Archive of Our Own

The dorm living room is chaos.

Hyunjin and Jisung are shouting over a card game no one remembers the rules to, Seungmin deadpans from the couch like he’s paid to do it, and Jeongin races to stack empty soju cups into a tower while Changbin times him. Minho sits in the armchair with a beer, unimpressed by the scene playing out in front of him, though the twitch of his mouth gives him away.

Chan has drifted to the other end of the room, laptop balanced on his knees, beer on the side table. He tells himself he’s just doing a quick once-over of their latest project, but thirty minutes later, he’s still fine-tuning vocal layers. His eyes flick up now and then to make sure the dorm isn’t on fire, but otherwise he lets the others burn energy while he—

“Channieee.”

Felix is swaying toward him, cheeks flushed, smile loose and bright. He’s holding a beer can, though from the way it tilts in his hand, Chan doubts much is left.

“Felix,” Chan says carefully. “How many did you have?”

Felix blinks as he struggles through mental math and then raises three fingers. “One.” His grin widens. “...Or two. Maybe three?”

Chan laughs under his breath. Lightweight, as always.

Before he can say more, Felix plops down beside him, nearly knocking the laptop off his knees.

“Whoa, easy—” Chan steadies it, but Felix has already melted into his side, head on his shoulder like it belongs there.

“You’re too far away,” Felix mumbles. “Why’re you working? Everyone else is playing.”

Chan chuckles, nudging him. “Somebody’s gotta make sure our songs sound good, right?”

“They already do.” Felix tips his face up, eyes shining bright and voice slurring at the edges. “’Cause you make everything good. Even when you’re tired. You’re the best leader anyone could ask for!”

The words hit harder than they should. Compliments from Felix aren’t rare, but the way he says it — wide-eyed, sincere, with that dopey little smile — makes Chan’s chest tighten.

He swallows, forcing his gaze back to the screen. “You’re drunk, mate.”

“I’m not drunk.” Felix giggles, tucking even closer under his arm. “I’m just… happy. ’Cause you’re here.”

Chan’s breath hitches. The laptop feels like a useless distraction now because all he can feel is Felix’s warmth pressed against his side and the laughs reverberating through him. The rest of the members are still causing a ruckus in the background, but Chan can’t hear them anymore. Right now, it’s only him and Felix in the room. The warm, solid weight of him against Chan, and his strawberry-scented shampoo mixing with the faint scent of his cologne.

Felix's hand drifts, tugging at the hem of Chan’s hoodie like he needs proof he’s really there. “You’re comfy,” he mumbles, words slurred but fond. “Better than a pillow. Even with the rock-hard abs.”

Chan huffs a laugh, slightly embarrassed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is.” Felix squints up at him, eyes struggling to focus. “You’re… you’re the best. Do you know that?”

Chan shakes his head, smiling. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m serious!” Felix insists, suddenly louder, deep voice booming enough to make Seungmin glance over with a snort. Ignoring him, Felix locks back onto Chan like he’s the only one in the room. His hand slides up, clumsy but gentle, cupping Chan’s jaw.

Chan freezes.

“You always take care of us,” Felix says, words tumbling out in a rush. “Every day. Even when you’re tired, even when people are mean to you online, you still… you still love us. You still love me.” His thumb brushes Chan’s cheekbone.

Felix goes quiet for a beat, gaze locking onto Chan’s like he’s letting him in on a secret. His voice drops to a soft rumble, almost tender.

“And I love you, Channie-hyung.”

Chan’s heart slams against his ribs. He can’t move, can’t breathe. Felix is staring at him like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb of a confession, like it’s the most obvious truth in the world.

Then Felix giggles loudly, brightly, and collapses fully against his chest, arms looping around Chan's middle. “M’kay, I’m done talking. You’re mine now. Gonna stay right here.”

Chan’s laptop nearly slides off his knees, but he barely notices. His face is hot, pulse racing. The room is still noisy, but all he can hear is Felix’s words echoing over and over.

I love you, Channie-hyung.

When the noise dies down enough for him to think, Chan glances down.

Felix’s eyes are shut now, lashes fanned against flushed cheeks, freckles scattered like constellations. His lips part slightly as he breathes, a faint smile lingering even in sleep. How precious.

Chan’s chest squeezes. Not just precious. Beautiful, cute—sexy—

He stops himself. No. He can’t think like that.

Felix was drunk. He hadn’t meant anything by it. You love us, and I love you too. That’s what he meant. Us as in family. It couldn’t have been personal.

Chan exhales slowly, trying to suppress the sudden wave of disappointment.

He looks around the room, pulse still hammering. Hyunjin and Jisung are bickering with Minho now. Jeongin claps with delight as his cup tower stays up while Changbin and Seungmin are next to him, counting down the seconds.

