Stray Kids Fic: Whatever
May. 26th, 2023 10:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat_lair***
Title: Whatever
Author:kat_lair / Mistress Kat
Fandom: Stray Kids
Pairing: Bang Chan/Lee Felix, background/implied pairings
Tags: First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Feelings
Rating: T
Word count: 3,883
Disclaimer: Make-believe!
Summary:
Author Notes: Ngl, the crucial piece of Chan/Felix dialogue came to me in a dream and then didn’t leave me alone until I wrote it out. Take that as you will, likely as a sign of just how much SKZ content I’ve been consuming lately. As always, thanks todreamersdare for beta and general indulgence.
Whatever on AO3
The dinner is a loud, raucous affair, all of them loose with the success of the promotions and giddy with the prospect of a few days of doing absolutely nothing. Chan had spoken to the managers and gotten them a large private room at a restaurant that was fancy enough to offer such things but not so fancy that the food would be something that would leave people hungry. He’d spun it as a surprise of sorts, not just to the members but also their closest staff, wanting to do something to express even a fraction of his overwhelming sense of gratitude and affection, of love, that wasn’t just bursting into another teary speech. Best to save those for the tour.
This is better. Chan basks in the deep glow of satisfaction as he watches everyone chatting and laughing, drinking and talking without reservation, nothing but smiles and lazy-eyed contentment around the table. Changbin’s plate is full enough for two people, which makes sense since Seungmin is eating as much off Changbin’s plate as he is off his own. Minho and Hyunjin are talking with some of their choreographers, the topic obvious enough from the amount of extended arms and jabbing elbows. On Chan’s left Jisung is deep in conversation with one of the make-up noonas about what Chan assumes (hopes!) is the plot of his latest drama obsession, Jeongin occasionally sticking a piece of food into his mouth when it stops moving for long enough.
Felix is sitting on Chan’s other side, steadily working his way through an impressive amount of chicken, judging by the pile of picked-clean bones on his plate. He’s hooked his foot behind Chan’s under the table, the casual intimacy of the connection warming Chan as much as the cup of soju in his hands. More than, if he’s truthful.
Seemingly finally finished, Felix belches, and not particularly delicately, making both of them giggle.
“Wow,” Chan says, handing over the wet-wipes. “Classy.”
Felix accepts the packet and cleans his fingers methodically. “You didn’t bring us here to be classy,” he points out primly and Chan has to give it to him, the man has a point.
He lifts his drink in concession and Felix grabs his own. They clink the rims together and then knock back the contents.
“Gah!” Chan splutters at the burn
Felix laughs, throaty and low, rubbing Chan’s back. “God, I always forget what a lightweight you are.”
Chan doesn’t deny it, and when Felix pours him some water next, he accepts it readily enough. No one around the table is even close to drunk per se but several people are on their way to happily tipsy. Well on their way if the way Hyunjin’s elbow almost clips the main choreographer in the face is anything to go by. Dancer’s reflexes, honed over decades in her case, are the only reason the woman escapes a black eye. Chan is just about to get up to go tell Hyunjin to be more careful, but Minho already has a firm grip on the back of Hyunjin’s neck and is shaking him like a naughty puppy. Hyunjin looks absolutely mortified, bending almost in half in his seat while he apologises.
Felix laughs again. “Jinnie is going to blush for at least a month now whenever we work with her.”
“I’ll make it two months,” Chan says, “minimum.” He gently untangles their legs, scraping the chair backwards. “I’m gonna…”
Felix smiles knowingly and waves a hand at him. “Yeah, yeah, go make your rounds leader-hyung.”
Chan shrugs because yeah, that’s exactly what he’s planning on doing. He musses Felix’s hair in passing, delighting in the mock-indignant squeak he gets in return, and heads first toward the head choreographer, Minho and Hyunjin who is still bopping up and down in his seat.
He spends some time with everyone there, particularly the staff, asking after partners and children, holiday plans, career plans, music recommendations, getting drawn into an interesting conversation about Pan-Asian geopolitics with a stylist who is financing her PhD on the topic by dressing them and various other idols. She promises to send him some of the more accessible articles to read and Chan is genuinely looking forward to it.
By the time he’s circled back to Felix, most people are gathering coats and bags, some muttering about paying but Chan has already taken care of it, well before even setting foot in the restaurant.
“You did well, hyung,” Felix murmurs to him as they are filing out into the crisp spring evening, and Chan can practically feel the way his spine straightens at the approval.
Originally, he’d accepted the leader position almost by default, because it gave him some control, finally some agency over the direction of his life and career and who he was going to share both with. It hadn’t taken him very long at all to realise that the opportunity to take care of others, to be someone people could depend on, was something that filled him with as much purpose as music. Holding a much younger Felix in his arms hadn’t necessarily been the moment of realisation of what it meant to be a leader, what it meant for Chan personally, but it was one of the ones that stood out in his memory. Chan remembers vividly Felix’s tear-stained cheeks, still rounded with childhood, the way he seemed to hold his whole heart in his eyes as he apologised for not being good enough when it was the rest of them, the company, the whole world who Chan thought weren’t good enough for Felix, weren’t smart enough to see his potential.
