitate—just smiled and lifted one hand, patting the empty space beside him like it had been waiting all along. Hyunjin’s breath caught for half a second before he smiled back, soft and full of something he couldn’t name. 

Hyunjin climbed onto the bed carefully, half sitting on the edge, half perched sideways so he wouldn’t disturb the IV or jostle Felix too much. The hospital bed was bigger than most, but still not quite made for two—especially not two grown boys trying to pretend like it wasn’t slightly awkward. But the moment Felix shifted, resting his head gently against Hyunjin’s chest, all of that melted away.

Hyunjin smiled, instinctively wrapping an arm around Felix’s shoulders, his other hand lifting to brush through soft strands of hair. The motion was slow, steady—his fingers threading through with quiet affection, nails grazing lightly against Felix’s scalp.

Felix let out a sound that was almost a hum, almost a sigh, like the warmth had settled deep into his bones. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. His whole body relaxed, shoulders sinking, breath evening out like he’d finally found the one position in the world that didn’t hurt.

Hyunjin knew how much Felix loved physical touch. Always had. He was the one who clung during hugs, draped himself over the others during long car rides, always reaching out, always grounding himself in someone. Hyunjin wasn’t like that—not usually. He didn’t seek it out, didn’t need it the same way. But with Felix, it felt different.

Felix’s fingers found Hyunjin’s hand, warm and familiar, and he began to play with them absentmindedly—tracing along the lines of his palm, toying with his rings, interlacing their fingers and undoing it just to do it again. Hyunjin let him, watching with a fond smile, still running his other hand through Felix’s hair in lazy, gentle strokes.

After a moment, Felix tilted his head, cheek still resting against Hyunjin’s chest. “So… how did it feel watching Chan do So Good ?”

Hyunjin laughed under his breath, the vibration gentle against Felix’s ear. “Honestly? It was good. I didn’t expect him to pick mine when we were planning everything out.”

Felix smiled. “Yeah, I was surprised too. But he looked so good doing it.”

Hyunjin arched a brow, looking down at him. “You sound a little too enthusiastic about that.”

Felix glanced up, grinning a little too brightly. “What? I’m allowed to appreciate things.”

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes playfully, though the pout tugging at his lips was a little too convincing. “Yeah, mhm— go ahead.”

Felix burst out laughing softly, the sound muffled against Hyunjin’s chest. 

“I still prefer when you do it,” he said, voice quiet now, the truth in it unmissable. “I love watching you dance. The song is so good—and it’s even better when it’s yours.”

Hyunjin’s mouth twitched into a smirk, that spark of pride flickering in his eyes despite the effort to keep cool. “Yeah?” he murmured.

Felix nodded, head falling back against his chest with a content sigh. “Yeah.”

Hyunjin leaned his head back against the wall, his smile lingering, fingers threading slowly through Felix’s hair again. Proud, warm, maybe still a little smug, but mostly just full.

“I love performing Unfair too,” he said eventually, voice quiet, almost like a confession. “I don’t know… there’s something about it. The song, the whole vibe—it just feels like you.”

Felix smiled against his chest, the corners of his mouth curling up sleepily. “You look good doing it too, the buzz cut really ties everything together,” he mumbled, eyes still closed.

Hyunjin chuckled, his hand slipping from Felix’s hair to his forehead. He let his thumb gently trace the line of stitches there, careful and featherlight. Felix didn’t flinch—he just stilled, his face softening even more beneath the touch, like it grounded him.

Hyunjin leaned down to press a quiet kiss to the top of his head, his lips brushing against the soft strands as Felix smiled, clearly loving all the physical touch.

The door creaked open just then, and their manager stepped back into the room, phone still in hand, but his expression relaxed when he saw the scene in front of him—Hyunjin curled protectively around Felix, who looked more at peace than he had all day.

“I figured,” the manager said with a faint smile. “Didn’t want to interrupt.”

Hyunjin looked up, lips curving, but didn’t move right away—his hand still gently resting against Felix’s hair, like he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

They talked for a while longer, the conversation drifting into nothing in particular—just the kind of soft, aimless banter that didn’t need a reason. Hyunjin cracked silly jokes, exaggerated stories from rehearsals, doing little impressions of the members just to get Felix to laugh. And it worked. Even tired and sore, Felix’s smile broke through more than once, his laugh small but real, the sound like sunlight in the sterile hospital room.