Quietly, Chan closes his laptop and sets it aside. Sliding one arm under Felix’s knees and the other around his back, he lifts him easily. Felix stirs, nuzzling closer, but doesn’t wake.

Chan stands, steadying his balance with the sleeping weight in his arms.

“I’m putting Felix to bed,” he announces.

All heads snap up at once.

“Dad Chan strikes again,” Jisung singsongs, clapping.

“Chan-hyung’s so soft,” Jeongin coos.

“Leader of the year,” Seungmin deadpans.

Changbin clutches his chest dramatically. “A true hero! When will it be my turn to be carried princess style, hyung?”

Chan rolls his eyes fondly. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You’re all next if you don’t pace yourselves.”

The teasing follows him down the hall, but he keeps his gaze forward, Felix’s steady breathing warm against his collarbone. Once they’re fully out of sight, Chan holds the younger man a little closer, wishing his heart would calm down.

Felix’s room is dark except for the glow of the hallway light spilling across the floor. Chan nudges the door further open with his foot, careful not to jostle the bundle in his arms.

Felix stirs as he’s lowered onto the mattress, lashes fluttering, a small sound escaping before he settles again. His fingers curl in Chan’s hoodie, and Chan gently pries them loose.

“You’re impossible,” Chan whispers, more fond than exasperated.

He pulls the blanket over Felix’s shoulders, tucking it in the way his mum used to. Felix sighs, rolling onto his side, freckles catching the dim light like stardust.

Chan sits on the edge of the bed for a moment longer than he means to. Just watching.

Felix looks so innocent like this. So soft and unguarded, lips parted slightly as he breathes, hair a messy halo around his face. Too angelic for Chan’s peace of mind.

I love you, Channie-hyung.

Chan scrubs a hand over his face, dragging in a deep breath. He has to stop doing this to himself. Projecting feelings onto the people he loves—onto Felix—isn’t fair.

Still, when Felix shifts again, curling into the blankets with a small smile like he’s dreaming of something good, Chan can’t help it. His heart twists as he brushes soft strands of blonde away from his face.

“You’ll be the death of me, Lix,” he murmurs softly, the words barely audible even to himself.

He lingers for one more moment, then forces himself up, easing the door shut behind him. The noise of the living room rushes back in as he walks down the hall, but all he can hear, still, are Felix’s words.

The dorm is quiet the next morning, the kind of rare silence that only comes after a night of chaos. Chan sits at the kitchen table with his mug of coffee, hands wrapped around the warmth, steam curling against his face. Another cup sits across from him, already poured. By force of habit, he made two.

The creak of footsteps on the floorboards pulls his eyes up.

Felix shuffles in, hair a disaster, hoodie half-zipped, eyes squinting against the light. He looks wrecked but still manages to smile, slow and sleepy, when he spots Chan.

“Morning,” he croaks, voice deeper than usual.

“Morning, mate.” Chan gestures to the mug waiting on the table. “Figured you’d need it.”

Felix blinks at it, then at him, and the smile blooms wider. “You’re a lifesaver.” He slumps into the chair opposite, curling his hands around the cup like it’s life support.

Chan hides his own smile behind his mug. “How’s your head?”

“Hurts,” Felix admits after his first sip, wincing. “But coffee helps.” He sets the mug down, eyes slipping shut as he leans his cheek into his palm. “What time did I crash last night?”

Chan hesitates. “Pretty early.”

Felix hums, thoughtful. “Did I… do anything stupid?” His eyes crack open, curiosity clear even through the fog of sleep.

Chan’s pulse stutters. Images slam into him—Felix giggling in his lap, fingers on his jaw, voice soft and slurred.

He forces a shrug, stalling with another sip. “Nothing worse than usual.”

Felix snorts, gaze dropping to the table. “Guess that’s a relief.”

Chan studies him quietly over the rim of his cup. Felix’s lashes flutter as he fights to stay awake, hoodie sliding off one shoulder.

Beautiful, even hungover.

Dangerous.

Felix takes another long sip, colour returning to his cheeks. He sighs, satisfied, then looks up with a lopsided smile.

“You always look after me,” he says, voice still scratchy from sleep. “Don’t know what I’d do without you, Channie.”

Chan’s chest tightens at the familiarity of the words. Yet again, they are said so easily, like they don’t carry weight at all, and they sink straight into his core all the same.

“Guess that makes me the official babysitter,” Chan jokes weakly.

Felix laughs, low and warm. “Mm, definitely,” He leans forward, elbow on the table, eyes twinkling. “But you’re softest on me, aren’t you?”

The tease is casual, cheeky, exactly the kind of thing Felix always says when he’s winding people up. But Chan freezes, heat crawling up the back of his neck.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he says, but it comes out rougher than he intends.

Felix just grins into his mug, freckles crinkling with the smile. “Thought so,” he murmurs, almost to himself, and takes another sip.

