Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The front door clicked shut behind them with a dull finality, muffled by the sound of Felix’s sneakers being half-kicked, half-dragged off his aching feet. He barely registered the weight of his own bag slipping down his shoulder, hitting the floor with a soft thud. His arms felt boneless, and his legs were stiff with the kind of exhaustion that made his steps feel underwater, like he was pushing through invisible sludge just to move forward.

Seungmin locked the door with a soft click, glancing over at him. Felix didn’t meet his eyes, he didn’t even lift his head.

His phone vibrated weakly in his pocket, and he slowly tugged it free with fingers that felt too slow. The screen glowed brightly in the darkened hallway.

Chan 🐺: Make sure you eat, okay? Text me once you’re in bed. Love you ❤️

Felix stared at the message, letting the words soak into his foggy brain. His lips twitched into a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He tapped out a reply with his thumb.

Felix: ❤️ wish i could sleep in your bed tonight.

He didn’t expect a response right away—Chan was still at the studio, and so were Changbin and Han. They were going to be stuck there all night again. The three of them would probably be curled up on that overworked couch, trying to get comfortable enough for a few hours of sleep while machines whirred around them.

Felix loved Chan. He loved Chan so much it ached, sometimes. But the last time he’d tried to stay with them, his back had been sore for three days. He couldn’t do it again. Not tonight. Not when his whole body already felt like it was held together with paperclips and string.

“You hungry?” Seungmin asked, already halfway to the kitchen. His voice was quiet, gentle in a way that Felix barely noticed but would be grateful for later.

Felix nodded absently. “Yeah,” he said, though the word didn’t sound right coming out of his mouth. It came out too slow, too soft. Like he was talking in his sleep.

“I’ll make something simple,” Seungmin said, and Felix hummed, barely audible, already turning toward the bathroom.

He made it to the shower and turned on the water before realizing his fingers were trembling. Steam began to rise from the faucet, curling upward and fogging the mirror as he stripped off his clothes with sluggish movements. His shirt got stuck around his wrist, and it took longer than it should have to free himself. He stepped into the shower without adjusting the temperature, letting the scalding water hit his skin without flinching.

It was too hot, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He stood under the stream, motionless. Eyes open. The water blurred his vision, dripping from his lashes. The spray hit his back and shoulders in pulses, like little shocks, but he didn’t move. His mind felt full—stuffed with something thick and heavy. He blinked slowly, struggling to even remember what he was supposed to be doing. Had he shampooed? Was he done?

Eventually, he turned off the tap and stepped out, dripping. He dried off without really feeling the towel in his hands and pulled on an old hoodie and a pair of sweatpants before padding back out into the apartment.

The lights were warm in the kitchen, and Seungmin had plated dinner for them both. Felix sat down at the table, steam curling up from the stir-fried rice and fried egg. He picked up his chopsticks, hands awkward with the motion, and managed a few bites.

It didn’t taste like anything. It should have. It was good, he could tell from the texture, the balance, but it just didn’t reach him.

Seungmin sat down across from him, watching quietly for a minute before asking, “Are you okay?”

Felix blinked at him, slow and empty. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words got caught. His thoughts were tangled and sticky, like someone had wrapped his brain in gauze. The longer he sat there, the harder it became to think clearly. His heartbeat felt strange—sluggish, but loud. Each thud echoed in his ears.

“I’m just… tired,” he finally murmured. But even that didn’t feel true enough. He wasn’t just tired. He felt wrong. Off. liek something inside him was slipping loose.

“You should go to bed,” Seungmin said gently. There was a crease between his eyebrows, concern in the way his fingers curled around his own chopsticks. “I’ll clean up.”

Felix nodded, slowly rising to his feet. The movement sent a strange pressure through his head, just a little too light, a little too spinny. He gripped the back of the chair for a second longer than necessary, then muttered a soft, “Thanks.”

The hallway was dim, his steps were quiet. The world around him felt further and further away with every passing second, like he was walking through fog, and his body was trying to float off without him.

His eyes landed on his bed. The navy comforter was rumpled from the morning, and his favorite stuffed animal was tucked into the pillows. For a second, he thought about how soft the sheets would feel. How much he wanted to bury himself under them and sleep for a week. Maybe more.

He took one step.

Then another.

And then—

A violent headrush swept through him, like the floor had dropped out from under his feet. The world spun, tilting sideways. His knees buckled before he could react, and he gasped—a small, startled sound—before everything went black.

His body hit the floor with a soft thud, crumpling sideways in a heap. His phone, still in his hoodie pocket, slipped out and skittered across the hardwood. The screen lit up briefly with a new message from Chan.

Chan 🐺: Wish I could hold you tonight. Sweet dreams, Lix.

But Felix didn’t see it.

Felix was laid on the floor, unconscious, body curled slightly where it landed, the room utterly silent aside from the faint hum of the dorm’s heater and the sound of Seungmin, humming softly, entirely unaware just down the hall.

-

The sheets were warm, his pillows soft and familiar, but Minho couldn’t quite relax. He lay half-propped up in bed, the glow from his laptop casting soft shadows across the room. Some melodramatic K-drama played out on the screen—rain pouring as a heartbroken heir cried over a ring—but Minho wasn’t really watching. His eyes flicked between the screen and his phone, thumb absently scrolling through posts he didn’t read, photos he barely registered.

He sighed through his nose, jaw ticking when a text popped up.

Hannie 🐿: just finished another song 🫠

Minho clicked his tongue, head tilting back against the wall behind his bed. “Wow. Great,” he muttered sarcastically, though his chest ached.

Because “just finished” didn’t mean “coming home.”

He knew this was the plan, he wasn’t dumb. Chan, Han, and Changbin had scheduled this studio lockdown days ago. Minho had even helped prep their food. He just… didn’t think he’d miss his boyfriend so much, even for one night.

And it wasn’t just Han. The whole group had been run ragged lately. The North American leg of the tour was coming up, their comeback was looming, an album deadline breathing down their necks, and their individual schedules were relentless.

And Felix—God, Felix.

Minho’s chest tightened just thinking about him.

Ever since they’d returned from their brief winter break, Felix hadn’t stopped. Photoshoots, magazine features, dance rehearsals, fashions shows, endorsements. He was everywhere—and nowhere. He barely came home, and when he did, he looked like he might crumble if you touched him too hard.

Minho tried to help in the ways he could. Made his favorite snacks when he knew felix had a break. Bought heating patches and slipped them into his backpack. Pulled him close whenever he was too tired to keep his head up. But it never felt like enough.

A soft thump broke his thoughts, followed by a familiar purring. Soonie, with his always-mischievous eyes, jumped onto the bed and padded over, curling beside Minho’s hip. He nudged Minho’s hand, demanding attention.

Minho chuckled faintly, dragging his fingers through the cat’s soft fur. “You just want love and snacks, huh?” he murmured. “You and Felix both.”

He smiled at that, warm affection tugging at his lips. “Honestly… you guys are kind of alike. If i feed you and rub your tummy, you love me forever.”

He was just thinking about texting Felix when his phone buzzed again—but this time it was a call.

Seungmin.

Minho’s heart dropped to his stomach. He sat up so fast he almost knocked his laptop off the bed. “Hello?”

”Hyung—” Seungmin’s voice was thin, cracking. “Can you come over? Please?”

Minho’s blood ran cold. ‘What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I—just come,” Seungmin begged, breathless. “Please. Just hurry.”

That was all he needed to hear.

“I’ll be there in ten.”

He was out the door in a blur, jacket barely zipped, shoes only half on. The cold night air slapped him across the face as he sprinted the short walk to Seungmin and Felix’s place, legs burning, heart hammering. His lungs felt like fire. He didn’t stop once, not at red lights, not at the crosswalk. Nothing else mattered.

His knuckled banged the door like a battering ram the second he arrived, panting hard.

Seungmin yanked it open almost immediately. His hair was a mess, eyes wide and glassy, panic carved into every line of his face.

Minho’s hands were on him instantly, checking for injuries. “Are you hurt? Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine,” Seungmin said quickly, breath shaking. “I’m okay. It’s not me. It’s Felix.”

Minho’s stomach clenched so hard he almost gagged. “His back? Did he collapse?”

Seungmin shook his head, frantic. “No–it’s not that. Just–-come with me.”

Minho growled low in his throat. “Seungmin-ah, tell me what’s going on—”

“I can’t explain it,” Seungmin hissed, turning and walking fast. “You just have to see.”

Minho followed, dread clawing up his spine. The hallway felt wrong, like something had fractured in the air. When he turned into the living room, his heart stuttered.

And stopped.

At the coffee table, perched on a cushion with a coloring book spread out before him, was a child. A toddler. He was small, dressed in an enormous hoodie that dragged across the floor, the sleeves swallowing his arms.

He sat cross-legged, one chubby hand clumsily gripping a green crayon as he colored over a picture of a giraffe. His little tongue peeked out between his lips in focus, and soft hums escaped him—tuneless, happy, innocent.

“What the fuck is that,” Minho breathed.

Seungmin didn’t laugh. He didn’t even flinch.

Minho turned to him, eyes wide. “Who is that kid? Why is there a child in your apartment–”

“That’s Felix,” Seungmin whispered.

Minho turned back slowly, chest rising and falling too fast. “Don’t joke—”

“I’m not.” Seungmin’s voice cracked. “That’s Felix.”

-

The thud was soft, but it didn’t sound right.

Seungmin looked up from the kitchen sink, suds still slinging to his hands. It wasn’t loud, but it was sharp—off. Not the kind of sound you could brush off as nothing. Not in a quiet apartment shared with someone who’d barely touched his dinner and could barely stay upright through a conversation.

He paused, brow furrowing as he glanced at the hallway.

“...Felix?”

No answer.

He dried his hands hastily on a towel, lips pressed in a tight line, and walked toward the bedrooms. The apartment was dimly lit, only the kitchen light casting a glow down the narrow hallway. Each step felt heavier than the last, like his body was already bracing for something without telling him why.

He stopped in front of Felix’s door.

Knocked gently. “Lixie? You alright?”

Silence.

Seungmin tilted his head, straining to hear anything—shifting, breathing, even a faint reply. But the room was still. Completely still.

He swallowed, unease curling low in his stomach. Then came a sound that made every hair on his body stand on end.

A cry.

But not Felix’s. Hight-pitched, frantic, piercing.

A child’s wail.

His heart seized in his chest. He didn’t think, he just moved.

He threw the door open, and froze. His mind went blank.

His eyes swept over the room, desperate to understand what he was seeing. The bed was untouched. Felix’s phone laid on the floor, the screen cracked slightly at the corner.

And in the middle of the room—crumpled in a heap of oversized clothing, drowning in the same hoodie Felix had been wearing only minutes ago—was a toddler.