Chan nudges Felix’s shoulder with his own in thanks, smiles helplessly at the way he threads his arm through Chan’s as they wait for the cars on the sidewalk, hats on and masks up, for a moment nothing but a group of friends going home after a good meal.
They pile into two cars, Felix tugging Chan after him and behind him Changbin is helping a slightly unsteady Seungmin into the seats opposite. He’s in the middle of raving about a group he found, some kind of French folk ensemble, and in no time his enthusiasm drags Felix along and the two of them bend over Seungmin’s phone to squint at a Youtube video.
While the two of them try to sing along – to what is a particularly catchy hook, Chan has to admit – albeit very badly since neither of them actually speaks French, Chan and Changbin share a long, silent look full of things neither of them is willing to say aloud.
The singing is still going on by the time they exit outside the dorms, Jisung joining in before he even knows what’s really happening beyond melodic noise. Well, it is the Stray Kids’ specialty after all. At least according to some.
Chan is mostly chuckling, trying to hush everyone as they get inside the building. Changbin still has his arm around Seungmin’s waist even though he seems to have sobered up well enough. Chan chooses not to comment, not now or later in the studio when they are alone, because the way Felix keeps flitting between everyone and Chan, always returning to touch his elbow, jump onto his back for a few steps, poke him in the cheek, as if Chan is the earth and Felix is the moon, orbiting him, leaves him no leg to stand on regarding the issue.
“Later losers,” Jeongin says as soon as they are inside, heading toward his room with “No one talk to me until I initiate conversation, I’m tired of all of your faces.”
“Innieeee!” Hyunjin screeches, wailing dramatically as he chases after him. “You can’t mean that! My love! My baby!” There’s a sound of running steps and a door slamming shut.
Chan winces a bit but the apartments are pretty well sound insulated. Which is good since…
“Oh my god,” Minho says, slapping a hand over Jisung’s mouth mid-note, trapping his flailing arms with ease. “There are people in every French-speaking country right now feeling inexplicably offended because of how you are murdering their language.”
Jisung forces Minho’s hand off his mouth for long enough to shout “But mon amour!!” before Minho manages to gag him again.
Felix falls onto the sofa, flopping there like a giggly, fluffy starfish and Chan has to stop himself from flopping right on top of him. Instead, he divests himself of his outerwear, and wanders into the kitchen for a bottle of water and the random detritus of his belongings that he’d dumped there before dinner.
Seungmin is raiding the cupboards for snacks and piling them into Changbin’s waiting arms.
“Didn’t you just eat?” Chan asks, amused.
Seungmin shrugs and drops another bag of something or another on top of the pile. “This is for later,” he says.
Chan glances at Changbin who is very determinedly examining the ceiling, refusing to meet his eyes.
Chan decides not to press the issue. He wanders back out, past the still struggling Minho and Jisung, Felix now providing sports commentary on the match, mostly in English, the familiar accent broadening the syllables. The warm ache it triggers is familiar too. Absentmindedly, Chan rubs the heel of his hand over his heart, wondering how it’s possible to feel a sense of home and homesickness at the same time.
Once in his room, he puts his things down and takes a long drink of water. He stares at the laptop – still open on his desk, headphones curled next to it – for a long time. The urge to open it and get back to where he’d left off is there, prodding at the back of his mind with familiar litany of ‘gotta keep up, gotta keep ahead, don’t be lazy now’ but he’s sat through enough mandatory counselling sessions by now to ignore it. On a good day.
Today has been a very, very good day. Determinedly, Chan snaps the laptop lip closed and drains rest of his water.
He’s still thirsty though. When he goes back to the shared area, everything is quiet. There’s no one in the kitchen and Chan closes cupboards doors left hanging, and turns off lights. A new water bottle in hand, he detours to the living room, noticing Felix had left the light on there as well.
He finds Felix himself still on the sofa though. He’s struggled out of his coat, shoes haphazardly kicked to the floor, and is curled in the corner, phone held above his face.
“Hey,” Chan says softly. Felix looks so small and cosy like that, hair on his face, hands half-covered by sweater paws. The smile taking over his face when he spots Chan is heart-wrenchingly sweet.
“Hey,” Felix says back. “Thought you’d turned in?”
Chan waves his bottle of water in answer. “What are you still doing up?” he asks.
“Got sucked into folk music Youtube.” Felix laughs quietly. “I’ve bookmarked like…” He glances at his phone. “…seven videos to show Seungmin tomorrow already. And counted at least five instruments I don’t know the name for.”
That does pique Chan’s interest, but he shakes his head. “Show me tomorrow, yeah? Right now… Sleep time.”
“Hyung…” Felix whines and kicks his feet a little, entirely for show of course. “It’s not a school day tomorrow!” He sits up though, swinging his feet to the floor. “Besides, don’t think you have any room to lecture people about their sleep patterns.”
Chan grins. “Ah, leader privileges. I can lecture you on everything I want.”