Chan hides behind his coffee, willing his heartbeat to calm down. Felix is going to tease him into a heart attack one of these days.

Late one evening, Chan hunches over his laptop, headphones around his neck, track looping endlessly as he tweaks levels. His eyes sting from too much blue light exposure, but he doesn’t move. Just one more adjustment—

The door creaks open.

Felix slips inside, a plate in one hand, a glass of milk in the other. The smell of warm chocolate chip cookies hits before his voice does.

“Channie-hyung.”

Chan blinks, tugging his headphones down. “Lix? What’re you doing up?”

Felix sets the plate on the desk. “You work too hard.” His voice is quiet but firm, that deep rumble that always makes Chan’s pulse skip. “Thought you might need a break.”

Chan glances at the cookies. “You made these?”

Felix grins, proud. “Of course. Just for you.”

Chan takes a cookie, biting in—sweet, soft, perfect. “Thanks, Lixie. You’re the best.”

He turns back to the screen, fingers twitching toward the keyboard.

But Felix doesn’t move.

When Chan looks sideways, Felix is still standing there, arms crossed, brow furrowed.

“You’re not even gonna stop?” Felix asks.

“I am stopping,” Chan says around another bite. “I’m eating, see?”

Felix narrows his eyes, and before Chan can react, he drops straight into his lap.

“Felix—!” Chan’s hands fly up in shock, barely catching the glass of milk before it tips over. His heart lurches violently as Felix wiggles into place, back against Chan’s chest like he’s a chair custom-made for Felix.

“Now you have to stop,” Felix says matter-of-factly, tilting his head back with a cheeky grin. “You can’t work with me here.”

Chan’s mouth goes dry. His arms hover awkwardly around him, laptop still open. He can smell sugar and butter, faint cologne, the warmth of Felix’s body against his own.

And suddenly, work is the last thing on his mind.

Felix shifts in his lap, reaching for another cookie, crumbs scattering across Chan’s hoodie.

“You’re something else, you know that?” Chan says, shaking his head, but the laugh that comes out of him is warm and fond.

Felix chews, grinning up at him with that ridiculous sparkle in his eyes. “But you like me anyway.”

Chan huffs, trying to look unimpressed, but his smile betrays him. “You’re a menace. Out of all the people I could’ve ended up leading, I get the clingiest Aussie alive.”

Felix’s laugh rumbles through him, deep and playful. “And yet…” He tilts his head, lashes catching the glow of the monitor. “…you don’t push me away.”

Chan’s throat goes dry. He forces a scoff, eyes darting back to the screen, though the mix in front of him is just colours and lines now. “That’s because you’re impossible to get rid of. Like chewing gum on a shoe.”

Felix giggles, leaning his head against Chan’s shoulder, clearly pleased with himself. “Guess that makes you my shoe, then.”

“Brat,” Chan mutters, but it comes out fond.

Felix nestles deeper into his lap, testing how far he can push. “See? You’re not even telling me to get off. If it really bothered you, you would.”

Chan exhales slowly, and the words slip out before he can stop them. “You’re right. It doesn’t bother me.”

Felix tilts his head, meeting his eyes. “See? You like it.”

Chan rolls his eyes, aiming for light. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

But Felix only grins, smug and knowing. He breaks off another piece of cookie, pops it into his mouth, then suddenly holds the last bite to Chan’s lips.

“Open,” he orders.

Chan blinks. “What—”

Felix presses it against his mouth until instinct takes over. He bites, lips brushing Felix’s fingers for a split second, heat flashing up the back of his neck.

Felix giggles at the sight, low and mischievous. “Knew you’d listen. You always do, hyung.”

Chan laughs, too thin.

Felix hums, leaning his head back again, resting against Chan’s shoulder like it’s the most natural place in the world. "I think," His voice drops, teasing but edged with something else. “You just can’t say no to me.”

The words hang heavy in the tiny studio.

Chan’s breath catches, heart hammering. It’s just Felix being cheeky, he tells himself, just Felix being Felix. But the way he said it—soft, sure, almost intimate—twists something low in his chest.

Felix closes his eyes, humming happily as if nothing happened. But Chan can’t look away from him, can’t steady the rush in his veins.

Because inexplicably, Felix is a hundred per cent right.

The living room is louder than usual today as everyone debates what to watch for movie night.

“Romance,” Jisung declares, clutching the remote like it’s an extension of himself. “We never watch romance anymore!”

“No.” Minho doesn’t even look up from his phone. “I don’t want to deal with you crying into Felix’s cookies at three a.m. again.”

“Hyung!” Jisung whines. “You swore you’d never tell anyone!”

“Horror!” Changbin cuts in. “Let’s watch something terrifying."

