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.

Chapter Text

Minho couldn’t take his eyes off Chan.

At first glance, you’d never know something was wrong. The older was seated at the table like the others, a soft smile playing on his lips whenever Felix giggled or babbled. But Minho knew him too well. He saw the tremor in his fingers where they gripped his knees. The way he kept blinking like he was trying to stop tears from forming. The fact that he hadn’t touched a single bite of the pancakes Changbin had gotten for the rest of the group.

Chan looked like he was barely holding himself together.

Minho let it go for a few minutes more, hoping Chan might speak up, might break the silence himself. But when Felix clambered onto Hyunjin’s lap and Chan subtle flinched—just the barest twitch—Minho had seen enough.

He stood, walked behind Chan, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. His thumb moved in small, soothing circles against the soft fabric of Chan’s hoodie.

“Hyung,” Minho murmured, voice quiet enough not to draw the others’ attention. “Come outside with me for a second?”

Chan looked up, eyes glassy. He nodded without speaking, standing slowly as if every part of him ached. Minho guided him to the halfway just outside the suite, closing the door gently behind them.

Silence stretched between them. The quiet was thick, not peaceful, but heavy, like it pressed on their lungs.

Chan leaned against the wall, his head falling back with a soft thud. He stared up at the ceiling like maybe if he stared long enough, he’d find the answers he was looking for in the plaster.

Minho didn’t speak. He waited.

“I don’t know what to do,” Chan said finally, his voice raw, barely more than a whisper. “I–I think I’m breaking.”

Minho turned toward him, his brows pulling together in concern. “Talk to me.”

Chan’s jaw clenched. He sucked in a shaky breath and exhaled through his nose. “He’s been getting worse for weeks. Maybe months. He hasn’t been eating properly. He couldn’t sleep. His back’s been bad again. Some nights…” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat, rubbed at his eyes roughly with the heel of his hand. “Some nights, I had to carry him to teh hospital at three in the morning because he couldn’t stop crying. He couldn’t walk. I had to beg the ER nurse to let us in without causing a scene.”

Minho’s breath caught.

“I told the managers. I told them he was in pain. I said he was needed a break. We all do. But they kept saying it was more important for him to push through it. That he was gaining momentum. That this was his moment.” Chan laughed, bitter and hollow. “They cared more about his brand than his body.”

The silence that followed was sharp. Thick with guilt.

“I didn’t fight hard enough,” Chan whispered, voice trembling. “And now..” he gestured back toward the door. “Now he’s three. He doesn’t know who I am. He calls me ‘Chwis’ and thinks I’m a stranger with a funny voice.”

Minho’s heart broke for him.

Chan collapsed on the bench beside the wall, burying his face in his hands. “I’m his boyfriend. I’m supposed to protect him. I’m supposed to—” His breath hitched. “But now I can’t even hold his hand without feeling like I’m doing something wrong. And I can’t help him. I can’t fix this.”

Minho sat beside him slowly, shoulder brushing his.

“You are helping him,” Minho said softly. “You’re here. You haven’t left. You’re still protecting him—just in a different way now.”

Chan didn’t answer.

“I know this hurts, hyung. I know this must feel… impossible. But you haven’t lost him. He’s still Yongbok.”

“He’s not—” Chan stopped himself, then swallowed. “He’s not my Felix. Not right now.”

Minho nodded, slowly. “No. Right now, he’s just a scared, sweet little kid. And he needs you. Not as a boyfriend. Not even as chan. Just as someone who’ll keep him safe and warm and laughing.”

Chan turned his face toward him. His eyes were red-rimmed, his cheeks flushed with shame. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Minho gave him a soft, sad smile. “Yes, you can. Because you love him. And love doesn’t disappear just because things get hard or weird or scary. It adapts.”

Chan bit down on his bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

“You’re still his person, Chan-hyung. He just needs a different kind of love right now. That’s all. You don’t have to know exactly what to do. You just have to be there. You already are.”

Chan took a deep breath. A deep one this time. Let it out slowly, like maybe some of the weight left with it.

Minho stood and extended a hand. “Come on. Before Jeongin-ah lets him eat crayons.”

That startled a weak laugh out of Chan. He took Minho’s hand, and together, they walked back to the suite.

When Minho opened the door, Felix had a pillow tied around his waist with a phone charger and was pretending to be a dinosaur, roaring softly as he “chomped” on Han’s leg while Changbin helped him growl louder.

Chan blinked at the sight. His lip trembled.

“Chwis!!” Felix spotted him and lit up instantly, flinging the pillow aside and stumbling toward him, arms outstretched.

Chan’s knees nearly gave out, but he caught the little boy easily, scooping him up with practiced hands and tucking him close.

Felix nuzzled into his neck with a sleepy, happy sound. “Smell nice,” he mumbled. “Like ‘nilla…”

Chan shut his eyes and held him tighter.

Minho watched the two of them quietly, heart full and whispered to himself, You didn’t lose him. He’s still yours. You just have to wait for him to find you again.

Felix was still curled in Chan’s lap, sleepily playing with the strings on his oversized hoodie when the knock came at the door.

Minho’s eyes narrowed. He stood, brushing invisible lint from his pants before stepping forward. Seungmin rose beside him as the door opened, and immediately, the atmosphere shifted.

Three managers stepped in, their expressions tense, their voices sharp with panic before they even looked at anyone.

“What the hell happened?” one snapped, eyes immediately scanning the room.

“Why weren’t we told right away?”

“Do you know what this means for our schedules?”

Their raised voices startled Felix. The boy flinched in Chan’s lap, his small fingers tightening in the fabric of Chan’s shirt as his lower lip began to tremble.

Chan instinctively pulled him closer. “Hey, hey it’s okay—” he whispered, but the fear was already blooming behind Felix’s eyes.

A manager’s voice barked out, “We have press appointments this week, brand campaigns—he was booked every day–”

Felix whimpered, small arms clinging to Chan’s neck as he tried to tuck himself beneath his boyfriend’s chin. “Too loud,” he sobbed, barely audible.

“Stop it,” Chan growled, voice trembling as he tried to keep calm. “You’re scaring him—”

“We should be scared!” anotehr manager snapped. “Do you even know what this looks like? If he’s seriously sick, or if someone talks—”

“I said stop.”Chan stood, his arms cradling Felix protectively. “Get out. You’re scaring him!”

But his raised voice cracked at the end—and that was all it took.

Felix burst into tears.

He cried like only a toddler could, full-bodied and overwhelmed, his hands flying to cover his ears as he wailed. “No yelling! No yelling!” he sobbed, curling into himself.

Chan froze, his face horrified as guilt punched through his chest. “Lixie—no, no, I didn’t mean to—”

“Give him to me,” Minho said quickly, crossing the room and gently prying Felix from Chan’s arms. Felix clung for a second, but Minho whispered soft, soothing reassurances—and Felix let himself be passed off, hiccupping and shaking.

“Jeongin-ah,” Minho called. “Take him. Distract him, please.”

Joengin stepped up instantly, his arms open and steady. “Hey, little Lixie,” he cooed, already rocking Felix gently as he took him. “Wanna see the toys again? Remember the dino?”

As they stepped into the next room, Miho turned, sharp-eyed and furious. “He’s three,” he snapped at the managers. “And all he knows is that strangers came in yelling and scared him.”

“We’re not strangers—”

“You are to him.” Minho’s voice was steel.

“We don’t have time for this,” the lead manager spat. “We’ll hire a sitter—he can’t miss the comeback—”

The man was striding toward the back of the room where Jeongin and Felix had gone to play when Jeongin’s voice rang out.

“Don’t touch him.”

The manager froze. Jeongin stood like a wall, one arm behind him where Felix was peeking out. “You’re not going near him,” he said, voice trembling with fury.

“You’re just the maknae—”

“I’m his hyung.”

The manager stepped forward anyway—only for Jeongin to shove him back, palms to chest. “I said don’t touch him.”

Felix yelped behind him, clinging to Jeongin’s legs.

Minho’s heart swelled with something close to awe as Changbin stormed forward next, stepping between them.

“We’re not talking to you anymore,” Changbin said darkly. “We’ll speak to PD-nim directly. You clearly can’t handle this professionally.”

The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable. Without another word, the managers turned and stormed out.

Minho exhaled, the air rattling in his chest. He crossed the room and knelt beside Jeongin, gently scoping Felix from where he’d been clinging to the maknae.

“It’s okay,” Minho whispered. “They’re gone.”

Felix sniffled, wiping at his face with his sleeve. “They were scary.”

“I know,” Minho murmured. “But you’re safe now. We won’t let anyone hurt you.”

From behind him, he heard Suengmin begin softly humming a lullaby—and soon, the tension in Felix’s body began to melt. The others circled in, offering quiet reassurances and soft touches, falling into their roles as protectors with the kind of love only family can offer.

It was only a few minutes lter when Chan’s phone rang. He answered with a clenched jaw, but his expression softened as he listened.

He hung up, turning to the others. “We’ve been called to PD-nim’s office. All of us.”

-

The elevator ride to the top floor was tense and silent. Felix was back in Chan’s arms, small fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as he sleepily rested his head against the older’s shoulder. None of them said a word, there was too much hanging in the air. Chan’s jaw was tight, Minho’s eyes were distant, and everyone else just focused on keeping Felix calm.

When they reached JYP’s office, the secretary quickly ushered them inside, her gaze flicking with curiosity to the small child Chan carried. But she didn’t ask questions, she didn’t need to.

JYP was already standing when they entered, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of Felix. He approached slowly, crouching down to Felix’s level without hesitation. His voice was soft, gently in a way none of them expected.

“Hey, Felix,” he said with a smile. “You feeling okay?”

Felix blinked at him sleepily, a bit wary but not scared. “Tummy hurts a lil,” he mumbled in English, eyes fluttering as he cuddled closer to Chan.

JYP nodded, not missing a beat. “That’s okay. You’ve had a big day, huh?” H ereached into a drawer and pulled out a small toy car and a stuffed fox. “Wanna play with these while we talk?”

Felix’s eyes lit up faintly at the sight, his tiny hands reaching out to grab the fox. He clutched it to his chest as Chan lowered him into a small couch in the corner of the room. JYP set the toy car beside him and ruffled his hir once before standing up to face the boys.

“He’s even smaller than I imagined,” he said quietly. “I got the call, but seeing it in person…”

“We need to talk,” Minho cut in, voice strained. “Not just about now. About what happens when he comes back.”

JYP raised a brow. “Of course. We were thinking a short hiatus—at least until Felix is back to normal. We can work around—”

“No,” Minho said sharply. Everyone turned to look at him. “Not short. Not just until he’s an adult. He needs real time off. A real break. Even after this ends.”

JYP looked between them. “I understand your concern, but—”

“Do you?” Minho asked, stepping forward. “Because I’ve found him crying and sleeping in dance studios. He can’t sleep. He hasn’t had a real break in years. His back is always in pain, and no matter how many times we say something, its brushed aside. This didn’t just happen overnight. He didn’t just wake up like this because he was tired. His body gave up. That’s what this is.”

The room was quiet. Even JYP didn’t respond right away. The others shifted uncomfortably, letting Minho speak. His voice was thick, every word weighed down by fear and helplessness.

“We’re not asking,” Chan added quietly, but firmly. “We’re telling you. We won’t let him be pushed like this again.”

Just then, a soft voice called out.

“Min…Min’yoh…”

Minho’s heart stopped. He whipped around toward the corner where Felix sat—except he wasn’t sitting anymore.

Felix was swaying where he stood, his toy fox clutched in one hand, the other reaching out weakly. His skin was pale, and sweat had begun to bed along his forehead and temple. His eyes were unfocused, lips trembling.

“I…I no feel good,” he whimpered, and then he began to cry, a high, panicked sound that tore through the room.

“Felix!” Chan was there in an instant, catching him just as the toddler’s knees buckled. He cradled the small body, panicking. “It’s okay, I’ve got you—Felix, baby, stay with me!”

“Get the medics!” Hyunjin shouted, bolting for the door. “Now!”

Felix whimpered weakly, his head lolling against Chan’s shoulder as the older gently patted his back, murmuring soothing words through a choked voice.

The room descended into chaos. Security burst in, escorting the boys back as medical staff rushed in, taking Felix from Chan’s arms as he hesitated, not wanting to let og. But they had to. He needed help.

The second Felix was out of sight, Minho collapsed into one of the chairs by the wall, hands shaking violently. His breathing was unsteady, and he barely noticed Han kneeling beside him until he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

“I–I didn’t know wha tto do,” Minho whispered, eyes burning. “He looked at me and—he’s just a baby, Hannie. He’s just a baby and I couldn’t do anything.”

Han said nothing. He just pulled Minho into a tight hug, holding him close as Minho finally let go—shaking, crying, overwhelmed. Every bit of fear and guilt came pouring out in raged breaths and desperate sobs, muffled into the crook of Han’s neck.

Across the room, Chan stood frozen, staring at teh closer door the medics has disappeared through. His hands still trembled, and he kept whispering Felix’s name liek a prayer.

Then, the door opened again.

The doctor stepped out, expression unreadable as all heads turned toward her. The doctor stepped forward with an exhausted but soft expression on her face. Every member of the group turned at once, their breath collectively held.

“He’s okay,” she said gently. “Vitals have stabilized. We gave him fluids and something mild for the pain. But—”

But her words were swallowed by chaos. Shouting erupted from farther down the corridor, footsteps pounding against the floor.

“He ran out of the room!”

“We tried to stop him!”

The boys turned in unison. Chan took off first, rounding the corner, with Changbin, Hyunjin, and Jeongin right behind. Minho's stomach twisted into a knot as he grabbed one of the stunned medics by the sleeve.

“Who ran? What are you talking about?” he demanded.

“Felix!” the medic stammered. “He just woke up and bolted. We didn’t realize—he looked different—we thought someone else’s kid—”

“He’s a toddler!” Changbin growled, face flushed with disbelief. “How could you not stop him?!”

“No,” the doctor interrupted, catching up to them again, breathless but urgent. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. Felix… he’s not a toddler anymore. He—he aged again.”

Everything went still.

Minho felt the air knock from his lungs. “What do you mean aged again?”

The doctor nodded grimly. “From what we saw, he looks around seven years old now. It happened almost instantly—he started crying, and then his whole body tensed, and it was like—like watching time fast forward in real time. We didn’t have time to react before he jumped off the bed and ran.”

A long moment passed as her words sunk in.

Then Chan barked, “Split up! Now! Tell security—no children leave the building. Go, now!”

They scattered.

Minho and Hyunjin headed toward the lower levels, Minho’s mind racing, panic settling like a lead weight in his chest. He could hardly imagine what Felix might be going through—waking up alone in a strange place, older, unfamiliar, scared. Every part of him buzzed with adrenaline and dread.

Then—raised voices. Sharp. Frustrated. The low hum of walkie-talkies and echoing footsteps.

They rounded a corner and saw it.

Security guards stood near the cafeteria, some of them looking baffled, others visibly stressed. In their center, small and trembling but loud as ever, was a furious little boy.

Felix.

Minho’s breath caught in his throat.

The child looked so different from the toddler they’d been holding only an hour ago—taller now, his features more defined, but still unmistakably him. He was red in the face, tears spilling freely as he screamed at the adults surrounding him.

“Leave me alone!” he sobbed. “I don’t know you! Stop touching me! I want my mom! I want my sisters!”

One of the security guards tried to reach for him, but Felix jerked away violently, backing toward a corner. “No! Don’t—don’t come near me!”

Minho didn’t hesitate. He shoved through the guards, his voice coming out hoarse and urgent.

“Felix—hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m here now. You’re safe.”

The boy froze, wild eyes flicking up to meet Minho’s. He looked disoriented, frightened, but something shifted in his expression. Confusion gave way to hesitation.

Then—softly, like the memory had surfaced from the fog—he whispered, “...Minho?”

Minho’s heart stuttered.

“Yeah,” he said, kneeling. His hands were open, his voice gentler than he knew it could be. “It’s me. I’ve got you.”

Felix’s lip trembled. His small body shook from head to toe. Then he ran straight into Minho’s chest.

Minho caught him easily, arms wrapping tight around the boy’s quivering frame. Felix’s fingers fisted in the fabric of Minho’s shirt as he buried his face into his shoulder, crying in full now.

“I—I was so scared,” Felix gasped, hiccuping through sobs. “Everything’s weird and I—I don’t remember stuff and they were yelling and—”

Minho cradled him, rocking them slightly, pressing his cheek against Felix’s hair. “I know, I know, Bbokie. I’m so sorry. You’re okay now. I promise, you’re safe.”

Hyunjin dropped to his knees beside them, brushing Felix’s hair gently out of his face, voice choked with emotion. “We’ve got you now, angel. You’re okay.”

The security guards quietly backed away, shame and confusion clear on their faces.

Minho ignored them.

All that mattered was the little boy trembling in his arms. Older, but still lost—still needing them, and Minho would give him the world if it meant keeping him safe.

-

The door to the suite swung open and all heads turned toward it—Jeongin, Seungmin, Changbin, Han, and Chan springing to their feet at the sound. Minho stepped in slowly, his arms cradling a much taller, slightly lankier version of Felix than they’d last seen. Felix’s legs dangled past Minho’s hip now, his features a little more defined but still delicate, hair tousled from all the chaos.

He looked around with curious eyes, the soft brown of them wide and bright, like sunlight caught in molasses. The freckles across his nose and cheeks had bloomed just a little more.

“Hi…” he said softly, voice still light but more sure now, tinged with a careful politeness that melted the room.

Jeongin made a noise that sounded like he might cry. “He’s… he’s so cute still,” he whispered like it physically pained him.

“Still?” Felix asked, confused.

“No, nothing, you’re just—you’re adorable,” Han choked, hands pressed to his face. Changbin nodded mutely beside him, slack-jawed.

Felix looked around at them all, brows furrowed. “Do I know you? I think I do. But I don’t ‘member much. Just… your names. You’re Minho.” He pointed to Minho’s chest with certainty, then looked at the others. “And you’re…” he blinked hard, “…Hyunjin? Jeongin? Binnie? Chan? Seungmin? Han?”

Every name he got right made their hearts collectively ache.

“I don’t remember what we did,” Felix added softly, “but I remember I liked you.”

That was all it took. Chan turned around with a hand over his mouth, shoulders trembling. Jeongin sniffled. Han reached out, then pulled his hands back like touching Felix might make him vanish.

“You liked us?” Hyunjin asked gently, crouching so they were at eye level.

Felix nodded, kicking his socked feet slightly. “Yeah. You made me happy.”

Minho exhaled shakily, eyes glossing a bit. He gently set Felix down and patted his head.

“Okay, now I love him again,” Han said with an emotional wheeze.

“Like you ever stopped,” Jeongin muttered, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

Felix tugged at the hem of his oversized hoodie—still hilariously too big, brushing his knees. His eyes lifted, landing on Hyunjin’s face, narrowing a bit with curiosity.

“Your ears are shiny,” he said suddenly, pointing.

Hyunjin blinked, then grinned. “You like them?”

“They sparkle,” Felix whispered reverently. “Can I… touch?”

Hyunjin laughed, leaning in and letting Felix poke curiously at one of the hoops. “You’ve got good taste.”

Felix smiled wide, and Minho, knowing exactly where this was going, stood and stretched. “Okay, I know that look,” he muttered. “Hyunjin-ah, don’t you dare—”

“Too late!” Hyunjin beamed. “Come on, Lixie. Let’s go to the salon!”

Felix lit up like a lantern. “Salon?! I get shiny ears?!”

Hyunjin gasped, feigning scandal. “Not yet! We gotta work our way up. But I can give you glitter gel, fancy clips, and the best hair styling of your life.”

Felix squealed in delight. “Yes! Yes please!”

“Hyunjin-ah,” Chan warned, voice still hoarse with emotion. “Don’t glitter bomb his whole head.”

“No promises!” Hyunjin called, already leading Felix toward the bathroom-turned-beauty-parlor, Felix bouncing along behind him in socks that were too big.

Minho groaned behind them, muttering something about chaos and glitter, but Hyunjin was already leading Felix down the hallway, straight toward the spare bathroom that had become his unofficial beauty nook.

The others followed behind like shadows, helpless to resist the pull of Felix’s sunshine.

Inside, Hyunjin gently sat Felix down on a little ottoman cushion by the sink, kneeling in front of him to meet his eyes. Felix was bouncing a little, his hands folded in his lap, watching Hyunjin’s every movement like a little bird waiting to be fed.

“Okay,” Hyunjin said with a flourish, dragging out his supply basket from under the counter. “Welcome to the Hyunjin Hair Salon. Where all your dreams come true.”

Felix gasped and clasped his hands under his chin. “Really?!”

“Really,” Hyunjin grinned. “First, we’re going to brush your hair. Then I’ll show you the glitter gel. And then, if you’re really brave…”

Felix leaned in, whispering dramatically, “What?”

“We might even use… the rainbow clip.”

Felix’s entire face lit up, cheeks puffing with joy. “The rainbow?! That’s my favorite color!”

Hyunjin chuckled, his throat aching from the sheer force of how much he adored this version of Felix. He turned the little boy around so his back was to him, then gathered the red-brown strands in his hands. It was soft, impossibly so, and the familiar scent of Felix’s shampoo made his chest ache.

“I used to do this all the time,” Hyunjin murmured more to himself than anyone else.

He took his time brushing through the strands, gentle and deliberate, mindful of any knots. Felix hummed under his touch, tipping his head slightly into the motions like a kitten being groomed.

“You’re really good at this,” Felix said with a dreamy little sigh.

Hyunjin paused for a second, blinking quickly. “Thank you, Lixie. That means a lot.”

“Mom and Rachel brush my hair like this,” Felix added, his voice soft. “I like when you do it too.”

Hyunjin swallowed hard and nodded, silently vowing to memorize every second of this.

Once the tangles were gone, he reached for his signature glitter gel—a little pot with flecks of pastel shimmer—and dabbed a tiny amount onto his fingers. “Okay, I’m gonna use a little magic now. Hold very still.”

Felix giggled. “Like a statue!”

“Exactly.”

He slicked back the front just slightly, enough to make it sparkle in the light, then gently twisted two small sections on either side of Felix’s face, clipping them back with two shimmering clips—one shaped like a star, the other a tiny rainbow.

“You look perfect,” Hyunjin whispered, tilting Felix’s chin gently to admire his work.

Felix’s smile was hesitant, bashful. “I do?”

Hyunjin nodded. “Better than perfect. You’re a masterpiece.”

Behind them, the other boys were melting into puddles, all of them watching with glossy eyes and aching hearts.
Felix fidgeted for a moment before turning back to face Hyunjin fully. “Can I do your hair now?”

Hyunjin blinked. “My hair?”

Felix nodded seriously. “So you can be pretty too.”

There was a long beat of silence before Hyunjin started laughing, low and genuine. He tilted his head, offering Felix the comb. “You think I’m not pretty already?”

Felix tapped his lips with one finger. “Hmm. You’re almost as pretty as me.”

The room howled with laughter, Jeongin falling against Minho’s shoulder. Han had to sit down.

Hyunjin clutched his chest, grinning. “You wound me, Lix-ah. Alright. Make me prettier.”

Felix stood on his tiptoes, pulling Hyunjin down a little and carefully placing the remaining rainbow clip just off-center on the short hair that had grown.. “Now we match.”

Hyunjin looked at their reflections in the mirror. Two faces side by side—one older and glitter-dusted, the other still round and cherub-like, grinning with pride.

It struck him again, hard, how temporary this might be. He turned and hugged Felix tight.

“Thanks, Lixie,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome, Jinjin.”

Minho peeked into the doorway, watching them, heart full. It was like watching the sun learning how to shine again, one ray at a time.

Felix tugged on Hyunjin’s sleeve as he admired their matching hair clips in the mirror. “Um… Jinjin?”

Hyunjin looked down, still smiling at the rainbow glint in Felix’s hair. “Yes, angel?”

“I’m hungry,” Felix whispered dramatically, as though revealing a tragic secret. He patted his belly for emphasis. “It’s growling.”

From the hallway, Changbin’s ears perked up. “Did someone say hungry?”

Felix’s eyes lit up and he spun around. “Binnie!! I’m starving. I didn’t eat lunch or snack or… or anything!”

Chan gently touched his back. “Hey, hey, we can fix that. You wanna go home and cook something yummy?”

Felix nodded so fast his hair bounced. “Yuh-huh! Can Binnie cook?! Please?! Binnie’s the best cooker!”

Changbin puffed his chest proudly. “Chef Binnie is reporting for duty.”

Seungmin chuckled. “God help us.”

Back at the apartment, it was a bit of chaos to get the door open with a clingy seven-year-old glued to Hyunjin’s side and six other boys all hovering with protective instincts. Once inside, shoes were kicked off, jackets slung over chairs, and Felix made a beeline for the kitchen—only to freeze and turn back around.

“Wait!” he gasped, “I gotta wash my hands! Binnie said no dirty hands in his kitchen!”

Changbin gave him a thumbs-up. “That’s right, little chef. Go scrub, then report for duty.”

Felix rushed to the bathroom, calling over his shoulder, “Yes, Chef!!”