Felix scoffs and rolls his eyes, which… honestly, fair enough. “Seriously Lix,” Chan says, gentling his tone. “You’re tired.” He can see it easily in the droop of Felix’s shoulders, the half-lidded way he’s looking up at Chan. “Go to bed.”
“Ooooh, an order, is it?” Felix says, mock scared and teasing. “And if I don’t? What are you gonna do with me, you and your ‘leader privileges’?”
And Chan doesn’t know what possesses him. It’s not the alcohol, he’s not had nearly enough to blame it on that. It’s not the situation, there’s nothing unusual about their interactions, nothing particularly charged. It’s not even Felix himself, because no matter how cute and approachable he looks right now, how tactile he’s been all night, if that was all it took then surely Chan would’ve crumbled a long time ago. But something clicks in his brain, a filter switch flicking to ‘off’ position all by itself, and what comes out of Chan’s mouth is the unvarnished truth.
“Whatever you want me to,” he says. It’s fond, there’s a smile still playing in the corners of his mouth though he can feel it starting to fade as soon as the words are out, hanging in the air between them. It’s fond but it’s also painfully raw, and the words sound like they feel, like they’ve been scraped from the bloody inside of Chan’s heart and laid on a silver platter for Felix to either take or leave.
They stare at each other in silence for long seconds. Chan can feel the way his stomach drops because what the fuck, what the fuck did he just say? He knows he should play it off as a joke, to waggle his eyebrows at Felix and maybe poke him in the side to make him screech with laughter, something to derail the realisation he can almost see stealing over his friend. The problem is, he’s been too slow to react, too caught in his own panic and already missed his chance. The moment to do anything like backtrack in a way that would seem even remotely natural has long passed.
Felix’s eyes are wide, his mouth hanging open and any other time Chan would find his look of utter surprise hilarious, would whip out his phone and snap a picture. Right now, he’s too busy trying to appear normal, like nothing out of the ordinary just happened, like he didn’t just trip and stumble his way headfirst into an unplanned almost-confession that if he’s very, very lucky Felix is not going to notice.
“Hyung…” Felix stares up at Chan, all traces of earlier joking disappeared and yep, no, Chan’s luck has definitely run dry.
“It’s late,” he blurts out, even though it’s not even midnight yet, which makes it barely mid-evening for him. “I’m going to…” He almost says ‘bed’ but some shred of self-preservation turns it to “…sleep,” at the last moment, thank god for small mercies, late as they may be. “Good night.” He can feel his mouth stretching into something like a smile though judging by the way Felix is blinking at him it looks as strange as it feels.
Chan’s feet carry him to his room on autopilot, his hands positing the water bottle onto the bedside table, stripping his clothes and grabbing his towel, still on autopilot. He keeps his mind carefully blank, letting muscle memory carry him through shower and brushing his teeth, pulling on a clean pair of boxers and putting his phone on charge. It’s not until he’s safely tucked into his bed, under the covers, knees pulled up and eyes squeezed tight, that he lets himself think through the worst-case scenario.
Except…
Except it refuses to be that bad, on balance.
Felix realising just how whipped for him Chan is, and in a way that is qualitatively different to the way he’s whipped for all of his members… Well, would he even be that surprised? Subtlety really isn’t one of Chan’s strengths. Felix realising that and being… Disgusted? Angry? No. No, even thinking that feels wrong, feels like he’s letting Felix down. He knows Felix better than that, knows Felix is better than that. He might not – won’t – return Chan’s feelings but he would never, never hold them against him.
Would he feel betrayed that Chan hadn’t explicitly told him? Maybe. There aren’t many secrets between them, Felix has come to him with crushes, with jealousies and mistakes, and to a degree Chan has done the same. Just… Not with this. Partly because it isn’t a crush, but of course largely because it’s Felix and he shouldn’t carry the weight of Chan’s feelings.
And Chan thinks Felix will understand that, will understand that Chan being the leader has made it doubly impossible. No matter how well Felix knows him, no matter how much he trusts Chan to never abuse his position, any which way Chan thought about it – and he has thought about it, on and off for the last five years, always with the same outcome – he couldn’t see a way to have that conversation without making Felix uncomfortable.
Well, the cat is probably, likely, out of the bag now. Out and scampering over the furniture, raiding the fridge for tuna and claiming the best pillow to curl up on.
Chan turns onto his stomach, buries his face into his own pillow for a moment and, well, he doesn’t exactly scream, because it is late, but he does let out a long groan that he feels adequately expresses how much he doesn’t want to deal with this even though he knows it’ll probably be fine.
It will be fine.
And he will deal with it. Because he’s a grown-up. He had his one moment of panicked flight, so the next time Felix brings this up, Chan will suck it up and have the conversation.
He just doesn’t expect the next time to come so quickly.
He must fall asleep somewhere there, in between trying to convince his body that there is no need to feel anxious and endlessly shifting to find a cool spot on the pillow, because he wakes up to someone climbing into the bed with him.
Well, not ‘someone’. Chan knows it’s Felix almost immediately.