“No way,” Hyunjin says, tossing popcorn into his mouth with a dramatic flourish. “I need action. Something with bullets and explosions.”

Voices overlap, the volume climbing with every second.

Seungmin leans against the back of the couch, sipping soda like he’s narrating a documentary. “Would you look at that? It's a bunch of idiots in their natural habitat,” he snorts, earning a cushion to the face from Jeongin.

"Animation." Felix pipes up from beside Hyunjin, voice rumbling with cheerful certainty.

A beat.

Then the room erupts again.

“Too childish!”

“We’re not twelve, Lix!”

“You just wanna sing along to Encanto again!”

Felix only grins, unbothered.

Chan rubs a hand down his face. He’s a patient man, but even he has his limits. “Alright, enough,” he cuts in, raising his voice over the chaos. “We’re watching animation.”

The group groans as one.

“Of course,” Jisung says, mock-annoyed, pointing a potato chip at him. “Hyung always goes with what Felix wants. Every single time.”

Chan shoots him a look. “At least he brought cookies. What did you bring?”

That earns laughter, a few cushions tossed in his direction, and finally, blessed silence as someone finally cues up Frozen.

Chan sinks into the empty corner of the couch, grateful for the lull. He barely has time to relax before he notices movement out of the corner of his eye.

Felix.

He quietly leaves Hyunjin’s side and pads straight toward Chan.

Chan raises a brow. “Everything okay?”

Felix flashes him a sheepish grin. “I’m cold and you’re like a space heater.”

Chan sighs, though warmth flickers in his chest. “Come on, then.” He shifts, making space.

“Thanks, Channie,” Felix says brightly, dropping down beside him and curling in like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His head tucks against Chan’s shoulder, legs folded close, body warm and solid against his side.

Chan stares at the TV, pretending to be invested as Elsa belts her heart out in the snow. But all he can feel is Felix’s weight pressed into him, every breath syncing to his own.

And it’s driving him insane.

Felix shifts halfway through the first chorus, mumbling something about “getting comfy,” and before Chan can react, he’s inching closer until he’s practically on Chan’s lap. One of his thighs presses over Chan’s, arm looped across his middle, head nestled into the curve of his neck.

Chan goes rigid.

Every exhale from Felix ghosts hot across the sensitive skin just below his jaw. Soft hair brushes his throat, that low hum of approval vibrating against his collarbone.

Chan swallows hard, heat prickling at the back of his neck. He should move Felix off, but his arm lifts instead, hand finding his hip like it belongs there.

Felix sighs contentedly, his lips grazing too close to Chan’s pulse.

Chan’s breath stutters, and against his better judgment, he feels it—the coil of arousal low in his stomach, his body reacting helplessly to Felix’s closeness.

He squeezes his eyes shut for a second. Not here. Not now. It’s innocent, completely innocent. Felix is just being clingy, the way he always is.

After that, it miraculously gets better, thanks in part to Chan’s attempts to think of increasingly non-sexy things, and because Felix has stopped moving.

But then Olaf waddles across the screen. Felix laughs, the sound rumbling through Chan’s chest and starts moving again. Little wiggles and shifts as he burrows even closer. Each movement grinds him more firmly into Chan’s lap.

Chan’s hands curl into fists against the couch cushions. Don’t think about it. Don’t—

But his body betrays him. His jeans tighten uncomfortably, the problem growing worse with every casual brush of Felix’s hip.

Chan’s pulse hammers. Shit. No, no, not here.

He shifts, trying to angle away, but Felix only murmurs sleepily and slides even further into his lap. His cock twitches at the contact.

That’s it. Chan grabs his shoulders, gentler than he feels, and pushes him back just enough to break it.

Felix blinks up at him, confused. “Everything okay, hyung?”

Chan forces a laugh that sounds too thin, patting Felix’s knee before scrambling to his feet. “Yeah. I'm just—uh. Gonna get some more popcorn for everyone.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes, just bolts for the kitchen.

The cool air hits him the moment he rounds the corner, and he braces both hands on the cool granite of the counter, dragging in a shaky breath. His erection strains against his jeans, fully hard now, throbbing with every beat of his pulse.

He curses under his breath.

He doesn’t know how much longer he can keep this up.

The change starts small.

When they pile into the van, Chan takes the seat between Jisung and Minho, leaving no space for anyone else to sit next to him. When they’re sprawled in the living room, he keeps his laptop close and sits by himself at the desk instead of the couch. During practice, he busies himself with stretches and warm-ups, always moving before Felix can drape himself over his shoulders.

Each time Felix reaches for him, Chan sidesteps just slightly. Not harsh. Not obvious. Just enough.

And every time, Felix gives him that look.

Wide-eyed, confused, like he doesn’t understand why the warmth he’s always had is suddenly gone. Like he’s asking silently, Did I do something wrong?