The boys laughed as he darted away, and Changbin rolled up his sleeves like he was about to compete on Iron Chef.

By the time Felix returned, hands damp and shirt sleeves a little soaked from the sink, Changbin had already laid out ingredients across the counter—eggs, rice, scallions, sesame oil, leftover bulgogi, and various seasonings. A cozy, comforting fried rice was on the menu, easy and filling, with just enough flash to impress their miniature guest of honor.

“Okay,” Changbin said, clapping his hands. “You ready, Assistant Chef Felix?”

Felix saluted. “Ready, Chef Binnie, sir!”

Hyunjin melted into the couch, clutching a cushion to his chest.

Changbin handed Felix a small mixing bowl and pointed to the already cracked eggs. “Can you stir those for me? Gently, okay? Like you’re waking them up, not fighting them.”

Felix giggled and nodded, carefully taking the whisk in both hands. “I can do it. I’m strong!”

“Yes, you are,” Minho murmured fondly from the doorway, watching the two of them.

Changbin moved around the kitchen like a whirlwind of skill, but never once did he rush Felix. He talked him through each step. “Wanna sprinkle the salt? Not too much… there ya go. And now we add in the secret ingredient.”

Felix gasped. “What’s the secret?”

Changbin leaned down and whispered, “Love.”

Felix blinked at him. “That’s not food.”

The room roared with laughter. Seungmin cracked a loud snort as he watched from the counter.

Changbin grinned. “Yeah, well, you’re the love, so I guess we already added it.”

Felix beamed at that, cheeks pink.

Together, they stirred the ingredients in the wok, the smell of sizzling garlic and sesame oil filling the air. Felix stood on a little step stool Jeongin had pulled from the closet, and wore an oversized apron that trailed behind him like a cape. With each stir, he made little sound effects: “Pshhh! Chhh! Pow!”

As they worked, Felix paused, looking up at Changbin with a big grin. “Food is my favorite thing! I love eating. It makes me so happy.”

Changbin’s hands froze for half a second. His heart squeezed painfully in his chest. The memories of Felix back in his adult form—skipping meals, counting calories too obsessively, refusing midnight snacks because of upcoming photoshoots—came rushing in like a wave. All the times Changbin had begged him to eat, and Felix had just smiled and said he couldn’t, not yet. Not until he was done being whatever the world wanted him to be.

But now, here he was, seven years old, with round cheeks and bright eyes, proclaiming that eating made him happy. There was no guilt in his voice, no fear in his smile. Just joy.

Changbin swallowed thickly, trying not to let the sudden emotion show. “Yeah?” he managed softly.

Felix nodded fiercely. “Uh-huh. It’s yummy and it makes my tummy warm. And your cooking’s the yummiest.”

Before Changbin could respond, Felix added, “Also! When I grow up, I’m gonna open a food truck! But it’s only for puppies and bunnies.”

That did it. Changbin let out a teary laugh and ruffled the boy’s hair. “That’s the best plan I’ve ever heard, aegi.”

By the time the food was done, it was like heaven in a pan.

Felix clapped his hands as Changbin plated it. “Chef Binnie! It looks so good!”

“Course it does,” Changbin winked, setting the plate on the table. “And it’s all thanks to you, little helper.”

They all sat around the table, passing dishes, laughter spilling across the room like warm light. Felix sat between Minho and Chan, tiny legs swinging under his chair as he shoveled spoonfuls of food into his mouth with pure delight.

“Mmmmmm,” he moaned, cheeks full. “I’m gonna eat all of it!”

Chan ruffled his hair. “Good. You need it, bug.”

Felix turned to him, eyes soft and full. “You’re nice, Chris.”

Chan blinked hard, swallowing the lump in his throat. “So are you, Lix.”

As dinner went on, the apartment filled with the hum of stories, jokes, and the clicking of spoons against plates. It felt almost normal. Just a group of boys, sharing a meal. Except one of them was seven years old, laughing and smearing a bit of soy sauce across his cheek, still too small to understand how much everyone around him had ached to make sure he was okay.

Felix was still nibbling on some rice when a warm hand gently tapped his shoulder. He turned his head, crumbs still clinging to the corner of his mouth, to find Jeongin crouched beside him with a conspiratorial glint in his eyes.

"Agent Bokkie," Jeongin whispered, dramatically glancing side to side. "You’re needed for a mission."

Felix blinked at him. “A… mishun?”

“A super secret spy mission,” Jeongin confirmed in a hushed tone. “Only for the best agents. Are you in?”

Felix’s eyes widened, lighting up like stars. He scrambled out of his seat with such speed that the others barely had time to react. His oversized hoodie swished behind him like a cape, and his little socked feet pattered eagerly on the floor.

Jeongin handed him a rolled-up napkin tied with a string like a scroll. “This contains all the mission info,” he said seriously, tapping the scroll with one finger. “We believe someone has stolen the sacred snack stash. Intel points to… Minho-hyung.”

Felix gasped so dramatically you’d think he’d just heard a twist ending to a mystery movie. “No! Min-Minho… hyung…?”

Jeongin’s grin stretched. “Hey, that’s right! Hyung. That means ‘older brother.’ You can call all of us that.”

Felix tilted his head, brow furrowed. “Hyung… Like… Jeongin-hyung?”

Jeongin beamed, placing a hand over his heart. “Exactly like that.”

“Jeongin-hyung,” Felix said again, tasting the word slowly like it was something sweet and new. “Hyunjin-hyung. Seungmin-hyung…”

From the kitchen, the boys all turned their heads, warmth rushing through them as they heard the youngest try out their names one by one. Chan’s expression softened, his fingers twitching at his side, as if resisting the urge to pull Felix in and never let go.

Jeongin knelt beside Felix again, whispering, “Let’s go, Agent Bokkie. Operation Cookie Rescue is a go.”

They tiptoed down the hallway in exaggerated slow-motion, ducking behind corners, Felix mimicking Jeongin’s every stealthy move. Every now and then he’d glance back at the kitchen, checking if they were being watched. Once, Minho coughed from the sink and Felix grabbed Jeongin’s hand in alarm. “Enemy spotted,” he whispered urgently.

Jeongin stifled a laugh. “We’ll have to be extra sneaky now.”

They made it to Minho’s room and crept inside like cartoon spies. Jeongin motioned toward the dresser where Minho’s snack stash sat neatly in a little basket. Felix squinted, tiptoeing closer. “Cookies… I see the cookies, hyung!”

He turned, holding up the small pack like it was a trophy. But just as they were about to make their grand escape—
“What do you think you’re doing?” Minho stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, and an amused smirk tugging at his lips.

Felix yelped and clutched the cookies to his chest. “RUN!”

They bolted past Minho, Felix squealing with laughter, Jeongin whooping like a war cry. Minho shook his head, grinning despite himself as he called after them, “If you break anything, I’m hiding the ice cream next!”

Back in the living room, the others looked up to see the two agents tumble onto the couch in a pile of giggles, Felix now breathless but triumphant, the cookies still clutched in his hand.

“We got ‘em,” Jeongin said proudly, brushing hair from Felix’s forehead.

Felix grinned up at him. “Thank you, Jeongin-hyung.”

Jeongin froze, something tender and quiet blooming across his face. It was such a simple word, but hearing it from Felix—spoken with trust, joy, and that sweet little lisp—hit something deep. He ruffled the boy’s hair gently, blinking quickly.
“Anytime, Agent Bokkie.”

Felix twisted, spotting the rest of the boys watching from the kitchen. He smiled bashfully and then raised the pack of cookies. “Wanna share?”

Hyunjin pretended to wipe away a tear. “He’s too powerful…”

Felix giggled and stood, wobbling a bit as he tried to balance the cookie pack. He scampered over and handed a cookie to each of his hyungs, his little hand resting for a moment on Han’s knee as he whispered, “For you, Han-hyung.”

Han accepted it like it was a sacred offering. “Thanks, baby.”

“Not a baby,” Felix pouted.

“You’re right, you’re our super secret spy.”

Felix grinned wide again and dove back onto the couch beside Jeongin, curling into his side with content sigh. “I like being here…”

The words were soft, spoken so easily they almost missed them—but every one of the boys heard; and it made all the chaos, fear, and heartbreak of the past few days feel worth it.

-

It began with a single, exaggerated yawn from Felix, who lay sprawled across Jeongin’s lap in his fuzzy star pajamas, his head heavy and eyes droopy as he kicked his feet softly in the air.

“It’s too bright,” he murmured, voice small and sleepy. “Too bright for sleeps.”

Jeongin gently tapped the tip of Felix’s nose. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

That was all the spark Chan needed to push off the armrest where he’d been curled with his phone and suddenly clap his hands together. “We’re building a fort. Right now. Operation Cozy Bokkie is officially underway.”

Felix blinked, then lit up like a sunrise. “A real fort?!”

“With blankets and pillows and lights and snacks,” Seungmin promised as he stood up, stretching.

“Can it have a roof?” Felix asked, voice filled with wonder.

“It’ll have three roofs,” Han said dramatically, already dashing toward the linen closet.

From that moment on, the dorm exploded into movement. Minho, ever the general, began barking orders in his mock-serious voice, pointing from one room to another. “Hyunjin, lights. Jeongin, supplies. Changbin, get the thickest blankets you can find.”

“Yes, sir,” Hyunjin saluted with a grin, already dragging a string of fairy lights out of a drawer.

Felix stood in the middle of the chaos, holding his stuffed dinosaur tightly to his chest, eyes wide with anticipation. He watched his hyungs hurry around him, arms full of cushions and blankets, turning the living room into a magical maze of softness and sparkle. A blanket was draped between two chairs. Cushions were piled up like castle walls. Lights were strung up overhead like glowing stars.

As the final piece of the fort was placed—a patchwork quilt from Felix’s room, stretched wide across the center—Chan ducked inside and looked around. It was warm. Safe. Soft. It was perfect.

“Okay, Lixie,” he said, peeking out with a grin. “Come see your kingdom.”

Felix gasped and crawled forward immediately, giggling as he ducked into the glowing space. “It’s magic!” he squealed, twirling in a slow circle before flopping onto a pillow with a satisfied sigh. “I love it!”

“It’s the most advanced snuggle fortress in all of Korea,” Jeongin added, crawling in behind him.

The others followed, squeezing into the fort one by one. Seungmin brought the snacks: animal crackers, mini rice cakes, fruit slices, and a couple of juice boxes with bendy straws. Hyunjin had even brought a small bluetooth speaker, which now played soft lullaby instrumentals.

Felix snuggled between Chan and Minho, his little body half-laying across Minho’s chest and his legs draped over Chan’s lap. He was a bundle of blanket and golden curls, his cheeks pink from excitement.

“Thank you, Minmin-hyung,” Felix whispered sleepily, resting his cheek against Minho’s hoodie.

Minho melted, pressing a kiss to the top of Felix’s head. “You’re welcome, baby.”

Around them, the older boys relaxed. Han dramatically told a bedtime story about a magical ocelot prince on a quest to find the world’s best pillow. Changbin, not to be outdone, pulled out a stuffed animal and made it dance while making silly voices, which made Felix laugh so hard he snorted.

“Bin-hyung’s so funny,” Felix said in between giggles, leaning against his side.

“He tries,” Seungmin mumbled from behind a juice box, smirking.

The moment was soft and perfect. Felix yawned again, even bigger this time, and curled more tightly into Minho’s side. His little hand gripped the edge of Chan’s sleeve, and when Chan looked down, Felix was smiling faintly with closed eyes.

“You sleepin’, Lixie?” Chan whispered.

A tiny hum was the only answer. Then, slowly: “I love you all.”

That was it. Chan pressed a knuckle to his mouth, eyes misty.

Jeongin reached over and carefully tucked a blanket up to Felix’s chin. “He’s down for the count.”

Minho looked around at the others. No one moved to leave.

One by one, they got comfortable. Han flopped onto his stomach, his arm hanging off a pillow. Hyunjin curled up with his head resting near Felix’s feet. Seungmin claimed a spot beside Jeongin, the two of them whispering jokes until they drifted off. Changbin laid back with his hand resting protectively near Felix’s shoulder, just in case.

And in the center of it all, bathed in the warm golden glow of fairy lights, Felix slept like a star in the sky—peaceful, safe, and completely loved.

The morning light slipped gently through the gaps in the blanket fort, casting soft golden rays across the colorful nest of pillows and sleeping bodies. The air was warm and still, filled with the steady rhythm of slow breathing and the faint scent of fabric softener clinging to oversized pajama shirts. Somewhere near the center of the pile, Felix stirred.

Still dressed in his cozy dinosaur pajamas, his hair was a wild halo of soft waves, and his cheeks were pink from sleep. He blinked a few times, disoriented in the sleepy haze of morning, then stretched his arms above his head with a quiet yawn. He rubbed at his eyes, then absently brought his hand to his mouth—and froze.

His small fingers poked at the front of his gums, and his eyes widened. Something was missing.

“Min…ho hyung?” he mumbled uncertainly, reaching over and shaking Minho’s arm with urgency. “Hyung… somethin’ wrong.”

Minho blinked awake, disoriented, then sat up quickly when he saw the panic in Felix’s eyes. “Bokkie? What’s wrong, baby?”

“My tooth’s gone!” Felix squeaked, suddenly tearing up. “It was there last night, an’ now it’s gone! I didn’t even feel it, an’ now—now the Tooth Fairy won’t come ‘cause I LOST it!”

His voice cracked at the last word, his face crumpling as tears welled in his eyes. His tiny hands flailed in frustration. The noise had already woken most of the others, heads popping out of pillows like gophers.

“Wait, what happened?” Jeongin mumbled, crawling closer.

Felix sat in Minho’s lap now, clinging to his shirt, big watery eyes scanning everyone’s confused faces. “I—my tooth’s gone… and I didn’t keep it safe…”

“Aww, Felix-ah,” Jeongin cooed, instantly wrapping his arms around the little boy and pulling him into a hug. “That just means you're growin’ up. It’s normal. You did nothing wrong.”

“But the fairy!” Felix sniffled, voice trembling. “How’s she gonna find it if I don’t got it?”

Seungmin, rubbing sleep from his eyes, reached over and gently tapped the boy’s nose. “She’s magic, remember? She doesn’t need the tooth. If you leave her a note, she’ll still come. Promise.”

“You promise?” Felix asked, voice still thick but hopeful.

“I super promise.” Jeongin nodded firmly, then glanced toward Chan, who was already digging through a drawer in the room for paper and crayons.

“Okay, we’re gonna write the best Tooth Fairy letter in history,” Chan said, setting the supplies in front of Felix with a little flourish.

With the others crowding around to watch and help, Felix leaned over the paper and carefully wrote—in the loopy scrawl of a seven-year-old—a heartfelt letter:

“Dear Tooth Fairy,
I lost my tooth but I don’t know where it went.
I hope you can still find it.
Love, Felix 💖”

He even drew a picture of himself smiling, a little gap where the tooth had been.

“There,” he whispered when he finished, proud but still looking a little uncertain. Minho hugged him from behind, resting his chin on Felix’s shoulder.

“You did perfect, angel,” he said softly.

Seeing as it was still way too early to be awake, they placed the letter under Felix’s pillow in the fort nestled beside Minho’s, just to be safe. Minho kissed his forehead, and they all quickly fell back asleep.

When morning came again, a shiny gold coin and a sparkly little note from the Tooth Fairy sat beneath Felix’s pillow, glittering in the soft light. Felix let out the happiest gasp, holding it up for everyone to see with sleepy excitement.

“She came!” he cried, practically glowing. “She really came!”

Everyone cheered softly, surrounding him with love and sleepy grins, all of them basking in the warmth of a tiny child’s wonder.

It was just a lost tooth, maybe—but to Felix, and to everyone watching him beam with joy, it felt like something more. A tiny reminder that even in the strangest circumstances, magic could still find its way in.

Now, it was actually time for them to do something with their day.

After brushing out his bedhead and changing him into a cozy hoodie with stars on the sleeves, Minho gave Felix a soft nudge toward the living room where Han was waiting with something magical in his hands—a box of fresh crayons and a thick stack of white paper.

“Okay, Lix-ah,” Han grinned, patting the floor beside him. “You and me, it’s serious art time. I hope you’re ready.”

Felix’s face lit up, gap-toothed and beaming. “I ready, I ready!” he chirped, plopping down beside Han with the energy of a hundred suns. “We gonna draw dragons? I love dragons. They go RAWR!!”

Han chuckled, already laying out the crayons into a rainbow spread. “We can draw dragons, dinosaurs, or even rocket-powered pirate ships. You’re the boss.”

Felix gasped, his eyes shining. “RAWR dinos and pirate ship dragon! I draw you as a dragon, too, Han-hyung.”

The way he said it—Han-hyung—made Han’s heart skip. It was still so new to hear the title from Felix’s small voice, and every time he did, Han felt a little like crying and laughing at once.

“Hey,” Han said softly, nudging him with a crayon. “Did you know you and I are birthday twins?”

Felix tilted his head. “Twins?”

“Yep. Our birthdays are one day apart. So that makes us… dragon twins.”

Felix’s eyes grew huge, and he gasped like he’d just discovered treasure. “We’re twinnies?! Han-hyung is my twinnie?!”

“The one and only,” Han said with a proud smile.

Felix immediately stood up, holding his arms out like wings. “E’rybody!!” he called, spinning dramatically. “HAN-HYUNG IS MY TWINNIE! We same birthday! That mean we same soul!”

Laughter bubbled up from the hallway. Jeongin poked his head out from the bathroom, toothbrush still in his mouth, while Hyunjin, already dressed in his mismatched pajamas and socks, leaned in from the kitchen with wide eyes.

“Did he just say you’re soulmates?” Jeongin managed around a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Same soul!” Felix repeated, running up and hugging Han tightly. “He my twinnie!”

Han’s eyes welled up despite himself. He pressed a kiss to the top of Felix’s hair and murmured, “Yeah. I’m your twinnie, always.”

Minho, watching from the kitchen, melted at the sight. Chan, beside him, had paused halfway through slicing fruit and was just staring, smile soft and glassy.

Back in the living room, the art session began in earnest. Felix’s drawings sprawled quickly — messy, bright, filled with swirls of color and stories behind each one. He drew Jeongin as a fox dragon (“'Cause he sneaky sneaky!”), Hyunjin as a rainbow prince (“He fancy like a real prince!”), and himself beside Han, both wearing crowns. Above their heads in scratchy, wobbly letters, he wrote: “TWINS.”

Han lay beside him on the floor, helping draw fire for their dragons and shading in golden sparkles. Jeongin soon joined them, coaxed by Felix’s firm insistence and a bright “Come sit, Innie-hyung, you gotta draw your tail!”

Felix would look up between strokes and giggle, proudly showing off each new doodle with excitement like he’d just painted the Mona Lisa. Han kept them all, each drawing tucked carefully into a folder with Felix’s name scribbled in the corner.

“Dis one’s you eating cereal,” Felix explained to Seungmin, holding up a stick-figure dragon surrounded by floating cereal bowls. “Cereal is very ‘portant.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Changbin said, ruffling his hair.

As the boys kept drawing, Minho and Chan moved around the kitchen, preparing breakfast. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, and toast filled the air with their rich scent. The homey smells seemed to wrap around all of them like a warm blanket. Every now and then, Minho would glance into the living room, his heart tugging at the sight of Felix so happy, so safe—crayons in hand, surrounded by love.

Chan was watching too, a quiet awe in his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this,” he whispered. “So… light.”

Minho smiled. “That’s what happens when you’re surrounded by people who let you be a kid.”

As they finished up, Felix proudly held up a picture of a breakfast feast—pancakes as big as dragons, bacon swords, and a milk river. “We eat now?” he asked hopefully, crawling up onto Han’s lap.

Han wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I think that’s our cue.”

-

The golden afternoon light had mellowed into something softer, something quieter, as it filtered through the gauzy curtains. Dust motes shimmered lazily in the glow, the air humming with the warmth of a lived-in home. The others were scattered throughout the apartment—Jeongin and Hyunjin huddled over a puzzle, Han dozing in a chair with a picture book spread across his chest, and Minho humming faintly from the kitchen as he cleaned dishes with Seungmin at his side.

But in the corner of the living room, tucked away where the sunlight pooled most tenderly, were Chan and Felix.

Chan sat cross-legged on the carpet, Seungmin’s acoustic guitar balanced across his lap. The familiar wood was smooth beneath his fingers as he tuned it, the gentle plucking sending soft, floating notes into the room. Beside him, Felix was curled up like a kitten, head resting against Chan’s knee, eyes following the older’s every move.

“Do you wanna try?” Chan asked, voice quiet, as if speaking any louder would break the delicate calm between them.

Felix perked up immediately. “Yes, pwease!”

Chan smiled, heart already aching in the best kind of way. He shifted the guitar toward Felix, helping guide the boy’s tiny fingers to the strings. “Just press here—not too hard, just like that. Okay, now strum.”

A clunky, buzz-filled sound rang out, and Felix giggled, nose scrunching up in delight. “Oops!”

Chan chuckled too. “It’s okay, angel. You’ll get the hang of it. One more try?”

Felix nodded seriously, biting his lip as he adjusted his fingers. The next chord still wasn’t perfect (not even close) but Chan clapped anyway, showering the boy with praise until Felix was beaming so brightly it nearly knocked the air from his lungs.

They played like that for a few minutes, Felix getting distracted every few seconds by the guitar's sounds, the way the strings buzzed under his touch, or the way Chan’s voice softened whenever he encouraged him.

But eventually, Felix stilled. He looked up at Chan with wide, dark eyes, something unreadable flickering behind them.

“Chris?”

“Yeah, baby?”

The boy shifted a little, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “I feel funny.”

Chan frowned gently, setting the guitar down beside them. “Funny how?”

Felix didn’t look at him when he answered. “When I look at you… my tummy feels all… squiggly. And my heart goes boom-boom-boom really fast. Like I runned really far.”

Chan’s heart clenched. He blinked, stunned, trying to gather his thoughts. “Oh,” he whispered.

“I don’t get it,” Felix mumbled, still not meeting his eyes. “It’s just you, though. Nobody else makes me feel like that. Is that… is that bad?”

Chan reached out slowly, brushing a hand through Felix’s soft, tousled hair. “No, sweetie. It’s not bad. It’s not bad at all.”

Felix finally looked up at him, brows furrowed. “But… why do I feel like that?”

Chan swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Because… sometimes, even if we don’t remember things, our hearts do. And maybe your heart remembers something special about me. That’s all.”

Felix frowned. “Like… a secret memory?”

“Maybe,” Chan whispered.

The little boy reached out then, resting his small hand over Chan’s chest. “That why I feel safe here?”

Chan blinked fast, his vision blurring slightly. “Yeah,” he croaked, curling an arm around Felix and pulling him in. “That’s exactly why.”

Felix settled against him easily, curling up like he belonged there and Chan guessed, maybe he always had.

After a long moment, Felix’s voice piped up again. “Can we sing now? You said we could.”

Chan nodded, clearing his throat and pulling the guitar back into his lap. “What should we sing?”

Felix didn’t hesitate. “Twinkle star.”

Chan smiled. Of course. He began strumming softly, the simple chords warming the space between them. He sang the first line alone, and then Felix’s voice joined his—off-key, breathy, but so full of heart that it made Chan ache.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star…”

His voice was small, but he sang with everything he had, chin lifted, eyes wide and bright with concentration.

Chan didn’t even try to hide the tears this time.

He watched Felix with awe, with grief, with love too big for words. This was the boy who curled up in his lap on late nights, sobbing from pain he never deserved. This was the boy who gave everything of himself on stage and off, who always smiled even when he hurt.

And now… now he was here, seven years old, singing with all the trust in his little heart, and Chan could barely breathe.

When the song ended, Felix yawned and leaned back into him. “Can we sing ‘gain later?”

“Every day if you want,” Chan whispered, voice catching on the words, holding Felix close in his lap as if the warmth between them could shield either of them from what the world had already taken.

But then Felix shifted.

His little hands, once so content in their fidgeting, stilled on Chan’s chest. Slowly, his fingers curled into the fabric of Chan’s sweatshirt. He leaned his cheek against Chan’s shoulder, still and quiet for a moment.

Then, in the tiniest voice, he whispered, “I miss my grandma.”

Chan blinked. “Your—”

“My grandma,” Felix repeated, but this time the words cracked. “I… I miss her so much.”

The sound that followed splintered Chan’s heart like a branch struck by lightning—a wet, shuddering sob that shook Felix’s whole body. Chan froze.

No. No, no, not that grandma.

But it was. It had to be.

The grandmother Felix used to FaceTime from backstage, the one who sent him handwritten letters even after her vision worsened. The one he had cried for when the phone stopped ringing. When she passed away a few years ago, it had nearly broken the adult Felix.

Now… now Felix was only seven. Too young to understand why the world took someone you loved and never gave them back.

“I didn’t say bye,” Felix sobbed, voice high and fractured. “I didn’t say bye!”

Chan’s throat tightened. He pulled the boy closer, wrapping his arms protectively around him. “Felix… oh baby, she knew. She knew you loved her.”

“But I didn’t say it!” Felix wailed, pounding his tiny fists against Chan’s chest. “I didn’t get to hug her! I wanted to hug her, and now I can’t!”