Tiny. Red-faced. Sobbing.

The cries hit Seungmin like a blow, shaking the walls of the room, ripping through his ears. He stumbled forward on instinct, heart in his throat, knees hitting the floor beside the child.

The boy looked up briefly, just long enough for Seungmin to see his eyes, watery, wild, golden-brown like honey lit from within.

The toddler wailed louder, his little hands clutching the sleeves like they were anchors. The fabric dragged far beyond his fingertips, the hem puddled around his hips. His face was scrunched tight with panic, cheeks wet and blotchy, mouth trembling with every breath.

Seungmin couldn’t speak. He couldn’t think.

Where was Felix?

Why was there a toddler?

How—how had a toddler gotten in here?

He reached out, palms upward in a shaky attempt at comfort. “Hey, hey, it’s okay—shhh—you’re okay, I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise…”

The child wailed louder.

Seungmin flinched. “Okay, okay, sorry,” he whispered, hands pulling back slightly. “Just—deep breaths, okay, little guy? I don’t know who you are, but—wait.”

His breath hitched. His eyes narrowed as he looked again.

The crying boy’s lips were full and pink, trembling in a way he’d seen before. His nose button-like, lightly upturned. And then—his face turned just slightly toward the light filtering from the hallway, and Seungmin saw them.

Freckles.

A gentle scattering across soft cheeks and the bridge of his nose. His skin glowed warm and golden despite the tears, and suddenly, everything slowed.

Seungmin blinked once.

Twice.

His stomach turned to ice.

“No way,” he breathed.

The child hiccuped mid-sob, pausing just for a second, eyes still brimming with tears.

Seungmin leaned forward slowly, his voice dropping to barely a whisper. “... Felix?”

The crying stopped.

The toddler sniffled and blinked up at him, lashes wet, the exact same way Felix always did when he was trying not to cry. Their eyes met—truly met—and something in the air shifted.

The child’s sobbing faded into little hiccups, confusion overtaking panic. And that was when Seungmin knew.

His heart dropped out of his chest. His hands began to shake.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, sitting back on his heels, eyes never leaving the boy in front of him. Because there was no doubt anymore.

That wasn’t just a toddler.

That was Felix.

-

Minho sat frozen on the couch, eyes locked on the toddler still drawing on the floor. The tiny hand swapped crayons, little lips pressing together in concentration as he started coloring a dinosaur purple.

“That’s Felix?” he asked slowly, voice faint.

“He hasn’t said anything,” Seungmin whispered beside him. “Just cried when I try to ask questions.”

Minho didn’t respond for a long time. He just stared, trying to process what he was looking at. The soft brown hair. The freckles. The chubby cheeks. The oversized hoodie dragging behind him.

The toddler version of Felix.

Drawing dinosaurs.

Completely oblivious to the absolute chaos he had just caused.

Minho exhaled shakily and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands.

“...We are so, so screwed.”

-

Minho hadn’t moved in several minutes.

He was still sitting on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely, staring at the three-year-old version of his dongsaeng like he’d been hit over the head with a frying pan. Repeatedly. He was barely breathing, because the moment he blinked, the kid might vanish, and this would all be some fever dream brough on by sleep deprivation and too many hours without Han’s clingy warmth.

But the toddler didn’t vanish.

No, he was very real—and currently poking his togue out while scribbling a vibrant pink sun across the top of his paper.

Minho swallowed, glancing at Seungmin, who looked like he might pass out at any second.

He had to do something.

So Minho cleared his throat and shifted to the floor in front of the table, kneeling carefully. “Felix?” he asked softly. “Do you feel okay? Are you hurt?”

The toddler blinked at him, lips parting. Then, slowly, his expression crumpled—his chin trembled, his tiny brows prinched together, and tears welled in his eyes so fast it made Minho’s stomach drop.

“No, no, no—shh, don’t cry—”

But it was too late.

Felix burst into tears, loud and startled, the kind of crying that shot straight through the chest like a knife. He hiccuped through the sobs, fists rubbing at his face in panicked circles. The crayons scattered from his lap as he pushed himself backward on the floor, his little body shrinking into itself like he was trying to disappear.

Minho froze.

Seungmin moved in beside him. “Why is he crying again?! You didn’t even do anything!”

“I don’t—” Minho’s words died on his tongue. He looked at Felix again—at the way his eyes darted between them, confused and frightened—and then realization hit.

Felix didn’t understand them.

“Oh my god,” he breathed. “He doesn’t speak Korean.”

Seungmin blinked. “What?”

“He’s a baby, Seungmin. He was raised in Australia. He doesn’t know what we’re saying—he’s just hearing a bunch of noise from two giants staring at him.”

The younger froze, mouth slightly open.

Minho groaned, dragging a hand through his hair, heart thudding in his chest. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

A fresh sob from Felix snapped him back to the moment. He looked down at the toddler—red-faced, sniffling, lip pushed out in a wobble—and something inside Minho twisted painfully.

He would do anything for Felix. Anything.

Even this.

Even English.

He took a breath, forced his mouth into a gentle smile, and spoke slowly.

“...Do you… understand me now?”

Felix’s cries slowed to sniffles. He tilted his head a little, uncertain.

”...Yuh-huh,” he whispered, voice small and shaky.

Minho almost cried with relief.

“Good. That’s really good,” he said gently. He pointed to himself. “I’m Minho.”

He then pointed over his shoulder. “That’s Seungmin. He’s nice, promise.”

Felix stared, thumb creeping toward his mouth.

“..’m Lixie,” he mumbled around it, then dropped his hand again quickly, like he thought he’d be scolded.

Minho’s heart broke into a thousand little pieces.

“Hi Lixie,” he whispered. “You’re doing really good, buddy.”

Felix blinked at him, face still blotchy but slowly relaxing. He shifted on his cushion, playing with a corner of the too-big hoodie he was swimming in.

“You hungry?”

That got his attention.

Felix’s eyes went wide. “Mhm! Tummy goin’ grr!” he said seriously, little hands patting his belly for emphasis.

Minho smiled, all warmth and wonder. “Okay. Let’s get you food.”

He reached out slowly, offering his arms. “Come with me?”

Felix lit up like a light switch. His entire face brightened as he launched himself forward without hesitation, crawling into Minho’s arms with complete trust.

Minho caught him, stunned by the weightless little body that wrapped around him like a baby koala. Arms clung around his neck, legs wrapped as far as they ould reach. Felix tucked his head under Minho’s chin, face pressing close.

Minho didn’t speak. He couldn’t. His throat was thick, his arms gentle but firm around the child, his heart aching in a way he hadn’t expected.

He stood and carried him to the kitchen.

Seungmin trailed after them in dazed silence, eyes never leaving the boy in Minho’s arms.

They reached the kitchen, and Minho gently sat Felix on the island countertop, one hand on his back for support. “Stay here, okay? Don’t move.”

But the second Minho let go, Felix stood up and started toddling across the counter, heading for the edge with wide eyes like he’d discovered a new playground.

“Woah, no, no—Lixie, sit,” Minho said quickly, hands catching his shoulders. “Too high. Sit still, okay?”

Felix pouted but dropped onto his bottom with a thud. “‘Kay.”

Minho opened the fridge and cursed quietly under his breath. “What do toddlers eat?”

“We have cereal,” Seungmin offered weakly, still staring.

“He needs real food, not sugar bombs.”

Minho’s eyes landed on a pack of string cheese wedged behind a jar of kimchi. He grabbed it like it was holy. “This will work.”

He pulled out two sticks and unwrapped them, handing one to Felix.

“Cheese…” he breathed, cradling it. Then he bit into it with a dramatic hum and kicked his legs under the counter like a happy puppy.

Minho leaned against the counter across from him, arms crossed, just… watching. Watching the way Felix chewed slowly, the way his cheeks puffed out, the way his lashes flickered when he blinked up at the light.

It was bizarre. It was terrifying. It was Felix.

Seungmin edged in beside him. “So… what now?”

Minho shook his head slowly. “I have no idea.”

A whine cut through the quiet.

They both snapped their attention to Felix, who had dropped the last bite of his cheese on the counter and was now frowning hard.

“You ‘gain talkin’ funny,” he muttered, annoyed.

Minho blinked, then laughed, soft and stunned. “Sorry, buddy. We will use your words, okay?”

Felix looked pleased with that. Then he yawned. Big and open-mouhed. His little body stretched out like a cat, arms up, hoodie sleeves flopping over his hands.

Minho stepped forward, voice gentle. “Sleepy?”

Felix nodded. “Tired. Wanna cuddle.”

Minho’s heart was already soft, but it nearly exploded.

He scooped him up again, and Felix melted into his chest immediately, head nestled into the crook of his neck. His breath was warm against Minho’s collarbone, and his hands clung loosely to the collar of Minho’s hoodie.

He brought him back down the hall, stepping over the crumpled adult-sized pants on the floor, and into Felix’s bedroom.

The familiar space looked different now. The candles on the desk, the clothes on the floor, the scent of Felix’s lotion, still faint in the air.

Minho pulled the blankets back and gently laid the toddler down.

Felix giggled and wriggled around before crawling under the blanket himself. “S’comfy!”

Minho chuckled, tucking the covers around him. “Good.”

He leaned in and kissed his forehead, then stood to leave—

“Wait!” Felix shot up, eyes wide. “Gotta look!”

Minho blinked. “Look at what?”

“Mon’sters,” Felix whispered, suddenly serious. “In room. Check, please?”

Minho swallowed a laugh and nodded solemnly. “Absolutely.”

He dropped to the floor and made a big show of looking under the bed. “No monsters here…”

Then opened the closet doors dramatically. “None in here either.”

He even peeked behind the curtains and in the laundry basket.

Felix watched him from the bed with wide, trusting eyes, his fists curled under his chin.

Minho stood up straight and gave a dramatic bow. “Mission complete. Monster-free zone, sir.”

Felix beamed—but the second Minho turned again, a soft whimper stopped him.

He crouched back beside the bed. “What’s wrong now, little koala?”

Felix’s voice was barely above a whisper. “No like dark..”

Minho’s chest cracked clean open.

“...Okay,” he said softly. “Then I’ll stay.”

He climbed into bed, and Felix immediately rolled into his arms, tucking his tiny face into Minho’s chest. Minho wrapped his arms around the boy, holding him close, feeling his little fingers curl into his hoodie.

Felix mumbled something too quiet to catch.

“What’s that?”

Felix yawned again. “Minno warm..”

Minho smiled into his hair.

“Yeah, baby. I’m warm. And I’ve got you.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of his head, gently stroking his back until Felix’s breathing slowed, small body relaxing into sleep.

Minho held him there, heart aching, mind spinning, knowing full well that this was just the beginning of something they had no way of understanding.