He slips between the sheets, quiet and careful like he’s trying not to wake Chan, the momentary draft of cool air replaced by the warmth of another body – smaller, slighter, almost as familiar to Chan as his own – pressing against his back.
Chan forces himself not to tense, to keeps his breathing steady even when Felix’s arm snakes around his middle, slow and tentative. They don’t usually do this. Felix likes to sleep cuddled up to the members and shares a bed with one of them, mostly Jisung or Hyunjin almost weekly, but rarely with Chan. He used to worry about it, that maybe there was something about him that made Felix uncomfortable, but there was never anything to indicate that when Felix did seek him out, which seemed to be only when he was either particularly happy. Or upset.
Chan is not yet sure which one it is this time.
He waits.
Five minutes tick by, Felix’s hand warm against his stomach, his face pressed between Chan’s shoulder blades. Chan stares at the wall and breathes.
Ten minutes.
Then…
“Chris?” It’s whispered, Chan could pretend he didn’t hear.
He squeezes his eyes shut. “Yeah?”
Behind him, Felix jerks in surprise. “You’re awake?”
“Yeah.” Chan stays as he is for a count of five and then he sighs, carefully turning over. Felix’s arm dislodges and then withdraws. “I’m awake, Lix,” he says, once they’re facing each other. There’s some light coming through the open curtains but not enough to see more than the merest outline of Felix’s face.
“Can I…?” Felix is reaching behind himself, scrabbling for the bedside lamp.
“Sure,” Chan says, and the light comes on, making him blink a few times even though it’s at its dimmest setting.
“Hi.” Felix looks small, curled up in Chan’s bed, his hands tucked under his chin, his face serious.
“Hey.” Chan hesitates for a moment but then he figures that if Felix got into his bed for this and willingly draped himself over his bare back, he wasn’t suddenly averse to touch regardless of how this conversation was going to go. “You okay?” he asks, and wraps his hands over both of Felix’s. He’s not going to pretend not to know what Felix is here to talk about, but he is nervous enough to leave him to lead it.
“I…” Felix twists in Chan’s grip until their fingers slot together and they’re holding hands properly. “Did you mean it?”
Right. Straight into it then.
“Yes,” Chan says. No hesitation. He keeps his eyes on Felix’s face, watches the way Felix’s gaze snaps up at the confirmation, finds his. “Yes, I meant it. I thought…”
He has to look away then, breath unexpectedly catching in his throat, and just… Take a second. Or ten.
“What?” One of Felix’s hands is pulling free and then there are gentle fingers at the hinge of his jaw, ghosting over his cheek, the tender skin on under his eyes, permanently bruised by too much work, too little sleep. “What did you think, Chris?” He coaxes Chan’s head back down from where he’d tilted it up.
“Thought you knew.” It’s obvious he got that wrong as soon as he says it. There’s no knowing pity, no resignation, not even any gentle acceptance in Felix’s expression, just pure surprise and…
Hope?
“Thought I knew what?” he asks. His palm is still against Chan’s face, cupping it.
Chan looks Felix in the eyes, says, “That I’m in love with you,” his heart beating steady, steady, steady because no matter how this goes, he knows it’ll be safe in Felix’s hands.
Felix blinks, his mouth dropping open in shock and then… Then a smile, brilliant and beautiful, outshining the bedside lamp, the stars outside, starts to spread over his face. Like always, it is impossible not to respond, and Chan can feel his own answering smile, they way it stretches his mouth, his heart.
“Oh,” Felix says. “I didn’t know.”
The laugh that pushes out of Chan’s throat is embarrassingly loud, ragged and wet around the edges. “Yeah,” he hiccups around it. “Yeah, I can see that.”
“Then again,” Felix adds, almost smug, sort of shy, “you didn’t either.”
The realisation sinks in, slowly, slowly. Chan feels dizzy, even though he’s lying down, like his whole world is tilting on its axis, the galaxy suddenly glittering at his feet when it was always far above, unreachable. It can’t be this easy, can it? How do you accept something you never thought you’d get, never even planned on asking for?
“Anyway,” Felix carries on, going for breezy and unconcerned but the way he’s biting his lip gives him away. “I thought of something you can do to me. You should kiss me,” he says, gaze dropping to Chan’s mouth briefly, then catching his eyes again, challenging. Brave. “Since…” His voice breaks then, just a tiniest crack that nonetheless hooks into Chan’s chest and tugs. “Since we’re in love, and everything.”
And just like that, it is easy. He can do this, he can overcome his own hangups, because Felix wants him to. Besides, he already promised.
“Whatever you want,” Chan says, and then because he knows the way Felix thinks almost as well as he knows himself, maybe better, can see the question in his eyes before any words are spoken, “Yes.” He breathes it against Felix’s mouth, soft and already opening underneath his. “I want to,” Chan says, and closes the distance.
***
Title: Whatever
Author:
kat_lair / Mistress Kat Fandom: Stray Kids
Pairing: Bang Chan/Lee Felix, background/implied pairings
Tags: First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Feelings
Rating: T
Word count: 3,883
Disclaimer: Make-believe!