His cries grew frantic, trembling with loss and guilt and helplessness, and Chan felt like he was drowning. He remembers. He remembers this conversation, it was only a few years ago. But this time it was worse, it was so much worse.

“Lix, listen to me—”

“I want her back!” Felix sobbed. “Please! I want her! I want my grandma!”

Then, brokenly, like his voice had been scooped out of him, he whimpered, “Minho…”

Chan’s breath caught. He looked down and saw Felix’s tear-swollen eyes searching the room.

“Minho-hyung…”

Chan didn’t waste a second.

He scooped Felix up and bolted into the hallway, calling out as he went. “Minho! I need you—now!”

Footsteps pounded on the wood floor, and Minho appeared around the corner, alarm in his eyes. “What happened?!”

Chan was shaking. “He’s crying—he misses his grandma. The one that—he’s saying he didn’t say goodbye—he’s losing it, Minho, I don’t know what to do—”

Minho’s expression softened instantly. He stepped forward and held his arms out.

Felix reached for him the second he saw him, a sob ripping from his chest. “Minho-hyuung!”

Minho took him, holding him close, tucking his face into the crook of his neck. “Shhh,” he murmured. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe, baby.”

Felix clung to him like he was the last solid thing in the world.

Minho rocked gently, one hand rubbing small circles into Felix’s back, the other cupping the back of his head. He spoke low and steady, not asking questions, not correcting anything, just anchoring Felix with his presence.

“I’ve got you, baby. You’re not alone. I’m right here.”

Felix hiccupped. “She’s gone…”

“I know,” Minho whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I know, sweetheart. I miss her too. But she’s watching over you. She always is.”

Chan stood back, heart aching, eyes glistening. He’d seen Minho calm wild animals with a glance, and now he watched him soothe a heartbroken child with only his voice.

But then, Felix shifted in Minho’s arms. He looked up, eyes still wet, cheeks flushed.

“C-can… can I have both?”

Minho tilted his head. “What’s that, angel?”

Felix sniffled, voice trembling. “I want both my hyungs… I wanna hug both of you. Please?”

Chan’s heart cracked open.

Minho nodded at Chan, eyes soft. “Come here.”

Chan stepped forward slowly, unsure—but then Felix reached for him with both arms, fingers wiggling in invitation.

“Come here, Chris-hyung…” he mumbled, trying so hard to smile.

Chan collapsed to his knees beside them, pulling Felix into the warmest, gentlest group hug the world had ever seen.

“I’m here,” he whispered into Felix’s hair. “We both are.”

Felix buried his face between their shoulders, wrapped tight in their arms, cocooned in safety and love.

Eventually, after long minutes and a lot of sniffling, Felix peeked up again, rubbing his eyes with a fist. “M-my tummy hurts…”

“Probably ‘cause you’re hungry,” Minho said gently. “Wanna go get something to eat?”

Felix nodded. “Can I have toast? Wif jam?”

Minho smiled. “I bet Changbin-hyung can make something even better.”

Felix perked up, even managing a wobbly grin. “Ooh…”

Minho slowly lowered him to the ground, brushing his curls from his forehead. “Go on, baby. Go find Binnie-hyung.”

Felix gave one last hug to each of them, then toddled down the hall, calling, “Binnie-hyuung! I’m hungryyyy!”

Chan let out a long breath and leaned back against the wall, wiping at his eyes.

Minho didn’t say anything. He just reached out and squeezed his hand.

-

Steam rose in gentle curls from the bathwater, wrapping around the warm bathroom like a protective veil. The scent of strawberry-scented shampoo lingered in the air, sweet and soft, just like the boy sitting quietly in the middle of the tub. Felix's shoulders were slumped forward, his back hunched slightly beneath the layer of bubbles clinging to his skin, as if the weight of everything—even in this smaller body—still pressed down on him.

Seungmin sat on the bath mat, sleeves rolled up, watching closely with eyes full of quiet concern. Beside him, Changbin knelt with a small plastic cup, carefully rinsing Felix’s reddish-brown hair.

"Okay, eyes closed, aegi," Changbin murmured gently.

Felix obeyed, scrunching his face tight like he was preparing for a storm, and Changbin tilted the cup slowly, letting the warm water cascade over his scalp. Even with all his care, Felix still flinched at the feeling. A barely-there wince crossed his face—one that didn’t belong on a child.

“Sorry, sorry,” Changbin whispered, setting the cup down. “All done now.”

Felix blinked his eyes open and reached out for the toy shark floating by his elbow. He squeezed it, and it let out a funny little squeak that made him giggle. Seungmin smiled at the sound. It had taken a few minutes, but he was finally starting to relax.

“You like sharks?” Seungmin asked, watching as Felix made the toy swim in circles.

Felix nodded shyly. “They bite,” he said with wide eyes.

Changbin chuckled. “They do. But not bathtub sharks. Those are friendly.”

Another quiet giggle.

Felix’s fingers swirled through the bubbles again, slower now, the lines between his brows smoothing out. He was still smaller than he should’ve been—even seven-year-old Felix felt too small, too delicate. But his eyes, when they weren’t clouded with worry or pain, were filled with an almost heartbreaking softness.

“You’re both nice,” he said suddenly, voice quiet and unsure, like he didn’t know if he was allowed to say it.

Seungmin’s throat tightened. “We’re your hyungs,” he said softly. “That means we’re your family.”

Felix nodded, eyes cast downward again. “Some people… not nice.”

Changbin froze. His heart cracked a little. He tried not to show it, but the thought of someone hurting this boy—hurting their Felix in any lifetime, any body—made his blood simmer.

“Well,” he said after a beat, reaching out to draw a tiny heart into the bubbles, “I’m gonna fight anyone who isn’t nice to you.”

Felix looked at the bubble heart. Then back up at Changbin.

“You’d win,” he said simply, with complete faith.

Seungmin burst out laughing, a sound that lifted the heaviness from all of them. Changbin just grinned, pressing a hand to his heart like he’d just been knighted.

Once Felix was washed and clean, they wrapped him up in the fluffiest towel they had—white with tiny ducklings printed along the edges—and helped him step out of the tub. His skin was warm and pink, his hair damp and curling slightly, and he let out a content sigh as Seungmin knelt to help him into his favorite cloud-print pajamas.

“Do you want your lotion?” Seungmin asked gently, rubbing it between his hands before massaging it into Felix’s arms.
Felix nodded, sleepy now. “Smells good.”

“You smell like a cupcake,” Changbin teased, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

Felix giggled, leaning his head against Changbin’s chest for just a moment before letting Seungmin guide him back into the hallway.

The apartment was dim, lights low and warm as the evening wrapped around them. Felix’s eyes fluttered as they walked, and Seungmin gently adjusted the boy in his arms so Felix could rest his head on his shoulder.

“You okay?” Changbin whispered, following close behind.

“Mhm… sleepy.”

“Let’s get you to bed, bud.”

They didn’t make it that far.

Halfway through the living room, Felix tensed. Seungmin felt it immediately—the way the boy’s small body stiffened, muscles locking up with sudden strain.

“Hey,” Seungmin said quickly, stopping. “What’s wrong?”

Felix’s breathing hitched. He made a soft sound, confused and pained, and then—without warning—his body began to shake.

“Changbin—!” Seungmin gasped.

“I’ve got him—”

Changbin was already reaching out, helping Seungmin lower Felix onto the couch. The boy clutched at his chest, gasping, and then a glowing warmth spread across his skin.

A golden shimmer—brighter than the one from the day before—wrapped around him, pulsing like a heartbeat. The light grew, impossibly bright, forcing the two to shield their eyes.

And then—

Silence.

When Seungmin looked again, he gasped.

Felix was no longer a sleepy, freshly-bathed seven-year-old.

He was taller. Older. Still small, still soft—but with longer limbs, a leaner frame, and a face that bore the beginnings of teenage features. His eyes fluttered open, dazed and wide, as if waking from a dream.

“...Hyung?”

Seungmin dropped to his knees beside him, voice cracking. “Felix?”

Felix looked around slowly, then up at Seungmin, blinking.

“...Did I fall asleep again?”

Chapter Text

Minho was the first to step in, alerted by all of the noise. He froze at the doorway, eyes catching on Felix’s form.

Felix sat up, suddenly. His chest rose and fell fast, eyes wide and glassy, darting from one corner of the room to the other. He looked older, much older than seven. He had longer limbs, leaner features, and tousled brown hair that fell across his forehead.

“Hey Felix,” Minho said softly, like approaching a skittish animal. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Felix flinched, shrinking back as if the voice itself was too loud. His hands gripped the blankets like a lifeline, knuckles white. “Who—where…?” His voice cracked, awkward in the way that came with new teenage vocal cords.

Chan appeared beside Minho a moment later, breath catching when he saw him. “Lix?” he whispered.

Felix’s gaze whipped toward them, eyes narrowing. “Don’t—don’t call me that. I don’t… I don’t know you.”

The words landed like a slap.

Jeongin, who had poked his head in curiously, looked heartbroken. Hyunjin stepped in behind him, swallowing thickly. Everyone was gathering slowly and quietly, trying not to overwhelm him, But Felix was already there.

His chest started rising faster, breath going shallow. “Why are you all staring at me like that?” he asked, voice shaky. “Where’s… where’s my mom? My dad? My sisters?” His lip quivered.

“Felix,” Minho said carefully, stepping into the room now. “You’re safe. We’re your family right now, okay? You’re not in danger. You’ve just, uh, changed a bit. You aged up.”

“What does that mean?” Felix snapped, voice louder. “Why can’t I remember anything?!”

Chan’s heart clenched. “You don’t have to force yourself to remember,” he said gently. “It’s okay if you’re confused.”

“I’m not confused, I’m–” Felix’s voice broke. He looked down at his hands, thinner and bigger than he remembered. I’m…different.”

His face crumpled. “I feel weird,” he whispered. “I feel wrong.”

“Wrong?” Han echoed quietly, stepping into view.

“I don’t know where I am. I don’t know who you are. But I think I do, and that’s scarier.”

Hyunjin blinked fast. Seungmin looked like he’d stopped breathing. Changbin’s hands trembled as he slowly lowered himself to sit on the floor near the bed.

Felix’s gaze bounced around the room, like it couldn’t settle anywhere. “And I—my chest feels tight. I feel sick. I… I think I did something wrong.”

“No, no,” Chan said, kneeling at the edge of the bed. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Felix. None of this is your fault.”

Felix’s chin wobbled, and his voice cracked when he said, “Why does it hurt to be here?”

That was it–Minho was by his side in an instant. He climbed onto the bed without hesitation, sitting beside him and opening his arms. Felix resisted for a moment before falling into them, body shaking with silent sobs.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” Felix whispered into Minho’s hoodie. “I just woke up and I feel like I should know everything and I don’t and its like I lost something.”

Minho kissed the top of his head. “You didn’t lose anything, baby. You’re here. That’s all that matters. We’ve got you.”

Felix sniffled, eyes glassy as he turned toward Chan. “Can he—can he hug me too?”

Chan didn’t trust his voice, so he nodded and climbed up on the other side of the bed. The moment Chan’s arms wrapped around him, Felix melted into the warmth between them.

“I’m so tired,” he mumbled. “Everything is loud in my head.”

Minho pulled the blankets around him, Chan rubbing slow circles into his back. “Then let us be quiet for you,” Minho whispered. “We’ll be the quiet. You just rest.”

In that pile of soft warmth, safe arms, and cracked hearts, Felix finally closed his eyes again. This time, there we no monsters chasing him in the dark.

-

The sun was just beginning to rise, spilling soft gold across the curtains when Minho stirred. He didn’t open his eyes at first—too comfortable, too warm. Jisung’s arm was still slung tight across his waist, the younger’s head tucked under Minho’s chin, soft snores puffing against his collarbone. They must’ve fallen asleep like that sometime after midnight, too drained to move, too full of worry to rest apart.

Minho let himself sink into the stillness for just a few more seconds. Just a few more seconds of peace.

The door slammed open.

“Hyung!”

Minho bolted upright, dislodging Jisung in the process. His heart seized at the sound of Jeongin’s voice, the kind of voice that only came with something bad.

“What?” Minho’s throat was dry. “What’s wrong?”

Jeongin’s eyes were wide, his face pale. “Felix isn’t in his room.”

Minho didn’t even wait for his brain to catch up. He was up and out of bed before Jisung could blink, feet slapping against the hardwood as he sprinted down the hallway. The door to Felix’s room was ajar. Minho flung it open.

The blankets were messy. The pillow still indented. But the boy was gone.

Minho’s chest constricted. “No. No, no, no…”

He turned, about to shout, when Jisung ran into the room behind him, stumbling as he tried to pull on a hoodie.

“Where is he?” Jisung rasped.

“I don’t know—Jeongin-ah, go get Chan.”

But he didn’t need to. Thirty seconds later, Chan came barreling into the room in sweatpants and a t-shirt, looking seconds from collapse.

“Tell me you’re lying,” he whispered, eyes already scanning the empty bed.

“Do you see him?” Minho snapped. “Would I joke about this?”

Chan’s face crumpled.

“Fuck,” he whispered, raking both hands through his hair. “No, no, no—he told me… he told me he used to sneak out when he was a teenager. That he’d just go on walks when everything got too loud. I didn’t think he would—he’s only been this age for a few hours!”

The panic was spreading, thick and suffocating. Jisung leaned against the wall, trying not to hyperventilate. Jeongin was already pacing.

“What if someone sees him?” Seungmin asked from the hallway, horror creeping into his voice. “What if he gets picked up? What if—if someone recognizes him and—”

“We don’t even know how long he’s been gone,” Minho muttered, almost to himself. “He could be anywhere.”

“No, wait—” Seungmin spun and ran, disappearing down the hall. “His phone. I track it. I always have.”

The rest of them trailed after him, moving like ghosts through the apartment. Minho's skin buzzed with adrenaline, his stomach coiled into a knot so tight he thought he might be sick.

Seungmin threw himself into his desk chair, laptop already in his lap. His fingers shook on the keyboard.

“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” Jeongin mumbled, bouncing on his feet.

The screen flickered to life, and the GPS map opened. They all leaned in.

A blue blip.

“He’s in Seoul,” Seungmin breathed. “He’s still in the city.”

He typed quickly, bringing up the full address.

There was a beat of stunned silence.

“…Is that the BTOB building?” Jisung blinked. “Why the hell would he—?”

“Minhyuk,” Chan whispered, already pulling out his phone. His fingers flew over the screen.

He barely got one ring before the call connected.

“Chan-ah,” Minhyuk’s voice was maddeningly calm.“I was wondering how long it’d take for you guys to notice. I found him wandering around about an hour ago.”

Chan nearly dropped the phone. “What?”

“He’s fine, no longer hungry. We got him some food and I’m going to driving him back now. He said he just wanted to go for a walk. I figured I’d call once you were all awake and not panicking.”

“We’re already past that,” Minho said loudly, rubbing both hands over his face as he slumped against the wall. “Jesus, I think I just aged five years.”

“Felix is okay,” Minhyuk said firmly. “We’ll be there in ten.”

Minho let out a breath that felt like it had been caged in his lungs for a lifetime. His knees gave out and he sank onto Felix’s bed, burying his face in his hands. “Moody teenager,” he muttered into his palms. “That little shit. He’s going to be the death of me.”

Jisung sat beside him, gently resting a hand on his back. “You love him too much to let that happen.”

Chan was pacing again, but it wasn’t frantic now. It was relief mixed with leftover fear. “I thought—” he shook his head. “I really thought we’d lost him.”

Jeongin exhaled shakily, his shoulders finally sagging. “I think I need therapy.”

“We all need therapy,” Hyunjin said softly.

A knock sounded at the door.

Chan was there first, throwing it open like the world depended on it, and there he was.

Felix, still thirteen years old, his hoodie too big and his sneakers untied. Soft hair falling into his eyes.

He blinked at them, a bit startled, a bit sheepish.“…Hi,” he said.

Minho didn’t move for a moment. Then he stood, crossed the room, and pulled Felix into a hug so tight the boy let out a breathless laugh.

“Never do that again,” Minho whispered fiercely into his hair.

“Okay,” Felix said, voice muffled. “I just wanted breakfast.”

“Where the hell have you been?” Chan demanded, his voice shaking. “Do you know what you just put us through? You left with no phone, no note, no nothing. We thought—God, Felix, we thought something happened to you!”

Felix shrank back instinctively, his shoulders hunching. The flicker of warmth he’d carried home with him fizzled out like a candle hit by wind. “I—I just— I needed air,” he said softly, but Chan couldn’t stop.

“You needed air? At 5AM? In a city this big?! What if someone saw you? What if someone—” Chan’s voice broke again, and the rage in his eyes turned brittle. “You could’ve been taken. Hurt. You don’t get to do that to us.”

Felix flinched, his lip trembling. His mouth opened like he wanted to speak, but nothing came out. His eyes welled, and Minho appeared like a shadow summoned by instinct.

“That’s enough,” Minho said, stepping between them, his voice low and sharp like flint striking steel.

Chan blinked, startled. “Minho, he—”

“You’re yelling. You’re scaring him.”

Chan opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. Behind him, Felix's breath hitched.

“I’m worried,” Chan muttered, his voice cracking.

“We all are,” Minho said, softer now, “but this isn’t how we handle it.”

Felix couldn’t look at either of them. His hands had balled into fists at his sides, and his eyes were fixed on the floor, shiny with unshed tears. That’s when Jeongin, ever observant, stepped in.

“Come on,” he said gently, his hand reaching out to brush Felix’s elbow. “Let’s go.”

Felix hesitated.

Jeongin held his gaze, kind and calm, like an anchor. And this time, Felix followed.

Han joined them silently, shooting Minho a lingering glance before slipping into Felix’s room, shutting the door behind them with a soft click, like sealing off a storm.

Inside, the air was different. Safe. Dim light filtered through the curtains, casting a sleepy orange haze across the room. Felix stood near his bed, head bowed.

“I didn’t mean to get in trouble,” he murmured.

“We know,” Jeongin said, pulling him down to sit. “You just scared us, that’s all.”

“I didn’t think anyone would care that much,” Felix added in a small voice. “Not that much.”

Han, already digging through his hoodie pocket, stilled. His eyes flicked up to Felix’s face, then softened.
“You don’t remember yet, huh?”

Felix shook his head.

Han pulled out a worn silver iPod, the edges smoothed down by years of use. “This is yours. Or, well— it was. I borrowed it once and you never took it back.”

He knelt, gently placed the earbuds in Felix’s ears. The boy blinked up at him, confused, but didn’t pull away.

“Here,” Han whispered. “You used to say this song made you feel safe. I made a playlist.”

He hit play.

A soft guitar melody trickled through the air. Felix’s shoulders slowly relaxed.

Then he gasped. “I know this.”

Han smiled. “Of course you do.”

Felix’s eyes began to shimmer with tears again, but not from fear this time. He curled inward slightly, then laid down with his head in Han’s lap. Han’s hand immediately came to rest on his hair, stroking gentle lines down his scalp.

Jeongin watched the scene, heart aching and full.

Outside, the world was still rattling. Voices, guilt, grief. But here… here, it was music and warmth. Here, Felix found a piece of something he didn’t know he’d lost.

“I like this song,” he whispered, eyes fluttering shut.

Han’s voice came soft as a prayer. “I know.”

-

The soft hush of music playing in the background had lulled the room into a strange sort of peace, Jeongin quietly scrolling on his phone while Han softly hummed a melody he couldn’t quite place.

Felix had been curled up between them, half-asleep, his hair mussed and his body still small in the oversized hoodie he wore. His breathing had slowed, but when the door creaked open with the sound of scolding footsteps, his eyes fluttered open again.

Minho entered the room first, his expression unreadable, though the corner of his mouth twitched with amusement. He had Chan by the ear, tugging him like a stern older brother who’d had enough of the dramatics.

“Minho,” Chan hissed under his breath, trying to bat his hand away. “You don’t have to drag me—”

“Apologize,” Minho said flatly, letting go with an exaggerated flick of his fingers. “You scared the baby.”

Felix blinked sleepily from his seat on the bed, looking between them with wide eyes. The corners of his lips twitched up as Chan stumbled forward and straightened his hoodie. Then Felix laughed, soft and bright and surprised.

Minho caught it instantly.

Then, just as quickly, the change in Felix’s face. His eyes flicked up to Chan’s, then down to his chest. His arms. The veins on his forearms.

Back up. Suddenly, Felix’s cheeks were pink.

Minho almost burst out laughing. He knew that look. He remembered it so well. The clumsy, innocent blush of a kid seeing something—someone—and not knowing what to do with all the new feelings. It was adorable. Painfully obvious.

Chan, predictably, remained oblivious. He looked as tense as ever, his voice thick when he finally broke the silence.

“Hey… Felix.”

Felix straightened a little, like he wasn’t caught daydreaming. “Hi,” he mumbled, eyes darting everywhere except Chan’s face.

Chan stepped closer, kneeling carefully in front of him, hands clasped together in front of him like he didn’t quite know what to do with them.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For yelling at you earlier. I wasn’t angry. I was just scared. Really scared. When we didn’t know where you were, I thought—” He cut himself off, swallowing hard. “I thought something bad happened.”

Felix’s brows knit together in confusion.

“I didn’t think anyone would care,” he said with a little shrug. “No one ever does. I sneak out all the time.”

Silence slammed into the room like a tidal wave.

Chan froze.

Minho’s head jerked toward him, heart seizing in his chest.

“You what?” Chan whispered.

Felix shrugged again, twisting his sleeve in his fingers. “Back home. When I’m sad or can’t sleep or want to see the stars. No one really notices. So I didn’t think it mattered.”

Chan’s face crumpled. Minho… Minho felt a wave of nausea. Because it made too much sense. The independence that masked loneliness. The quiet smiles. The way Felix didn’t want to be a burden, even when he was hurting. That had started long before the spotlight had ever hit him.

“I’m so sorry,” Chan breathed, his voice cracking. “It does matter. You matter.”

Felix gave him a small smile, still nervous.

“I was gonna come back,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know, baby,” Chan murmured, before blinking rapidly and adding, “Sorry—uh—not like—” He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly flustered. “I just meant—”

Minho stepped in, smirking. “He gets flustered easy, don’t worry.” Then he grinned wider when Felix looked up at him, clearly amused.

There it was again.

The blush. The way Felix peeked at Chan’s hands, his arms. How he bit his lip slightly, clearly trying to hide the grin tugging at his face.

Minho’s heart warmed. Oh, this was going to be fun. He could already see it—awkward crushes, teenage nerves, Chan having no idea he was someone’s gay awakening.

Felix’s voice pulled him back.

“I didn’t mean to be bad,” he said softly. “I just… I missed my friends. And I wanted to say hi. And… I felt weird. Like my heart goes fast around you,” he added, looking at Chan, his face now fully red. “I dunno why.”

Minho turned his face to cough into his sleeve so the laugh wouldn’t slip out.

Chan blinked rapidly. “O-Oh.”

“I like you a lot,” Felix continued earnestly, like he didn’t realize he was giving Chan a heart attack. “You’re really nice, and your voice makes me sleepy, in like, a good way.”

“Oh my God,” Han whispered from behind, trying not to scream. Jeongin had his hand clamped over his mouth.

Chan, meanwhile, looked wrecked. Like he’d just been told he was someone’s favorite K-drama lead in real life.

“Uh. Wow. Thank you, Felix,” Chan managed. “That… means a lot. You’re really special too.”

Felix smiled brightly.

Minho, fully enjoying the chaos, clapped his hands once. “Group hug?”

Felix nodded, and Chan leaned forward, wrapping his arms around him. Minho joined a second later, and the three of them stayed there, swaying slightly, holding onto one another like something fragile might break if they let go too soon.

Felix pressed his face into Chan’s shoulder.

“I won’t sneak out again,” he promised. “Not if you’ll be sad.”

“You have no idea,” Chan whispered. “How sad I’d be.”

-

The living room had been transformed into a makeshift concert hall, thanks to Hyunjin's insistence that Felix needed a distraction and Jeongin's enthusiasm for chaos. Colorful LED lights blinked from the ceiling, the Bluetooth karaoke mic connected to the TV, and Seungmin had, somehow, managed to print out makeshift scorecards just to rate each other for dramatic flair.

The hyung line—Chan, Minho, Han, and Changbin—had claimed a spot on the couch, nursing tea and watching their younger members bounce around like puppies on sugar. Felix was practically glowing with energy, was clinging to the mic like it was sacred, laughing as Jeongin and Seungmin finished a ridiculous rendition of “Let It Go,” complete with falsetto, fake tears, and Hyunjin pretending to summon snow with a glittery scarf.

“Okay!” Felix beamed, pushing his hair out of his face, cheeks flushed from laughing. “My turn. Hyunjin hyung, give me something epic.”

Hyunjin smirked and cued up “Bang Bang,” already seeing Felix’s eyes sparkle.

They took the stage, Felix and Hyunjin going wild, with Jeongin beatboxing from the side. Felix bounced around the living room like a true performer, throwing finger guns and striking exaggerated poses. The older members couldn’t stop smiling, though Minho’s eyes lingered a little longer on Felix than the others, watching the way he craved the spotlight without even realizing it.