But that could wait.

Right now, he had Felix in his arms, and that was all that mattered.

-

Minho stirred slightly, his back stiff from lying still too long, but he didn’t dare move much. Not with the tiny weight still curled tightly into him, sleeping soundly, his cheek smushed against Minho’s hoodie, lips parted in a quiet sigh.

Minho blinked slowly, eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the cracked bedroom door. He could feel the rise and fall of Felix’s tiny chest, warm and even, and the barely-there sound of a content little sigh.

Minho looked down at him and melted all over again.

Felix’s cheeks were a little flushed from sleep, lashes fanned across the apples of his cheeks, one hand curled up near his face like a kitten. There was something in his expression—so open, so vulnerable, so safe—that made Minho’s heart ache.

He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss to the boy’s forehead. “Sleep well, little koala,” he whispered.

Slowly, carefully, he lifted the boy just enough to slide out from under him. Felix stirred but didn’t wake, his small hand grasping at the air for a second before Minho gently guided it back to his chest.

He tucked the blankets up to his chin, smoothing them over his shoulders and softly adjusting his favorite stuffed wolf beside him. Felix let out a soft hum, rolling toward it in his sleep.

Minho lingered there for a moment, watching him—just breathing, taking in the miracle of it all.

Then he stepped out of the room and gently pulled the door closed behind him.

The apartment was quiet, washed in a soft blue cast from the living room light. As Minho passed the hallway, he noticed a strip of light beneath Seungmin’s bedroom door.

He pushed it open without knocking.

Seungmin sat cross-legged on his bed, laptop propped up in front of him, eyes glazed from too much scrolling. He glanced up at Minho, then motioned with a tilt of his chin. “Check your phone.”

Minho raised a brow but reached into his pocket. There was a new message. One image. He opened it–and immediately froze.

It was a photo. Seungmin must’ve taken it while passing the room earlier.

Minho was fast asleep, lying in Felix’s bed, arms wrapped gently around the small boy curled against him. Felix was buried into his chest, fingers clutching the fabric of Minho’s hoodie, expression peaceful and safe.

Minho stared at it for a moment longer than necessary.

Then he smiled.

His thumb hovered for a second before pressing save.

He sat on the edge of Seungmin’s bed, letting the moment settle around them like mist.

“So,” Seungmin said, closing his laptop with a soft click. “What the hell do we do now?”

Minho huffed a laugh. “You’re assuming I’ve had time to think.”

Seungmin leaned back against the wall, arms folded over his chest. “I mean, realistically… we call Chan-hyung. Right?”

Minho groaned and flopped backward across the mattress. “Yeah. Eventually. But what do we even say? ‘Hey, hyung, Felix turned into a toddler—don’t freak out, he’s fine, he just doesn’t speak Korean anymore and keeps calling cheese sticks his best friends.’”

Seungmin snorted.

They lapsed into silence for a moment, thoughts spinning.

“…What if he’s stuck like that?” Seungmin whispered after a while. “What if we can’t fix it?”

Minho’s smile faded.

His chest tightened at the thought—of never seeing Felix’s warm sleepy eyes, or hearing him whine in his deep, groggy morning voice, or watching him twirl in front of the mirror in one of his outrageous outfits. Of seeing his smile, or dancing with him in the kitchen at 2 a.m.

He couldn’t think about that right now.

“We’ll fix it,” he said softly.

Seungmin didn’t reply, but a few minutes later, his eyes fluttered closed where he leaned against the wall.

Minho smiled faintly, pushing up from the bed. “Sleep,” he whispered. “I’ll keep watch.”

Seungmin didn’t protest. He let himself slump down, curling into his blanket with barely a sound.

Minho pulled the door gently closed behind him and stepped back into the living room.

The apartment was quiet again, too quiet, his thoughts too loud.

He settled onto the couch, rubbing at the tension in his shoulders. The cushions dipped under his weight, and the familiar scent of their shared space—clean laundry, Felix’s lotion, the faint hint of candle wax—calmed him a little.

Still… his mind wouldn’t stop.

What if this isn’t a one-night thing? What if he wakes up tomorrow and doesn’t remember anything? What if something scared him into this? What if he’s in pain and just can’t tell us—

His head tipped back.

His eyes closed.

And somewhere between his spiraling thoughts and the rhythmic hum of the heater, Minho drifted off too.

Minho woke to the sound of crying.

At first, it was distant, just a thin thread of sound tugging at the edges of sleep. But then it rose, sharper, more desperate, and Minho’s eyes flew open.

He was on the couch. The apartment was dim, the light from the hallway spilling across the floor in a quiet, warm streak. But the crying—he knew that cry.

“Felix.”

He shot up, heart already pounding as he ran down the hallway. His feet were soundless against the floor, instincts sharpened by fear. Something was wrong, he could hear it in the way the sobs broke, hiccupping and frantic, like a dam bursting open.

He burst into Felix’s room, but Seungmin was already there.

The younger was crouched at the bedside, his body angled protectively, speaking in a low, soft voice Minho barely recognized. He was usually teasing, dry, sharp-edged even when he was affectionate. But now—

“Shhh, you’re okay, Lixie… it’s okay. It was just an accident. I promise, you’re not in trouble. You’re not bad.”

Minho stopped cold, lingering in the doorway.

Felix was curled up in a tight ball under the blankets, shoulders shaking as he sobbed into his arms. The bed was damp, the sheets twisted and dark with moisture. His little voice cracked over the words he kept repeating:

“’M sorry… ‘m sorry, I didn’t mean—’m bad, I’m bad, ‘m sorry—”

Seungmin didn’t flinch. He sat firm and steady, gently rubbing the boy’s back in slow circles, the way Minho had seen mothers do in movies. And there was something in his voice—calm, clear, not condescending—that stunned Minho into stillness.

This wasn’t the second youngest of their group. This wasn’t their snarky second maknae-in-disguise.

This was an older brother.

And he was good at it.

Minho’s breath caught in his throat.

“…He had an accident,” Seungmin murmured, glancing over his shoulder as if sensing him. “Woke up crying a few minutes ago. I was just coming to check on him.”

Minho slowly stepped into the room, eyes scanning the bed—the soaked blanket, the twisted wolf plush, the way Felix clung to the pillow like it was the only thing tethering him to earth.

His heart cracked.

“Lix,” Minho said softly, kneeling beside them. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll take care of the sheets, alright?”

Felix peeked out at him, just barely. His face was blotchy and damp, his nose red, his eyes wide and glassy.

“…Didn’t mean,” he whispered.

“I know,” Minho said, brushing a hand gently over his hair. “It was an accident. That’s all.”

Felix’s lip wobbled again.

But when Seungmin reached for him, he didn’t resist, just buried his face into Seungmin’s shoulder as he was lifted out of the bed. The younger cradled him like it was second nature, murmuring soft comforts as he carried him from the room.

Minho watched them go, chest aching in a way that felt both new and familiar.

Then he turned and got to work.

He moved quickly but quietly, stripping the bed with efficient care. The mattress was sprayed and patted dry, the wolf plush gently set aside for washing. Every movement was methodical, grounding. But beneath the surface, his thoughts spun wildly.

Felix is three years old. He cries like the world is ending because of a wet bed. And he still looks at me like I can fix it all.

He swallowed hard, blinked back the sting in his eyes, and headed to the bathroom.

Steam had already begun to fill the air, curling along the walls in soft tendrils. The scent of strawberry-something lingered sweet in the space, and soft laughter echoed just beneath the splash of water.

Minho leaned against the doorway, smiling despite himself.

Seungmin sat on the bath mat, sleeves rolled up, pants damp from stray droplets. His hand rested lightly on the rim of the tub, keeping watch. And inside the tub, Felix was surrounded by a swirl of shimmering pink water, the remnants of a bath bomb fizzing like magic around him.

“’S’pink!” he squealed, slapping at the bubbles. “’S’pink, like my socks!”

“You like pink, huh?” Seungmin asked.

Felix nodded enthusiastically. “Pink’s the best! Like cheese! And stars!”

Minho couldn’t help it—he laughed.

Felix whipped around, eyes lighting up. “Minno! You came!”

“I’d never miss a magic cheese bath,” Minho teased, crouching beside the tub. “How could I?”

Felix splashed him.

“Hey!” Minho gasped. “Rude.”

“You said cheese bath!” Felix giggled, pointing an accusing, bubble-covered finger. “You silly!”

Seungmin leaned back with a sigh, smiling faintly. “He’s completely forgotten about crying.”

“Toddlers,” Minho murmured. “Tiny, unpredictable hurricanes.”

Between them, they got him cleaned up. Seungmin gently washed his arms and legs, coaxing him through the ticklish parts with exaggerated noises, while Minho carefully shampooed his hair. Felix giggled the whole time, splashing and chatting in his soft toddler lilt.

He told them about koalas (“I saw one once! It was up high!”), his dislike of monsters (“Too mean. Not nice at all”), and that when he grew up, he wanted to be a “rocket cheese chef.”

Minho didn’t ask for clarification. He didn’t want it. The mystery was funnier.

When the water finally cooled, Minho lifted the boy out of the tub and wrapped him in the fluffiest towel they could find—plush and pastel blue, almost big enough to be a blanket on him.

Felix squealed and squirmed. “Towel tickle-y!”

“Good. Gotta get all the stinky off,” Minho teased, rubbing his head dry through the towel with a vigorous shake.

“Heyyy!” Felix laughed. “You messin’ my hair!”

“I am. Because I love you.”

Felix peeked up at him from the towel, eyes wide.

“…Love you too,” he said bashfully, and Minho’s heart turned to mush.

He cleared his throat, hoisting him onto his hip. “Alright, let’s try bedtime again. For real this time.”

But before he could even make it to the doorway—

Felix bolted.

He wriggled out of Minho’s arms with a giggle and took off, tiny feet slapping against the wood floors as he sprinted, naked and squealing, into the living room.

Minho blinked. “Felix—”

“Oh my god,” Seungmin breathed behind him.

The two of them stepped into the hall just in time to hear a crash—something clattered to the floor in the kitchen.
“Felix!”

More giggling.

“NO RUNNING WHEN YOU’RE WET!”

“YOU’RE GONNA FALL!”

Minho looked at Seungmin, breathless and stunned, and for the second time that night, they locked eyes in perfect, paralyzed horror.

“…We gave him a bath,” Seungmin whispered. “He’s fully awake.”

Minho stared into the living room, where Felix had disappeared behind the couch. A pillow flew up into the air.

“…We made a terrible mistake,” he muttered.

A high-pitched, triumphant scream echoed back to them, followed by the distinct sound of crayons being dumped onto the floor.

-

The apartment was a war zone.

Pillows had been flung. Crayons were scattered across the floor like landmines. A banana was squished into the carpet near the couch, and someone—probably Seungmin—was going to cry about that later.