Summary:
“Ooooh, an order, is it?” Felix says, mock scared and teasing. “And if I don’t? What are you gonna do with me, you and your ‘leader privileges’?”
And Chan doesn’t know what possesses him. It’s not the alcohol, he’s not had nearly enough to blame it on that. It’s not the situation, there’s nothing unusual about their interactions, nothing particularly charged. It’s not even Felix himself, because no matter how cute and approachable he looks right now, how tactile he’s been all night, if that was all it took then surely Chan would’ve crumbled a long time ago. But something clicks in his brain, a filter switch flicking to ‘off’ position all by itself, and what comes out of Chan’s mouth is the unvarnished truth.
“Whatever you want me to,” he says.
Author Notes: Ngl, the crucial piece of Chan/Felix dialogue came to me in a dream and then didn’t leave me alone until I wrote it out. Take that as you will, likely as a sign of just how much SKZ content I’ve been consuming lately. As always, thanks to
dreamersdare for beta and general indulgence.Whatever on AO3
The dinner is a loud, raucous affair, all of them loose with the success of the promotions and giddy with the prospect of a few days of doing absolutely nothing. Chan had spoken to the managers and gotten them a large private room at a restaurant that was fancy enough to offer such things but not so fancy that the food would be something that would leave people hungry. He’d spun it as a surprise of sorts, not just to the members but also their closest staff, wanting to do something to express even a fraction of his overwhelming sense of gratitude and affection, of love, that wasn’t just bursting into another teary speech. Best to save those for the tour.
This is better. Chan basks in the deep glow of satisfaction as he watches everyone chatting and laughing, drinking and talking without reservation, nothing but smiles and lazy-eyed contentment around the table. Changbin’s plate is full enough for two people, which makes sense since Seungmin is eating as much off Changbin’s plate as he is off his own. Minho and Hyunjin are talking with some of their choreographers, the topic obvious enough from the amount of extended arms and jabbing elbows. On Chan’s left Jisung is deep in conversation with one of the make-up noonas about what Chan assumes (hopes!) is the plot of his latest drama obsession, Jeongin occasionally sticking a piece of food into his mouth when it stops moving for long enough.
Felix is sitting on Chan’s other side, steadily working his way through an impressive amount of chicken, judging by the pile of picked-clean bones on his plate. He’s hooked his foot behind Chan’s under the table, the casual intimacy of the connection warming Chan as much as the cup of soju in his hands. More than, if he’s truthful.
Seemingly finally finished, Felix belches, and not particularly delicately, making both of them giggle.
“Wow,” Chan says, handing over the wet-wipes. “Classy.”
Felix accepts the packet and cleans his fingers methodically. “You didn’t bring us here to be classy,” he points out primly and Chan has to give it to him, the man has a point.
He lifts his drink in concession and Felix grabs his own. They clink the rims together and then knock back the contents.
“Gah!” Chan splutters at the burn
Felix laughs, throaty and low, rubbing Chan’s back. “God, I always forget what a lightweight you are.”
Chan doesn’t deny it, and when Felix pours him some water next, he accepts it readily enough. No one around the table is even close to drunk per se but several people are on their way to happily tipsy. Well on their way if the way Hyunjin’s elbow almost clips the main choreographer in the face is anything to go by. Dancer’s reflexes, honed over decades in her case, are the only reason the woman escapes a black eye. Chan is just about to get up to go tell Hyunjin to be more careful, but Minho already has a firm grip on the back of Hyunjin’s neck and is shaking him like a naughty puppy. Hyunjin looks absolutely mortified, bending almost in half in his seat while he apologises.
Felix laughs again. “Jinnie is going to blush for at least a month now whenever we work with her.”
“I’ll make it two months,” Chan says, “minimum.” He gently untangles their legs, scraping the chair backwards. “I’m gonna…”
Felix smiles knowingly and waves a hand at him. “Yeah, yeah, go make your rounds leader-hyung.”
Chan shrugs because yeah, that’s exactly what he’s planning on doing. He musses Felix’s hair in passing, delighting in the mock-indignant squeak he gets in return, and heads first toward the head choreographer, Minho and Hyunjin who is still bopping up and down in his seat.
He spends some time with everyone there, particularly the staff, asking after partners and children, holiday plans, career plans, music recommendations, getting drawn into an interesting conversation about Pan-Asian geopolitics with a stylist who is financing her PhD on the topic by dressing them and various other idols. She promises to send him some of the more accessible articles to read and Chan is genuinely looking forward to it.
By the time he’s circled back to Felix, most people are gathering coats and bags, some muttering about paying but Chan has already taken care of it, well before even setting foot in the restaurant.
“You did well, hyung,” Felix murmurs to him as they are filing out into the crisp spring evening, and Chan can practically feel the way his spine straightens at the approval.