When the song ended, Felix turned dramatically and panted into the mic. “Chris-hyung,” he said with wide eyes, already using Chan’s English name like it was his secret weapon. “Can we sing Smells Like Teen Spirit? Please? Pleasepleaseplease?”

Chan blinked in surprise, lips quirking. “You know that song?”

Felix nodded excitedly, bouncing in place. “Of course I do! Come on, please sing it!”

Chan chuckled and ruffled Felix’s hair. “Alright then. Let’s make some noise.”

The others hollered as the opening riff of Smells Like Teen Spirit came through the speakers. Felix sang with Chan, his voice raspy and off-key and so full of life. He had his fists in the air, bouncing on his toes, and whenever Chan would scream into the mic, Felix would scream even louder. Chan looked down at him—sweaty, flushed, practically vibrating with joy—and felt his heart melt.

Minho watched from the couch, catching the way Felix kept sneaking glances at Chan when he thought no one was looking. The way his cheeks went pink, the way he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt like he was nervous, the way he beamed when Chan fist-bumped him at the end of the song. Minho bit back a smile, suddenly very aware that this was the start of something. Oh boy, he thought.

“What?” Han whispered, noticing Minho’s expression.

“Nothing,” Minho said, eyes twinkling. “Just remembering what it was like to be a hormonal teenager.”

Han looked confused. Then his eyes flicked between Felix and Chan, and he burst into quiet laughter. But the mood shifted a few minutes later.

Jeongin had queued up another song without thinking. The moment the first few seconds of “God’s Menu” rang out through the room, Felix froze.

The younger boy tilted his head like he was trying to place a memory, blinking slowly as the music filled the space. His body was completely still—rare for someone who hadn’t stopped moving since they’d come home. Everyone noticed it.
Then… his part played.

Almost unconsciously, Felix’s lips moved, mouthing along with his line, his voice barely a whisper. His brows furrowed in concentration, and his hand lifted slightly, mimicking the choreography without even realizing it.

Minho sat up straighter. “Did you see that?” he whispered to Chan. Chan didn’t answer, he was too busy watching Felix with wide, glistening eyes.

Felix’s mouth moved again when the chorus hit. His fingers curled like he was reaching for something, lost in the music. He didn’t seem aware of anyone else in the room until the song ended, and the silence that followed was deafening.

Felix blinked slowly. “That was weird,” he said softly, brows pulling together. “I think–I think I dreamed that song before.”

Minho’s heart lodged in his throat. That was the closest Felix had come to remembering anything from being an adult besides their names.

Jeongin broke the silence with a soft, “You did really good, Lix.”

Felix turned to him, a small, proud smile forming on his face. “Thanks, hyung.”

Minho leaned back into the couch, eyes still on Felix. He was terrified, hopeful, and so full of love he could barely contain it.

If Felix kept remembering like this… maybe, just maybe, they were on their way back to him.

The shift from emotional reverence to complete chaos was as natural as breathing in a house full of Stray Kids.

After the eerie calm of “God’s Menu” faded, Jeongin—sensing the tension—clapped his hands once and declared, “Kitchen time!”

Seungmin groaned, “Don’t you mean disaster time?”

But Felix’s eyes lit up, excitement flooding him like a switch had been flipped. “We’re gonna make cookies?!”

“Maknae line cookies!” Hyunjin shouted, grabbing Felix by the hand and spinning him in a circle while Jeongin darted toward the kitchen with a wild battle cry.

Felix stumbled after them, nearly tripping over his own socks. “Wait for me, hyung!! I’m good at baking!!”

“Yeah,” Seungmin muttered dryly, following behind. “That’s what we’re all afraid of.”

From the living room, the hyung line watched as the younger boys tore into the kitchen like a tornado wrapped in sugar. Minho chuckled softly, letting himself fall onto the couch next to Changbin.

“They’re gonna ruin the kitchen,” Changbin muttered, shaking his head fondly.

“Yeah,” Minho said, leaning back with a sigh. “But at least they’re smiling.”

The sounds that echoed from the kitchen were… concerning at best. Metal bowls clanged to the floor. Someone screamed (unclear if from joy or panic). A timer was set on fire.

But it wasn’t until Felix let out a tiny, startled yelp that the room froze.

The entire apartment went quiet, and then:

“Shit!,” Felix whimpered. “That was hot!”

In an instant, Chan was off the couch and sprinting into the kitchen. “What happened?!”

“I—I touched the pan…” Felix said, his voice small, blinking fast as he looked down at his reddening fingers.

Without thinking, Chan swooped in and lifted him off the ground, one arm around Felix’s back, the other gently cradling his injured hand. “It’s okay, it’s okay, baby, I’ve got you,” he whispered, rushing him to the sink and turning on the cold water.

Felix giggled as the water hit his hand, cheeks flushed pink. “It’s cold…”

Chan leaned down beside him, shielding the boy with his body, brushing Felix’s bangs away from his eyes as he whispered gentle reassurances. “Just keep it there, okay? It’s not too bad, you’re doing great, sweetheart.”

Felix looked up at him with wide, adoring eyes. “You’re really strong, Chris-hyung.”

Chan let out a breathless laugh, blinking down at him. “Only because I have to be. You’re always getting into trouble.”

“I like when you carry me,” Felix said dreamily, clearly dazed by a mix of adrenaline, affection, and his own little crush. “You’re warm.”

Behind them, Minho let out the loudest sigh of the day, rubbing a hand down his face as he turned to Changbin with a knowing look. No words needed to be exchanged, the message was clear.

We need to talk to Chan.

Changbin nodded once, his expression matching Minho’s worry. They weren’t blind. Chan was melting. Felix was glowing. It didn’t matter that there was nothing romantic about it, not now. What mattered was that they all needed to be on the same page, because this was real, and Chan was already in too deep.

Back in the kitchen, Jeongin peeked around the corner.

“Is… is it safe to come back yet?”

“No,” Seungmin called. “There’s still feelings in the air.”

Felix, oblivious, beamed at Chan. “Can we make cookies now, hyung?”

Chan let out a strangled laugh, still holding his hand under the water. “Maybe after we wrap you in bubble wrap.”

Minho sighed again, louder this time.

Yep. Definitely time for a talk.

“Maknae line forever!” Hyunjin roared, leaping onto the couch with a blanket wrapped around his head like a cape.

“You’re twenty-four, you geriatric,” Jeongin fired back, ducking a pillow and launching one right into Hyunjin’s stomach.

In the kitchen, Minho and Changbin exchanged a look. Now was the moment.

Minho walked up behind Chan, who was smiling faintly at the sound of Felix laughing from the other room, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, come with us. Just for a sec.”

Chan blinked. “What? Why?”

“Just come,” Changbin added, already heading down the hall.

They pulled him into Seungmin’s room, the door clicking shut behind them. Chan looked between them, concerned now. “Is something wrong?”

Minho took a breath, choosing his words carefully. “Felix has a crush on you.”

Chan stared. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“No,” Changbin said softly, firmly. “He was your boyfriend. Before. Not now.”

Chan’s brows furrowed, confusion turning quickly into something else—something more complicated, a flicker of denial warping into a quiet horror.

“Wait, what?” His voice cracked slightly. “I—I don’t feel anything like that for him. He’s thirteen. I just… I miss him, you know?” He sat down on the edge of Seungmin’s bed, his shoulders curling inward. “Every time he smiles at me or reaches for my hand, it feels like I can breathe again. It’s the closest I’ve felt to having him back since this whole thing started. I would never—God, I didn’t even realize…”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Minho said gently, crouching in front of him. “But it’s on you to make the boundary clear. He’s a teenager, he’s confused, and he thinks the sun rises and sets with you.”

“Because it used to,” Chan murmured bitterly. “He used to look at me like that because I was his person.”

“And you still are,” Changbin said, stepping forward. “But not like that. Not right now. You have to be the grown-up. You have to show him how to be loved safely. It’s on us to protect him, even from things that feel familiar.”

Chan nodded slowly, pressing his knuckles to his mouth as emotion threatened to crack his composure. “You’re right. You’re right. I’ll talk to him.”

There was a sudden, strange quiet from the living room. No more laughter. No more pillow flurries.

Minho froze. “Why is it silent?”

Changbin pulled out his phone and swore under his breath. “Seungmin just texted me. ‘Don’t freak out. We went to the company. He wanted to see the studio.’”

Minho’s entire body slumped as he let out a ragged sigh, dragging a hand over his face. “Of course they did.”

Chan looked up, eyes wide. “What?”

Minho was already walking out the door. “Get changed. We’re going to the company.”

Changbin groaned. “God help whoever was on front desk duty today.”

“I hope they brought snacks,” Chan muttered, already reaching for his jacket.

-

Getting Felix into the building had been surprisingly easy, especially with Jeongin’s ridiculous insistence that he “looked like someone’s intern” and Seungmin forging ahead with the confidence of a lawyer with nothing to lose. Han had pulled his hood low, dramatically whispering, “Be cool. We’re on a mission.”

Felix, all limbs and curiosity and oversized hoodie, had giggled the entire way in.

Hyunjin couldn’t help but grin every time the kid looked around with wide eyes, taking in every hallway, every light fixture, every detail like he was trying to memorize it. They showed him the cafeteria first, and Felix oohed and aahed like it was a luxury hotel buffet.

But the moment they passed by one of the mid-sized practice rooms, everything stopped.

Felix froze.

The others kept walking for a few steps before realizing they’d lost him. Hyunjin turned back, finding the boy rooted to the floor, staring through the window.

Inside, a group of younger trainees were mid-routine. Sweat gleamed on their brows, their movements sharp and just slightly out of sync with one another. The song echoed out muffled through the glass, one of the company’s new demo tracks.

Felix’s eyes were huge. His fingers twitched at his sides.

When the trainer inside barked a command, the music restarted. The trainees lined up again, moving through the motions—and that’s when Hyunjin saw it.

Felix was doing them too. Just a little. His body swayed, mimicking the steps with unconscious familiarity, lips slightly parted like he wasn’t even aware of himself.

Hyunjin’s chest ached.He looked over at Jeongin, Seungmin, and Han. All of them were watching too, silent, reverent. Jeongin gave the tiniest nod.

“Hey, Lix-ah,” Hyunjin said softly, stepping closer. “Wanna see a secret room?”

Felix blinked and looked at him, eyes still shining. “Secret?”

Hyunjin smiled. “Our private dance studio. Just ours.”

Felix lit up instantly. “Yes, please!”

They made their way there with Hyunjin holding the door open like he was revealing treasure. Felix darted in first, gasping at the mirrored walls, the open space, the smooth floor.

“Wanna learn a real dance?” Hyunjin asked, walking over to the speaker and grabbing his phone. “One of ours. One of my parts.”

Felix nodded so fast his hair flopped into his eyes. “Yes! Yes please show me!!”

Hyunjin chuckled and cued up the track—a recent one, something they’d promoted just before Felix had aged down. The beat filled the room. It was complex, layered with intricate footwork and sharp lines.

He didn’t go easy on the boy, just slowed it down.

“Watch me first,” he said. “Just the chorus part.”

Felix stared, completely locked in as Hyunjin moved, muscles remembering, body slicing through the air like ribbon. When the music paused, he turned. “Your turn.”

Felix—God, Felix moved. Not like a brand-new student. Not like a beginner. Sure, his lines were rougher, balance a little unsteady, but the timing, the intention, the instinct—it was all there.

It was him.

And as Felix repeated the steps, over and over, breaking into shy giggles when he stumbled and gasping out “again! again!” when he got it right, Hyunjin felt like crying.

He didn’t.

But he stepped back and watched, heart in his throat, as the younger version of his best friend—no, of his brother—danced steps he had barely been taught. Steps he must have felt in his bones.

Felix caught Hyunjin watching, and he beamed, breathless, sweaty, proud. “How’m I doin’, Hyunjin-hyung?”

Hyunjin smiled. Wide. Soft. Full.

“Perfect,” he said. “You’re doing perfect, Felix.”

Hyunjin clapped his hands lightly, drawing Felix’s attention as the boy panted, a light sheen of sweat on his brow from dancing.

“Alright, superstar,” Hyunjin said with a grin, ruffling Felix’s hair. “If we wanna keep dancing, we need fuel. Let’s eat something.”

Felix tilted his head, looking up at him with a tiny wrinkle between his brows. “Eat…?”

Hyunjin nodded. “Yup. Dancing takes energy.”

Felix didn’t answer right away, but after a second, he gave a small, uncertain nod and followed behind as they all left the studio. The hallway was a bit more crowded now, and Hyunjin could feel eyes on them from all directions—trainees pausing to look, staff whispering, even a few idols double-taking as they passed the group.

Felix didn’t seem to notice, still glowing from the rush of movement, walking beside Han and quietly mimicking the dance moves with his fingers.

Jeongin stepped closer to Hyunjin and muttered under his breath, “What do we do if one of them leaks this? Posts a picture or something?”

Seungmin, right behind them, scoffed. “No one will believe it. Just keep an eye out. Make sure no one’s holding their phone up.”

Hyunjin nodded subtly and cast a glance over his shoulder. So far, so good.

They got to the cafeteria, the usual low hum of lunchtime chatter filling the space. Hyunjin turned to Felix, crouching slightly so they were eye-level.

“Alright, Lix-ah, what do you want to eat?”

Felix blinked up at him, then slowly looked over the menu board. His brows furrowed, and after a beat, he shrugged, voice soft. “Dunno. Doesn’t matter.”

Hyunjin’s stomach twisted.

He knew that look. That empty, dulled-over tone. He’d seen it before—countless times, in dressing rooms, greenrooms, and cafeterias. He’d seen it when adult Felix had been on another punishing diet, picking at lettuce and silently chewing on air.

He hated that look.

Hyunjin huffed a breath through his nose and turned to the counter. “One of everything he likes,” he told the worker, rattling off a list—spicy pork kimbap, ramyeon, the omelet rice he always begged for on late nights. He threw in a banana milk just for good measure.

As the food was being prepared, Han guided Felix to a table near the window, chatting softly with him, likely trying to keep things light. Hyunjin returned moments later, balancing a tray overflowing with dishes. He set it down with a proud flourish.

“Ta-da!” he announced, beaming.

Felix blinked at the spread, then looked up with wide eyes. “This… this is all for me?”

“Of course it is,” Hyunjin said, ruffling his hair again.

They began to pass out plates, each of the maknaes urging Felix to try something. But as the minutes passed, Hyunjin’s smile slowly faded.

Felix was barely eating. He’d nibble at the corner of a dumpling, tear off the end of a roll, poke at the rice. Han leaned in.

“Lix-ah,” he asked gently. “Are you feeling okay?”

Felix nodded quickly. “Mhm! I’m okay.”

Han tilted his head, unconvinced. “Then why aren’t you eating, angel?”

Felix glanced down, then looked up again with a shy smile. “Can we dance again after this?”

Jeongin, who had been sipping banana milk, set it down with a quiet thunk. “Not unless you eat enough first.”

Hyunjin blinked at him, surprised. Jeongin rarely used that tone—gentle but firm, older brother to the core. Then he remembered… Jeongin had younger siblings. He knew how to do this.

Felix just looked confused. “But… my dance teacher says I shouldn’t eat too much. Only one meal a day if I wanna be a real dancer.”

The entire table went still. Every one of them froze, breath caught in their throats.

Felix looked around, frowning slightly. “What’s wrong?”

Hyunjin felt like his stomach had dropped into his shoes. Rage curled hot under his skin, but he forced it down. Not now. Not here.

He leaned in, keeping his voice soft and warm. “Felix, your teacher was wrong.”

Felix’s brow furrowed. “But she—she said that real dancers aren’t supposed to—”

“Real dancers need to eat,” Seungmin cut in gently, sliding a cup of warm broth toward him. “Your body can’t dance if it’s not healthy.”

“And we’ve seen the best dancers in the world,” Han added. “They eat all the time. Trust us.”

Jeongin leaned forward, voice kind. “You deserve to eat, Felix. Not just one meal. As many as you want.”

Felix’s lips trembled just slightly. “Really?”

Hyunjin reached out and cupped his cheek. “Really.”

Felix gave a tiny nod and picked up his chopsticks again, the tension in his shoulders slowly easing—just as a loud voice boomed across the cafeteria.

“Hyunjin-ah!”

The blood drained from Hyunjin’s face. He turned slowly, and there they were.

Chan. Minho. Changbin.

Storming into the cafeteria like gods of war, eyes locked on them, expressions like thunderclouds.

“Oh no,” Han muttered.

Seungmin winced. “We’re so dead.”

Felix froze, chopsticks hovering midair. “Um… hyung?”

Hyunjin inhaled slowly and stood, raising both hands. “Okay. Everyone stay calm. Smile. No sudden movements.”

But Chan’s eyes were locked on Felix, and he did not look like he was in the mood for smiles.

This… was going to be a conversation.

-

Minho’s hand curled gently around Felix’s ear, guiding him more than dragging him, careful not to tug. The younger was protesting under his breath, confused more than anything—his voice soft and pouty, like he didn’t quite understand why he was being lumped in with the others.

“I didn’t even sneak off,” Felix mumbled, small brows furrowing. “I just followed hyungs…”

Minho hummed but didn’t let go. His other hand, however, was not so gentle—firmly pinching the top of Han’s ear with years’ worth of boyfriend-style vengeance.

“OW—ow ow okay okay I get it, I get it!” Han whined dramatically, stumbling beside him as he was dragged down the hall. “Why does Jeongin get the gentle one? And why is Seungmin walking by himself?!”

“I have dignity,” Seungmin replied simply, arms crossed, trying and failing to hide his grin.

Jeongin just smirked behind him, nudging Han’s foot as they walked.

Hyunjin trailed last, eyes on Felix like he couldn’t stop watching him. Not in the way one would watch a celebrity, but like one might watch a candle in a dark room, afraid it might flicker out.

They reached the studio again, the familiar smell of sweat, old wood polish, and that faint echo of past music still clinging to the walls. As the door shut behind them, Chan turned to face the five boys lined up in front of him like a military unit.

“Fifteen pushups,” he snapped. “Now.”

The groans were instantaneous.

“Chan-hyung, you’ve got to be kidding—” Jeongin started.

“You want to do thirty?” Chan asked, voice sharp.

That shut them up.

One by one, the boys dropped to the ground. Han let out a dramatic sigh like he was going to war. Hyunjin grumbled something about being too old for this. Seungmin rolled his eyes. Jeongin shook his head, already lowering into position.

Then there was Felix, blinking up at Chan with his wide, inquisitive eyes.

“What about me?” he asked, quietly. “Do you want me to do them too?”

Minho watched Chan pause just a second too long, and realized the older didn’t know what to say.

Felix was still their Felix. But he was also thirteen, and that changed everything.

Chan looked at Minho.

Minho raised an eyebrow. Your call, hyung.

Chan sighed. “...Yeah. You too, Felix.”

To everyone’s surprise, Felix didn’t hesitate. He dropped to the ground with quiet focus and began. His form was tight, his movements clean. He didn’t complain, didn’t groan—just counted softly to himself, lips barely moving.

By the time Han reached eight and flopped dramatically on the floor, Felix was already done. He sat back on his heels, brushing a piece of hair from his eyes.

Han glared at him. “Why are you like this? You’re thirteen!”

Felix shrugged. “I do more than that every day.”

Minho narrowed his eyes. “More than that?”

Felix nodded, matter-of-factly. I wake up at 5 for swim, then I go to school. Then taekwondo, then dance and then homework.”

There was a brief silence. It was Jeongin who finally broke it.

“Wait… when do you rest?”

Felix tilted his head, like he didn’t understand the question. “After homework.”

“Are you tired?” Seungmin asked, cautious.

Felix hesitated. Just for a second. “Not really. I’m just learning to be the man of the family.”

Minho’s chest clenched.

“What do you mean?” Changbin asked, voice gentle now.

Felix fiddled with a string on his sleeve. “My Dad said… if I work harder, my sisters can be kids longer. That the man of the house has to carry more, and I don’t mind. I want them to be happy.”

Something in Minho cracked, deep and slow.

This was their Felix—selfless, loving, full of quiet strength. But he was a child. A child who had somehow learned that his worth came from sacrifice.

Hyunjin knelt in front of him slowly, like he might scare him otherwise. “But… Lixie, are you happy?”

Felix blinked. The question caught him off guard.

“I guess…” he murmured.

Hyunjin frowned. “Do you like dancing?”

Felix perked up. “I love it!”

“Do you like having fun with us?”

A smile bloomed across the boy’s face. “Yeah! You guys are so funny.”

Hyunjin glanced back at the others, who were all holding their breath.

“And… do you know you don’t have to carry everything alone, right?” Hyunjin asked softly.

Felix hesitated again. His smile faltered—just for a heartbeat—but then he nodded. “I know. 'Cause now I have hyungs too.”

Minho had to turn his face away for a second. His throat was tight.

There was a beat of quiet.

Then Felix clapped his hands together. “So, can we dance again now?”

Chan let out a shaky breath, his mouth twitching into a smile despite the storm behind his eyes. “Yeah, sunshine. We can dance.”

-

Changbin leaned quietly against the wall of the dance studio, arms crossed over his chest as he watched from a distance. Felix was still spinning through the choreography Hyunjin had taught him earlier, his face glowing with the kind of pure joy that only came when music lived in your bones. His moves weren’t perfect—he tripped over his feet once, laughing softly—but there was something in the way he moved that tugged at Changbin’s chest.

Because he’d seen this before. He’d seen the grown version of Felix dance like this—with sharp lines, fierce intensity, and eyes full of quiet passion. Even though this version of Felix was younger, his limbs lankier, his body still figuring itself out, that spark? That love? It was still the same.

Changbin cleared his throat softly. “Hey, Felix-ah?”

Felix looked up, cheeks flushed from exertion, strands of hair clinging to his forehead. “Yeah, hyung?”

“You’ve been dancing for hours. Wanna come cool off with me? We can hit the gym. I’ll teach you something new.”

Felix’s eyes sparkled at the offer, excitement already replacing the tiredness in his limbs. “Really? Like weights?”

Changbin chuckled, already moving to grab Felix’s water bottle and hoodie. “Yeah. We’ll start light, though. Don’t need you getting swole too early.”

Felix laughed as he trotted over, slipping his hand into Changbin’s without hesitation. “What’s swole?”

“You’ll see.”

They walked together through the quiet halls of the company building, the fluorescent lights above humming softly. Felix was still catching his breath, his free hand lightly tugging at the hem of his oversized hoodie. As they turned a corner, he glanced up at Changbin. “Hyung… do you think I could ever be as strong as you?”

Changbin looked down at him, eyes softening. “Strength isn’t just muscles, Felix-ah. It’s everything you are.”
Felix flushed, hiding his smile against his shoulder.

When they reached the gym, Changbin nudged the door open with his foot, holding it for Felix to step through. The room smelled faintly of metal and effort—weights neatly stacked, treadmills lined up like sentinels, a familiar hum of focus in the air.

Felix paused on the threshold, eyes wide, taking it all in. “Whoa…”

Changbin grinned and led him to an open area near the dumbbell racks. “Okay. First, we stretch. No skipping or you’ll regret it later.”

Felix followed him obediently, copying his movements with a seriousness that made Changbin smile.

As they moved through warmups and a few simple reps with light weights, Felix began to chatter again, slipping into the casual openness he always had when he felt safe. But it was one passing comment that was uttered between a laugh and a lunge that made Changbin pause.

“I don’t want to look like a girl anymore. The boys at taekwondo always say that.”

Changbin slowly stood up straight, setting his weight down. “What do you mean?”

Felix shrugged, grabbing his water bottle. “The older boys… they always tease me. Say my voice is weird, or that I look like a girl when I dance. Especially when I cry.”

There it was. The ache that never really left Felix—not even as an adult.

Changbin sat on the bench, motioning for Felix to come closer. When the younger boy sat beside him, he spoke softly, his voice steady. “Felix, listen to me. Those boys? They’re wrong.”

Felix blinked up at him.

“There’s no one way to be a man. You don’t have to be loud or angry or mean. You don’t have to hide your feelings or make fun of others. You can be kind and gentle and wear sparkly things and still be strong. Stronger than all of them.”

Felix was quiet for a long moment, biting his lip. “But, I thought if I was nice or soft, people wouldn’t respect me.”

Changbin gave a small smile. “Felix, people already respect you. Because of how hard you work. Because of your heart. You don’t need to change that to prove anything.”

There was wonder in Felix’s eyes then. Like he’d never heard those words before.

His gaze dropped to Changbin’s arms. “I didn’t know someone with muscles like yours could say that.”

Changbin burst into laughter and flexed dramatically. “Well, I’m redefining the stereotype, aren’t I?”

Felix gasped in awe, his voice a squeak. “Whoa! Can I watch you lift, hyung? Please?”

Changbin ruffled his hair, laughing. “Only if you promise to keep calling me that.”

Felix beamed. “Okay, Changbin-hyung!”

A few minutes passed as Felix watched him with amazement, babbling encouragement and awe at each rep, until a pained sound broke through the atmosphere. Both heads whipped around.