Right now, though?

Right now, they were chasing a naked, giggling three-year-old Felix, who seemed to think this was the best night of his life.

“Lixie—stop running!” Minho shouted, ducking as a coloring book came flying at his head.

“Noooo!” Felix shrieked, dashing down the hallway, bare feet slapping against the floor. “Gotta go fast!!”

“He’s naked,” Seungmin grunted, out of breath and looking utterly betrayed by the laws of physics. “He’s three. How is he this fast?!”

“Because God hates us,” Minho muttered, taking off after him.

They cornered him near the kitchen, finally trapping him between the wall and a dining chair.

Felix froze dramatically. Then turned to face them with narrowed eyes and a mischievous grin.

“…Don’t,” Minho warned.

Felix let out a squeal and tried to bolt past them, but Seungmin dove—grabbing him mid-sprint like a linebacker intercepting a play. The toddler yelped, flailing in Seungmin’s arms.

“Noooooooo!”

“You brought this on yourself!” Seungmin cried, holding him like a squirming sack of potatoes. “Get the shirt!”

Minho, panting and slightly dizzy, grabbed the oversized t-shirt he’d laid out earlier—one of Han’s baggy sleep shirts, which swallowed Felix like a nightgown when they pulled it over his head.

“There,” Minho muttered, exasperated as he adjusted the hem. “Now you’re covered. Kind of.”

Felix giggled. “’S soft!”

“Yeah? Good. Don’t take it off.”

They both sat down on the floor, completely winded. Felix wobbled away again, spinning in a circle and laughing.

Minho leaned back against the wall. “We don’t have any clothes for him. Or diapers. Or food that isn’t string cheese or gochujang ramen.”

Seungmin groaned. “We can’t even take him out. It’s the middle of the night, we’d get recognized instantly.”

“And what if he—” Minho froze. “What if he has to pee again?!”

“Don’t,” Seungmin said immediately, holding up a hand. “Don’t manifest that.”

Felix was still pacing excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Seungmin looked at him like he was facing a very tiny, very hyper wild animal.

“…Hang on,” he said, pulling out his phone. “Hey, Lixie? Wanna play a game?”

Felix paused, blinking at him. “Game?”

Seungmin held the phone out. “Yeah. Look—tappy game. You just press the buttons.”

Felix’s eyes lit up. “Oooooh.” He toddled over and plopped down next to Seungmin, legs spread in a sloppy W-shape as he mashed the screen with both hands. “I’m win’in’!”

Minho let out a slow breath, dragging a hand over his face. “We’ve bought, like… five minutes.”

“Use it wisely.”

And Minho did. Because suddenly, like a miracle, he remembered something. “…Wait.”

Seungmin glanced up. “What?”

“Some of the GOT7 hyungs have kids now, right?”

Seungmin blinked. “I think so. Why?”

Minho pulled out his phone, hands flying. “I’m calling BamBam.”

Seungmin blinked harder. “Why him?!”

“He likes Felix. And he answers fast.”

Sure enough, two rings later, BamBam’s voice picked up, raspy with sleep.

“Hyung?” Minho said quickly. “Can I FaceTime? Like—now.”

There was a pause.

“…Are you okay?”

“No. FaceTime. Now.”

“Uh… okay, sure—”

Minho ended the call and hit the video button instantly. BamBam’s face appeared onscreen, looking half-asleep and concerned, messy hair sticking out from a bandana.

“Why do you two look like you just survived an earthquake?” BamBam asked, blinking at them.

Minho opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Then, silently, he turned the phone and aimed the camera at Felix—still on the floor, legs sprawled out, oversized shirt slipping off one shoulder, mashing virtual fruit with an aggressive level of joy.

BamBam was quiet.

“…Okay,” he said after a moment. “Whose kid is that?”

Minho swallowed. “That’s… Felix.”

Another pause.

BamBam squinted. “Sorry—what?”

“That’s FELIX.”

Felix heard his name and looked up at the screen. “Hi!” he chirped, beaming. “I’m Lixie!”

BamBam’s mouth dropped open. Then, to Minho’s horror—he laughed. A loud, wheezing cackle.

Minho scowled and hung up the call.

Seungmin wheezed beside him. “That was rude.”

“He laughed!” Minho snapped, his pride bruised beyond repair.

The phone immediately rang again.

Minho accepted with a glare.

“Sorry, sorry,” BamBam said, still laughing. “That was insane. You can’t just throw a baby Felix at me like that, I wasn’t emotionally prepared!”

“Hyung,” Minho groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Focus. Have you ever heard of something like this happening?”

BamBam’s face finally sobered. “Actually… yeah. Weirdly enough. It’s rare, but some idols get hit with some strange stress-induced neurological regression. It’s bizarre, but reversible.”

Minho and Seungmin both straightened.

“Call the company doctor. Go to the building. I’ll meet you there. I’ve got some kid stuff in my car—diapers, snacks, change of clothes.”

Seungmin blinked. “You keep that in your car?”

“I have a kid and three nephews,” BamBam said flatly. “I’m always prepared.”

“And… should we hide him?”

“Absolutely,” BamBam said. “Make sure no one sees you. Sunglasses, hoodie, blanket—whatever it takes. This will blow up fast if you’re recognized.”

Minho nodded quickly. “Thank you, hyung. Really.”

“I’ll meet you in an hour.”

The call ended.

Minho turned to Seungmin. “Call the company doctor. Now. Say it’s urgent, but don’t explain too much yet.”

Seungmin pulled out his phone and nodded. “And you?”

“I’m gonna try and find something to dress him in that doesn’t make him look like a haunted doll.” He stood, already on the move.

From the floor, Felix looked up and shouted proudly: “I got fifty cheese points!”

Minho paused.

“…I have no idea what that means.”

Seungmin didn’t look up from his phone. “Don’t ask. Just be grateful he’s sitting still.”

Twenty minutes later, they were ready.

Or as ready as two panic-stricken idols trying to smuggle a magically de-aged toddler through Seoul at 4 a.m. could possibly be.

Felix was bundled in layers—Minho had managed to find one of Chan’s old hoodies that swallowed him whole, and they’d stuffed him into the smallest sweatpants they could find, rolled several times at the ankles and waist. A knitted beanie was pulled low over his head, nearly covering his eyes, and a puffy scarf was wrapped messily around his neck.

He looked like a very short, very enthusiastic marshmallow.

“I can’t breathe!” Felix squeaked, voice muffled under the scarf.

“You’ll live,” Minho muttered, adjusting the beanie again. “You wanna be warm, don’t you?”

“I’m hot!” he whined, already fidgeting.

Seungmin crouched in front of him and gently readjusted the scarf. “There. Better?”

Felix blinked up at him, wide-eyed and trusting. “Yuh-huh.”

“Good,” Seungmin said, straightening with a sigh. “Okay. Let’s go.”

They stepped out into the night, Minho cradling Felix tightly in his arms, the boy’s head tucked beneath his chin. His little fingers clung to the front of Minho’s hoodie, and he squirmed every few steps, murmuring about being squished.

“Shhh,” Minho whispered. “We’re being sneaky, remember?”

Felix gasped, wide-eyed. “Like ninja?”

“Exactly.”

He didn’t stop wriggling, but at least now he was quiet.

The streets were blessedly empty at this hour. The sky was still dark, painted in shades of navy and steel, with only a few late-night delivery trucks humming past. They kept to the shadows, moving quickly but carefully through the side alleys and quieter residential streets.

Seungmin carried the overnight bag, which now contained a hodgepodge of essentials—wet wipes, cheese sticks, a pair of socks that did not match, and Minho’s emergency hoodie (for if Felix decided to strip again).

They reached Minho’s car without incident, and Minho exhaled for what felt like the first time in half an hour.

Until he opened the back door and realized—

They had no car seat.

Minho froze.
Seungmin loaded the bag and turned. “What—?”

“We don’t have a car seat.”

Seungmin blinked. “Oh. Right.”

Minho stared at the empty seat like it had personally betrayed him. “He can’t sit back here alone—he’s three. That’s illegal. That’s unsafe. He could fly into the windshield—”

“Hyung.”

“He’s so small, what if he hits his head—”

“Minho-hyung.”

Minho spun, eyes wild. “I’ll sit in the back with him. I’ll hold him. That’s safest.”

He climbed in with Felix still in his arms and settled into the backseat, holding the boy so tightly against his chest that Felix gave a startled little grunt.

“Minnoooo,” Felix whined, squirming. “You squishin’ me.”

“I have to,” Minho said, heart still pounding. “You’re my precious cargo.”

“I can’t breathe!”

“Hyung,” Seungmin said from the front, already starting the car. “You’re holding an actual child. Maybe… don’t crush him.”

“I’m not crushing him,” Minho muttered. “I’m just… hugging very securely.”

Felix tilted his head back, cheeks puffed. “No more hug now.”

Minho eased up—just slightly—but kept a hand on the boy’s belly, anchoring him. Felix leaned back into his chest anyway, sighing like he’d just won a battle.

The drive through the city was quiet. Seungmin kept the radio off, the headlights low, and his eyes on the road. The silence let Minho’s mind wander—his gaze flickering down to the tiny boy in his arms, to the way Felix’s thumb crept toward his mouth before he stopped himself and rubbed his eyes instead.

“You okay, baby?” Minho whispered.

Felix yawned. “Mmhmm. ‘M tired.”

“We’ll be there soon.”

“Where we goin’?”

“To see a doctor,” Seungmin answered gently from the front. “They’re gonna help.”

“Am I sick?” Felix asked, brows furrowed.

“No,” Minho said quickly. “You’re just… a little different right now. But we’re gonna make it better.”

Felix blinked slowly. “Okay…”

He rested his head against Minho’s chest again, tiny fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

When they pulled into the private company garage, Minho immediately grabbed the blanket from the overnight bag and wrapped Felix in it like a burrito, only his face peeking out. The boy blinked at him, dazed.

“Minno?”

“Shhh,” Minho whispered. “Ninja mode again.”

Felix beamed sleepily. “Nin-jaaaa…”

They moved quickly, Seungmin leading the way through the underground entrance, using his keycard to open the side security door. The building was nearly deserted, the night staff few and far between—and thankfully, none of them paid attention to two hooded figures carrying what looked like a blanket full of laundry.

The elevator ride was silent, save for the ding of each floor.

Then—

The doors opened to the private medical floor.

BamBam was already waiting in the hallway, arms crossed, a small duffel bag at his feet. He wore black joggers, a sweatshirt, and the most chaotic sunglasses Minho had ever seen.

He raised his brows. “You really weren’t kidding.”

Minho pulled the blanket back slightly.

Felix peeked out, blinking at BamBam.