And it guts him, every single time, but Chan forces a smile, forces easy words. “I’m just busy, Lix. Later, yeah?” He ruffles Felix’s hair, tries to make it playful. But the crease between Felix’s brows doesn’t smooth.

And Chan hates it. Hates the way Felix shrinks back for a moment before bouncing to someone else, shoulders slumped and gaze distant.

But what choice does he have?

He can’t risk Felix knowing how close he came—pun intended—that night on the couch. Can’t risk him looking at Chan any differently or pulling away from him.

Or worse—making things awkward for everyone.

Stray Kids is everything. Their bond, their family. One wrong move could ruin it all.

So Chan pulls back.

And every time Felix’s confused eyes flick toward him, Chan feels like the worst kind of coward.

The dorm is loud, music pulsing through speakers, laughter bouncing off the walls. Bottles and cans clutter the table, everyone already a few drinks in.

Chan leans against the wall with a water bottle. Someone has to stay sober.

“Hyung!” Jisung stumbles over, cheeks flushed, grin too wide. He thrusts a glass into Chan’s hand. “C’mon, drink with us. Just once. You never do.”

Chan shakes his head. “One of us needs to keep watch. You lot can’t be trusted.”

Before Jisung can argue, Seungmin calls out, “Don’t worry. Felix volunteered.”

Chan’s head snaps up. Across the room, Felix sits alone with a Sprite, staring into the fizz. His sunshine smile is gone, replaced by a small frown. Surly. Distant.

Chan’s chest aches.

But Jisung waves the glass again, and Chan sighs, taking it. “Fine. Just one.”

One turns into two, then three. A pleasant buzz hums through his veins, softening the edges. For once, he laughs freely.

When he looks again, Felix isn’t alone. Hyunjin and Changbin flank him, making him laugh, his deep laugh echoing across the room.

Relieved, Chan lets himself get dragged into a card game.

By the time the music fades and bottles clink into trash bags, everyone is stumbling off to their rooms. Chan’s buzz has dulled to a steady warmth. He and Felix trail behind the others, silence stretching heavy and awkward where it used to be easy.

At his door, Chan smiles softly, genuinely. “Goodnight, Lix. Thanks for looking out for us tonight.”

Felix’s eyes flick up to meet his, then down again. “No problem, hyung,” he mumbles, voice low, almost swallowed by the quiet hall.

Something twists deep in Chan’s chest.

He pushes the door open only to feel a small tug at the back of his shirt.

Chan freezes. He turns slowly, heart already pounding.

Felix stands there, eyes wide, lip caught between his teeth, fingers clenched in Chan’s shirt like he’ll fall apart if he lets go.

“Hyung…” Felix swallows hard, voice rough. “Why are you avoiding me?”

The words are soft, but they land heavier than any shout.

Chan’s breath catches.

Felix looks at him like he’s bracing for impact, like he already expects the worst. “Did I do something wrong? If I made you uncomfortable or… or if you don’t want me around anymore, just—just tell me. Please.”

Chan’s chest twists painfully. “Lixie…” He reaches up before he can stop himself, cupping Felix’s cheek gently. The skin is warm and soft under his palm. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Not a thing."

Felix blinks up at him, lips pressed tight, eyes still searching his face for answers.

“I just…” Chan's voice cracks. He cuts himself off and forces a smile, shaky at best. “You’re important to me, you know that, right? More than you realise.”

Felix’s eyes widen, the hurt shifting to something else—hope, maybe, or disbelief. His lips part like he’s about to speak, then falter.

The silence stretches, heavy, humming with everything unspoken. Chan’s thumb brushes Felix’s cheek without thinking, grounding himself in the closeness, in the way Felix leans just slightly into the touch.

Chan knows he’s at the edge of something dangerous, but he can't stop.

Felix’s lashes tremble as he leans into his touch, his lips parting before the words tumble out, shaky but firm.

“Then why are you avoiding me… if I mean that much to you?”

Chan’s heart stops.

Felix is still clutching his shirt, knuckles white, eyes shining with hurt and something deeper. His voice cracks on the last word, and it tears Chan apart.

“I—” Chan swallows hard, but the excuses won’t come. He can’t tell Felix the truth—that every hug, every smile, every laugh has been driving him insane. That he can’t sleep some nights because the ghost of Felix’s warmth lingers too long.

“I was scared,” he blurts instead, and he fights the urge to slap himself because that’s not much better, not really. “Scared you’d see too much. Scared I’d ruin this—” His voice breaks. “Ruin us.”

Felix’s breath hitches.

There is silence for a beat, but then, Felix steps closer, so close Chan feels the warmth radiating off him, their foreheads almost touching. “You can’t ruin us,” he whispers, eyes locked on his. “Not with me.”

Before Chan can spiral further, Felix closes the distance between them.