Changbin looked over just in time to see a trainee struggling under the weight of a poorly racked barbell. Without thinking, he jumped to his feet and rushed over, catching the bar and helping the trainee re-rack it.

“Are you okay?” he asked quickly, kneeling beside the panting boy.

The trainee nodded, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“Don’t lift without a spot, ever,” Changbin said gently but firmly. “And don’t push yourself when you’re already tired. You’ll hurt yourself.”

He pulled out his phone and ordered the trainee a quick meal. “Take care of yourself. Got it?”

The boy nodded again, eyes wide with gratitude.

Felix had come to stand beside him, his gaze flicking from the trainee to Changbin with admiration. “Hyung… is that what it means to be a hyung?”

Changbin looked at him, heart catching in his throat.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “It means looking out for others. Making sure they’re okay. Even when they say they are, even when they don’t know they need help.”

Felix seemed to mull it over before giving a quiet, firm nod. “Then I want to be a hyung like you.”

Changbin didn’t say anything after that—he just reached out, pulled Felix into a one-armed hug, and held him there for a long moment, heart full.Because even if this wasn’t his grown-up Felix yet, the heart of him was still there. Kind, brave, and quietly burning bright.

Changbin ruffled Felix’s hair gently, brushing a few stray strands from the boy’s forehead. “Alright, let’s go, tough guy.”

Felix blinked up at him, still slightly flushed from the gym session. “Can I—can I tell the others I benched twenty pounds?”

Changbin snorted. “You can tell them you’re my strongest trainee.”

That made Felix beam.

The others were still waiting in the lounge near the elevator, music playing softly from someone's phone, bags strewn about as they lounged in exhaustion.

Han looked up first. “Look who survived Beast Bin’s training program.”

Felix stuck his tongue out at him. “I’m not even sore.”

“You will be tomorrow,” Seungmin mumbled, already standing and stretching. “Hope you like walking like a baby deer.”

Felix giggled as Jeongin opened the elevator doors with a dramatic bow. “Your carriage awaits, prince of the dumbbells.”

The ride down was full of light chatter, with Felix sandwiched between Jeongin and Seungmin in the van. He let his head fall back against the seat with a soft sigh, chest rising and falling in slow, deep breaths. Outside, the streetlights passed in blurred ribbons of yellow and gold, the city winding down as they drove home.

Jeongin tilted his head, glancing at the boy curled beside him. “You okay, Felix?”

“Mhm,” Felix said, quiet. “Just tired, but, like, a good tired.”

Seungmin gave him a sidelong glance, taking in the flushed cheeks and sleepy eyes. “You really did train hard today.”

Felix grinned, eyes still closed. “Binnie-hyung said I’m his strongest trainee.”

“Wow,” Jeongin gasped dramatically. “Already better than us?”

“I didn’t say that,” Changbin called from the front seat.

Felix chuckled, then sat up a little straighter. “Can I be a hyung someday?”

Jeongin perked up. “Of course you can. You just need Hyung Lessons.”

Felix blinked. “I thought I already call you all hyung?”

“You do,” Seungmin said softly, turning toward him, “but being called hyung and being a good hyung? Two different things.”

“Exactly,” Jeongin said, puffing out his chest. “Hyunghood is an art. A noble responsibility.”

Felix blinked at him. “What do I have to do?”

“Lesson one,” Jeongin began, holding up a finger, “is knowing when to tease, and when to be serious.”

Seungmin nodded slowly. “You’re really good at feeling things, Lixie."

“I am?” Felix looked surprised.

“Yeah,” Seungmin said with a warm smile. “Being a hyung doesn’t mean you stop feeling things. It means you care, even when you don’t have the words for it.”

Felix’s eyes flicked between the two of them, wide and thoughtful.

Jeongin leaned closer, whispering, “Lesson two: hyungs always share snacks.”

“Even brownies?” Felix whispered back.

Seungmin snorted. “Especially brownies.”

The three of them dissolved into soft laughter, leaning into one another as the car rolled to a stop in front of their apartment building. From the front seat, Minho turned and looked back at them with a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. For the first time all day, Felix looked completely at ease.

“Let’s get inside,” Chan murmured, his voice gentle, barely loud enough to interrupt the moment. “You guys have earned a good night.”

As the doors slid open and they began filing out, Felix turned, gripping Jeongin’s hand and tugging gently. “Thanks, hyungs. I’m gonna be a good one too. Promise.”

Jeongin gave his hand a squeeze. “You already are, Lix.”

Seungmin added, quiet and sincere, “You just don’t know it yet.”

Felix didn’t say anything else, just nodded and followed them inside, his heart a little fuller than before.

-

The apartment was quiet, wrapped in the golden glow of overhead lights and the warm scent of dinner still lingering in the air. Bowls of rice and soup had long cooled, plates of grilled meat picked through and abandoned, but no one had moved. The group sat around the table, basking in the comfortable stillness of a shared meal, until Minho noticed Felix was barely blinking anymore.

He watched from the end of the table, chopsticks frozen midway to his mouth, as Felix’s small head began to bob with the weight of exhaustion. The boy blinked once, twice—slower each time—before his cheek gently collapsed against Changbin’s arm. He didn’t even stir as Changbin shifted to make him more comfortable. The teenager had fallen asleep, lips parted in soft, even breaths.

“He’s out,” Jeongin whispered, his voice awed. “He didn’t even finish his soup.”

Changbin looked down at the boy nestled into him and smiled faintly. “He was so wired earlier. Guess it caught up to him.”

Minho set his chopsticks down carefully, as if afraid to wake him. Across the table, Hyunjin rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating before speaking.

“There’s something we need to talk about,” he said quietly.

The shift in his tone pulled everyone’s attention. The gentle warmth around the table cooled just a little.

“In the cafeteria today,” Hyunjin continued, “Felix didn’t want to eat. At all. When I asked what he wanted, he just… shut down. Said it didn’t matter.”

Minho’s heart clenched, his eyes sliding back to Felix’s face, how peacefully he slept, how small he looked again, even as a teenager.

“And when we finally got him to say something,” Hyunjin added, “he told us his dance teacher said he shouldn’t eat more than one meal a day. That it’s what real dancers do.”

There was a sharp silence. Even Chan, who had been absentmindedly clearing his dishes, froze in place.

“He said it like it was normal,” Seungmin added, his voice tight. “Like it made sense.”

Minho clenched his jaw. He’d seen this before—seen adult Felix skip meals, push through exhaustion, hide behind cheerful smiles and oversize clothes. But hearing that it had started this young, it gutted him.

“He also told me,” Changbin said softly, his hand resting protectively on Felix’s back, “about the boys in taekwondo. How they teased him for looking ‘girly.’ Told him real men don’t cry. That he believed that too, for a while. That’s why he pushes himself so hard.”

Minho looked up, eyes heavy with understanding.

“I told him they were full of shit,” Changbin said bluntly, but his voice was gentle. He looked down at Felix, still sound asleep against him, one small fist curled in the fabric of Changbin’s shirt. “Told him being strong doesn’t mean being cold. Doesn’t mean starving yourself or hiding who you are.”

There was a pause then, still and quiet, except for the occasional clink of someone adjusting their bowl.

Minho exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair and letting his gaze linger on Felix’s sleeping form. His cheeks were rosy, lashes soft against his skin, and a tiny bit of rice was stuck to the corner of his mouth. Minho’s chest warmed with a quiet kind of pride.

“He still turned out like this,” Minho murmured. “After all of that. All the pressure, all the noise. He still became our Felix. Our loving, gentle, and kind, Felix.”

Chan nodded wordlessly, rubbing the back of his neck with a shaky hand.

After everything—the pressure, the taunts, the starvation and shame—he still chose compassion.

“I don’t know how he did it,” Chan whispered, his voice cracking.

Minho did, because Felix had always been love. He gave it away freely, without question. It was just who he was.

“I’m taking him to bed,” Changbin said after a moment, his voice gentle as he carefully set down his chopsticks.

Everyone nodded. No one moved to stop him.

Changbin slid an arm beneath Felix’s knees, the other around his back, lifting him in one smooth, practiced motion. Felix stirred a little, a quiet whimper escaping him, but didn’t wake. His arms instinctively curled toward Changbin’s chest, fingers fisting the fabric of his shirt.

“Sleep tight, Lix-hyung,” Jeongin whispered, soft as a prayer.

“Sweet dreams, Lix-ah,” Han murmured, even as he blinked away tears.

Seungmin just smiled and nodded, reaching to brush a crumb from Felix’s hair before pulling his hand back quickly, like he didn’t want to disturb him. Hyunjin gave him a soft kiss on the forehead, and Chan just brushed his hair back, whispering a soft “Night, little one.”

Minho couldn’t speak. His throat was too tight. He watched Changbin disappear down the hallway, cradling Felix like something fragile and sacred.

The dinner table stayed silent for a little longer, each of them left with their own thoughts. Grateful. Heartbroken. Hopeful.

And so, so proud.

-

The morning crept in with a pale wash of light spilling over the curtains, quiet and soft, like the world was trying not to disturb what remained of the night. Seungmin stirred first, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he shuffled into the kitchen. The scent of leftover food clung to the air, but it was the quiet hum of the coffee maker that felt grounding. The apartment was unusually still.

As he poured himself a cup, he glanced around the room.

Minho was on the couch, an arm tossed over Jeongin’s waist. Chan had somehow ended up on the floor with a pillow under his head and Han curled up half on top of him, snoring softly. The scene was domestic, peaceful, a tangled mess of limbs and warmth. Changbin was the only one not in the mix, having made a home in Seungmin’s bed rather than the living room.

Seungmin leaned against the counter, blowing gently at the surface of his coffee, letting himself enjoy the silence.

Until he heard it.

A light crash. Then something else—a choked, broken sob.

His mug clattered into the sink as he darted down the hall.

“Felix?”

He barely knocked before pushing the bathroom door open—and his heart sank.

Felix was on the floor, curled tight around himself, trembling. His face was wet with tears, his eyes wide and filled with pain. His breath hitched in short, panicked gasps as he tried to shift—and cried out in agony.

“Lixie—” Seungmin’s voice cracked as he dropped to his knees. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Don’t move me,” he begged, voice cracking. “Please, please don’t. It hurts so bad—Seungmin, it hurts—”

“Okay, okay, I’m not going to touch you,” he soothed, voice shaking. “Just breathe, Bbokie. I’m right here.”

Felix sobbed harder, the sound raw, gutting.

“I didn’t want to wake anyone,” he whimpered, curling tighter. “I didn’t wanna bother you—It just—it just hurt so much, and I thought maybe if I got some ibuprofen—”

“Oh, Lix,” Seungmin whispered, heart breaking as he watched the younger boy shake. “You’re not bothering me. You’re never bothering me.”

He stood quickly, rummaging through the bathroom cabinet until he found the bottle with Felix’s name on it—his prescribed medication for the worst flare-ups. He grabbed a glass of water, his hands trembling as he returned.

“Here, take this,” he said, gently pressing the pill to Felix’s lips. “I swear if you die, I’m going to kill you. Okay?”

Felix gave a weak, watery laugh, enough to make Seungmin’s chest clench with relief. He managed to take the pill, and Seungmin eased back onto his heels, watching anxiously as the boy curled tighter, breathing shallowly through the pain.

Seungmin stayed beside him, watching with quiet urgency as the medicine slowly began to take hold. The tension in Felix’s shoulders eased a fraction. His sobs dulled to sniffles, and his breathing evened out.

Then his hand reached weakly for Seungmin’s wrist.

“Can I… can I have a hug?”

Seungmin didn’t hesitate. He knelt fully, not even wincing when his knees cracked hard against the cold tile. He wrapped his arms carefully around Felix’s small, aching body and pulled him close.

“I got you,” he murmured, brushing his hand gently through Felix’s sweat-dampened hair. “I’ve got you, Lix-ah. You’re okay now.”

Felix pressed his face to Seungmin’s shoulder, sniffling. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be. Never be.”

Seungmin carefully lifted him, still holding him close as he walked them both back down the hall to his room. He pushed the door open with his foot—Changbin was sprawled out, snoring softly, completely oblivious.

“Hyung,” Seungmin said, his voice rough.

Changbin didn’t move.

So Seungmin kicked him. Hard. Right in the thigh.

Changbin shot upright, half-yelling. “What the—?!”

Then his eyes landed on Felix in Seungmin’s arms. His entire demeanor shifted.

“What happened?”

Seungmin eased the boy onto the bed. “I found him on the bathroom floor. His back gave out. I gave him his meds, but I didn’t want to leave him alone.”

Felix made a soft noise, half-asleep, still high on the medication. “Binnie-hyung… hurts.”

Changbin’s face fell. He was instantly shifting closer, adjusting the blankets, moving pillows to prop Felix up better, his voice soft and urgent. “Hey, aegi, you okay? You’re safe now. We’ve got you.”

Felix made a little noise of acknowledgment, still loopy from the meds but clinging to Seungmin’s shirt. “Don’t leave…”

Together, they eased Felix onto the bed, piling pillows behind his back for support. Changbin fussed with the blanket, tucking it around his waist, then gently brushed the hair from his forehead. Seungmin sat beside him, never taking his eyes off the younger boy.

They didn’t speak much, they didn’t have to, content to sit and watch the boy sleep, ensuring the dosage of the medication wasn’t making him sick.

They just stayed watching over Felix, breathing with him, anchoring him—because even with all the joy and chaos he brought, he still had a body that ached, and a past that haunted.

But he wasn’t alone in it.

Not anymore, and not ever again.

Chapter Text

The sharp, persistent vibration of his phone against the wooden floor jolted Minho from an uneasy sleep. Groaning, he lifted his head, the ache in his neck from not sleeping on a proper mattress the past few nights was setting in. Minho squinted at the buzzing device, still half-asleep.

But then he heard it.

A soft, shuddering sob—so faint he almost thought he imagined it.

His spine straightened instantly, and he held his breath as he listened for more.

Another sob.

Minho was on his feet in seconds, wide awake noe as he padded down the hallway in socked feet, every step quicker than the last. The sound was clearer now—desperate, muffled, coming from behind Felix’s door.

“Felix?” he called, voice cracking slightly with dread as he tried the doorknob. Locked.

Panic surged in his chest, “Lix-ah, open the door. It’s me—it’s Minho-hyung. Are you okay?”

No response—just louder, gut-wrenching sobs from the other side.

Minho’s phone vibrated again in his hand. He almost didn’t look, but something—instinct, dread—made him glance at the screen.

Kittenbok is calling…

Confused and shaking a bit, he answered. “Felix?”

A sharp intake of breath echoed on the other end of the line, followed by a soft, broken voice.

“Hyung? Minho-hyung?” Felix’s voice trembled, his Korean shaky, almost childlike. “I din’t know where I am.. I–I’m scared. Chan-hyung won’t answer, and I—I don’t know where the others are. I think the company gave up on me again…”

Minho’s stomach dropped, and ice flooded his veins.

He leaned closer to the door, heart thudding against his ribs. “Bbokie. You’re okay, I’m right here baby, I’m just outside your door. Open it for me, yeah? Please. Let me in.”

“I–I didn’t mean to mess up,” Felix whimpered on the phone. “I’m trying my best. I didn’t know—didn’t know I wasn’t good enough again—”

His voice cracked into a sob so raw Minho felt it like a fist to the gut.

“Felix-ah, Open the door, please.” Minho whispered, knocking gently again. “You’re not alone, I swear you’re not.”

A beat passed. Then the sound of hesitant footsteps, and a soft click.

The door opened a crack.

Minho pushed it open carefully, and he froze.

There Felix stood, fragile and shaking, tears streaking down his cheeks, his lips trembling so violently it looked like he couldn’t even form words anymore. His wide eyes were filled with fear, confusion, and pain; and the worst part?

He looked exactly like he had during those long, unbearable weeks after his elimination.

His pajamas were rumpled, his hair stuck out in odd places from tossing and turning, and his hands trembled at his side.

The moment he saw Minho—he broke.

A sob tore from his chest as he stumbled forward, his knees almost buckling as he collapsed into Minho’s arms.

“I don’t know where I am,” Felix cried, voice muffled against Minho’s chest. “I don’t know where the other trainees went—where the dorm is—why they sent me away–”

Minho wrapped his arms around the younger like a shield, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other firmly against his back.

“You’re not in the trainee dorm anymore, Bok-ah. You’re not eliminated, you’re home, you’re safe, you’re with us,” Minho murmured, trying to breathe through the burning in his chest. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Felix just sobbed harder, fingers clawing into Minho’s shirt like he was trying to ground himself. He felt so small again, like the teenager Minho had found crying by the stairwell all those years ago, heartbroken and alone.

Images flickered painfully through Minho’s mind—the texts from Chan and Changbin begging him to keep an eye on Felix, the look in the boy’s eyes when he had told Minho he’d been eliminated, the way he’d tried to smile through it, like it didn’t shatter him.

Minho’s throat clenched. He didn’t say anything else. He just tightened his hold and rocked the boy gently in place, lips pressed to the top of Felix’s head.

Minho held him for what felt like a lifetime, his fingers combing through the soft, sweat-dampened strands of Felix’s hair as the boy slowly quieted in his arms. His sobs had faded into soft hiccups, but Minho could still feel the tension trembling through his limbs, the aftershocks of fear rippling beneath his skin.

Felix pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, and his breath caught in his throat. There it was, the moment of clarity.

Felix blinked at him, wide brown eyes searching Minho’s face, gaze flickering over his features with dawning confusing. His brows pinched faintly, and his lips parted.

“...Hyung…. You look… older,” he whispered, his Korean broken and fragmented. “You–you look different. Why are you..?”

Minho softened, brushing Felix’s bangs from his damp forehead. “It’s okay Bbokie. You can speak in English if it’s easier.”

Felix let out a shaky breath, like the weight of that permission alone made him want to cry again. His voice trembled as he whispered, “Where am I? What’s happening to me?”

Minho’s chest tightened as he looked into those eyes—so young and vulnerable, but tired in a way that didn’t match his age.

“You’re safe,” Minho said first. “You’re home.”

He waited a beat before continuing, watching Felix’s expression. “We’re not exactly sure how… but you’re moving through your past. Through different ages. Last night you were thirteen. This morning, you’re 17.”

Felix stared at him, uncomprehending.

Minho’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “You’re not a trainee anymore. You’re one of the eight members of Stray Kids. You’re, well, normally, twenty-four years old. You’re an idol, but more than that, you’re you. You’ve traveled the world, you speak Korean fluently. You’re an ambassador for UNICEF, for Louis Vuitton, Samsung… You’re—” he let out a small, breathless laugh, “—you’re one of the most famous K-pop idols in the world right now.”

Felix’s brows knit tightly together. He blinked slowly. “No,” he said softly, like he wasn’t trying to argue, just trying to protect himself from the impossible. “No.. I got eliminated. I–I wasn’t good enough. They–they said I wasn’t ready.”

Minho shook his head, something tender and painful rising in his chest. “You were,” he said firmly. “You were ready. Both of us got eliminated, but we were brought back in episode nine. WE debuted together, all eight of us.”

Felix’s eyes widened slightly, processing that with fragile disbelief. He nodded slowly, clearly still overwhelmed, before asking, “But—we debuted as eight. Who left?”

Minho let out a quiet sigh, his hand rubbing slow circles against Felix’s spine. “Woojin,” he said softly. “He left about a year after we debuted.”

Felix nodded again—but the movement was strange. It was hollow, distant, not the grief Minho remembered seeing.

Minho’s stomach twisted. That wasn’t how Felix reacted the first time. He remembered. He remembered the way Felix had cried in their dorms, biting his sleeve to keep himself form sobbing, refusing to eat for days. But now—now the boy just looked numb.

Minho’s head tilted slightly as he studied the boy. “What is it?”

Felix hesitated, hands clenching in the fabric of Minho’s sweatshirt. His eyes darted around the room, avoiding Minho’s gaze like it might burn. He licked his lips, breath catching.

“You can tell me,” Minho said softly, sensing the storm beneath the boy’s skin. “You won’t get anyone in trouble. We were all told not to talk to Woojin after he left… but this is different, yeah? You’re safe with me.”

Felix swallowed hard, throat bobbing. It took him a moment—like he had to summon every ounce of bravery just to speak.

“They’re mean,” he finally whispered, his voice small. “Woojin-hyung, and his friends. They’re–they’re mean to me.”

Minho froze, the words slamming into him like a tidal wave. But before he could say a word, before he could breathe, the door burst open, crashing against the wall with a thud.

“Felix?!”

Changbin stood in the doorway, hair tousled, still wearing bunched up pajama pants and a sleep shirt, his chest heaving like he’d sprinted through the apartment.

His eyes landed on Felix instantly, and the breath he’d been holding collapsed from his lungs.

“Felix-ah,” he said again, relief and panic bleeding into one another, he stepped into the room and Felix tensed so sharply Minho thought for a moment the boy might bolt.

But Minho just shifted, placing himself slightly between them. His hand was still on Felix’s back, and he met Changbin’s eyes. The relief was still there, but it was tainted now, by something concerned, something darker.

Changbin froze as he really took in what he could see of Felix. This definitely wasn’t the same child who Seungmin had brought into bed just a few hours ago. No, this version of Felix ha grown—he was taller now, the lines of his face a little sharper, voice a little deeper, hair disheveled and damp from sweat and tears. His skin was pale, cheeks streaked with salt, and eyes so heartbreakingly young and old at the same time.

Minho felt the shift in Felix’s body before the boy moved. He felt the tension, the hesitance, the curiosity as the teen slowly turned his head to peek out from the safety of Minho’s arms.

The moment Felix’s gaze landed on Changbin, his breath caught audibly. “Changbin-hyung?”

Changbin blinked, startled by the sound of it. His name, said with the same weight as it had been back in 2017, when a bright-eyed Australian boy had first joined their company and clung to him like gravity.

“Yeah, it’s really me,” Changbin said, trying to smile. “Though I got hotter. You don’t have to tell me. I know.”

But his voice cracked on teh last word. His lower lip trembled, and Minho saw it—felt it, like a tremor through the floor.

Felix didn’t wait another second.

He pushed himself up and scrambled forward, nearly tripping over his own feet as he half-fell into Changbin’s arms. His fingers fisted tightly into Changbin’s shirt as he buried his face in his chest, sobs pouring out before he could even try to stop them.

“I missed you—I missed you so much,” Felix choked, the words coming fast and frantic, like if he didn’t get them out now, he never would. “I didn’t mean to get cut—I’ve been practicing—I promise—I’ve been working on my Korean—I promise, hyung, I promise—”

Minho’s chest ached so badly it burned, and Changbin looked like he’d been kicked in the heart. He held Felix tighter, one hand cupping the back of his head, the other curling protectively around his waist.

“Hey, hey—shhh,” Changbin murmured, his voice thick and trembling despite the smile he tried to wear. “You didn’t do anything wrong, aegi. You hear me? Nothing. You were perfect. You are perfect. We’re so proud of you. Hyung is so proud of you, Felix-ah.”

Felix sobbed harder, shoulders shaking as Changbin swayed slightly, rocking him like he used to when Chan wouldn’t come home and Felix crawled into his bunk.

“Hyung’s here now,” Changbin whispered into his hair. “Hyung’s not going anywhere.”

Eventually, the sobs quieted. Felix sniffled, hiccuped, and pulled back just enough to wipe his face with his sleeve. “Sorry,” he mumbled, laughing weakly. “I got snot all over you.”

“Please,” Changbin snorted. “I’ve cleaned up after you in worse ways.”

Felix giggled again—and then blinked up at him. There was a pause.

Minho tilted his head, sending the shift before he saw it.

And there it was—the awe, the stunned silence. The way Felix’s gaze dropped slightly… and then very clearly dropped again.

And again.

Minho’s eyes narrowed.

Felix’s mouth was hanging open just slightly, his eyes dragging up and down Changbin’s arms. His pupils practically dilated at the way Changbin’s t-shirt exposed those thick forearms and biceps.

Changbin raised an eyebrow, clocking the boys stare, and slowly—so casually and with a smirk that made Minho wanted to throw something—flexed one arm. Hard.

The soft, sharp gasp that left Felix was so high-pitched that Minho actually twitched.

“Okay, nope,” Minho announced, standing up and marching over. “He’s a child. A baby. We’re not going this.” He reached out and slapped his hands gently over Felix’s eyes.

Felix whined dramatically as Changbin cackled, twisting away. “Hyuuuung, I was looking!”

“You were drooling,” Minho muttered, trying to keep a straight face.

Just then, Seungmin entered the room, still bleary-eyed and holding a water bottle. “Did you find him?”

He paused and took in the scene—Felix, 17, red-faced and grinning, Minho covering his eyes, and Changbin smirking like the smug gym rat he was.

Seungmin sighed loudly, turning to leave. “Great. So I’m going to be stuck watching 17-year-old Felix thirst over my boyfriend.”

Felix let out a squeaky bark of laughter, cheeks going even redder.

“Seungmin-ah!” Minho snapped. “Don’t encourage him!”

But before he could get Felix to somewhere kid-friendly, the younger squealed and was suddenly lifted—strong arms hooking around his waist as Changbin hoisted him over his shoulder like a sack of rice.