“Hi!”

BamBam blinked. “…That’s really Felix.”

“No shit,” Seungmin muttered.

BamBam crouched down slowly. “Hey there, little man.”

“I not man,” Felix said proudly. “I’m rocket chef.”

BamBam nodded solemnly. “My bad. Rocket chef it is.”

Minho sighed in relief. “Thank you for coming.”

BamBam smiled softly, reaching for the duffel bag. “Don’t thank me yet. Let’s go see what the doctor says. But don’t worry—we’ve got diapers, snacks, a sippy cup, and a dinosaur hoodie.”

Felix gasped. “Dino?!”

Minho glanced down at him, heart full.

“You’re gonna be okay, baby,” he whispered. “We’ve got you.”

And with that, they stepped into the exam room—toddler Felix clinging to Minho’s hoodie, a dinosaur hoodie ready and waiting, and three very tired boys determined to fix whatever magic had turned their sunshine into a giggling chaos gremlin.

The exam room was softly lit and warm, thankfully more inviting than sterile. BamBam had already pulled out a change of clothes from the duffel bag he brought—an adorable dinosaur hoodie, tiny sweatpants with knee patches, and toddler socks with rubber grips shaped like little stars. A fresh diaper was placed next to it all, along with wipes and a travel-sized powder container.

Felix stood wobbling slightly in the middle of the padded bench, still dressed in his oversized makeshift pajamas. BamBam grinned, holding out the little outfit.

“Alright, rocket chef,” he said with a dramatic voice, crouching down. “Time for your new uniform!”

Felix gasped. “Dino?!”

“Dino hoodie with spikes! Look, look!” BamBam wiggled the soft, plush spikes on the hood. Felix giggled, squealing as he reached for it. “Want it!”

BamBam laughed. “Okay, okay. But first—off with these silly big clothes!”

Minho sat nearby, arms crossed but his mouth twitching at the corners as BamBam expertly wrangled the giggling boy out of Chan’s hoodie. Felix squirmed and squealed as BamBam tickled his sides, cleaning him up and getting the diaper on with practiced speed.

“You’ve definitely done this before,” Seungmin muttered, watching in amusement as BamBam pulled the sweatpants up over Felix’s tiny legs.

Felix, now fully dressed and looking devastatingly cute in his dino gear, climbed into BamBam’s lap and let out a big yawn before spotting the toy BamBam had set on the bench—one of those soft-button pop-it toys shaped like a smiling cartoon cloud.

He let out a delighted gasp. “I go pop-pop!”

“Here,” BamBam said, handing it to him. “Official dino chef tool.”

Felix took it with both hands and immediately started popping each bubble, one by one, muttering sound effects under his breath. Seungmin and Minho finally allowed themselves to exhale.
BamBam sat back beside them. “Okay. So… was he acting weird before this? Like, anything strange leading up to last night?”

Seungmin frowned slightly, glancing toward Minho. “Yeah. A little. He didn’t say much when we got home. Like, he couldn’t talk. His eyes weren’t focusing right, and he barely touched his food. It was like… like his brain was fogged up.”

Minho nodded, jaw tight. “He passed out before even making it to bed.”

BamBam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “That tracks. Something similar happened to Youngjae once, years ago. No one talks about it much, but… he was dealing with extreme exhaustion and stress. One night he went to bed, and when we found him in the morning, he was five years old again.”

Seungmin’s brows shot up. “What?!”

“Yeah,” BamBam said, nodding. “We kept it quiet. Lasted about two days. Then he woke up one morning totally fine—no memory of anything.”

Minho looked toward Felix, whose full attention was now on his toy, brows furrowed as he worked through a stubborn bubble. “Was he hurt?”

“No,” BamBam said gently. “But he hadn’t been injured before. It was all mental, not physical. But I know Felix has a back injury.”

Minho’s chest tightened. “Yeah. All the plane rides have been bothering him more than usual.”

BamBam didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he patted Minho’s knee. “We’ll see what the doctor says.”

As if summoned, the door opened.

The door creaked open, and a soft voice called, “Sorry for the delay.”

Minho looked up immediately.

A woman in her mid-thirties entered in a clean, fitted white coat, a tablet tucked under one arm. Her hair was tied back in a low bun, her eyes alert but tired, framed by smudged mascara and hours without rest.

She stepped into the room—and stopped.

Because sitting on the padded bench in the middle of the room, in a tiny dinosaur hoodie and striped toddler socks, was a child. A very small, very real, human child holding a bubble-popper toy in his lap.

The doctor blinked, confused. “Is that…?”

BamBam stood and gestured calmly. “That’s Felix.”

The doctor’s brows furrowed. “Felix… Lee Felix?”

Minho nodded, resting a hand on the boy’s back. “Yes.”

Her eyes widened as she took a step forward, almost automatically moving toward the bench. “But how—”

That was when Felix noticed her.

The change was immediate.

His head snapped up, and his eyes locked onto the white coat. The stethoscope. The faint sterile scent wafting in from the hallway.

Felix stilled. Completely.

His toy dropped to the floor with a soft clack.

Then came the shaking.

His tiny hands balled into fists. His mouth trembled. His eyes filled so fast Minho’s heart clenched.

And then he screamed.

“NOOO!” Felix wailed, voice high and raw with terror. “No, no, no! No doctor!”

The panic shot through his little body like lightning. He scrambled backwards on the bench, nearly tipping over the edge. His hands clawed at the air, trying to get away, legs flailing in every direction. He twisted and kicked, his voice cracking in that awful way only a terrified child’s could.

“Minno!” he sobbed. “Don’t want—don’t want! Minno, help!!”

The doctor froze mid-step. “Oh—oh no—”

“He’s scared,” BamBam said quickly. “Back off, he doesn’t know you.”

“But I’m just—”

“He doesn’t speak Korean right now!” Seungmin snapped, already on his feet.

Minho didn’t wait another second. He was across the room in two strides, scooping Felix up into his arms. The boy clung to him instantly, sobbing with such desperation that Minho’s knees almost gave out.

“Hey, hey, baby—shhh, I’ve got you, I’m here,” Minho whispered, rocking him gently. “You’re safe, you hear me? I’m here.”

Felix’s cries shattered the room. “She gonna touch me—don’t wanna—no hurts!”

Minho’s heart cracked open.

“She’s not gonna hurt you,” he murmured, pressing kisses to the boy’s temple. “You’re safe, I swear. She’s just gonna check. That’s all.”

The woman took a breath, then crouched slowly to meet their eye level. “I’ll only do what’s necessary,” she said carefully, switching to English as best she could. “No pain. Only look. Only help.”

Felix still sobbed, but quieter now—still shaking, but no longer thrashing.

“Can I…?” the doctor asked, her hand raised gently.

Minho nodded but didn’t let go. “Do it with him in my lap. That’s non-negotiable.”

The doctor nodded. “Of course.”

Minho settled into the chair, positioning Felix in his lap with the boy’s back against his chest. He stroked his hair, whispering soft things, his voice barely audible.

“You’re okay. You’re so brave. Just a little longer. Then you can have more cheese sticks, yeah?”

Felix gave a wet sniffle. “Cheese sticks…”

“There you go,” Minho smiled. “That’s my boy.”

BamBam handed the bubble toy over, and Minho placed it in Felix’s lap. “Here. Pop-pop time. Just like earlier.”

Felix’s small hands pressed the bubbles slowly, lip still trembling, but the familiarity soothed him. His breathing steadied. His cries quieted.

The doctor moved slowly—checking his pulse again, testing his reflexes. She was gentle, explaining each step with broken but earnest English. Felix didn’t speak, but he stayed still, his trust resting fully in Minho’s hands.

Then came the hard part.

“I need to check his back,” she said softly.

Minho’s stomach clenched.

He turned Felix gently in his lap, shifting the dino hoodie up with one hand. The boy whined, fidgeting, small fingers curling in Minho’s shirt as he clung to the fabric.

“Almost done,” Minho said softly. “Just one more thing, okay?”

Felix didn’t answer. He just nodded shakily, his thumb sliding into his mouth.

The doctor’s fingers pressed gently along the small of his back, moving with practiced ease—but the moment she hit the base of his spine—

Felix jerked forward, his head snapping up.

“Owwww!” he cried out, the sound ripping through the room. His body buckled, and he clutched at Minho’s hoodie with white-knuckled fists. “No! Stop—hurts! Don’t touch—nooo!”

Minho’s arms came around him instantly. “Hey—hey, shhh, it’s okay. I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.”

Felix sobbed into his chest, breath hitching, words tumbling out in panicked gasps. “Hurts—hurts—don’t wanna hurt no more!”

Minho looked up, voice sharp and trembling with fury. “What did you do?”

The doctor flinched. “I’m sorry—I had to check the disc. The tension’s still there. The injury hasn’t healed—it’s just scaled down to his new size.”

Minho’s jaw locked. He pressed his cheek to Felix’s hair, whispering soothing things, one hand petting his hair, the other cradling his back.

BamBam stood silently, his eyes dark and troubled.

Seungmin looked sick.

“I’ll write a prescription,” the doctor said, quiet now. “Children’s pain relief, low dose, twice daily if needed. But you must be very careful with him. No bending, no lifting heavy things. He needs rest. And constant support.”

Minho nodded without looking up, his voice low and cold. “Understood.”

“I’ll also notify your managers,” she added gently. “You can use the overnight suite upstairs. No one else is on the floor tonight.”

She excused herself quickly, leaving them in heavy silence.

Felix had stopped crying, but he was curled deep into Minho’s chest now, hiccuping quietly, thumb still tucked in his mouth. Minho’s hoodie was wet with tears.

Minho kissed the top of his head, eyes shining.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “No one’s gonna hurt you. Not on my watch.”

BamBam placed a soft hand on Minho’s shoulder. “Let’s get him upstairs.”

The elevator hummed softly as it ascended, the small group wrapped in a heavy silence. BamBam led the way, carrying the duffel of toddler essentials. Minho followed close behind, cradling Felix gently in his arms. But somewhere between the second and third floor, the boy’s breathing slowed, his lashes fluttered closed, and the weight of the day finally pulled him under.

By the time they reached the overnight suite, Felix was sound asleep.

Minho didn’t say a word as Seungmin moved ahead to open the door.

The room was warm, softly lit by motion-activated wall sconces. A queen-sized bed sat in the middle, perfectly made with white linens, a folded fleece blanket at the foot. It wasn’t much, but it was a haven compared to the night they’d just had.

Minho moved toward the bed, but Seungmin touched his arm gently. “Let me,” he said.

Minho hesitated for only a second before nodding.

Seungmin stepped forward and carefully lifted Felix from Minho’s arms, handling him like the most fragile thing in the world. The toddler stirred slightly, giving a soft, sleepy whimper, but didn’t wake. He melted against Seungmin’s chest, face buried against his hoodie.