His mouth crashes against Chan’s, slightly chapped lips moulding to his with a certainty that steals every thought from Chan’s head. The kiss isn’t careful, it’s raw, clumsy, aching with need.

Chan combusts inside. Heat explodes through his chest, his stomach, his veins. Every wall he’s built crumbles under the press of Felix’s lips. He grips Felix’s waist without thinking, hauling him closer, because he needs more, needs all of him.

Felix makes a sound, low and wrecked, and it shoots straight through Chan, dragging another groan from his throat.

By the time they break for air, Chan is dizzy, gasping, his heart pounding like it’s going to tear out of his chest.

Felix stares at him, lips kiss-swollen, chest heaving. “See?” Felix whispers shakily with a sunshine bright smile. “Not ruined.”

Chan presses his forehead to Felix’s, eyes shut, fighting the swirl of relief and terror in his chest. “Lix… you have no idea what you do to me.”

Felix smiles and kisses him again, gentler this time, like a promise. The kiss barely breaks before Felix tugs at his shirt again, pulling him backwards through the door to Chan’s room.

Chan fumbles the handle shut behind them, his back hitting the wood as Felix presses in, lips finding his again with a hungry little sound that makes Chan’s knees weak as arousal shoots through him like an electric current.

“Felix—” Chan gasps against his mouth, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away. “We shouldn’t…”

Felix shakes his head stubbornly. “I don’t care. I don’t want you to avoid me anymore.” His voice is low, almost pleading. “I just want you. Please, hyung.”

And that’s all it takes.

Chan surges forward, capturing his lips in a kiss that’s deeper this time, rougher, years of restraint snapping all at once. Felix moans into it, arms winding tight around Chan’s neck, body pressed flush against his.

They stumble toward the bed, bumping into the desk along the way, laughing breathlessly into each other’s mouths before falling onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs. Felix ends up straddling him, hair falling into his face, eyes dark but shining.

Chan’s breath catches. God, he’s beautiful.

Felix leans down, hips rolling just enough to make Chan groan. Heat floods his body, arousal spiking sharp and overwhelming. His hands find Felix’s waist, gripping tight, guiding him down against the hardness straining his jeans.

Felix gasps, a low sound that makes Chan’s head spin. “Hyung…” he whispers, breath hot against his ear as he grinds down even harder, “you feel so good.”

Chan squeezes his eyes shut, a curse slipping out. “Lixie…” His voice cracks, thick with need. “You’ve gotta slow down or I’m gonna lose it.”

Felix leans back just enough to meet his eyes, his handsome face glowing faintly in the lamplight. His pupils are blown wide, lips kiss-swollen, chest heaving. “Then lose it,” he whispers, rolling his hips again.

Chan swears under his breath, surging up to kiss him hard, desperate. His hands slide under Felix’s hoodie, pushing it up until warm skin meets his palms. Felix shivers as Chan peels the hoodie up and over his head, tossing it aside.

For a moment, Chan just stares, breath caught in his throat. Smooth, pale skin stretched over lean muscle, freckles scattered across his chest like stardust.

His hand lifts before he can stop it, palm flattening over Felix’s sternum, savouring the warmth and the thrum of his heartbeat. He drags his hand slowly down, tracing the line of his ribs, the dip of his waist.

Felix shivers again, lips parting.

Chan’s thumb brushes over a perfect pink nipple experimentally, and the sharp gasp Felix lets out makes his cock twitch painfully in his jeans. He circles it once, lightly, then pinches, and Felix moans, tilting forward, hair falling into his eyes.

“Hyung…” His voice breaks on the word, needy, flushed all the way to his chest.

Chan groans, leaning up to kiss the sound right out of his mouth, his other hand teasing Felix’s other nipple now, rubbing until Felix’s hips twitch against him.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Chan rasps.

Felix shifts nervously under the attention, biting his lip. “Stop looking at me like that,” he murmurs, shy despite grinding his ass against Chan’s erection seconds ago.

Chan shakes his head, voice rough. “Can’t help it. You’re… perfect.”

Felix flushes. Then, to his surprise, Felix shimmies lower, lips trailing hot kisses down his neck and his hands sliding further down.

Every nerve in Chan’s body sparks when Felix pushes at the waistband of his jeans. He fumbles with the button, gaze flicking up to meet Chan’s—checking, teasing, asking all at once.

Chan groans, head falling back against the headboard. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Felix cuts in, voice low and steady. He tugs the zipper down, his knuckles brushing against the aching bulge. Chan hisses, hips jerking helplessly.

Felix smirks faintly, leaning down to press a kiss just above the waistband, then pulls his boxers down enough to free his cock. Chan’s breath stutters, the sudden cool air against hot skin making him twitch in Felix’s hand.