“Hyung!” Felix shrieked, kicking his legs, laughing so hard his voice cracked. “Let me go!”

“Sorry, aegi,” Changbin said, grinning. “But perverts don’t get to ogle hyungs and not face the consequences.”

“I’m not! I’m just gay and your arms are the size of my head!”

Minho covered his face while Seungmin gave a tired clap of amusement, and Changbin carried Felix, still shrieking and giggling, out of the room like he weighed nothing at all. Minho quickly went to follow, his socked feet skidded slightly on the floor as he rounded the corner into the kitchen, where the rest of the boys had already gathered, every one of them bleary-eyed and rumpled with sleep, staring in mild disbelief.

Changbin barreled in from the hall, laughing as he hoisted the teenager over his shoulder and dumped ihm onto the couch. Felix landed with a soft “oof!” and a giddy squeak, bouncing once before beaming up at them.

“Are you serious?” Minho snapped, marching straight up to Changbin and swatting him hard on the back of the head.

Changbin jolted forward with a grunt, rubbing his skull. “Ow—what?!”

“Be careful,” Minho barked, his voice tight with panic. “His fucking back, Changbin!”

Seungmin appeared next, his sharp expression all fury and fondness as he yanked Changbin by the ear.

“Have you completely lost your mind?” he scolded. “Do you have amnesia, or are you just that bad at being gentle? He was literally was in our bed after sobbing from pain earlier.”

Changbin looked properly chastised, his face scrunched up in remorse, ears going red. But before anyone could say more, Felix sat up on the couch again, brows furrowed in genuine confusion.

“What’s wrong with my back?” he asked softly. “It feels fine.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

The room went utterly still—like someone had punched a hole in reality and suck all the breath out with it. Minho’s throat worked as he tried to come up with a response. How could they explain that the road ahead was lined with pain? That somewhere between years of stretching, rehearsal, sleepless nights, missed meals, and so much more, his body had started to break? That the future held mornings when he wouldn’t be able to sit up without tears in his eyes, or nights when even breathing after a show felt like a punishment?

He felt sick.

But before Minho could gather the words, it was Chan who spoke.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” he said quietly from the kitchen entryway, his voice warm and tired. “Come eat breakfast first, yeah?”

Minho exhaled slowly, his hands falling from his hips as his eyes landed on Felix again.

The boy had turned toward Chan like he always did, with the same invisible pull of gravity he’d had since the day they met. But there was a look in his eyes Minho didn’t expect—devastation. Utter pain that was tangled with longing.

Felix didn’t move. He just looked at Chan, like he was trying to hold onto the shape of him, trying to memorize him all over again. Minho reached him first, stepping close and placing his hands gently on Felix’s narrow shoulders, stooping to meet his gaze.

“You weren’t eliminated,” he reminded him softly. “Not really. It was temporary, you are a member. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

Felix’s lip trembled, but he nodded, blinking fast. He was sniffling, clearly trying not to cry—but when he looked at Chan again, his whole face crumpled; and then Chan was there.

Chan crossed the room in a blur and wrapped Felix in a crushing hug, holding the boy so tight to his chest that it looked like he might never let go. Felix’s fingers clutched at the fabric of Chan’s hoodie, his knuckles pale. His shoulders shook with sobs as Chan tucked his face into the younger’s hair, eyes squeezed shut.

Minho watched as Chan pressed a kiss to the crown of Felix’s head. There was tremble in his jaw, a grief deep and raw pulling tight at his expression. Tears spilled silently down Chan’s cheeks, even as he whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Felix pulled back slightly, looking up at him with wet lashes and crease between his brows.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked, voice high and hoarse. “You were right. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t practice enough, I should’ve studied harder, I—”

Minho’s breath hitched. Of course.

This was before episode nine. Before the redemption arc. This was the Felix who had just been eliminated, and Chan—Minho turned to look—was only just realizing it too.

Chan had talked to Minho about it a bit, the guilt he held for how he treated Felix—treated everyone really—during the survival show. How he was too mean, too harsh, too strict; and Minho will admit, the older had been rough around the edges during the show. But, what Chan never seemed to realize, was that he was just a kid as well, stuck in an unbelievably stressful situation.

Chan had sat Felix down after they debuted, and the older apologized to Felix for an hour straight. He had cried his way through it, and Felix, being Felix, had obviously forgiven the older, completely understanding the situation he was in.

Minho knew logically that it had had to hurt Felix at the time, but to listen now, to get confirmation that Felix had taken all of that bullshit said out of pure emotion and exhaustion to heart was overwhelming in all the worst ways.

Chan’s mouth parted as he sat Felix on the couch, crouching down so they could be eyelevel. He wiped gently at Felix’s cheeks, fingers soft and reverent.

“No, Lixie,” Chan murmured. “You were always ready. I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did. I pushed you too hard. I treated you like you were already a pro when you were just a kid doing your best. I was just—so scared. I didn’t want to lose you, so I tried to turn you into me.”

Felix just blinked at him, tears still slowly falling. He was quiet for a moment. “Are you nicer to yourself now?”

Chan let out a broken laugh. “Still working on it.”

With the growl of Changbin’s stomach, they ended their emotional moment with Chan ruffling Felix’s hair, and gently nudging him towards the table. They gathered around the table like they always did, like the world hadn’t split open and time hadn’t decided to bend itself around the smallest, softest member of their group.

Felix sat nestled between Jeongin and Hyunjin, the older boys scattered across the table in varying states of sleepiness and emotional fatigue. The smell of eggs, rice, kimchi, and toast wafted warmly through the room, grounding tem with comfort.

Chan sat diagonally across from Felix with a plate so full it looked almost comedic, piled high with scrambled eggs, sausag, toast, and a mountain of rice. Felix blinked at it, tilting his head.

“Hyung, do I eat like that too?”

Chan paused, blinking at him in confusion. He looked down at his mountain of food and laughed sheepishly. “This? No, this is just stress-eating. I probably look like I’m training for a weightlifting competition.”

Felix gave a soft giggle, muffled by the back of his hand. “It’s kind of impressive… it’s like your plate is taller than Seungmin.”

“Hey!” Seungmin squawked from the other end of the table, though his voice was laced with amusement.

Chan chuckled, setting his chopsticks down to look more directly at Felix. “You eat a normal amount. But I will say, you always eat more when you’re happy.”

There was a beat of silence, a heartbeat too long. Felix looked down at his half-eaten rice. “Then, I hope I’m hungry all the time.”

It landed heavy on the table, heavier than any silence that came before. Even Jeongin’s teasing grin faded.

Minho, already watching him from across the table, reached a hand under and gently squeezed Felix’s knee in reassurance. “You will be,” he said softly. “We’ll make sure of it.”

Felix nodded, swallowing thickly and picking up his spoon again. “Can I ask more questions?”

“Of course,” Han said quickly, nudging his plate closer in case Felix wanted to share. “Ask as many as you want.”

“What’s… what’s our dorm like now? Do we still live together?”

Minho smiled. “Technically. You and Seungmin-ah live together, the rest of us are paired off. But we come and go from each other’s places all the time.”

“It’s a lot quieter when you’re not home,” Seungmin added gently.

Felix’s lips tugged into a soft smile. “What’s my role in the group? Like… do I write songs too?”

“You’re one of our best performers,” Chan said immediately. “You choreograph with Minho and Hyunjin sometimes. You also wrote one of our most streamed songs.”

Felix blinked, cheeks dusting pink. “Me?”

“You,” Minho confirmed. But before he could say more, Felix tilted his head again.

“Why—why did Woojin-hyung leave?”

The room stilled. It wasn’t a dramatic silence, not a sharp inhale or sudden shift. It was quieter than that, more subtle. The clatter of chopsticks dulled, Seungmin’s mug paused mid-air, and Jeongin’s mouth hung slightly open like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

Minho’s heart dropped, a dull ache blooming behind his ribs. He remembered the nervous look Felix had given him back in the bedroom, right before Changbin had burst through the door. The way Felix had mumbled, “Woojin and his friends are mean,” and the way he hadn’t wanted to meet his eyes.

Minho’s hands clenched under the table.

All eyes slowly turned toward Chan, who exhaled quietly through his nose, setting his chopsticks down with trembling fingers. He didn’t look away from Felix.

“There were rumors, “ Chan said carefully. “Some serious ones, about him being physically violent with younger trainees.”

Felix’s whole body stiffened. His eyes widened for a heartbeat before they flicked down to his lap, hiding most of his expression. But the shift was so stark, so immediate that no one missed it.

“Aegi?” Changbin asked softly, his voice already laced with worry. “What is it?”

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin added, leaning forward slightly, concern etched into every line of his face.

Felix hesitated. His fingers twitched where they rested near his bowl. He glanced at Minho with wide, searching eyes, silently asking.

Minho offered him a small, steady smile and gave a slow nod, silently promising: You’re safe.

Felix’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. Then he looked at the table, his voice quiet and trembling. “How–How did you find out about that?”

Minho felt Chan tense beside him, sharp and rigid, like a rubber band about to snap. Minho’s instincts kicked in and he reached under the table, placing a grounding hand on Chan’s thigh. He gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Breathe. Let us handle this.

It was Jeongin who spoke, his voice calm but clearly disturbed. “Some older trainees came to Chan-hyung. They said they saw Woojin shove a younger trainee down the stairs. That’s what started it all.”

Chan exhaled sharply, the sound pained. Minho looked toward Felix just in time to see the way his expression crumpled with sadness, guilt, and something else layered behind his tired eyes.

Minho met his gaze again, and asked gently, “What did you mean earlier, Bok-ah, when you said he and his friends were mean?”

Felix’s eyes darted between them all, as if trying to find an escape route, trying to decide if this was a mistake. His mouth opened, then closed, and he looked down again, clutching at his own fingers like they were the only things tethering him.

Minho reached out across the table ad took one of those shaking hands, holding it carefully. His voice was soft but certain. “You’re not in trouble, Lix-ah. That was almost ten years ago now. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Felix stared at their joined hands for a moment, then slowly nodded. He let out a long breath, and Minho let go as the younger stood up. “I…I have to show you something.”

The mood shifted, and all of them straightened.

Felix turned slightly and lifted his shirt.

The gasp that tore around the table was sharp and collective—Hyunjin’s hand flew to his mouth, Seungmin cursed under his breath, and Changbin nearly knocked his chair back standing up.

Minho’s brain short-circuited, and the air vanished from his lungs.

Dark bruises stretched across Felix’s ribs and stomach in haunting shades of purple and yellow. Some were older and healing, but still brutal, still proof.

“What—” Changbin choked out, his voice rough. “What the fuck happened?”

Felix pulled his shirt back down quickly, almost like he was ashamed. “I don’t know why they’re stil there if I’m just… aging or whatever. But that day, Woojin-hyung was really, really mad. He was helping me with a singing part, and my voice kept cracking, and then he..”

His voice cracked instead, and he dropped his gaze, trembling slightly.

Minho couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. His mind spun with disbelief, with fury, with grief for the kid who had endured this silently, and still smiled at them through it all like he didn’t think he mattered.

Chan was the one who broke the silence. His voice was quiet but hoarse, like it had been dragged through gravel. “Why didn’t you tell anyone, Lix?”

Felix didn’t look at him. He stared at his hands again, wringing them. “Everyone always said I had to listen to my hyungs; and Woojin-hyung told me not to say anything. He said–said if I wanted to debut, I needed to grow up.”

Minho’s chair scraped loudly as he stood and crossed the space, wrapping both arms around the boy and pulling him in. He tucked Felix’s head to his chest and held him close, is heart nearly beating out of his chest.

“You don’t have to talk about it anymore,” he whispered, fingers gently combing through Felix’s hair.

Felix nodded into him, sniffling softly. His voice was small and muffled against Minho’s chest. “Can I go shower?”

“Yeah,” Minho said immediately, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “Do you need help with anything?”

Felix shook his head and gave a watery smile, then quickly turned and made his way down the hallway, disappearing into the bathroom. The bathroom door clicked shut behind Felix with a quiet finality, but the sound reverberated like a thunderclap in the silence that followed.

Minho turned slowly back to the group, heart still thudding in his chest, and what he saw nearly made it stop again.
Chan was hunched over in his chair, both elbows braced against the table, one hand covering his mouth. His shoulders were shaking violently and when Minho moved closer, he saw the tears slipping down the leader’s cheeks.

Han sat beside him, stiff as stone. His eyes were wide and wet, his lower lip trembling, blinking rapidly as if he could will the tears away. His hands were clenched tightly together in his lap, knuckles white.

Across from them, Changbin was still standing, jaw locked, fists balled at his sides like he was fighting every urge in his body to punch something—or someone. His chest heaved, and his gaze burned holes into the wall Felix had disappeared behind.

Seungmin had gone pale. He stared blankly ahead, his features drawn tight, while Jeongin looked like he might be sick. His arms were wrapped tightly around himself.

Then, Hyunjin’s voice came, barely audible over the distant hum of the apartment. “That–that happened before he was eliminated.”

Minho’s head snapped toward him.

Hyunji swallowed hard. “That day when Woojin shoved him down the stairs, I heard people whispering about it, but–but no one said anything to Chan-hyung. Not until months after we debuted.”

Chan let out a low, guttural sound, like the wind had been knocked out of him.

Minho’s heart twisted. He walked over without hesitation and knelt beside him, arms circling around his waist, holding him tightly. Chan stiffened for a second, then folded forward, pressing his forehead against Minho’s shoulder.

“It’s not your fault,” Minho murmured. “None of us saw it. He hid it, Chan-ah. He was so scared, and he thought he had to be. That’s not on you.”

“I was supposed to protect him,” Chan choked out. “I promised.”

“You did,” Minho said firmly. “You do. Every day.”

Behind them, Changbin spoke, his voice hoarse. “He trusted me too. I—God, I was supposed to look after him. He was always hanging off me, always looking at me like I could keep the world from hurting him.”

His voice broke. “And I didn’t see it.”

“No one did,” Seungmin said, steady but quiet, still staring ahead. “We were all so focused on survival. On getting through evaluations, debuting, proving ourselves.”

Jeongin nodded solemnly. “He hid it well. That’s what scares me the most.”

There was another beat of silence. The room was thick with guilt, with helplessness, with the memories of a boy too small, too sweet, and too determined to belong to let himself cry out.

Then Seungmin’s eyes sharpened, jaw setting with resolve.

“We can’t stay like this,” he said. “If we’re falling apart, he’ll see it, and he’ll feel worse. He already thinks he’s a burden.”

Minho nodded, wiping at his own damp eyes. “You’re right. We’ve got to keep it together—for him.”

Each boy gave a silent nod of agreement, though none of them looked ready to move just yet. It was one thing to decide to be strong. It was another thing to find the strength.

Just as Minho opened his mouth to speak again—CRASH.

A loud, sharp sound came from the direction of the bathroom. Glass? Ceramic?

Then—a cry of pain.

Minho’s blood ran cold. He was already running.

He barely registered the others stumbling after him, socks skidding on hardwood as they collided in the hallway, nearly tripping over each other in their panic. Minho dropped to his knees in front of the bathroom door, hand already twisting the knob, only to find it wouldn’t budge.

“Felix!” he shouted, banging the side of his fist against the door. “Yongbok-ah—open up! It’s hyung!”

Behind the wood, they could hear him—soft, broken sobs that were muffled under the pounding of the still-running water.

“I—” Felix’s voice cracked. “I don’t know what’s wrong. It hurts—my back hurts—and my right leg—it's… I can't feel it. It went numb.”

Minho felt like someone had reached into his chest and clenched his heart in a vice. “Okay, it’s okay, baby,” he said as gently as he could, trying to push calm into the panic. “Can you turn the water off for me, love? Just reach forward, yeah?”

There was a pause. Then, a soft clunk. The shower sputtered to a stop, steam still curling beneath the door.

“Good,” Chan’s voice followed next, quiet but steady, crouched just beside Minho. “You’re doing so good, Lix. Can you reach a towel? Cover yourself up a little, dry off? Just wrap up, yeah? That’s all.”

“…Okay,” Felix whimpered. “I’ll try…”

They waited, hearts in their throats, until they heard the soft rustle of a towel and a shaky breath.

“Stay where you are, don’t try to get up,” Changbin said, voice suddenly firm. “Min, step back. Everyone else, back up.”
Minho blinked at him. “Wait, what are you—”

“I’m breaking the door,” Changbin said, jaw tight, already rolling his shoulder back like a batter warming up. “He can’t move, and I’m not wasting time.”

Minho stepped back without a word. He could see the tight panic in Changbin’s eyes and knew he couldn’t stop him even if he wanted to.

There was only a beat of stillness—and then crack—the entire door splintered with Changbin throwing his body through it, wood snapping from its frame, crashing inward to reveal a billow of steam and a trembling boy huddled in the bathtub.

Hyunjin was through the fog in an instant, a clean towel and a set of soft cotton pajamas clutched to his chest. The others surged forward on instinct, but Seungmin’s arm shot out.

“Wait,” he said sharply, holding them all back. “He’s a teenager. He’s naked. Give them some space.”

Even as his heart screamed in protest, Minho nodded. He forced his feet to turn, his hands curling into fists as they all retreated to the living room like wounded animals.

No one spoke at first. The only sounds were their own shaky breathing and the rush of blood in their ears.

Han sank onto the couch, rubbing at his chest. “His back…” he whispered. “It’s worse the older he gets. This is the third time it’s happened during a transition. What if… what if it’s this bad all the time?”

Jeongin leaned against the wall, arms crossed tight across his chest. “He always says it’s fine. But we don’t live with him. We don’t see.”

All eyes slowly turned to Seungmin.

The younger let out a slow, tired sigh and dropped onto the armrest, running a hand through his hair. “…It’s been bad,” he admitted. “Lately. Really bad. He doesn’t like people knowing, but—he wears a back brace when he’s home, if no one’s coming over. Some mornings I have to help him out of bed; and at night… sometimes he can’t even sit up without help.”

A choked sound escaped Chan, and Minho turned to see his leader crumbling, his hands pressed over his face. “Why didn’t he tell me…?”

“He begged me not to,” Seungmin said quietly. His eyes were glassy now, voice wobbling just slightly. “He said he didn’t want everyone worrying about him. He wanted to carry it.”

They were all silent again.

It was Han who finally whispered, “We thought we knew him. Our Lix-ah. But maybe…”

Minho’s eyes slid to the shattered door still visible down the hall. He could still see the steam curling in the air. Still feel the echo of Felix’s voice in his chest.

“…Maybe we don’t know our Yongbokkie as well as we thought.”

And that thought cut deeper than any injury ever could.

The door creaked softly as it opened, and all heads turned.

Changbin stepped out first, arms full of Felix.

The younger was cradled against his chest, face hidden in the curve of Changbin’s neck, his damp hair plastered to his forehead and temples. One of Changbin’s hands was curled protectively around the back of his thighs, the other gently supporting his back, fingers splayed wide and careful. Behind them, Hyunjin followed with slow, deliberate steps, clutching a small white bottle of medication in one hand and a glass of water in the other. His eyes were nervous, flickering between Felix’s face and the boys on the couch like he was still catching his breath.

The moment they were fully inside, Chan was up like a shot.

“Felix—” His voice cracked as he rushed forward. He reached for Felix with trembling hands, brushing the wet hair back from his flushed forehead, checking for fever, pain, anything. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Felix tilted his head slightly, eyes glassy but lucid, and blinked up at him. “Sorry,” he mumbled, his voice so small it felt like it might float away. “Didn’t mean to make you worry, hyung.”

Chan let out a watery laugh—sharp and helpless and too full of everything he couldn’t say. “If you apologize for anything else,” he said thickly, “I’m putting you in time-out.”

Felix blinked, and then gave him a shy, crooked smile. That was all it took for Chan to laugh again, softer this time, and reach out to cup the back of Felix’s head, thumb brushing gently behind his ear.

“Come here, baby,” he murmured.

Changbin nodded once and carefully lowered the boy onto the couch. Felix whimpered faintly as he shifted, and Chan was already there, sliding in beside him, letting Felix curl stiffly against his side. The younger burrowed his face against Chan’s chest, knees drawn up protectively, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt. Chan wrapped his arms around him like a shield.

Hyunjin stepped forward then, kneeling and holding out the meds with shaking hands. “He needs to take these,” he said, voice hoarse. “Now that he’s out of the shower.”

Chan gave a short nod, thanking him softly, and took the bottle.

He coaxed Felix gently, helping him sit up just enough to take the pills with a sip of water. His voice never rose above a whisper, all soft encouragement and gentle praise. “That’s it, you’re doing so good. Just a little more. There we go. Breathe.”

Felix swallowed, then leaned back into him again, eyes drooping.

“Do you want to sleep?” Chan asked softly, rubbing slow circles into his spine.

Felix was quiet for a long moment. Then, he looked up, blinking at Chan through his lashes.

“Can we watch something?”

Chan’s brow lifted. “Of course. What do you want to watch, baby?”

Felix hesitated, then said, “Our… music videos?”

The room stilled. Minho sat up straighter. Han froze with a half-bitten piece of toast in hand. Even Jeongin stopped mid-sip of water.

“You sure?” Chan asked carefully, though his fingers never stopped their soothing rhythm on the boy’s back.
Felix nodded, slowly. “I—I wanna see what I become.”

Han was the first to speak. “Wait, is that—allowed? I feel like in movies, whenever someone’s from the past or gets amnesia or something, they’re not supposed to see stuff from their future. Or like—it messes things up?”

Hyunjin frowned. “Why wouldn’t it be allowed?”

Han shrugged, nervous. “I dunno. Just—what if it makes things worse?”

Felix stirred slightly in Chan’s lap. “What else could possibly go wrong that hasn’t already today?”

The room paused. Then, soft chuckles began to ripple across it—first Minho, then Jeongin, and finally even Chan let out a huff of laughter into Felix’s hair.

Minho shook his head fondly. “Alright, drama prince. Cue it up. Show him God’s Menu first. Let him see what he grew into.”

Felix blinked, looking around at all of them. He leaned further into Chan’s warmth, his body still aching, but his heart—his heart felt like it might burst from all the love being wrapped around him like a second blanket.

“Okay,” he whispered.

The television glowed softly in the living room, casting flickering colors across the walls and faces of the eight boys spread out across the room. On the screen, the powerful beat of God’s Menu reverberated through the speakers, synchronized with the electrifying choreography and confident expressions of the idols onscreen.

Minho didn’t watch the screen.

He watched Felix.

The teenager was curled against Chan’s side, swaddled in a soft blanket, a fresh pair of oversized pajamas hanging loosely off his smaller frame. His damp hair was beginning to curl a little at the ends, and his eyes were wide, mouth slightly parted in awe.

“That’s me?” he whispered as his older self popped up on the screen—strong, powerful, and exuding charisma in every movement. “I—I look so cool…”

“You are cool,” Chan murmured, lips curled upward into the softest smile.

Felix looked up at him, stunned. “I look like I belong with you guys.”

Minho felt his heart twist, and so did every boy in the room.

They let the videos play—Back Door, Thunderous, S-Class, Case 143—each one showing a different side of the group. Felix never stopped watching. His reactions came fast, breathless.

“Han-hyung, that rap was insane—!”

“Hyunjin, you’re so elegant, that spin was like a ballerina!”

“Seungmin, your vocals—oh my God, your vocals.”

Even Changbin got a shy, stunned, “You’re so… fast. And loud. I think you might be my favorite.”

Changbin puffed up like a proud cat, throwing a wink over his shoulder.

But then, slowly, Felix’s voice began to change. The compliments kept coming, but they got slower, ad sleepier. He started blinking longer between each sentence, his words blurring together like a tape winding down.

By the time Maniac played, he was completely silent, cheek squished gently against Chan’s chest, eyes shut and body still. His breath rose and fell evenly now, steady as the beat faded into silence.

Chan looked down at him, unable to stop the smile tugging at his lips. He gently brushed through the younger’s hair, fingers threaded carefully through the strands.

“You did it, Lixie,” he whispered. “You really did it.”

Minho let out a shaky breath, quiet and tremulous.

Han, who had been sitting cross-legged on the floor beside him, tilted his head. “Jagi?” he asked gently. “What’s wrong?”

Minho didn’t answer right away. His eyes were still on Felix, watching the way he clung instinctively to Chan even in sleep, like it was the only safe place in the world.

“I was there,” Minho said finally. “During those two weeks after he got eliminated; and I—I didn’t know what to do with him.”

The air shifted.

“I knew some of the other trainees picked on him, but... it happened to all of us, y’know? And I shut it down when I saw it, but I never thought—” He swallowed, eyes glossy. “I never thought it got that bad. Not once.”

There was silence.

Then Chan’s jaw clenched, a flicker of pain tightening his features, though he kept petting Felix’s hair like nothing was wrong. The younger’s small frame seemed to radiate comfort even while unconscious, grounding the leader with every soft inhale.

Changbin’s voice cut through the stillness. Low. Dangerous. “I’m gonna kill Woojin.”

Seungmin let out a long, dramatic sigh and shoved him back into the couch with a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t even know where he lives.”

“I’ll find him.”