Hyunjin lived for it—every little flicker of joy that eased the weight in Felix’s eyes.

Eventually, their manager glanced at the time, and Hyunjin knew. The end of the visit always came too fast.

Felix looked up at him, smiling, but it wavered just slightly at the edges. “I’ll be at the hotel tomorrow,” he said quietly. “Watching. So you better look good.”

Hyunjin tried to smile, to keep it light. “I always look good,” he teased, but it didn’t cover the way his chest tightened. He didn’t want to go, not yet. But he nodded anyway, standing slowly and brushing Felix’s hair back one last time.

Just before they reached the door, their manager stopped and turned, pulling something from his pocket. “Oh—almost forgot. Doctor cleared you for screens again. Concussion’s improving.”

He handed Felix his phone, and the way Felix beamed was instant—like someone had just handed him a piece of himself back.

“Finally,” Felix sighed, unlocking it quickly, already swiping through with familiar speed. Then he looked up at Hyunjin, eyes soft, hopeful. “Call me when you get home?”

Hyunjin’s lips curled into a warm smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah,” he said gently. “Of course.”

The next day came fast—too fast, maybe—but the air was thick with the kind of energy only show days could bring. Anticipation buzzed through the dorms like static, a mix of nerves and excitement crackling under every breath.

Hyunjin had stayed up with Felix the night before, talking softly through the phone until well past midnight. He’d been lying in bed in the dark, voice low as he spoke about rehearsals, the setlist, the outfits—how weird it would be to be on stage without him. Felix had hummed responses, growing slower and softer until eventually, mid-sentence, he’d drifted off.

Hyunjin had smiled at the silence, whispering a quiet goodnight before finally ending the call and sinking back into his pillow. It had felt a little easier, knowing Felix had fallen asleep to his voice.

Morning arrived in a rush of movement—wardrobe bags slung over shoulders, staff chattering through call sheets, and members moving through hair and makeup with half lidded eyes and buzzing nerves. The venue was already alive with preparation by the time they arrived.

In the van, and even as they moved through the hallways backstage, their group chat lit up with constant updates.

Hannie: They’re testing the mics now, Lix. Sound guy says I’m too loud (rude).

Seungmin: You’re not too loud. You’re just dramatic.

Minho: The glitter on my shirt is going to haunt me for days. You’re lucky.

Felix: I live for glitter. Don’t make me come back early just to fight you.

Hyunjin: Miss you already. Wish you were here.

Felix had responded to nearly every message—hearts, laughing emojis, even a few selfies of him curled up in the hotel room with his blanket and a tray of breakfast he claimed was “better than hospital food but still kinda sad.”

Hyunjin smiled down at his phone more than once that morning, fingers flying over the keyboard between rehearsals, always looking for Felix’s name in the notifications. It felt good to have him there—even if just through a screen. It wasn’t the same, but it was something. And today, it was enough.

After lunch, the atmosphere backstage was warm and a little sleepy, the kind of lull that settled in once everyone had eaten but before the adrenaline of the stage kicked in again. The members had gathered around one of the dressing room tables, picking at leftover snacks and sipping on iced americanos, a comfortable quiet hanging between them.

Chan was the one who pulled out his phone first, unlocking it with a glance and opening FaceTime without a second thought.

“Let’s call Lix,” he said, already pressing the button.

The phone rang once, twice—then Felix’s face filled the screen, framed by the soft interior of the van as he was being driven back to the hotel. He was wearing a loose hoodie, hair tucked under a beanie, a wide smile stretching across his face the moment he saw them.

“Hyung—” he beamed. “Hey, guys!”

A chorus of “Lixie!” followed, each of them crowding around the screen, leaning over Chan’s shoulders or scooting closer to get in view.

“You look better,” Seungmin said, squinting into the camera.

Felix chuckled. “That’s because I’m not in a hospital bed anymore.”

“How’s the pain?” Chan asked, tone softer, more serious.

Felix gave a small shrug. “Better. Still kinda sore, but the meds are working now. It’s manageable.”

A round of relieved nods and smiles followed.

“That’s good,” Jeongin said, visibly relaxing.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Minho added with a smirk. “We’re sending you all the glitter covered laundry after tonight.”

Felix laughed, head tipping back slightly. “As long as I get videos too.”