Felix licks his lips, quick and nervous, a flash of pink before his gaze drops again. His eyes are wide, dark with intent, awe flickering through them like he still cannot quite believe this is real. Then a breathy, husky laugh slips out of him.

“Wow,” he murmurs softly. “You’re… big.”

Chan’s breath catches hard in his chest. Heat rushes up his throat, curls around the tips of his ears, leaves him dizzy with it. “…Thanks,” he mumbles, the word absurdly polite against the raw ache straining through him.

Felix’s gaze flicks up and catches Chan’s for a single, burning second, his lips curving just enough to make his cock twitch again.

And then Felix leans in.

Chan feels the first touch everywhere at once. A brief, hot flick of tongue, tentative and curious, brushing across the sensitive head. The jolt of it locks his spine, and sends his head knocking back against the headboard with a dull sound.

Felix does not pull away. He slides lower, lips sealing around him, heat and softness closing in. Chan’s breath stutters out of him, broken and helpless.

The sight nearly undoes him.

Felix between his thighs, bare skin flushed and glowing, freckles scattered across his chest. Lashes casting shadows against his cheeks, lips stretched and wet. One hand braced on Chan’s thigh, fingers trembling like he is holding himself in place. Almost naked, open and unguarded, while Chan is still half-dressed. The imbalance makes his arousal spike painfully, like being offered everything while still being forced to hold back.

Chan’s hand lifts, shaking, and cups the back of Felix’s head. His fingers sink into soft blonde hair, meant to steady, meant to ground them both. Instead, his hips jerk up despite himself, chasing the heat.

Felix gags softly, throat tightening around him. The sound snaps sharp and intimate through Chan’s body.

“Sorry, fuck, I didn’t mean…” Chan gasps, panic cutting through the haze as he pulls back, already regretting it.

Felix resists.

He looks up, eyes wet and shining, mouth messy and stretched, a thin sheen of spit at his lips. There is nothing hurt in his expression. Only need. Only trust. He shakes his head, a low sound vibrating against Chan’s skin, pleading and certain all at once.

Something in Chan gives way.

“You want it rough, baby?” he rasps, the endearment slipping out broken and bare.

Felix’s eyes flutter shut. He moans, deep and resonant, a sound that leaves no room for doubt. When he opens them again, they are heavy-lidded and dark, fixed on Chan as his free hand slides down his own torso. His touch is confident now, deliberate.

That is what breaks Chan.

His grip tightens in Felix’s hair, guiding instead of steadying. His other hand clamps onto Felix’s hip, fingers digging in, grounding himself in the warmth of skin. He rolls his hips upward slowly at first, careful, letting Felix adjust, watching his reactions.

“That’s it,” Chan murmurs, voice low and unfamiliar even to himself as he watches Felix obediently take every inch he's given. “Just like that.”

He moves again. Shallow, controlled. Then Felix relaxes, opens, takes him deeper, and restraint slips through Chan’s fingers. The sounds turn messy and wet, breathless and wrecking. Chan’s thrusts grow harder, rougher, driven by instinct instead of thought.

Each gag sends a sharp vibration through him, pleasure coiling tight in his core. Tears spill from Felix’s eyes, streaking down flushed cheeks, but his expression is blissed-out, ruined, like this is exactly where he wants to be. Like this is what he has been waiting for.

“Fuck,” Chan groans softly. “Look at you.”

He watches himself disappear into Felix’s mouth, watches Felix take it without hesitation. “You're doing so well for me, Lixie,” he breathes reverently. “Such a good boy for hyung, aren't you?”

The words hit Felix like a physical force. He makes a broken sound and pushes down further, deeper than Chan expects, until he can feel the overwhelming, tight squeeze of Felix’s throat.

“God, Felix,” Chan chokes, voice shattering.

His eyes squeeze shut, thighs trembling as he holds him there, buried deep, grip white-knuckled in Felix’s hair. He can feel every swallow, every involuntary response, every tiny movement that sends pleasure tearing through him.

Felix chokes softly, tears flowing freely now, spit slicking his chin. His hand moves fast and desperate on himself, strokes uneven and messy, perfectly in time with Chan’s ragged breaths.

The sight destroys him.

Chan comes with a guttural cry, body arching off the bed as release crashes through him, vision washing out at the edges. Somewhere through it, he feels Felix swallow around him, once, twice, deliberate and intimate, and it pulls another helpless sound from Chan’s chest.

It only takes a few more strokes for Felix to shudder violently with a throaty moan, hips jerking as he comes, release streaking across his stomach. The submissive, undone look on his face as he falls apart like that makes Chan’s vision blur, his cock twitching with interest even after he just came.

Beautiful. His.

Chan’s chest heaves, the aftershocks still buzzing through him. He takes in the tearstained cheeks and bitten lips and feels panic creeping as the haze lifts.