With practiced calm, Seungmin lowered him onto the bed. Felix curled instinctively onto his side, tucking his fists under his chin like he’d done it a thousand times before. Seungmin crouched to adjust the blanket over him, pulling it up to his chest. He paused, just for a moment, watching the boy's little nose twitch with each breath.

And then, quietly—he climbed onto the bed beside him.

He laid on his side, facing the boy, his arm draped gently over Felix’s tiny form. One hand tucked behind the toddler’s back, not restraining, just present. His forehead rested a few inches from Felix’s hair, their breathing slowly syncing together in the stillness.

Within minutes, Seungmin was asleep too.

Minho watched from the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.

It was so soft. So quiet. So wrong and right all at once.

BamBam’s voice cut through the stillness, low and careful. “He’s got good people around him.”

Minho didn’t answer right away. His eyes were fixed on the bed—on the boy tucked against Seungmin’s chest, the ridiculous little dinosaur hoodie rising and falling with each breath.

Finally, he moved back into the sitting area and dropped onto the couch, exhausted in a way that reached far deeper than his body.

“He wasn’t always like this,” he murmured.

BamBam sat beside him, careful to keep his voice low. “Like what?”

Minho leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “He was always bright. Always worked hard. But lately… he’s been dimming. You know?”

BamBam said nothing, just listened.

“We met as trainees,” Minho continued. “He was younger than me, obviously, but… there was something about him. This endless energy. He’d come off a nine-hour practice and still find a way to smile, to help someone else get their steps right. He was… electric.”

His voice faltered, the weight of memory tugging hard.

“And now?” he whispered. “I’ve found him asleep in studios. Curled up behind chairs, on the floor in vocal booths. I’ve watched him lie awake for hours on flights, because his back locks up if he sits the wrong way for too long. He doesn’t complain. He doesn’t ask for help. He just—keeps going.”

BamBam exhaled through his nose. “Because that’s what we’re taught to do.”

Minho nodded slowly. “The company’s been pushing him harder. More shows, more interviews, more appearances. He says yes to everything. And I get it. He wants to prove he’s worth it. That he can hold his own. But he’s been burning at both ends for months.”

He looked toward the bed again, voice raw. “He’s not even mine. He’s Chan’s. But I care about him so much it hurts.”

BamBam leaned back against the couch, arms folded. “You don’t have to be someone’s boyfriend to love them, Minho-ah. What you’re feeling? That’s love too.”

Minho didn’t reply. He swallowed hard, staring into the quiet.

“This was probably the best thing that could’ve happened to him,” BamBam said gently. “As awful as that sounds. Because now he has no choice but to rest. No pressure. No performances. No deadlines.”

“He’ll hate it,” Minho said with a small, tired smile.

“Maybe,” BamBam shrugged. “But maybe he’ll remember how to just be again. That matters too.”

The room fell quiet again, until the sharp buzz of Minho’s phone broke the moment.

He grabbed it quickly, glancing at the screen.

Jeongin 🦊 Calling…

His stomach turned.

He stood, stepping toward the kitchenette and answering in a hushed voice. “Hey.”

“Hyung?” Jeongin sounded confused. “I’m at Seungmin and Felix’s dorm, but they aren’t here. Do you know where they are?”
Minho hesitated.

Behind him, he could hear Seungmin’s soft breathing, the occasional sleepy shift of Felix’s body against the blankets.

“We’re… at the company.”

There was a pause. “The company? Why?”

Minho sighed, rubbing his temple. “Just come here, Jeongin-ah.”

Another pause.

“Is something wrong?” Jeongin asked, voice tightening.

Minho closed his eyes. “…Just come.”

And without waiting for a reply, he ended the call.

He returned to the couch and sat down again. BamBam gave him a questioning look.

“Jeongin’s on his way,” Minho said quietly.

“Are you gonna tell him everything?”

“I don’t think I’ll have to,” Minho murmured, eyes drifting again to the small figure sleeping peacefully beneath the blankets. “One look, and he’ll know.”

Soon enough, the quiet of the overnight suite was disturbed by the gentle beep of the keycard at the door.

Minho stood up, running a hand through his hair. “He’s here.”

BamBam, who had been scrolling on his phone near the kitchenette, looked up. “You gonna tell him gently, or let him walk in blind?”

Minho gave him a look. “He’ll see it fast enough.”

The door cracked open, and Jeongin stepped inside, followed closely by someone Minho didn’t expect—Hyunjin, wrapped in a large coat and looking more awake than anyone had a right to at four in the morning.

Jeongin spotted Minho and headed straight toward him. “Hyung, what’s going on? Why wouldn’t you tell me—?”

Hyunjin paused just inside the door, blinking slowly at the warm-lit suite. “Wait, where’s Felix?”

Minho sighed and gestured toward the bed.

Jeongin and Hyunjin both turned.

They froze.

“Oh my god,” Hyunjin whispered.

Felix was curled up beneath the blanket, dino hoodie just barely visible above the covers. His cheeks were flushed with sleep, a small hand resting on Seungmin’s chest, who lay beside him completely zonked out, arms loosely cradled around the tiny body next to him.

For a moment, no one said anything.

Then—

Jeongin gasped quietly and bolted across the room, phone already out. “I’m taking so many pictures.”

Minho groaned. “Jeongin—”

“Hyung, come look at them! This is unreal!” Jeongin snapped a dozen pictures in a row, turning his phone to Hyunjin like he’d discovered the secret to life.

Hyunjin’s jaw dropped. “He’s like a baby angel.”

Felix twitched slightly in his sleep, face scrunching up like something tickled his nose. He let out a soft little sound—somewhere between a sigh and a giggle—and snuggled closer to Seungmin’s chest, curling his tiny legs up tighter.

Hyunjin fell to the floor.

He clutched his chest dramatically. “I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die right here. How is he so cute?”

Minho dragged his hand down his face. “Will you two please be quiet?”

BamBam laughed from across the room, shaking his head. “Wow. These two are worse than my daughter.”

Hyunjin turned toward him from the floor. “You didn’t warn us!”

BamBam raised his hands in defense. “Was more fun this way.”

He stood, stretching, and grabbed the now half-empty duffel bag. “I left diapers, wipes, snacks, a change of clothes, and a toy that should keep him busy. For anything else—there’s a parenting store three blocks from here that opens at seven.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Minho muttered.

BamBam clapped him on the shoulder. “He’s safe now. That’s what matters.”

He paused by the door, gave Hyunjin and Jeongin one last amused look, and let himself out.

The moment the door clicked shut, Minho rounded on the younger two. “Okay. Ground rules.”

Jeongin looked up from his camera roll. “We didn’t even do anything.”

“You’ve taken forty photos in the last three minutes, and Hyunjin fell over from a noise. You’re not exactly being subtle.”

“I’m feeling things!” Hyunjin hissed from the carpet.

“Well feel quietly.” Minho gestured toward the bed. “Let them sleep.”

Jeongin sheepishly put his phone down.

Hyunjin slowly got to his knees and crawled over, resting beside the edge of the bed. He knelt there, silent now, his eyes wide and shimmering as he watched Felix sleep.

“He looks so little,” Hyunjin whispered.

Minho glanced over.

Felix had shifted again, this time rolling onto his back. His hands were resting on his tummy, fingers twitching slightly in his dreams. His lips were parted, breath light and steady, one sock slipping off his foot. Seungmin remained dead to the world beside him, his grip still protectively around the boy’s middle.

“I don’t get how it even happened,” Jeongin whispered from beside Minho. “Like… how stressed do you have to be for your body to just turn you into a toddler?”

Minho’s voice was quiet. “More stressed than any of us realized.”

Hyunjin’s brows pulled together. “He must’ve been trying so hard to hold it all in.”

Minho nodded once.

Jeongin looked at him, his voice softer now. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“I knew he was tired,” Minho admitted. “But I didn’t know how much until it was too late.”

They all looked back at the bed in silence.

Hyunjin reached up slowly and gently brushed a stray strand off Felix’s forehead. The boy stirred slightly, pressing his face further into Seungmin’s chest, letting out a soft hum.

Jeongin melted. “He’s so cute I might cry.”

Minho sighed deeply and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You two are going to be insufferable until this is over.”

“Probably,” Hyunjin murmured, eyes still fixed on Felix. “But I’m staying right here. I don’t want him to wake up scared.”

Minho looked at them both—and despite the chaos, despite the exhaustion—his heart felt a little lighter knowing they were there.

Even if they were obnoxious.

-

The room was still cloaked in the soft hush of early morning—that hour just before dawn where everything felt suspended in warmth and quiet. The only sounds were the low hum of the vents and the steady breathing of Seungmin and Felix, both still asleep, tangled gently together on the bed.

Jeongin and Hyunjin sat nearby, cross-legged on the floor, their voices hushed as they spoke.

“I still can’t believe this is real,” Hyunjin whispered, watching the small bundle nestled against Seungmin’s chest.

“He looks… peaceful,” Jeongin murmured. “Not just asleep, like his body finally gave in.”

Before Hyunjin could reply, there was a shift in the covers. A soft rustling. Then, a sleepy whimper.

Felix stirred.

His brows furrowed as he blinked his eyes open slowly, like his lashes were too heavy to lift. The boy yawned, wide and squeaky, and rolled onto his back. His tiny hands pushed at the blanket. Seungmin let out a faint, sleepy sigh but didn’t wake.

Felix blinked up at the ceiling, disoriented. His small body was still tucked in the dinosaur hoodie, the spikes on the hood flattened from sleep.

His head turned, and that’s when he saw them.

Two strangers. Sitting just a few feet from his bed. His eyes went wide. His body stiffened instantly, small hands clutching at the blanket.

Jeongin leaned forward gently, smiling. “Lixie…?”

Felix pressed further into the mattress, eyes darting to Minho, who sat at the far end of the room, now slowly standing up.

Hyunjin offered a small wave. “Hi, sweetheart. It’s okay. We’re—”

“Don’t know you,” Felix said quickly, his voice quiet but firm.

Hyunjin froze, the words cutting a little deeper than he expected.

Jeongin’s smile faltered. “Lix, it’s me… It’s Innie.”

Felix’s brows pulled together, lips starting to wobble. “Stop saying weird words…”

Minho was beside the bed in seconds. He crouched next to Felix and rested a calming hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, hey,” Minho said softly, voice warm and gentle. “It’s okay. They’re friends. They’re safe.”

Felix looked up at him, lip trembling. “They talking funny…”

Minho rubbed his back gently. “I know, baby. That’s Korean. You don’t understand that, do you?”

Felix shook his head quickly.

Minho looked up at the other two. “English only. He doesn’t remember us, and he doesn’t speak Korean. It just scares him.”