“You’ll get everything,” Hyunjin said from beside Chan, his smile warm and easy. They talked like that for a few more minutes, voices overlapping, teasing and checking in, laughing like they’d forgotten for a second that one of them was missing from the lineup.

Eventually, a staff member popped in and called out, “Five minutes!”

Chan sighed, glancing at the time. “Alright, Lix. We gotta go run one more set.”

Felix nodded, smile still in place. “Crush it. I’ll be watching everything.”

“Love you, Lixie,” Han called, blowing a kiss dramatically as the others said their excited goodbyes as well.

Felix rolled his eyes, grinning and with that, the screen dimmed and the call ended, leaving behind a little more light than before.

As the time of the performance crept closer, the energy backstage shifted—buzzing louder, sharper. Stylists moved faster, voices raised just slightly over the sound of monitors and footsteps echoing through the hall. Costumes were checked and double checked, final notes were called out, and the stage lights warmed to life like the heartbeat of the venue itself.

Hyunjin stood off to the side for a moment, dressed and ready, his makeup flawless, mic taped neatly against his cheek. He glanced down at his phone, fingers quickly typing out a message.

Hyunjin: Did you get back okay?

The reply came a moment later, fast and soft like Felix had been waiting for it.

Felix: Yeah, just got in. Laying down now.

Hyunjin smiled faintly at the screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard like he wanted to say more—but didn’t. There wasn’t time. The stage was calling, and his heart was already starting to race with the pulse of the crowd outside.

They didn’t say much after that. Just a few quiet messages, quick hearts and emojis lost between instructions and earpiece checks. As much as Hyunjin loved this moment—loved the show, the lights, the roar of fans waiting just beyond the curtain—his mind drifted more than it should’ve.

Because even now, with the thrill of performance under his skin, he just wanted to see Felix again. Wanted to hear his laugh not through a speaker. Wanted to feel his warmth not through a screen. 

The feeling had been there all day, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts between rehearsals and mic checks. It had crept in slowly, then all at once—like something he couldn’t ignore anymore. His emotions had always been intense, always wrapped tight around the people he cared about, but this… this wasn’t just care. The more he sat with it, the more it made sense.

How he couldn’t stop thinking about Felix, not just because he was injured, but because he missed him —his voice, his presence, the weight of him pressed to Hyunjin’s side in that hospital bed. He missed the way Felix looked at him when no one else was around. The way he made everything feel a little easier just by being there. And now that Hyunjin was finally admitting that to himself—quietly, painfully—he didn’t know what to do about it.

He adjusted the mic pack on his back, took one last look at himself in the mirror, and tried to breathe through the weight of it all. He was about to step on stage to perform Unfair , Felix’s solo. A song that already held so much of him. A piece of his voice, his movement, his heart. And now Hyunjin would carry it in front of thousands, not just as a tribute—but with something deeper curling in his chest.

It was going to be an emotional night, he could feel it already.

The stage crew moved like clockwork around him, voices in his earpiece counting down seconds, but all Hyunjin could think about was the weight of the moment pressing down on his chest. Unfair wasn’t just a performance tonight—it was Felix’s heart in a song, and now it was in his hands.

He stood just behind the curtain, lights dimmed, the gentle hum of the intro building in the background. And he couldn’t go on without saying something. He pulled out his phone, thumbs flying over the screen in a quiet flurry of impulse and emotion.

Hyunjin: I'll take away all your unfair. you just live your life so good ❤️

He didn’t wait for a reply. Didn’t need to. He tucked the phone back into the side pocket of his costume, exhaled slow, and stepped into the darkness just behind the light. The crowd beyond the curtain roared, but it sounded distant. Muted. He closed his eyes for a breath. One. Two.

Then took his mark. The music cued. And as the first notes echoed through the venue, Hyunjin opened his eyes, heart thudding against his ribs—not from nerves, but from everything else he hadn’t said yet.

The lights washed over him as the song began, soft at first—just enough to catch the shimmer of his outfit, the glint in his eyes. The familiar chords of Unfair filled the stadium, and though Hyunjin had heard it a hundred times before, it had never felt like this.

He moved slowly at first, each step purposeful, each gesture lined with something deeper than choreography. His eyes scanned the crowd as he sang, letting himself feel it—really feel it. The ache in the lyrics, the way they clung to vulnerability and longing. It wasn’t just a performance. It was something closer to letting go.