Originally, he’d accepted the leader position almost by default, because it gave him some control, finally some agency over the direction of his life and career and who he was going to share both with. It hadn’t taken him very long at all to realise that the opportunity to take care of others, to be someone people could depend on, was something that filled him with as much purpose as music. Holding a much younger Felix in his arms hadn’t necessarily been the moment of realisation of what it meant to be a leader, what it meant for Chan personally, but it was one of the ones that stood out in his memory. Chan remembers vividly Felix’s tear-stained cheeks, still rounded with childhood, the way he seemed to hold his whole heart in his eyes as he apologised for not being good enough when it was the rest of them, the company, the whole world who Chan thought weren’t good enough for Felix, weren’t smart enough to see his potential.
Chan nudges Felix’s shoulder with his own in thanks, smiles helplessly at the way he threads his arm through Chan’s as they wait for the cars on the sidewalk, hats on and masks up, for a moment nothing but a group of friends going home after a good meal.
They pile into two cars, Felix tugging Chan after him and behind him Changbin is helping a slightly unsteady Seungmin into the seats opposite. He’s in the middle of raving about a group he found, some kind of French folk ensemble, and in no time his enthusiasm drags Felix along and the two of them bend over Seungmin’s phone to squint at a Youtube video.
While the two of them try to sing along – to what is a particularly catchy hook, Chan has to admit – albeit very badly since neither of them actually speaks French, Chan and Changbin share a long, silent look full of things neither of them is willing to say aloud.
The singing is still going on by the time they exit outside the dorms, Jisung joining in before he even knows what’s really happening beyond melodic noise. Well, it is the Stray Kids’ specialty after all. At least according to some.
Chan is mostly chuckling, trying to hush everyone as they get inside the building. Changbin still has his arm around Seungmin’s waist even though he seems to have sobered up well enough. Chan chooses not to comment, not now or later in the studio when they are alone, because the way Felix keeps flitting between everyone and Chan, always returning to touch his elbow, jump onto his back for a few steps, poke him in the cheek, as if Chan is the earth and Felix is the moon, orbiting him, leaves him no leg to stand on regarding the issue.
“Later losers,” Jeongin says as soon as they are inside, heading toward his room with “No one talk to me until I initiate conversation, I’m tired of all of your faces.”
“Innieeee!” Hyunjin screeches, wailing dramatically as he chases after him. “You can’t mean that! My love! My baby!” There’s a sound of running steps and a door slamming shut.
Chan winces a bit but the apartments are pretty well sound insulated. Which is good since…
“Oh my god,” Minho says, slapping a hand over Jisung’s mouth mid-note, trapping his flailing arms with ease. “There are people in every French-speaking country right now feeling inexplicably offended because of how you are murdering their language.”
Jisung forces Minho’s hand off his mouth for long enough to shout “But mon amour!!” before Minho manages to gag him again.
Felix falls onto the sofa, flopping there like a giggly, fluffy starfish and Chan has to stop himself from flopping right on top of him. Instead, he divests himself of his outerwear, and wanders into the kitchen for a bottle of water and the random detritus of his belongings that he’d dumped there before dinner.
Seungmin is raiding the cupboards for snacks and piling them into Changbin’s waiting arms.
“Didn’t you just eat?” Chan asks, amused.
Seungmin shrugs and drops another bag of something or another on top of the pile. “This is for later,” he says.
Chan glances at Changbin who is very determinedly examining the ceiling, refusing to meet his eyes.
Chan decides not to press the issue. He wanders back out, past the still struggling Minho and Jisung, Felix now providing sports commentary on the match, mostly in English, the familiar accent broadening the syllables. The warm ache it triggers is familiar too. Absentmindedly, Chan rubs the heel of his hand over his heart, wondering how it’s possible to feel a sense of home and homesickness at the same time.
Once in his room, he puts his things down and takes a long drink of water. He stares at the laptop – still open on his desk, headphones curled next to it – for a long time. The urge to open it and get back to where he’d left off is there, prodding at the back of his mind with familiar litany of ‘gotta keep up, gotta keep ahead, don’t be lazy now’ but he’s sat through enough mandatory counselling sessions by now to ignore it. On a good day.
Today has been a very, very good day. Determinedly, Chan snaps the laptop lip closed and drains rest of his water.
He’s still thirsty though. When he goes back to the shared area, everything is quiet. There’s no one in the kitchen and Chan closes cupboards doors left hanging, and turns off lights. A new water bottle in hand, he detours to the living room, noticing Felix had left the light on there as well.
He finds Felix himself still on the sofa though. He’s struggled out of his coat, shoes haphazardly kicked to the floor, and is curled in the corner, phone held above his face.
“Hey,” Chan says softly. Felix looks so small and cosy like that, hair on his face, hands half-covered by sweater paws. The smile taking over his face when he spots Chan is heart-wrenchingly sweet.
“Hey,” Felix says back. “Thought you’d turned in?”
Chan waves his bottle of water in answer. “What are you still doing up?” he asks.
“Got sucked into folk music Youtube.” Felix laughs quietly. “I’ve bookmarked like…” He glances at his phone. “…seven videos to show Seungmin tomorrow already. And counted at least five instruments I don’t know the name for.”
That does pique Chan’s interest, but he shakes his head. “Show me tomorrow, yeah? Right now… Sleep time.”