“Felix wouldn’t want you to,” Seungmin added quietly, eyes sharp but tired.

Changbin grumbled under his breath, crossing his arms.

“I think you and Chan-hyung should box and get it out of your systems,” Jeongin muttered from where he leaned against the arm of the couch, his voice dry.

Chan blinked. “Me? How did I get roped into that?”

“Because you’re equally—if not more—mad than Changbin-hyung,” Jeongin said matter-of-factly.

Chan let out a soft laugh, barely above a whisper, but it was real. “You’re not wrong.”

Minho cracked a small smile, and the tension in the room began to ease.

Then Hyunjin clapped his hands together, pushing off the wall like a man with a mission. “Alright, enough brooding. We’ve spent almost this entire time comforting him or watching him cry.”

“That’s not his fault,” Seungmin said, shooting him a glare.

“I know,” Hyunjin said, raising his hands in defense. “But this version of Felix—seventeen-year-old starstruck sunshine? We haven’t had any fun with him yet, and that needs to change. Now.”

Changbin raised an eyebrow. “Define fun.”

Hyunjin grinned, eyes glinting mischievously. “That depends. What do you think would blow seventeen-year-old Felix’s mind?”

A beat of silence. Then slowly, every face turned to Chan, whose eyes widened in alarm as they all smirked in sync.

-

Felix had been asleep for over an hour, curled up like a kitten into Chan’s side, one hand loosely gripping his hoodie, cheek smushed warmly into his chest. The shirt had ridden up slightly, revealing a sliver of pale skin and the edge of a fading bruise, but Chan didn’t dare move. His arm stayed wrapped around Felix, fingers gently tracing slow, grounding shapes against the boy’s spine. Every so often, Chan dipped his head to check if he was still breathing evenly. He was.

Which was more than Chan could say for the rest of the group.

Minho had suggested they do something lighthearted—something to break through the haze of grief and pain the day had wrapped around them. Hyunjin’s eyes had lit up instantly. “A fanmeet,” he’d whispered. “Let’s give him one.”

Seungmin had blinked. “You mean… pretend to be STAYs?”

“Yes!” Hyunjin hissed back, grabbing Han’s arm. “We act like STAYs meeting Felix for the first time. We show him the love he's given. Maybe even give him little cards or flowers or something dumb and dramatic.”

Jeongin grinned. “He’d eat that up.”

And so, the boys got to work.

Minho was crouched by the coffee table, scissors in hand, cutting out tiny paper hearts. Jeongin was covered in marker streaks and glue sparkles, scribbling a sign that said “FELIX = PERFECT” with enough glitter to blind a god. Seungmin had somehow found ribbon and was tying it around a rolled-up fake diploma labeled “Best Boy”. Changbin—bless him—was hovering near the fridge, nervously sniffing a bouquet of roses they’d planned to give Felix next week.

“Are they still fresh?” he whispered, peering at the petals.

“They’re fine, Romeo,” Han whispered back, placing a plate of fruit slices shaped like hearts on the table. “We’re not feeding them to him. Yet.”

“Someone go grab the fairy lights!” Hyunjin hissed dramatically. “This room isn’t giving fanmeet yet—it’s giving emotional therapy circle, and we’ve done enough of that today.”

“Because our friend is emotionally traumatized,” Minho deadpanned.

“Yes, and he deserves a show-stopping aesthetic,” Hyunjin snapped.

Chan just smiled quietly from the couch, carding his fingers through Felix’s soft hair as the boy stirred faintly in his sleep. His bangs were damp at the roots. His face was still a bit pale, but there was a healthy pink returning to his cheeks now that he’d calmed. It was the first time all day his shoulders weren’t bunched with tension.

Chan hadn’t moved for 78 minutes and 43 seconds. (Han had timed it. He made a comment. Chan ignored him.)

Finally, the “stage” was ready. They’d transformed the living room into a makeshift STAY paradise: fairy lights strung around the curtain rods, couch pillows stacked to create a fan line, and one single dining chair placed at the center like a throne. On the wall behind it hung a banner in crooked letters that read: “STAY LOVES FELIX!!!” surrounded by lopsided stars and heart stickers.

Hyunjin stood proudly in the middle, arms flung wide like a game show host. “Okay. Time to wake the prince.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes but didn’t protest.

Hyunjin tiptoed over and knelt beside Chan, who hadn’t moved an inch. “Hyung,” he whispered like a little kid asking for dessert. “Can I do the honors?”

Chan looked down at Felix’s sleeping face. He was pouting in his sleep. Soft little snores slipped from his parted lips.

Chan chuckled. “Nah. This one’s mine.”

He leaned down, brushing his nose gently against Felix’s temple.

“Lixie,” he whispered. “Hey, sleepyhead. Time to wake up.”

Felix stirred, scrunching his face before blinking blearily up at Chan. His voice was hoarse and tiny. “Why’re you smiling like that…?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Chan whispered automatically. “Also, we planned something.”

Felix blinked a few more times, sitting up groggily. “Planned what—”

“Don’t ask questions. Just trust me,” Chan said, then kissed his forehead and helped him up.

Jeongin was already running over with Felix’s hoodie, slipping it over his head with the air of a personal stylist. Minho brought socks and helped pull them onto his feet like he was Cinderella. Felix just blinked at all of them, confused and floppy, until he was guided gently into the single chair placed in the center of the room.

The moment he sat, the lights dimmed and Han hit play on a soft instrumental version of “Sunshine” playing through the TV.

Then, from behind the pillow barricade, Seungmin emerged, holding up a glittery sign that read: “YOU ARE THE MOMENT.”

“Hello, Felix-ssi,” Seungmin said in his best deadpan tone. “I’m your fan of six years. I fell for you when you tripped over a mic cord and apologized to the stage.”

Felix blinked at him.

“I love you. Please notice me,” Seungmin added, holding up a sticky note that said: Call me maybe?

Felix burst into a confused laugh, looking utterly lost but already blushing.

Next came Han, holding a fruit plate in the shape of a heart. “Oppa, I learned Korean just for you,” he said in a high-pitched fake voice, batting his lashes. “And then unlearned it because you’re too beautiful and now I’m stupid. Marry me.”

Jeongin crawled up next, dramatically fake-sobbing. “You’re the reason I passed my math final. Every time I thought I’d fail, I looked at your picture and cried harder. You’re my lucky charm!”

Minho brought over a scribbled card: “To my sunshine: You are the reason glitter exists. Without you, the world is just sadness and taxes.”

Felix’s laughter got louder. “What is happening right now!?”

“We’re your STAYs!” Hyunjin squealed, bursting from behind the couch with a bouquet of roses and a fan chant chart. “This is your fanmeet! Let us adore you!”

Then, finally, Changbin stepped forward, holding a piece of paper folded exactly three times. He opened it awkwardly and cleared his throat.

“I’m not good at writing,” he said shyly, “but I like your freckles. And your laugh. And your whole face. And your voice. Also, you’re strong and kind and really, really important.”

Felix’s eyes welled up instantly.

Then Chan came forward, holding a paper crown and a plushie shaped like a tiny sun. “You were sleeping too long, so we decided to remind you how loved you are,” he said gently.

He knelt and placed the crown on Felix’s head.

“You’re our light, Felix,” he whispered. “You always have been.”

Felix sniffled hard, tears streaming freely now as he laughed and covered his face. “You guys are so stupid,” he choked out, voice wobbly. “This is so dumb. I love it so much.”

Minho snapped a picture. “You’re gonna cry again when you’re 24 and see this.”

Felix laughed through his tears, wiping his face. “I can’t believe you made a fanmeet for me.”

“We did it for us too,” Jeongin grinned. “We missed this version of you.”

Felix looked around at their silly decorations and crumpled flowers and messy crafts and whispered, “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Then he reached his arms out like a sleepy toddler, and all seven boys mobbed him in a massive, tearful group hug, nearly knocking over the chair in the process.

Eventually, the chaos of the group hug settled into giggles and sniffling and soft pats on the back as the boys pulled away one by one, wiping their faces or smoothing Felix’s crown back into place. His cheeks were glowing, flushed pink with emotion, and his voice cracked a little when he sat up straighter and mumbled, “So… what’s with the animals? Why do I have a… chick?”

Everyone paused.

“You mean SKZOO?” Han asked, already grinning.

Felix nodded. “I kept seeing plushies around earlier and—I’m sorry, but what is Changbin-hyung’s character supposed to be?”

Changbin gasped like he'd been shot. “Excuse you? I’m a dwaekki! A pig and rabbit hybrid! He’s iconic!”

“That’s so weird,” Felix giggled, then covered his mouth. “Sorry! But it’s really… like… really weird.”

“I’ll show you weird,” Changbin huffed, flopping onto the couch next to him. “I could’ve been a snake. I’m versatile.”

“You’re a dumbass,” Seungmin muttered.

“But he’s our dumbass,” Minho added with a smirk.

Felix turned to him, curious. “Wait—what’s yours again?”

“Sooooo,” Minho drawled, tilting his head. “Fans say I’m a rabbit. Leebit. But lately, they’ve decided both of us are actually cats.”

Felix blinked. “Really?”

Minho leaned back, smug. “Mmhm. You’re the baby cat. I’m the grumpy one.”

Felix’s face lit up like a candle. “I love cats!” he chirped. “That’s so cute. But—” he reached out toward one of the SKZOO plushies on the table and picked it up gently, the tiny yellow chick wobbling in his hand “—I have to admit. This little guy is adorable.”

“Dwaekki is rolling in his grave,” Changbin muttered from behind a throw pillow.

Suddenly, Chan stepped forward with a quiet little smirk playing at his lips and his phone in hand.

“Okay, okay,” he said, voice pitched with teasing mischief. “I have one more surprise.”

The others all turned toward him in confusion.

“Wait, what surprise?” Hyunjin asked, eyes narrowing. “Did you order something?”

“Nope,” Chan replied, bouncing slightly on his heels. “Just used my time wisely while I was couch-locked by Lix-ah here.”

He gently placed his phone in Felix’s lap. “Press play.”

Felix looked down, startled. “What is it?”

“Just do it,” Chan said, winking. “And don’t freak out.”

Felix tapped the screen—

—and suddenly, Jin’s face appeared.

“Hey, sunshine!” Jin beamed, waving into the camera. “I heard you were having a bit of a rough day, but I just wanted to remind you—Felix-ah—you’re incredible. You’re magic. Even when you don’t feel like it. You’ve inspired so many people… including us. BTS loves you, okay?”

The screen cut to Namjoon, who offered a warm smile and a little wave. “You’re one of the brightest lights in our industry. We’ve all seen how much heart you put into everything. I hope you’re being taken care of. You deserve it.”

Felix’s jaw dropped. He was frozen, eyes wide and misting over fast.

But the video kept going.

“Hey, baby chick!” Minhyuk popped onto the screen next, waving wildly from what looked like a rehearsal studio. “It’s your hyung! You’re sleeping through your fanmeet, aren’t you? Tsk-tsk. I better get a hug next time I see you. Love you, kid. You’ve come so far. You’re unstoppable.”

Felix’s hand trembled where he held the phone, mouth parted in sheer disbelief. “They know me…?”

“Keep watching,” Chan said, eyes twinkling.

Next was San from ATEEZ, practically shouting. “FELIX! You’re our favorite ATINY—wait, no, you’re not ATINY… you’re ours now!”

Wooyoung appeared beside him, rolling his eyes fondly. “Sorry about him. We just wanted to say—your hyungs talk about you all the time. You’re like their golden child. And we love you too. You’re amazing.”

Finally, the video panned out to all eight ATEEZ members, waving and shouting things like “FIGHTING!” and “GET WELL SOON!” and “TELL CHANGBIN TO RELAX!”

Felix just… sat there. Completely stunned.

“You okay?” Minho asked softly.

Felix blinked up at him, voice small. “They… they know me? BTS? Minhyuk-hyung? Those guys?”

“They love you,” Chan said simply, sitting down beside him again. “You’re not just our sunshine anymore, Felix-ah. You’re everyone’s.”

Felix swallowed hard, his cheeks flushing pink again as he clutched the phone to his chest. “Who… who are ATEEZ?”

“They’re close friends of ours,” Hyunjin explained, sitting cross-legged in front of him. “Total nerds. Very dramatic. San’s like if Han was taller and buffer.”

“Hey!” Han yelped.

“But they adore you,” Jeongin added. “They think you’re the best dancer alive.”

Felix let out a breathy, overwhelmed laugh, eyes misty again as he looked at them all. “You guys are seriously trying to make me cry every ten minutes today.”

“That’s because we missed you,” Chan said gently, ruffling his hair. “And we don’t get to see 17-year-old Felix very often. Gotta make it count.”

Felix looked down at the plushie in his lap, then the crown still perched askew on his head.

“…This is the best fanmeet ever,” he whispered.

-

As the sun began to set, Someone—probably Seungmin—had queued up lo-fi spa music on the speaker, and the scent of cucumber and lavender floated through the air, courtesy of the sheet masks Hyunjin insisted were top-tier only.

Felix sat cross-legged on a blanket, a warm robe wrapped around him and a bunny headband pushing back his freshly washed hair. He blinked up as Jeongin approached, brush in hand, a devious glint in his eyes.

“Don’t move. I’m giving you glowing glass skin.”

Felix giggled. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Shh,” Jeongin hushed him, already slathering on a thin layer of serum. “Trust the artist.”

Next to them, Han and Seungmin were arguing over foot masks.

“I’m telling you, your feet will be baby-soft,” Han said, waving the pouch like a flag.

Seungmin scowled. “I don’t want baby-soft feet. I want respected feet.”

“Your feet don’t do enough to deserve respect.”

“Say that again and I’ll put peppermint oil in your eye cream.”

Felix snorted into his hands, then turned when Hyunjin plopped down beside him with a carefully curated tray of sheet masks.

“Okay, angel,” Hyunjin said gently, “do you want lavender, green tea, or the strawberry milk one that smells like candy?”

Felix blinked at the choices, cheeks already tinged pink from happiness. “Strawberry. Definitely strawberry.”

“That’s my boy,” Hyunjin said, beaming as he carefully unwrapped the mask and smoothed it over Felix’s cheeks.

Across the room, Changbin was lounging shirtless on a pillow pile, a clay mask drying and cracking around his exaggerated facial expressions as he scrolled through his phone.

“You look like a cracked sidewalk,” Jeongin muttered as he passed.

“I look like perfection,” Changbin retorted.

“You look like you got into a fight with a chalkboard,” Seungmin added, deadpan.

“Anyway,” Minho called from the kitchen, appearing with a bowl of homemade honey-oat oatmeal mask, “I made this for sensitive skin. Come here, Yongbok-ah.”

Felix, grinning beneath his strawberry mask, scooted closer. “You made that?”

Minho smirked. “Who else do you think holds this group together with skincare and rage?”

“True,” Han said from the corner, rubbing lotion onto his hands. “He’s like a beautiful, bitter glue stick.”

“Give me the clay,” Changbin said, standing and stretching, muscles flexing dramatically.

“You’re just trying to show off again,” Han groaned, grabbing a blanket to cover his face.

As Minho began gently applying the mask over Felix’s exposed neck and jawline, Felix suddenly blinked and looked around at everyone doting on him, teasing each other, making jokes. His eyes sparkled with a strange kind of wonder.

“Hyung,” Felix to Chan as he tiptoed over with a strawberry-shaped hand cream. “You need moisture.”

Chan smiled softly. “I’m fine.”

“Your face is drier than Seungmin’s patience.” Jeongin chimed in.

“I heard that,” Seungmin said from behind his gel mask.

Felix carefully patted the cream into Chan’s face, who just laughed and let him. “You’re all ridiculous.”

Soon enough, it was time for the masks to come off, and it left Minho and Felix in the bathroom alone, Minho finishing the skin care the boy normally does for the night.

Felix was sitting cross-legged on the counter, wearing a too-big T-shirt and a sleepy expression, his damp hair pushed back with a different fluffy headband Jeongin had insisted on tying on him himself.

They were quiet for a few moments, Minho’s touch soft as he dabbed cream along the younger’s temples.

Then Felix’s voice broke through the silence soft and hesitant. “Hyung…”

Minho hummed. “Mm?”

Felix picked at a thread on his sleeve before looking up, eyes searching Minho’s face. “Why do you think I never told any of you? About back then, about what happened?”

Minho paused, hand resting gently against Felix’s jaw.

He sighed through his nose, not quite sad, but thoughtful. “Because you’re the kind of person who loves so hard, you forget to make space for yourself.”

Felix blinked at him.

“You take care of us so much, Bbokie,” Minho said, voice quieter now. “But you don’t know how to ask for that in return. Not really. You’ve always been like that. You’d cry for someone else before you’d ever let yourself cry for you.”

A small, sad smile pulled at Felix’s lips, his eyes dipping down again.

“My dad always said boys don’t ask for that kind of stuff,” he whispered. “Not hugs. Not comfort. Not help. He said it made us weak.”

Minho didn’t answer right away. He couldn’t. His throat ached, and his heart cracked a little deeper in his chest.

Because he remembered that version of Felix. The quieter one. The one who used to apologize every time he smiled too wide or laughed too loud. The one who never initiated hugs, who flinched when someone raised their voice even slightly, who gave and gave and gave, like he didn’t think he was worth receiving anything back.

And he had done that alone.

Minho finally stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him not tightly, but securely, like a promise. Felix melted into it instantly, tucking his face into Minho’s shoulder.

“That’s not true,” Minho whispered. “That’s not what makes you strong. And you can always ask for a hug. Always.”
Felix was quiet, breathing slow and shaky against him.

“…Can I have one now?”

Minho smiled into the boy’s hair, pulling him in tighter. “You never have to ask.”

They stood like that for a long time—just holding each other, no words needed. But then, Felix gasped.

Minho pulled back slightly, concerned. “What’s—?”

Felix winced, clutching Minho’s shirt. His skin was starting to shimmer faintly, almost like a heat haze. His limbs trembled, and the gel on his face began to sizzle, evaporating from his skin as a low hum vibrated in the air.

“Hyung…?” he whispered, his voice catching. “What’s happening?”

Minho’s heart stopped. His hands gripped Felix’s arms as the boy's body began to faintly glow, warmth pulsing beneath his skin like something trying to push out.

He was changing.

Minho leaned in, forehead nearly touching Felix’s, and whispered, “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

The shimmer deepened, and then—everything went white.

Chapter Text

Strong arms caught him.

Felix collapsed into Minho’s chest with a choked breath, and he felt the older stagger backward to brace them both. “Felix?!” Minho’s voice cracked with urgency, his arms tightening around him. “Felix—Yongbok—hey, hey, are you okay? What’s happening?”

But Felix could barely speak. The shift left him drained, dizzy, and disoriented. Everything around him seemed off—too small, too bright, too loud, and familiar and unfamiliar all at once. He blinked rapidly, trying to ground himself, but his brain felt like it was lagging behind.

“I—I don’t…” he tried, but it came out breathless.

Minho didn’t ask anything else. He simply turned, adjusting Felix in his arms, and carried him quickly but carefully to the living room. The lights were soft out here, the hum of the air purifier the only sound for a moment. Felix clung weakly to Minho’s shirt, his body heavier now, longer, solid muscle and aching joints returning to their rightful place.

He knew this feeling. This was his body again, and yet, he still couldn’t stop shaking.

Minho sat him gently on the couch, crouching in front of him. “Felix? Bok-ah, you’re okay, you’re safe, I’ve got you, alright?” His hands were firm on Felix’s shoulders, grounding him, but Felix’s heart thundered in his ears.

He blinked down at himself, chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. These hands, these legs, these freckles. He knew them. He didn’t.

His breath hitched sharply and panic welled in his chest, a tidal wave of emotion and confusion all at once.

“I don’t—I don’t know what’s—where’s—” he stammered, tears springing to his eyes. His voice was deeper again, but still shook like a leaf in the wind. “Where am I—?”

“Felix!” A voice like the sun cutting through a storm. Chan.

Felix barely looked up before Chan was there, falling to his knees in front of them with a smile that looked like the sun breaking over a battlefield.

“You’re back,” he whispered, his hands already reaching, already pulling Felix into his arms.

Felix sank into him instinctively, sobbing into his shoulder, but the movement jolted a sharp, searing pain down his spine.

“Ah—!” He gasped and cried out, his entire body tensing.

Chan instantly froze, his arms loosening but not letting go. “Shit—sorry, sorry, baby, I’m sorry—your back—”

“Pain meds,” Minho muttered as he rushed forward, already handing them to him.

Felix was still trembling, still holding tight to Chan even though it hurt, and Chan shifted with him, adjusting carefully, pulling Felix into his lap with practiced tenderness. He arranged the younger sideways, arms wrapped around his waist, cradling him like he was precious cargo, like he was something fragile and sacred.

Minho returned and handed over a glass of water. “Drink first,” he said softly.

Felix obeyed, his hands barely steady enough to hold the cup. Chan kept murmuring to him the entire time, soft apologies and praises and gentle nothings that made Felix feel like he might come undone entirely. Once he’d taken the meds, Chan settled them both into the couch, one arm around his waist, one cradling his head.

“You’re okay now,” Chan whispered into his hair. “You’re here. You made it back."

Felix clung to him, shaking in his arms, his head tucked under Chan’s chin. The world felt…warped almost. His heartbeat thudded too hard in his chest, like his body wasn’t quite ready to belong to him again. His limbs were heavy, his skin cold from sweat, but it wasn’t that which made his stomach churn.

“Back?” he repeated, dazed and uncertain. His voice rasped from underuse. “What do you mean… back?”

He lifted his head slowly. His eyes, foggy with confusion, darted rapidly across the room. Then stopped.

Hyunjin was kneeling on the floor, his eyes wide and glistening. His fingers twisted nervously in the hem of his hoodie. Jeongin stood just behind the coffee table, his arms wrapped tightly around his middle like he was holding himself together. Han sat beside Seungmin, whose expression was unreadable, but his slightly red eyes betrayed more than he likely meant to. Changbin was hovering at the end of the couch, his eyes locked on Felix like he might shatter if he blinked.

Minho sat closest to himself. He sat directly beside him on the couch, pressed in tight, one hand curled around Felix’s shin, as if anchoring him. He looked pale and definitely freaked out, but also calm and steady.
His eyes bounced back to Han, who was now crying, tears streaming down his cheeks. His hand covered his mouth, shoulders shaking with the force of the sobs he was trying to suppress. The sight made Felix’s stomach plummet. The sheer terror that welled up in him eclipsed everything else.

“Wait—what—” Felix tried to sit up, his breath hitching. “What’s wrong? What happened? Is everyone okay? Hannie—why are you crying?” The panic was sharp and immediate, while his voice was cracked and frantic.

“Easy, Lix,” Chan said softly, his arms tightening around Felix. “You’re okay. Everyone’s okay. Just breathe.”

But Felix couldn’t. Not when they were all staring at him like he might disappear again. Not when the love in their eyes looked so thick it bordered on grief.

Chan looked around the room. “Sit down,” he said gently. “Let’s all take a breath.”

The others slowly sank into place, gathering around the couch in a sort-of-cirlce, some of the floor, some on the ottoman, all staying as close as they could. Minho didn’t move from Felix’s side. If anything, he inched closer, his hands still gripping Felix’s leg. Like he couldn’t let go. Like he wouldn’t.

Chan took a breath, looking at Felix with a softness that nearly broke him. “Can you tell us the last thing you remember, baby?”

Felix’s brows pulled together. “I…” He swallowed hard. “Dinner. I was exhausted. Seungmin-ah made me something.” His eyes flicked briefly to Seungmin. “And then… I got dizzy, like, really dizzy. The room wouldn’t stop tilting. I think—I think I fainted?”

The room went still.

Seungmin looked at him with a complicated expression. “You didn’t faint,” he said. “You… changed.”

Felix blinked. “Changed?”

Hyunjin passed him his phone, the screen already pulled up to a photo. Felix took it slowly, unsure what to expect, and then he gasped.

It was a photo of himself. But, when he was a kid?

A tiny toddler version of himself, curled into Seungmin, face hidden against the older’s chest. Another picture followed: him on Hyunjin’s shoulders, mouth opened in what looked like a scream. Another of him and Hyunjin, hair clips in his hair and one clipped to the little hair Hyunjin currently had.

“That’s… me?” he whispered. “What… how?”

Chan gently took the phone from his hand and passed it back to Hyunjin. “We don’t fully get it, but, Bambam-hyung told us about a phenomenon he’s seen happen before, to idols, usually when their bodies are the breaking point. When stress, pain, or trauma… when it all becomes to much, the body and mind try to reset themselves. Age regression is the body’s solution, apparently. You cycled through your whole life, Lixie.”

Felix’s face turned scarlet. He looked down, shame crashing over him like a wave. “Oh my god. That’s so—”

“Stop,” Minho cut in, firm and low. “Don’t you dare feel embarrassed. Not for this.”

Felix looked at him startled. Minho wasn’t even looking at him, he was staring hard at the floor, his brows drawn together tight.

“You turned into a toddler,” Jeongin added, a small shaky smile on his face. “Literally. Like, diaper and everything. Seungmin changed you.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes but his smile was fond. “He drooled all over my shirt too.”