Even with the in ear monitors, he could hear the crowd—screaming, cheering, singing along. It wrapped around him like a blanket of sound, grounding him. And he smiled, a real one.

He walked the length of the stage, gliding effortlessly from one end to the other, the emotion of the song carrying him more than the steps ever could. Every movement was a reflection of Felix—his softness, his honesty—and Hyunjin danced like he was tracing it into the air. Then, just before the bridge, he stepped toward the center camera, locking eyes with it like he knew.

Right as the lyrics swelled— “You know I love you so…” —he pointed, gaze steady and unwavering.

A soft smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth, subtle and intimate, meant for exactly one person. Then, just as quickly, he turned, slipping seamlessly back into the next move, letting the lights carry him through the final chorus. He didn’t look back. He didn’t have to. He knew Felix was watching.

As the song neared its end, the weight of it all settled heavy on Hyunjin’s shoulders.

The lights softened, the melody slowed, and the final chorus echoed through the venue like a whispered promise—and suddenly, it was just him on that stage, surrounded by thousands, yet feeling entirely alone with everything the song carried.

The words felt different in his mouth now. They didn’t just belong to Felix anymore. They belonged to them —to this strange, aching moment in time where Felix wasn’t by his side, where everything he felt was raw and loud inside his chest.

And it was a lot.

His throat tightened, and before he could stop himself, he crouched down toward the edge of the stage, both hands running roughly through his hair as he tried to steady his breathing. His fingers gripped the strands, pulling slightly, grounding himself as the lights spun just a little too bright.

It wasn’t crying—not quite. But it was close. A wave threatening to pull him under. Breathe, he told himself. Just breathe.

And he did. He inhaled deep, exhaled slower. Let the music anchor him again. He rose to his feet, movements slower but surer, and carried himself through the final few seconds of the song. As the last note rang out, he stood center stage, chest rising and falling with effort—but his head was high, and his expression steady.

He had given it everything. And as the crowd roared, he only hoped that somewhere, in a hotel room not too far away, Felix was smiling too.

The rest of the show flew by in a blur of lights, music, and adrenaline.

Each stage melted into the next—group numbers, unit stages, laughter during the talking segments, the warmth of the fans wrapping around them like a second skin. The energy backstage was electric, high fives exchanged between members, makeup touched up between quick changes, all of it underlined with the quiet satisfaction that they’d pulled it off.

By the end, sweat-soaked and smiling, they filed into the vans waiting to take them back.

Everyone was buzzing—talking about favorite moments, fan reactions, inside jokes that had sparked during the show. But Hyunjin was only half-listening, nodding absently as the others spoke. He only had one thought. F elix. He needed to see him—now that it was over, now that he’d done what he promised. He didn’t want to wait until tomorrow, didn’t want the space between them to stretch a second longer.

Before the doors closed, he turned to Seungmin, voice low and a little rushed. “Hey… can I switch dorms with you tonight?”

Seungmin blinked, eyes heavy with exhaustion. “Mine with yours?”

“Yeah. Just for tonight.”

Seungmin gave him a look, but it wasn’t suspicious. Just tired. Understanding. “Sure, whatever. I just want to sleep.”

Hyunjin nodded, grateful, and climbed into the van, heart starting to race with something closer to anticipation now. The exhaustion in his limbs didn’t matter, not yet.

The ride back to the dorm was quiet, the kind of silence that came after a show—satisfying, but heavy with spent energy. Hyunjin stared out the window the whole way, barely blinking, barely moving, his fingers picking absently at the hem of his sleeve. 

When they arrived, Han and Minho climbed out of the van with him. Neither asked why he’d suddenly switched dorms. Han just yawned, rubbing at his eyes. “Night, Hyune,” he mumbled.

“Don’t stay up too long,” Minho added, a knowing look in his eyes—subtle, unspoken.

Hyunjin only nodded, murmured his goodbyes, and slipped past them, down the hallway toward Felix’s room. His footsteps were soft on the dorm floor, the echo of distant voices fading behind him. The door at the end of the hall felt like it was pulling him in, heartbeat rising with every step.

He reached it, paused, and breathed in slowly—once, then twice. His hand hovered over the handle for a second longer, heart fluttering somewhere between nerves and hope.