“Hyung…” Felix whines and kicks his feet a little, entirely for show of course. “It’s not a school day tomorrow!” He sits up though, swinging his feet to the floor. “Besides, don’t think you have any room to lecture people about their sleep patterns.”
Chan grins. “Ah, leader privileges. I can lecture you on everything I want.”
Felix scoffs and rolls his eyes, which… honestly, fair enough. “Seriously Lix,” Chan says, gentling his tone. “You’re tired.” He can see it easily in the droop of Felix’s shoulders, the half-lidded way he’s looking up at Chan. “Go to bed.”
“Ooooh, an order, is it?” Felix says, mock scared and teasing. “And if I don’t? What are you gonna do with me, you and your ‘leader privileges’?”
And Chan doesn’t know what possesses him. It’s not the alcohol, he’s not had nearly enough to blame it on that. It’s not the situation, there’s nothing unusual about their interactions, nothing particularly charged. It’s not even Felix himself, because no matter how cute and approachable he looks right now, how tactile he’s been all night, if that was all it took then surely Chan would’ve crumbled a long time ago. But something clicks in his brain, a filter switch flicking to ‘off’ position all by itself, and what comes out of Chan’s mouth is the unvarnished truth.
“Whatever you want me to,” he says. It’s fond, there’s a smile still playing in the corners of his mouth though he can feel it starting to fade as soon as the words are out, hanging in the air between them. It’s fond but it’s also painfully raw, and the words sound like they feel, like they’ve been scraped from the bloody inside of Chan’s heart and laid on a silver platter for Felix to either take or leave.
They stare at each other in silence for long seconds. Chan can feel the way his stomach drops because what the fuck, what the fuck did he just say? He knows he should play it off as a joke, to waggle his eyebrows at Felix and maybe poke him in the side to make him screech with laughter, something to derail the realisation he can almost see stealing over his friend. The problem is, he’s been too slow to react, too caught in his own panic and already missed his chance. The moment to do anything like backtrack in a way that would seem even remotely natural has long passed.
Felix’s eyes are wide, his mouth hanging open and any other time Chan would find his look of utter surprise hilarious, would whip out his phone and snap a picture. Right now, he’s too busy trying to appear normal, like nothing out of the ordinary just happened, like he didn’t just trip and stumble his way headfirst into an unplanned almost-confession that if he’s very, very lucky Felix is not going to notice.
“Hyung…” Felix stares up at Chan, all traces of earlier joking disappeared and yep, no, Chan’s luck has definitely run dry.
“It’s late,” he blurts out, even though it’s not even midnight yet, which makes it barely mid-evening for him. “I’m going to…” He almost says ‘bed’ but some shred of self-preservation turns it to “…sleep,” at the last moment, thank god for small mercies, late as they may be. “Good night.” He can feel his mouth stretching into something like a smile though judging by the way Felix is blinking at him it looks as strange as it feels.
Chan’s feet carry him to his room on autopilot, his hands positing the water bottle onto the bedside table, stripping his clothes and grabbing his towel, still on autopilot. He keeps his mind carefully blank, letting muscle memory carry him through shower and brushing his teeth, pulling on a clean pair of boxers and putting his phone on charge. It’s not until he’s safely tucked into his bed, under the covers, knees pulled up and eyes squeezed tight, that he lets himself think through the worst-case scenario.
Except…
Except it refuses to be that bad, on balance.
Felix realising just how whipped for him Chan is, and in a way that is qualitatively different to the way he’s whipped for all of his members… Well, would he even be that surprised? Subtlety really isn’t one of Chan’s strengths. Felix realising that and being… Disgusted? Angry? No. No, even thinking that feels wrong, feels like he’s letting Felix down. He knows Felix better than that, knows Felix is better than that. He might not – won’t – return Chan’s feelings but he would never, never hold them against him.
Would he feel betrayed that Chan hadn’t explicitly told him? Maybe. There aren’t many secrets between them, Felix has come to him with crushes, with jealousies and mistakes, and to a degree Chan has done the same. Just… Not with this. Partly because it isn’t a crush, but of course largely because it’s Felix and he shouldn’t carry the weight of Chan’s feelings.
And Chan thinks Felix will understand that, will understand that Chan being the leader has made it doubly impossible. No matter how well Felix knows him, no matter how much he trusts Chan to never abuse his position, any which way Chan thought about it – and he has thought about it, on and off for the last five years, always with the same outcome – he couldn’t see a way to have that conversation without making Felix uncomfortable.
Well, the cat is probably, likely, out of the bag now. Out and scampering over the furniture, raiding the fridge for tuna and claiming the best pillow to curl up on.
Chan turns onto his stomach, buries his face into his own pillow for a moment and, well, he doesn’t exactly scream, because it is late, but he does let out a long groan that he feels adequately expresses how much he doesn’t want to deal with this even though he knows it’ll probably be fine.
It will be fine.
And he will deal with it. Because he’s a grown-up. He had his one moment of panicked flight, so the next time Felix brings this up, Chan will suck it up and have the conversation.
He just doesn’t expect the next time to come so quickly.