Jeongin’s chest sank. “Oh.”

Hyunjin nodded slowly. “Got it.”

They both shifted closer, carefully and slowly, dropping their voices even lower. They made no sudden movements, and their eyes never left the small boy’s face.
Jeongin offered another little wave. “Hi, Lixie. I’m Jeongin.”

Felix stared at him suspiciously.

“Jeon…gin?”

“Close!” Jeongin chuckled softly. “Juh—Jeong-in.”

“Jung-jin,” Felix repeated, scrunching his nose. “Too hard.”

Jeongin placed a hand over his heart like he’d been fatally wounded. “Ouch.”

Hyunjin laughed under his breath, then tried himself. “And I’m Hyunjin.”

Felix looked him over.

“…Hair jellybean,” he said with great seriousness.

Hyunjin blinked. “Wait—what?”

Minho smirked. “He thinks your shaved head looks like a jellybean.”

Hyunjin reached up and rubbed his scalp. “I… okay, I mean, yeah. That tracks.”

Felix tilted his head, still unsure, still studying them with a wary kind of curiosity.

But he didn’t look scared anymore.

Minho rubbed small circles between the boy’s shoulder blades. “You wanna say hi, baby?”

Felix leaned against him, thumb slipping halfway into his mouth. He mumbled something around it.

Minho smiled softly. “Say it without the thumb, love.”

Felix pulled it out, shy now, cheeks flushed. “Hi… Jellybean… Jinjin…”

Hyunjin clapped a hand over his mouth, muffling his squeal.

Jeongin nearly collapsed from how hard he melted. “I am never going to emotionally recover from this.”

Felix blinked at them. “You nice?”

Jeongin’s expression softened completely. “Yeah. Always.”

Felix turned to Minho, whispering behind his hand. “They weird.”

Minho bit back a laugh. “That’s true.”

Felix scooted forward slightly and reached out a tiny hand toward Hyunjin’s head again. “Can I feel?”

Hyunjin bowed his head toward him. “Permission granted.”

Felix ran his fingers over the smooth buzz, grinning. “Jellybean.”

Jeongin watched with wide, glistening eyes. “He really doesn’t remember us, huh?”

Minho shook his head. “Not right now. But the way he’s warming up to you both? I think that says more than remembering could.”

Felix tugged lightly on Hyunjin’s sleeve. “Hyunnie?”

“Yeah, angel?”

“Can I fly?”

“Fly?”

Felix pointed to Hyunjin’s shoulders.

“Ohhhh,” Hyunjin grinned. “You mean a shoulder ride?”

Felix nodded hard. “Please!”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Only for a minute. Careful with his back.”

Hyunjin stood and turned his back toward the bed. “Hop on, little dino.”

Felix scrambled up, with Jeongin helping boost him from behind. Once he was balanced, Felix let out a squeal of delight, arms flying up in the air. “Woooaaaah! Up so tall!”

Hyunjin carefully walked a circle around the suite, holding Felix’s ankles to keep him steady while the toddler marveled at his new height.

“I can see everythin’! I giant dino now!”

“Rawr?” Hyunjin asked.

“RAWR!!” Felix roared back, giggling with delight.

Jeongin followed behind them, holding a pillow over his face to keep from laughing too loudly. “Hyung, you’ve created a monster.”

Hyunjin smirked. “He’s my monster now.”

After two more rounds around the suite, Hyunjin lowered Felix gently back to the bed. Felix landed with a bounce and a delighted grin, still high on excitement. Jeongin sat next to him and handed him his bubble-popper toy again.

“Hey, Lixie,” Jeongin said softly, brushing some hair out of the boy’s eyes. “You feeling okay this morning?”

Felix nodded, popping a few bubbles. “Yup. You came. You here now.”

Jeongin smiled, his voice a little thick. “Of course I’m here.”

Felix leaned against him without warning, resting his head against Jeongin’s arm. “You feel safe.”

Jeongin blinked rapidly. “You feel safe too, baby.”

Felix wriggled closer, his small hands poking at Jeongin’s cheek. “You got soft face.”

Jeongin grinned. “You got cold hands.”

“You got funny ears.”

“You got sticky fingers.”

Felix gasped. “No! They clean!”

Hyunjin practically wheezed behind them.

Felix, not missing a beat, turned and scrambled back over to Hyunjin, demanding, “Again? Shoulder ride again? Pleeeeease?”

Minho finally spoke from the couch, voice firm. “No more shoulder rides until after breakfast.”

Felix pouted, crawling back onto the bed dramatically. “You bossy.”

“And you’re loud,” Minho said, rubbing his temples. “Seungmin’s still asleep, and we’d all like him to stay that way.”

Felix immediately hushed himself, bringing a finger to his lips. “Shhhh…”

Minho closed his eyes for a second, heart both aching and full. Because no, Felix didn’t remember them right now.

But the love? The love was still there.

Felix popped a bubble, then looked up with wide eyes.

“Can we have pancakes?”

Jeongin smiled. “I think we can figure something out, little dino.”

-

The halls were quiet at this hour, the soft buzz of fluorescent lights and the hum of vents the only companions to Minho’s tired footsteps. He rubbed at his face as he made his way down the empty corridor toward the company cafeteria, a place usually bustling with staff and dancers during the day but now nearly deserted.

He pulled out his phone and opened a message thread.

Minho: hey hyung
i know it’s early but pls
pancakes? like the mini ones felix likes?
he’s… having a weird morning. he’d really like them. pls.

He added a tiny dino emoji, hesitated, then sent it.

By the time he pushed through the cafeteria doors, the warm scent of batter and sugar was already drifting through the air.

“Hyung?” Minho called out tentatively.

A head poked out from the back kitchen window—Chef Daesung, the cafeteria’s most beloved staff member. He wore his usual checkered apron, his hair tucked beneath a chef’s cap, and the moment he saw Minho, he grinned wide.

“I figured it was about our little sunshine,” Daesung said knowingly, nodding toward the kitchen counter. “Made extra.”

Laid out in a neat little tray were four tiny golden pancakes, two crisp strips of bacon, a small cup of berries, and—to Minho’s fond exasperation—a juice box with a smiling strawberry on the front.

Minho exhaled, his heart softening. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Anything for that boy,” Daesung said, waving him off. “Take it up before it gets cold.”

Minho gathered the tray carefully, smiling as he turned.

But as he exited the kitchen into the main cafeteria again, someone stepped right into his path.

“Jagi?”

Han.

He stood there in a hoodie and gym shorts, his hair damp with sweat, holding a protein bar like he’d just come from an early-morning session.

“What are you doing here?” Han asked, blinking at the tray. “Wait, is that for us? You brought food?”

Minho groaned, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. “No. No, this isn’t for you. God, I can’t believe I didn’t call Chan—”

“Call Chan-hyung for what?” Han’s voice sharpened instantly, concern overtaking confusion. “Minho, what’s going on?”

Before Minho could answer, the cafeteria doors slammed open.

“MINHO?!” Chan’s voice boomed through the quiet room, raw with panic.

Changbin stormed in right behind him, hair tousled, hoodie only half-zipped. They looked like they hadn’t slept, like they hadn’t even tried.

Minho stepped back just in time to keep the tray from tilting. “What the hell—?”

“Why are you here?” Changbin demanded, looking around wildly. “Why are you here this early—what’s happening?”

“My manager called,” Chan gasped, eyes scanning the room like he expected Felix to be hiding under one of the cafeteria tables. “He said something’s wrong with Felix, that he didn’t leave the building last night. That he's still here.”

Minho winced, it was barely noticeable, but Chan caught it immediately.

“Minho—Minho, what’s going on?” Chan’s voice cracked. “He’s not answering my texts, he hasn’t opened his messages—he didn’t say anything after practice, and now he’s just gone—”

Minho reached out, placing a firm hand on Chan’s chest to steady him. “Breathe. He’s okay. I promise. He’s here.”

Han had gone still, the protein bar forgotten in his hand.

Minho looked around at all three of them—all wide-eyed, frightened, and already bracing for something terrible. He swallowed against the knot in his throat.

“Come with me,” he said quietly. “I’ll show you.”

They followed him without question.

Minho didn’t speak as they walked, the tray balanced carefully in his hands. The scent of fresh fruit and syrup seemed to follow them, strangely tender amid the crackling tension. He could hear the way Chan’s shoes squeaked faintly with each quick step, how Changbin kept clicking his tongue out of habit, how Han had gone completely silent—not even humming, which was how Minho knew he was worried too.

“He wasn’t himself yesterday,” Chan said softly as they stepped into the elevator. His eyes stayed fixed on the doors. “He didn’t finish his warm-up. He didn’t sit with us after. I asked if his back was hurting, and he just… nodded. He didn’t even talk. I thought maybe he was tired. I didn’t think…”

Jeongin’s voice rang in Minho’s head—How stressed do you have to be for your body to just turn you into a toddler?

Minho closed his eyes. “None of us did.”

The elevator opened to the suite floor, and the group moved down the hallway like a unit—tight, anxious, quiet. The early morning light spilled through the narrow windows, streaking the walls with pale gold.

“You sure he’s okay?” Han asked, quieter now. “Like, not just… physically.”

Minho nodded once. “Yeah. But you’ll understand when you see him.”

Outside the suite, Minho stopped.

He adjusted the tray in his hands—the little juice box with the smiling strawberry facing outward, the perfectly stacked pancakes warm beneath a paper lid. Everything smelled like care.

He looked back at the others.

Changbin’s brow was furrowed, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Han looked pale. And Chan… Chan looked like he hadn’t slept in days, eyes ringed red, jaw clenched, fingers twitching at his sides like he couldn’t decide whether to knock or collapse.

Minho let out a long, quiet breath. He raised his hand and tapped the door lightly.

Then, slowly, he pushed it open.

Minho opened the suite door, expecting perhaps the warm hush of morning stillness, maybe Felix curled up in a pile of blankets with Seungmin.

What greeted him instead was pure, chaotic joy.

“RAWRRRRRR!!”

Felix, swallowed in his soft green dinosaur hoodie, came charging across the room, his little hands clawed into the air, face scrunched into a fierce snarl.

Jeongin yelped in mock terror. “Noooo! Not the dinosaur again—Hyunjin, HELP!”

“You’re MINE!” Felix shrieked gleefully, tackling Jeongin’s shin and burying his face against it, his tiny hands slapping at Jeongin’s thigh like he was devouring his prey.

Hyunjin gasped in dramatic horror, diving onto the floor beside them. “We’re too late! He’s already feasting!”

“Save yourself,” Jeongin groaned, flopping onto his back with a theatrical death rattle. “Tell my story…”

On the bed, Seungmin leaned against the headboard, wrapped in a blanket, his phone recording the scene with a lazy grin on his face.