When Hyunjin stepped inside, the room was quiet, dimly lit by the soft glow of the hallway light filtering in through the slightly ajar door. Felix was lying on the bed, curled on his side with his back facing the door, blanket pulled up to his waist, one arm tucked under the pillow.

For a second, Hyunjin hesitated, unsure if he was asleep. Then, Felix stirred faintly—just a small shift of his shoulders, like he’d sensed someone enter. 

“Seungminnie?” he mumbled, voice hoarse, still thick with sleep. “How was the show? I promise I watched—”

He rolled over mid sentence, eyes opening blearily—only to stop cold when he saw who it was.

Hyunjin.

Standing just inside the door, still in his post-show clothes, hair tousled, skin dewy under the soft light. A faint, gentle smile curved on his lips. Felix blinked once. Then again. His expression shifted in real time, from sleepy confusion to happy surprise, to something like disbelief. His lips parted, breath catching.

“Hyun?” he whispered, voice barely there.

Hyunjin stepped forward quietly, smile never fading. “Hey,” he said softly. 

Felix’s face broke into a smile, slow and soft and full of that warmth Hyunjin had been chasing all day.

Without a word, he pushed the blanket aside and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, standing up a little too fast. Hyunjin’s heart jumped, stepping forward instinctively. “Hey, careful—”

But Felix was already reaching for him, arms slipping around Hyunjin’s waist as he buried his face in his chest.

Hyunjin exhaled, the tension in his body easing all at once as he wrapped his arms around Felix, one hand settling protectively at the small of his back, the other cradling the back of his head. He pressed a kiss to the crown of Felix’s hair—light, lingering—his eyes fluttering shut as he rested his chin gently there.

Felix didn’t say anything. He just stood there, tucked against him like he belonged there, breathing slow and even, like this was all he’d been waiting for. And Hyunjin just held him, basking in the quiet, in the warmth, in the fact that finally , finally, he didn’t have to imagine what it felt like to have Felix this close again.

When they finally pulled apart, it wasn’t really apart—just enough space between them for their eyes to meet, their arms still loosely wrapped around each other, fingers gently resting on the back of shirts like neither one was ready to let go completely.

Hyunjin looked down at Felix, his voice low and soft. “Did you like the show?”

Felix’s cheeks colored faintly, a soft blush blooming across his nose as he nodded. “I did. I loved it,” he said, eyes dipping shyly for a moment. “Especially your performance.”

Hyunjin’s lips curled into a smile, warm and just a little smug. “Yeah?”

Felix nodded again.

“What did you like about it?” Hyunjin asked, tilting his head, the teasing in his voice light but unmistakable.

Felix ducked his head slightly, a small laugh slipping out as his hand bunched a little in the fabric of Hyunjin’s shirt. “You sang really well,” he said, almost like he was too shy to admit it out loud.

Hyunjin grinned, nudging his forehead gently against Felix’s. “Mm. Is that all?”

Felix laughed again, shaking his head, cheeks glowing. “You know it’s not.”

Hyunjin just smiled, eyes crinkling as he waited, wanting to hear it anyway. He grinned a little wider, eyes gleaming. “Come on, tell me—”

Felix huffed, still flustered but clearly not getting away with saying only one thing. “I— I liked the part where you… pointed at the camera,” he said with a quiet laugh, gaze flicking up

Hyunjin tilted his head slightly, the teasing in his voice dropping into something softer. “Yeah?”

Felix nodded, almost sheepish. And just like that, the air shifted—gentle and slow, like the quiet before something inevitable. Neither of them moved, not really, but the space between them disappeared anyway. Their foreheads touched lightly, breath mixing, hands still resting on each other’s arms like some part of them refused to let go.

Hyunjin’s eyes searched Felix’s—flicking down briefly to his lips, then back up. His breath caught. The playfulness melted into something weightless and still. His heart beat faster—not from nerves, but from hope. And in that tiny moment, he didn’t need to speak. He just waited—held there in the hush between them—for anything. A glance. A breath. A tilt forward.

Something to tell him he could.

Felix’s eyes flickered down to Hyunjin’s lips, then back up—barely. His breath hitched, so quiet it was almost a sigh. And then, in a whisper so soft it felt like it belonged to the air between them, he said,

“Please—”

That was all it took. Hyunjin moved before he could even think, hands sliding down to Felix’s waist, gripping him tight like he was afraid he might vanish if he didn’t hold on. He leaned in and kissed him—firm, sure, filled with everything he hadn’t said, everything he’d been holding back.