“Shit—” His voice cracks as he strokes Felix’s damp hair back from his forehead, guilt twisting tight. “I was too rough, wasn’t I? I shouldn’t have—”

Felix pulls back slowly. His voice is wrecked when he speaks, low and hoarse. “M’okay, hyung.” He swallows hard, then manages a crooked, satisfied smile. “More than okay.”

Chan still frowns, not convinced. He grabs the tissue box from the bedside table, tugging a few free. “Come here.”

Felix’s cheeks flame as Chan gently wipes his mouth, his chin, the mess across his stomach. “Hyung, you don’t have to—”

“I do,” Chan says firmly, soft but certain. “Let me take care of you.”

Felix tries to hide his face, embarrassed, but Chan’s patient, steady hands keep going until they’re both cleaned up. When he finally tosses the tissues aside, he pulls Felix up into the bed properly, tucking him against his chest, arms wrapping around him.

For the first time in weeks, maybe months, Chan breathes easy.

Felix giggles suddenly, deep and breathy.

Chan tilts his head, amused. “What is it?”

Felix shifts, looking up at him through his lashes, grin lazy. “I, uh… volunteered to be sober tonight. Just so you’d get buzzed enough to stop overthinking.”

Chan blinks, then lets out a startled laugh. “You devious little minx.” He says fondly.

Felix beams, nuzzling into his chest. “Had to be creative and improvise. No offence, hyung, but you’re very dense.”

Chan gapes at him. “Dense? I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” Felix cuts in, voice muffled against his chest. Then, softer, almost shyly, “I literally confessed to you a few weeks ago, and it still flew right over your head.”

Chan freezes. Images of Felix in his lap flashes back to him — messy blonde hair, freckles glowing, lip caught between his teeth, eyes dark and unflinching. His voice low, certain as he whispered a confession, looking frighteningly sober for that one moment.

“And I love you, Channie-hyung.”

Chan had convinced himself it hadn’t meant anything. But it had.

“Oh.” The sound slips out, quiet, stupid.

Felix snorts, half amused, half exasperated. “See? Dense.”

Chan laughs, helpless this time, pressing a kiss into Felix’s hair. “Guess I was. But not anymore.”

Felix hums, satisfied, curling closer into his arms. And Chan holds him tight, finally letting himself believe it—Felix is his, and he doesn’t have to run from it anymore.

The kitchen smells like coffee and eggs when Chan shuffles in with Felix behind him. He tries to play it cool, but it feels like every step into the room is under a spotlight.

They step through the doorway. Six heads turn.

Silence. Too much silence.

Then Minho sets his coffee down, eyes narrowing as he takes in the space between them — or lack of it. Felix brushing against Chan’s arm, Chan hovering a little too protectively at his side, both of them wearing the same soft, dazed look.

“Finally,” Minho says flatly.

The table erupts.

“Finally?!” Jisung chokes on his toast, eyes wide. “Wait—finally as in finally? Oh my god.”

Seungmin leans back with his juice, smirking. “Called it. Dense Hyung finally caught on.”

Hyunjin collapses into laughter, wheezing. “Leader-nim, ace producer, industry genius… complete idiot when it comes to love!”

Chan sighs. “Come on, guys, am I really that bad?”

Changbin points like he’s accusing Chan of a crime. “You had Felix hanging off you like a koala for months! How did you not know?”

Jeongin shakes his head solemnly, stabbing his eggs with his fork. “Honestly, hyung, I thought you were rejecting him on purpose. Turns out you’re just slow.”

Jisung slams his hands down dramatically. “Do you know how painful it was watching you two pine from five feet apart? I nearly wrote fanfiction just to cope.”

Seungmin raises his brows at him. “Nearly?”

“...Okay, I did,” Jisung admits, sulking. “But that’s not the point!”

Minho takes a long sip of coffee and deadpans, “We should get him a medal. For services to obliviousness.”

The room howls with laughter, and Chan groans while Felix giggles into his sleeve, freckles crinkling with delight. Chan shoots him a look — half scolding, half helplessly fond — which only makes him laugh harder.

“Alright, alright,” Chan says, raising his hands in surrender. His ears are burning, but he can’t stop smiling. “Yes, I’m dense. We’ve established that. Can we please eat before this becomes a roast session?”

“Too late,” Minho says smoothly, sipping his coffee.

And Jeongin, mouth full of eggs, adds innocently. “We were planning on throwing you a parade once you figure out Felix has been in love with you for seven years.”

Felix snorts into his sleeve, hiding his flushed face. Chan turns to Felix, surprised. “Wait. How many years now?”

Felix just smiles, that cheeky, sunshine-bright grin breaking through as he shakes his head. “Later.”

Chan stares at him, half exasperated, half hopelessly smitten. Felix only giggles again, brushing their knees together under the table like a secret.