Minho stepped into the room just as Felix growled again, this time with extra spit and an evil giggle.

Behind him, there was silence. Utter and total stillness.

Minho didn’t even need to look to know that Chan, Changbin, and Han had stopped breathing.

Their reactions came slowly—a stunned inhale from Han, a strangled little “What the hell…” from Changbin.

Chan, though.

Chan took a step forward like he’d been shoved. His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

It was Jeongin who noticed first. He glanced toward the door, grinning wide. “Hyung! You’re back!”

Felix paused mid-bite-of-leg and looked up.

His eyes landed on the three men standing in the doorway, and just like that, the giggles stopped. He tilted his head, blinking.

Chan leaned forward, the words slipping from his mouth like a prayer. “That’s not… that can’t be—”

Minho’s voice was soft, almost weary. “Look at his face.”

Felix turned more toward them now, the morning light hitting him in just the right way. His cheeks were pink from exertion, his hair messy, his smile shy and curious.

And there—scattered across his nose and cheekbones, just as familiar as any melody—were his freckles. Faint, but impossible to miss.

“Oh my God,” Han whispered.

Chan swayed where he stood.

“No,” he breathed. “That’s not… no, that’s—Felix?”

Minho just gave a tiny nod and said, “Yeah.”

But Felix didn’t recognize them. He stared at the three new people in the doorway with open curiosity, his fingers still gripping Jeongin’s pants, his head tilting slightly. He didn’t hide, didn’t look scared—just unsure.

Then Minho said softly, “Hey, baby? I brought you breakfast.”

At that, everything changed.

Felix lit up.

“FOOD?!” he squealed, standing up and flailing his arms in the air. “Minnooo! Minno got food!”

He ran toward Minho, giggling, but paused halfway with his hands raised, making grabby motions. “Wanna eat now!!”

Minho crouched slightly, balancing the tray of warm food. “You have to sit at the table first.”

Felix let out a dramatic little whine and looked betrayed. “But I’m hungry dinooooo!”

“I know,” Minho chuckled, “but even dinos need manners.”

Hyunjin came to the rescue, sweeping in and scooping Felix up with a practiced ease. “Then this dino prince shall dine on my royal lap!”

Felix giggled, arms wrapping around Hyunjin’s neck. “You’re silly!”

Jeongin placed the tray down on the low table, already setting out the juice box and napkin. The tiny pancakes steamed gently, golden and perfect, with two crisp strips of bacon nestled beside them and a paper cup of berries to the side.

Felix squealed with joy. “Dino food!!”

Seungmin slid out of bed and joined them, still yawning, but smiling as he sat beside the others, watching Felix wriggle into position in Hyunjin’s lap, legs swinging off the edge.

Minho turned back.

Chan, Han, and Changbin hadn’t moved.

They looked frozen in place—like statues carved out of grief and awe. Chan had one hand pressed to his chest, like it hurt to breathe.

Minho took a breath. He trusted the others to feed Felix without a disaster happening—at least for a few minutes.

“Come on,” he said gently, leading them to the far end of the room. “Let’s talk.”

They followed, silent.

“He’s okay,” Minho started, voice quiet. “He got checked out last night. Doctor came in. BamBam too.”

“That is Felix,” Changbin said, as if trying to convince himself. “That’s really him.”

“Yeah,” Minho nodded. “Just… younger. A lot younger. Three, maybe four. Doctor said it’s rare, but not unheard of. Happens when someone’s been under too much pressure for too long.”

Han’s mouth parted, his face pale. “So this… this was from stress?”

Minho met his eyes. “Yeah.”

Chan sat down slowly, like his legs finally gave out. “He—he didn’t say anything. Last night, I just thought he was tired. He always gets quiet when he’s hurting, but I thought he’d just fall asleep and be okay.”

Minho’s voice softened even more. “He probably didn’t know how bad it was.”

“God,” Han whispered. “We should’ve seen it sooner.”

“We all should have,” Minho agreed. “But now? He’s safe. He’s resting. But there’s something else.”

They looked up.

Minho hesitated. Then: “He doesn’t remember you.”

Chan visibly flinched.

Minho continued, “He doesn’t recognize anyone. And he only speaks English. Hearing Korean just scares him right now.”

The silence that followed was heavy.

Each of them grieved in their own way—Han with his eyes to the floor, biting his lip; Changbin with his arms crossed so tight they shook; Chan staring across the room at the little boy giggling in Hyunjin’s lap, like he was a galaxy away.

Then, a small voice called out:

“Minnooo!”

They turned.

Felix sat up straighter and waved, a sticky piece of pancake pinched between his fingers.

“For you!” he chirped. “You eat too!”

Minho started to shake his head. “No, baby, that’s yours—”

“Friends share,” Felix said firmly, as if it were law. “Take it!”

Minho huffed a smile and walked over, kneeling. “Alright, alright. Thank you.”

He leaned forward and let Felix feed him the little piece, chewing as the toddler beamed in satisfaction.

Felix turned to the three new faces again. He stared for a long second. Then, slowly, nervously…

“You… you want some?”

His voice was shy, but hopeful. And that was all it took.

Han made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob as he crossed the room, crouching beside the table. “Of course we do.”

Changbin followed immediately. “Got any dino bacon for me?”

Felix giggled, scooting over on Hyunjin’s lap to make space.

And as they gathered around the low table—a small boy offering crumbs and joy to the people who loved him most—Minho watched Chan.

Still sitting. Still silent. Still breaking.

Around the table, laughter bubbled as Felix offered tiny forkfuls of pancake to whoever smiled back at him. He’d already deemed Jeongin his “cheese twin,” given Hyunjin the title of “King Jellybean,” and now he’d shoved a berry into Seungmin’s mouth with the stern declaration of “You look hungry.”

But Chan hadn’t moved.

He still sat off to the side, hands in his lap, gaze fixed on the little boy he knew like his own heartbeat—and yet didn’t know anymore. Every now and then Felix would glance over at him, puzzled but not frightened. Curious. Polite. But not… familiar.

Not yet.

“Hey, Lixie,” Jeongin prompted softly, nudging him. “You haven’t met these two yet.”

Felix turned his head, mouth full of pancake, cheeks round and sticky.

Han leaned forward with an exaggerated bow. “I’m Jisung.”

Felix blinked up at him, then parroted back with effort, “Juh-sung.”

“Close enough,” Han beamed. “We’re gonna be besties. I’m very cool.”

“No you’re not,” Seungmin deadpanned.

“Let me have this,” Han muttered.

Changbin took his turn, tapping the table with his knuckle. “And I’m Changbin.”

Felix stared at him, brows furrowed.

“…Chaa…Cha-bin?”

“Changbin,” he said, slower, but not unkind.

Felix tried again. “Chimben.”

Laughter erupted around the table.

“Chimben!” Hyunjin cackled, clutching his side.

“That’s it. That’s your name now,” Jeongin added.

Changbin crossed his arms, trying to look offended, but the warmth in his eyes betrayed him. “Fine. Only he’s allowed to call me that.”

Felix grinned, pleased with himself. Then his gaze slid back to the quiet one.

The man with soft eyes and clenched hands and a weight in his chest that couldn’t be seen but felt.

Felix pointed a syrupy finger. “What your name?”

Chan blinked, eyes wide and shining. He opened his mouth—nothing came.

Felix tilted his head.

Minho nudged him gently. “Go on.”

Chan cleared his throat and gave a tiny, shaky smile.

“…My name’s Chris.”

The accent—that sound—rolled into the room, warm and soft, like sunshine through a window. Something in Felix shifted.
His head snapped toward the older man, his eyes suddenly wide. He blinked once. Twice.

“...Chris?” he said again, but this time his voice was different—softer. Curious.

Chan gave a shaky smile. “Yeah, buddy.”

There was a pause.

Then Felix gasped, dropping his fork entirely.

“You talk like me!!”

And before anyone could stop him, he launched off Hyunjin’s lap with a squeal, stumbling across the floor with tiny, sock-covered feet. Chan barely had time to brace himself before an armful of toddler slammed into his chest, hands gripping his hoodie as Felix buried his face against him.

“You talk like meee!” Felix babbled, looking up at him with wide eyes. “You talk funny! Like my voice! Where you from? What your name? Oh wait—Chris! You said that! Chris! That funny! That my friend name, too, and I like your voice, it sound all warm and like... like toast!”

Chan stared down at him, stunned, tears brimming in his eyes. His arms came up slowly, as if afraid to touch something so fragile.

But Felix didn’t wait.

He crawled right into his lap, tucking himself in like he belonged there, like he’d always belonged there.

“I never met a Chris who look like you,” Felix continued in a breathless rush, his words tumbling over each other. “But I like you! You smell like hugs. Why you look sad? You sad, Chris?”

Chan’s breath hitched.

“I’m not sad,” he whispered hoarsely. “Just happy to see you, Lix.”

Felix tilted his head. “You know my name?”

“I know everything about you,” Chan said, voice cracking.

Felix squinted. “You know I like cheese?”

“Your favorite.”

“And jellybeans?”

“The sour kind.”

Felix gasped. “How?!”

Chan smiled through the tears on his cheeks. “I told you, sunshine. I know you.”

Felix stared at him for a moment, blinking. Then he reached up and patted Chan’s cheek with one syrupy hand. “You nice. You can be my new friend.”

That broke something in Chan—in the gentlest, most shattering way possible. He nodded, pressing a kiss to Felix’s forehead.

“I’d love that.”

Behind them, the others had gone silent, watching the moment unfold with glistening eyes and soft smiles. Minho turned his face away, swallowing a lump in his throat. Jeongin leaned into Han’s shoulder, who didn’t even bother teasing him for it. Hyunjin wiped at his cheeks openly, while Seungmin watched with a bittersweet ache.

Felix turned around in Chan’s lap, his head popping up like a meerkat.

“Where my pancake?”

Laughter echoed through the room, soft and warm.

“I got it,” Han said, already grabbing the tray and bringing it over.

Changbin handed him another tiny piece. “Eat this one for Chimben.”

Felix snorted and giggled, taking it with sticky fingers and then holding out another.

“Chris,” he said, squinting at him, “you eat too. Friends share.”

Chan took the piece gently, his hands still trembling. “Thank you, sunshine.”

Felix nodded proudly, then looked around at everyone—at Minho and Seungmin, Jeongin and Han, Hyunjin and Changbin, and now Chris—his new friend who talked like him.

“You all my friends,” he declared, cheeks puffing out.

“You’re ours, too,” Minho said softly.

As they gathered around the table again, passing bites back and forth, refilling juice, wiping sticky fingers, and sharing stories, something inside the room shifted.

Felix didn’t remember them.

But somehow—in his own way—he was already choosing them again.