Felix melted into it instantly, his arms winding around Hyunjin’s neck as he rose onto his toes, pressing closer, chasing the kiss like he’d been waiting for it just as long.

Hyunjin let himself feel it—really feel it—until his hands slid lower, fingers flexing at Felix’s sides as he gently turned them around, backing Felix up until his back hit the wall with a quiet thud . The kiss deepened, slow but intense, messy with emotion, and neither of them pulled away.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was relief, it was longing, it was finally. Felix's fingers curled into the fabric of Hyunjin’s shirt, lips parting with a breath as they kissed again, and again—like they were trying to make up for all the time they hadn't had, all the closeness they’d missed.

And in that moment, nothing else existed but them. 

The kiss deepened, soft sighs and warm touches exchanged in the quiet hum of the room. But then Felix flinched—just a small wince, his body tensing slightly against Hyunjin’s.

Hyunjin instantly pulled back, breath catching. “Fuck sorry—” he asked, his voice laced with concern, hands already loosening around Felix’s waist as if afraid to hold him too tight.

Felix let out a breathy laugh, still close enough that his smile brushed against Hyunjin’s lips. “No,” he whispered. “It’s fine. Just my arm—sharp pain, nothing serious.”

Hyunjin looked at him carefully, eyes searching. “How is it now?”

Felix leaned his head back against the wall, tilting his face toward Hyunjin’s, their foreheads almost touching again. “It’s going away,” he said softly. “Still stings sometimes, especially if I move too fast. But it’s mostly okay.”

Hyunjin let out a small sigh of relief, his hands sliding up Felix’s sides to rest just under his arms. Then he leaned in and kissed him again—quick, soft, full of unspoken affection.

“Good,” he whispered, the words against Felix’s lips.

Felix shifted slightly against the wall, his gaze lifting to meet Hyunjin’s. His eyes were glassy, soft with something that had been sitting heavy in his chest all night.

“I really liked the message you sent— before the show,” he said quietly, voice just above a whisper.

Hyunjin’s smile grew, slow and gentle, like it bloomed straight from his heart. “It was true, I needed to tell you before I went out,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Felix looked at him for a long moment, like he almost couldn’t believe it—like he wanted to but was still afraid he might wake up and find it had all been imagined. That Hyunjin had never pointed at the camera, never come to see him, never held him like this.

But Hyunjin leaned down before the silence could stretch too long, pressing a kiss to his lips—slow and soft, but overflowing with everything he didn’t have to say anymore. When he pulled back, he stayed close, letting their foreheads rest together, breaths mingling in the stillness between them.

“Lix— I love you,” he whispered, eyes closed, voice steady.

Felix didn’t say anything at first, just stood there with his eyes closed, his breath brushing against Hyunjin’s skin. His fingers tightened slightly in the fabric of Hyunjin’s shirt, grounding himself in the moment, in him . Then, barely louder than a breath, he whispered,

“I love you too.”

Hyunjin’s smile bloomed instantly, small and full and impossibly soft. He leaned in again, kissing him gently—nothing rushed, nothing desperate. Just warm, steady affection, sealed in the quiet of a room where everything had finally fallen into place. And in that kiss, there was only them.

Hyunjin let the kiss linger just a little longer before pulling back with a soft breath. “We should get some sleep,” he murmured, his thumb brushing gently along Felix’s side.

Felix nodded, eyes already a little hazy. “Yeah… okay.”

They climbed into bed quietly, no need for more words. Felix curled into Hyunjin’s side like it was instinct, his head resting on his chest, the steady rhythm of Hyunjin’s heartbeat beneath him a kind of lullaby.

Hyunjin wrapped an arm around him, holding him close, fingers immediately finding their way into Felix’s hair. He combed through it slowly, over and over, the touch gentle and steady. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Felix’s forehead—right where the stitches had been, so careful, so full of love.

“Good night Hyune,” Felix sighed contentedly, his fingers curled in Hyunjin’s shirt.

“Good night baby,” Hyunjin responded softly and just like that, with the warmth of each other wrapped around them, they both drifted off to sleep—hearts full, finally whole.