He must fall asleep somewhere there, in between trying to convince his body that there is no need to feel anxious and endlessly shifting to find a cool spot on the pillow, because he wakes up to someone climbing into the bed with him.
Well, not ‘someone’. Chan knows it’s Felix almost immediately.
He slips between the sheets, quiet and careful like he’s trying not to wake Chan, the momentary draft of cool air replaced by the warmth of another body – smaller, slighter, almost as familiar to Chan as his own – pressing against his back.
Chan forces himself not to tense, to keeps his breathing steady even when Felix’s arm snakes around his middle, slow and tentative. They don’t usually do this. Felix likes to sleep cuddled up to the members and shares a bed with one of them, mostly Jisung or Hyunjin almost weekly, but rarely with Chan. He used to worry about it, that maybe there was something about him that made Felix uncomfortable, but there was never anything to indicate that when Felix did seek him out, which seemed to be only when he was either particularly happy. Or upset.
Chan is not yet sure which one it is this time.
He waits.
Five minutes tick by, Felix’s hand warm against his stomach, his face pressed between Chan’s shoulder blades. Chan stares at the wall and breathes.
Ten minutes.
Then…
“Chris?” It’s whispered, Chan could pretend he didn’t hear.
He squeezes his eyes shut. “Yeah?”
Behind him, Felix jerks in surprise. “You’re awake?”
“Yeah.” Chan stays as he is for a count of five and then he sighs, carefully turning over. Felix’s arm dislodges and then withdraws. “I’m awake, Lix,” he says, once they’re facing each other. There’s some light coming through the open curtains but not enough to see more than the merest outline of Felix’s face.
“Can I…?” Felix is reaching behind himself, scrabbling for the bedside lamp.
“Sure,” Chan says, and the light comes on, making him blink a few times even though it’s at its dimmest setting.
“Hi.” Felix looks small, curled up in Chan’s bed, his hands tucked under his chin, his face serious.
“Hey.” Chan hesitates for a moment but then he figures that if Felix got into his bed for this and willingly draped himself over his bare back, he wasn’t suddenly averse to touch regardless of how this conversation was going to go. “You okay?” he asks, and wraps his hands over both of Felix’s. He’s not going to pretend not to know what Felix is here to talk about, but he is nervous enough to leave him to lead it.
“I…” Felix twists in Chan’s grip until their fingers slot together and they’re holding hands properly. “Did you mean it?”
Right. Straight into it then.
“Yes,” Chan says. No hesitation. He keeps his eyes on Felix’s face, watches the way Felix’s gaze snaps up at the confirmation, finds his. “Yes, I meant it. I thought…”
He has to look away then, breath unexpectedly catching in his throat, and just… Take a second. Or ten.
“What?” One of Felix’s hands is pulling free and then there are gentle fingers at the hinge of his jaw, ghosting over his cheek, the tender skin on under his eyes, permanently bruised by too much work, too little sleep. “What did you think, Chris?” He coaxes Chan’s head back down from where he’d tilted it up.
“Thought you knew.” It’s obvious he got that wrong as soon as he says it. There’s no knowing pity, no resignation, not even any gentle acceptance in Felix’s expression, just pure surprise and…
Hope?
“Thought I knew what?” he asks. His palm is still against Chan’s face, cupping it.
Chan looks Felix in the eyes, says, “That I’m in love with you,” his heart beating steady, steady, steady because no matter how this goes, he knows it’ll be safe in Felix’s hands.
Felix blinks, his mouth dropping open in shock and then… Then a smile, brilliant and beautiful, outshining the bedside lamp, the stars outside, starts to spread over his face. Like always, it is impossible not to respond, and Chan can feel his own answering smile, they way it stretches his mouth, his heart.
“Oh,” Felix says. “I didn’t know.”
The laugh that pushes out of Chan’s throat is embarrassingly loud, ragged and wet around the edges. “Yeah,” he hiccups around it. “Yeah, I can see that.”
“Then again,” Felix adds, almost smug, sort of shy, “you didn’t either.”
The realisation sinks in, slowly, slowly. Chan feels dizzy, even though he’s lying down, like his whole world is tilting on its axis, the galaxy suddenly glittering at his feet when it was always far above, unreachable. It can’t be this easy, can it? How do you accept something you never thought you’d get, never even planned on asking for?
“Anyway,” Felix carries on, going for breezy and unconcerned but the way he’s biting his lip gives him away. “I thought of something you can do to me. You should kiss me,” he says, gaze dropping to Chan’s mouth briefly, then catching his eyes again, challenging. Brave. “Since…” His voice breaks then, just a tiniest crack that nonetheless hooks into Chan’s chest and tugs. “Since we’re in love, and everything.”
And just like that, it is easy. He can do this, he can overcome his own hangups, because Felix wants him to. Besides, he already promised.
“Whatever you want,” Chan says, and then because he knows the way Felix thinks almost as well as he knows himself, maybe better, can see the question in his eyes before any words are spoken, “Yes.” He breathes it against Felix’s mouth, soft and already opening underneath his. “I want to,” Chan says, and closes the distance.
***