Felix gave a breathy laugh, still overwhelmed. “What—uh, what other ages was I?”

“You were seven for a bit,” Chan said with a teary grin. “You were obsessed with pillow forts, and you said I gave you a ‘funny feeling’ in your stomach.”

“You begged to call me ‘hyung’ after I explained what it meant,” Jeongin added, and his frin was so bright Felix felt tears sting his eyes again.

“Thirteen-year-old you snuck out like a little criminal,” Changbin muttered, shaking his head. “You scared the crap out of everyone.”

“Seventeen was… rough,” Han said softly, his voice wobbling. “It was you right after you got eliminated.”

Felix inhaled sharply, his shoulders tensing.

“You thought you were still a trainee,” Minho said quietly. “And you asked me if the company gave up on you.”

Felix’s breath stuttered. He looked between them all, visibly shaken, trying to absorb everything.

Minho reached for his hand and took it gently between both of his. “Why didn’t you tell us you were hurting?” he asked quietly. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Felix didn’t answer for a long time.

Finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“You’ve never been a burden,” Chan said fiercely. “Not for a second.”

“Not even when you drooled on my shoulder for twenty minutes straight,” Seungmin added.

“You’ve literally always been our sunshine, angel.” Hyunjin said, his voice thick.

Felix shook his head, tears slipping down his cheeks. “But I—I saw how hard you all work. I didn’t want to slow anyone down. I thought if I just pushed through, I’d get better.”

“You don’t get better by hiding,” Minho whispered. He leaned in closer, brushing his thumb across Felix’s cheek. “You get better by letting us in.”

Felix closed his eyes, crying silently now, letting himself lean into Minho’s touch as Chan pulled him closer again.

“Lix… can I ask something?” Chandbin’s quiet, and hesitant voice asked.
Felix blinked slowly, his head pressed to Chan’s chest now. The warmth of his boyfriend and Minho’s hand was the only think keeping him from slipping fully under again.

“…yeah?” His voice was barely a whisper.

Changbin hesitated. “Why didn’t you ever tell us? About what—what Woojin did?”

The words dropped like a bomb in the room.

Felix’s entire body stiffened. He sucked in a breath—sharp and panicked—and the way he tensed made Chan jolt, his arms tightening instinctively.
Felix suddenly jerked back like he’d been scalded, his breath catching high in his chest as he threw himself out of Chan’s arms. His eyes went glassy and unfocused, not on the room, not on Chan, but somewhere else entirely.

“Don’t—don’t—” he gasped, his voice cracking. “Don’t make him mad—he’s gonna—he’ gonna—!”

His hands flew to his ears and he squeezed his eyes shut, beginning to rock slightly as broken, panicked whimpers spilled out of him. “No, no, no—he said he was helping—he said I was ruining it—”

“Felix,” Chan said sharply, alarmed, but tried to keep his voice gentle. “Felix, look at me, baby. Look at me.”

But Felix was gone. Not physically—he was right there, clinging to the edge of the couch cushion—but mentally, he was reliving something that none of them had ever seen. That they should have seen.

In Felix’s mind, he was back in the old practice studio, the one with the cracked floor tiles and dim lighting. His hands were shaking as he held the mic, lips chapped from too many hours without water.

“Again,” Woojin snapped. “Your voice cracked. Do it again.”

“I—I’m trying—”Felix murmured, his throat dry, the sweat sticking his shirt to his back.

“Try harder!” Woojin yelled, slamming the speaker remote against the floor. “What do you think this is, some kind of game?”

Then, it was so sudden, Felix had spent time thinking he had imagined it, but he didn’t, because there were two hands, firm and fast, slamming into Felix’s chest. He stumbled back, and his heel clipped the edge of the top stair. Just like that, he was falling.

There was no time to catch himself, no time to think, just sudden impact. His lower back slammed into the sharp edge of a step, then his ribs, then the back of his head. It felt like his body hit every stair on the way down.

He landed in a heap at the bottom, blinking up at the flickering ceiling light through a haze of pain.

Everything hurt, the world spun, and his limbs tingled with a sickening numbness. He tried to sit up, but his limbs wouldn’t move right. It felt like someone had split him down the center. He thought he might scream, but nothing came out. Just shallow, broken gasps.

Felix remembered the way Woojin’s voice echoed down the stairwell a second later.

“You shouldn’t have made me mad.”

Back in the present, Felix let out a broke, keening sound, gasping for air, his fingers digging into his own arms. “I—I couldn’t get up—I thought I broke something—he left me—he just—”

“That’s enough,” Chan said urgently, his voice cracking with emotion. He pulled Felix back into his chest, one hand cupping the back of his head firmly, trying to steady him.

“Baby, breathe. You’re not there. You’re here. I’ve got you.”

Minho was already kneeling at Felix’s side, his hand reaching for Felix’s shoulder, grounding him. “You’re safe, Bbokie,” Minho whispered, tears shining in his eyes. “You’re home. He’s gone. He’s never coming back.”

Felix was hyperventilating now, sobs shaking his chest. “I thought I deserved it,” he cried. “Everyone always said to ‘listen to your hyungs’, that they were right—I thought—I thought—”

“You were wrong,” Minho said firmly, his hand moving to hold Felix’s cold fingers. “You didn’t deserve any of that. You were a kid, Yongbok-ah. You didn’t deserve to be hurt.”

Felix buried his face in Chan’s chest, trying desperately to breathe.

Minho looked up at the others. All of them were pale. Jisung’s face was soaked wih tears, Seungmin had his hands balled into fists, Hyunjin had turned away, wiping his face, furiously. Jeongin looked sick, and Changbin—Changbin looked like he wanted to rip the entire world apart.

“This is too much,” Minho said softly. “It’s too much for tonight. We should all head home. Give him space, and let him rest.”

Felix panicked, and he immediately clutched at Chan’s shirt, his eyes wide. “No—no, don’t—please—please don’t go—don’t leave me, please.”

Chan gave a breathy, almost broken laugh, kissing the crown of Felix’s head as he held him closer. “I’m not going anywhere, Lixie. I promise. I’m not leaving you for a second.”

The others exchanged glances. None of them really wanted to leave, but they nodded, understanding.

“I’ll stay with Bin,” Seungmin murmured, already reaching for his hoodie.
Minho stood. “Then I’m sleeping in Seungmin’s room.”

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “So we get told to leave, but you can’t stand to be apart from your precious kitten?”

Minho blinked once, then calmly picked up a nearby box of tissues, got to his feet, and launched after the younger with a shout. “YAH—COME HERE YOU MOUTHY BRAT—”

Their laughter echoed briefly down the hall, a bittersweet balm on the bruised air of the room.

Felix—still tucked tightly into Chan’s chest—let out the smallest, most tired little laugh, his fingers unclenching.

The sound of sneakers on tile faded slowly as the boys made their way out one by one. Felix could hear Han’s voice from the door, a playful whine slipping from his lips. “But I wanna cuddle with you tonight, jagiya. You promised.”

Minho gave a tired but affectionate sigh. “So home, Sungie. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

Felix got up from the couch, padded over nearly silently and reached out, tugging gently on Minho’s sleeve.

“You can go,” Felix said, his voice quiet by steady. “I’ll be okay, hyung. I promise.”

Minho looked down at him, and Felix watched the older’s expression falter and crack open in a way that revealed just how much he didn’t believe that. His lips parted like he was going to argue, but Felix beat him to it, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Minho’s waist. He pressed his face into Minho’s chest, tucking himself under his chin like muscle memory.

“Thank you, hyung,” Felix whispered. “I love you.”

Minho’s breath caught audibly, and he hugged him back, arms wrapping around Felix like he could keep him safe just by holding him tight enough. His hand cradled the back of Felix’s head, and he breathed in, shaky and deep.

“I love you too,” he whispered into Felix’s hair.

They stood like that for a moment before Minho finally let go, reluctantly, framing Felix’s face in his hands, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones with a gentleness that made Felix’s heart ache. Then Minho stepped back, reaching Han’s hand without looking away, and the two walked out together.

Felix stood in the quiet for a beat before turning toward Chan, who waited at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching him with eyes full of something deep and unreadable. The second Felix looked at him, though, his face softened.

“Do you want anything to eat?” Chan asked, his voice gentle.

Felix shook his head. “No. I just wanna go to bed.”

Chan nodded and stepped forward, guiding Felix with a warm palm to the center of his back. In the bedroom, he didn’t even wait for instructions. He gently maneuvered Felix toward the bed, guiding him beneath the covers and sliding in behind him. He wrapped his arms around the younger boy, spooning him protectively, and let his hand drift up to rest over Felix’s heart.

Felix sighed, his fingers curling around Chan’s. He lifted their hands briefly and pressed a kiss to Chan’s knuckles before letting them fall back against his chest.

“I love you,” he whispered into the dark.

“I love you too,” Chan murmured, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck.

They were quiet for a while, the kind of quiet that should have led to sleep. But then Felix twitched suddenly, a sharp cry escaping his lips, his whole body jerking forward like he was trying to run. He gasped, breath catching in his throat, his chest heaving with panic.

Chan sat up immediately. “Felix—hey, hey, you’re okay. You’re safe. Look at me.”

Felix blinked rapidly, his heart hammering in his chest, his eyes wet and wide. He curled in on himself, the sobs starting fast and uncontrollably.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, “I didn’t—I couldn’t—” He covered his face, trembling. “I keep seeing him, Chris. The boys who used to corner me. My dad, Woojin, they’re always there. I haven’t been sleeping. I can’t sleep.”

Chan froze. “You… haven’t been sleeping?”

Felix shook his head, tears sliding down his cheeks. “A few months now,” he choked out. “I tried to. But I can’t. It just hurts and I can’t… stop thinking, and I didn’t wanna—didn’t wanna bother you. You already struggle. I didn’t wanna make it worse.”

Chan’s heart shattered into something that felt irreparable. He reached out and gently cupped Felix’s face, wiping away the tears with his thumbs, and pressed their foreheads together.

“Lix,” he whispered. “You always get to bother me. Always. There’s no version of my life where you’re a burden. You hear me?”

Felix gave a little nod, sniffling.

Felix didn’t speak for a long time after that, his body still curled tightly into his chest. His skin was warm against Chan’s, and the slight tremble hadn’t fully faded from his limbs. Chan could feel it, how tense he still was, how his hands were still clenched into his shirt like if he let go, everything would shatter again.

Then, finally, in the smallest, most fragile whisper, Felix said, “Chris… can I tell you something bad?”

Chan’s chest tightened, and his hand stilled briefly where it had been running through Felix’s hair. “Always,” he said immediately. “You can tell me anything, baby.”

Felix’s breath hitched a little as he shifted, curling even closer like he could disappear into Chan’s arms. “After, uh, after I got eliminated,” he started, his voice shaking, “everything changed.”

Chan didn’t interrupt. He didn’t move, he just held him, silently urging him on.

“The other trainees stopped looking at me the same way. Like I was come kind of ghost, or a reminder of what could happen to them, I guess.” Felix paused, his throat working around a swallow. “Some of them would whisper when I walked past, laughing at me, calling me names when the instructors weren’t around. ‘Foreign burden’, ‘dead weight’, ‘a pretty face with no talent.’”

Chan’s stomach twisted violently. His arms tightened around Felix instinctively, but he still didn’t say anything. Not yet.

“One night,” Felix went on, his voice quieter now, barely there, “someone locked me in a practice room. I was in there for hours. I missed curfew and got scolded for it; I tried to explain, but no one believed me. After that, I stopped saying anything.”

He paused again. Chan could feel his heartbeat, fast and uneven against his chest. Then:

“Then I got brought back. I thought things would get better. But… Woojin…”

Chan’s breath stuttered, and every muscle in his body tensed.

“He told me it had to be a secret. That I shouldn’t tell you or the others about the extra practices. He said I wasn’t ready. That I didn’t belong, and that if I wanted to debut, I’d have to prove myself all over again.”

Felix’s hands were shaking now.

“So we’d meet late at night, in the oldest practice rooms when no one else was there. He’d make me do vocals until my voice cracked, and then yell at me when I couldn’t hit the note. He’d grab me sometimes, shove me if I wasn’t standing up straight, hit the back of my head if I looked tired. Once, he shoved me so hard into the mirror that it cracked.”

Chan exhaled harshly through his nose, and Felix flinched. His next words came in a rush, like he needed to say them before he lost the nerve.

“I told my dad. I didn’t know what else to do. I was scared. I was hurting, and he said…” Felix’s voice cracked fully, and Chan felt his heart rip in two. “He said I needed to toughen up. That I was a man now. That Woojin was doing it for my own good.”

“God, no…” Chan’s voice was a broken whisper.

Felix blinked up at him, confused by the sudden tremble in the older’s body. “Chris..?”

“I would’ve killed him,” Chan said, and his voice didn’t shake at all, it was steady and low, filled with something dark and ancient and fierce. “If i had known. If I had even suspected, I would’ve burned the whole building down to protect you.”

Felix blinked rapidly, startled, and then laughed, a sad, uneven sound that crumpled into tears. “You know,” he said, “ I cried so much when Woojin said he was leaving. You all thought I was heartbroken, but I was just relieved. I didn’t have to lie anymore.”

Chan’s heart broke all over again. He didn’t answer, he just pulled Felix in tighter and pressed a kiss into the younger’s hair, holding him like he wished he could go back in time and take every single bruise and broken moment away.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

Felix didn’t say anything. He just nodded slightly, his fingers tightening in Chan’s shirt.

Chan shifted, laying them both back against the mattress, pulling the blankets over them and curling protectively around the younger. He guided Felix’s head to his chest, one hand stroking slowly up and down his spine, the other resting in his hair.

“Do you think you can sleep now?” Chan asked, voice gentle but worn.

Felix gave a little shrug. “I can try.”

“That’s enough,” Chan whispered.

He tucked Felix’s face into the crook of his neck, whispering soft reassurances against his skin, letting his warmth and steadiness surround the younger completely.

Minutes passed, and then finally Felix’s breathing began to slow. The tremble faded from his fingers. His grip loosened, and his body grew heavier in Chan’s arms as sleep crept in.

Chan didn’t sleep. He just held him, and promised himself, quietly and fiercely, that he’d never let anyone hurt Felix again.

-

Felix woke with a gasp, sharp and strangled, like surfacing from a nightmare he couldn’t remember. His body locked up before his mind could fully register what was happening. Pain exploded through his lower back, a white-hot, unforgiving, twisting, pulsing ache that flared with even the smallest twitch of a muscle.

He didn’t even have time to brace for it. One second he was asleep, and the next he was crying, silent, aching sobs that tore through him with the helplessness of a child. His breath hitched in his chest, shallow and quick, and his throat burned like he’d been screaming.

His fingers fumbled blindly at the blankets, clenching them so tightly they trembled.

He curled into himself instinctively, trying to guard his body, to shield the pain, but it only made it worse. A low whimper escaped his lips as he buried his face into the pillow, shame and agony clinging to him like a second skin.
He didn’t mean to cry. He hadn’t meant to wake up like this.

But this was every morning now. This was his normal.

His back was always worst first thing in the morning, before his meds had a chance to dull the fire, before his muscles warmed enough to unlock. He never told the others. He couldn’t. They were all hurting in their own ways, they all had their own weights to carry. He couldn’t ask them to carry his too.

And Chan, Chan especially. He always had too much on his shoulders. Felix hadn’t been staying over much recently, even though he missed him terribly, because he didn’t want Chan to know. He didn’t want him to see this part of him.

The part that shook. That cried. That crawled to the bathroom in silence when no one else was awake.

His body convulsed with another sob, and he slapped a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle it, but the tears were too strong. They poured from him like they’d been waiting all night, his chest hitching with every breath.

The door slammed open, and suddenly Chan’s voice filled the room, ragged, breathless, and full of fear. “Felix?”

Felix couldn’t even lift his head. “Hurts,” he gasped, the word barely audible through the pillow.

Chan was beside him in an instant, kneeling on the floor next to the bed, one hand on Felix’s shoulder. “Okay. OKay, baby. I’ve got you. Don’t move.”

Felix heard him rush away, then the rustling of drawers, the quick pad of feet. Within seconds, Chan was back, gently coaxing him to roll just enough to take the pain meds and press a bottle of water to his lips. Felix whimpered with every movement, his eyes squeezed shut, his hands still clenched tight in the sheets.

“I’m sorry,” Felix managed between gasps.

“Stop.” Chan’s voice was firm, but so soft it felt like a blanket. “You don’t apologize for hurting. Never.”

Chan moved with a care that made Felix want to cry harder, like he was afraid he might shatter. He helped him lie down on his stomach and carefully slid a heating pad onto his lower back. Then, slowly, Chan’s hands started to move, up along his shoulder blades with gentle, steady pressure in circles that helped ease the tension where he could.

Felix trembled beneath his touch, trying to quiet his sobs.

Chan leaned in, resting his chin lightly between Felix’s shoulder blades as his hands kept working. “You’re okay now,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Felix made a sound—something between a whimper and a breath—and Chan started to talk, voice low and steady, like a lifeline in the storm.

“You missed a lot, you know,” he murmured, a hint of a smile in his voice. “We had little Felix running around here for days.” Felix didn’t answer, but his sobs softened, and Chan took it as a good sign.

“You were a toddler for a bit. Minho was wrapped around your tiny finger. You napped on Seungmin-ah’s chest like he was your personal bed. He didn’t move a single muscle.” That got a small snort from Felix, shaky but real.

“When you were thirteen, Hyunjin snuck you into the building to dance. You picked up the choreo like magic. No one could believe how good you were.” Felix’s hands relaxed just slightly.

“Seventeen hit hard. You blushed every time Changbin even looked at you. Kid you was not subtle at all.” Another sound from Felix, embarrassed this time.

“And you were so… you. Kind, sweet, and sensitive, full of wonder, and every version of you made us fall in love with you all over again.”

Felix let out a trembling breath. “Even like this?” he asked, his voice raw and small.

“Especially like this,” Chan whispered.

Silence settled over them for a long moment. Felix’s body finally began to unclench, the pain retreating enough to let him breathe deeply again. Chan pressed a kiss to the back of his shoulder.

“They’re all coming over for breakfast soon,” he said softly. “But only if you’re feeling up for it.”

Felix stayed quiet for a beat, then nodded slowly into the pillow. “I want to talk to everyone,” he whispered.

Chan leaned over and kissed the crown of his head, his voice breaking just slightly. “Okay, baby. We’ll be right here.”

-

Felix sat at the kitchen table, cradling a warm mug of tea between his palms, watching with quiet fondness as Chan moved around the stove. His boyfriend was humming under his breath—some half-remembered melody that Felix couldn’t quite place—and he kept glancing back every so often to make sure Felix was still okay.

Felix gave him a soft smile each time, and Chan smiled back, gentle and warm, before turning back to the pan.

The light pouring in from the kitchen windows was golden and sleepy, painting soft shadows across the floor. Felix still felt the ache in his back, dulled now by the painkillers and Chan’s careful massage earlier, but it was manageable. More than anything, he felt quiet, like the moment between a breath and a sigh.

The front door opened and shut with a gentle click, and Felix heard soft voices echo from the hallway. Minho and Han appeared first, predictably the early risers, or at least, the ones most eager to check on him.

Minho made a beeline straight for Felix, eyes immediately scanning over him with subtle, clinical precision. “You okay?” he asked, voice low.

Felix gave a small smile, tilting his head. “I’m fine, hyung. Really.”

Minho searched his face for another beat, then nodded and exhaled in relief before moving toward the kitchen. “Need a hand, Chan-ah?” he called.

“Take over the eggs,” Chan replied. “Before I mess them up.”

Felix watched them with a fond twist in his chest, barely noticing when Han plopped into the seat beside him until a hand gently tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Can I play with it?” Han asked, eyes already gleaming mischievously.

Felix nodded, and Han immediately went to work, his fingers deft and playful as he began braiding and twisting tiny sections into delicate patterns. He hummed softly to himself, tonue poking out in concentration. “Gonna make you the prettiest boy at this table.”

Felix giggled. “You say that like I wasn’t already.”

Han gasped dramatically. “And humble, too!”

The door opened again, louder this time, and in came Seungmin, Hyunjin, and Changbin in a chaotic swirl of morning grumbles and laughter.

“Why are we awake before the sun?” Hyunjin whined, dragging his feet like a sulky prince. “This should be illegal.”

“Then go back to bed,” Seungmin muttered, not even looking at him as he walked by. “Save us all the noise.”

Changbin just snickered behind them, grabbing a juice box from the fridge like it was his morning routine.

All three paused when they saw Felix sitting there, sleepy and serene with little braids framing his face. He looked up and offered them a small smile.
Changbin ruffled his hair as he walked by, his fingers warm and fond.

“Hyung!” Han whined, swatting his hand away. “I was working on that!”

Felix giggled, even as he pouted. “You messed up the best braid.”

“Worth it,” Changbin said, smirking as he took a sip of his juice.

Hyunjin plopped into the chair across from Felix, instantly grabbing one of his hands and intertwining their fingers. “Binnie-hyung won’t pay attention to me,” he complained dramatically. “And I’m his wife, Felix. I deserve better.”

Felix’s eyes sparkled with laughter. “A wife should feel cherished.”

“Exactly!”

Seungmin passed behind them with a sigh, grabbing some coffee from the counter. “He says that, but I’m the one actually dating Changbin.”

Hyunjin waved him off with flair. “Technicalities.”

Jeongin wandered in next, wrapped like a sleepy burrito in a blanket that was trailing across the floor. His hair stuck up in ten different directions, and he yawned so hard his jaw popped. He blinked at Felix, then passed over and collapsed into the seat beside Hyunjin, smiling at Felix as he rested his head on his arms.

“Morning, hyung,” he mumbled.

“Morning,” Felix whispered back, his heart aching with affection.

He was surrounded by warmth—hands in his hair, fingers intertwined with his own, sleepy smiles and quiet bickering—and it almost felt unreal. Too perfect.

Chan and Minho soon finished cooking, Minho bringing over a stack of steaming pancakes while Chan carefully sat a plate he alreayd made for Felix in front of him.

“There you go,” Chan said softly, brushing a few strands of Felix’s hair out of his face. “Eat up, sunshine.”

“Thank you, Chris,” Felix murmured, touched by the gentleness in his voice.

The chatter resumed as they all ate, a soft symphony of quiet laughter and affectionate teasing. Felix nibbled at his food, letting the comfort of their presence settle into his bones.

Then he took a breath. Held it. Let it go. “I… I wanna ask something.”

The table slowly quieted, and all heads turned to him.

Felix kept his voice steady. “What did you guys find out? From younger me? What did he, like, say?”

Silence stretched like a thread. Hyunjin’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Han’s hands, once absently playing with his food, stilled. The laughter vanished from the room and was replaced by something heavier.

Then Changbin set his food down. His expression had shifted into something soft and careful, the way he only ever looked when something mattered more than he knew how to say.

He leaned forward a little, resting his forearms on the table, his eyes on Felix. “I offered to take you to the gym, and he was so excited, said he wanted to get stronger.” Changbin gave a soft huff of a laugh, but it didn’t carry humor, more something sadder, something close to regret. “And, uh, while we were there, he said something that hit me hard.”

His gaze dropped to the table for a moment. Then, back up to Felix.

“He told me the older boys in taekwondo used to pick on him. Said he looked like a girl, that real men didn’t act like him, that he was soft.”Changbin’s jaw tensed. “He said he didn’t want to be like that.”

Felix’s heart stuttered in his chest. The words landed like a cold hand on the back of his neck, familiar in the worst way. Things he hadn’t even remembered saying in that version of himself, things that echoed in his head every time he’d looked in the mirror and fliched at the softness of his features, the curve of his waist, the shape of his lips.

“I told him that was bullshit,” CHangbin continued, firmer now, eyes sharp with certainty. “That being a man doesn’t mean being cruel, it doesn’t mean hiding the parts of yourself that feel too tender. I told him the strongest people I know—you—aren’t afraid to be kind, or soft, or good. You were trying so hard to prove something, and I just… I wanted to make sure you knew you didn’t have to.”

Felix blinked, and a tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it. There was a moment of silence after Changbin’s words faded, broken only by the soft clink of a spoon as Jeongin absently stirred his drink, and the rustle of a blanket slipping off his shoulder.

Then Hyunjin let out a shaky breath and leaned forward, his long fingers lacing together on the table as he looked at Felix with a heartbreakingly gentle expression.

“Lixie,” he began, voice quiet and trembling just a the edges. “There was something you told me when you were younger.” Hyunjin continued, swallowing hard, “you said that your dance teacher toldl you that you were only allowed to eat once a day.”

The entire table stilled again, a wave of cold horror rippling through them, though it was clear none of this was news anymore to most of them. Just a reminder, a wound re-opened.

Felix blinked, once, twice, and then something in his face shifted. His lower lip trembled, and he nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered. “She said dancers needed to be light. That food slowed me down. She—She told me I wouldn’t pass auditions unless I stopped eating like a pig.”

There it was again, that awful flicker of shame, like he was bracing for their judgement, as though the boy who sat across from them hadn’t starved for a dream he thought he didn’t deserve.

Felix glanced around the table and then looked down. His voice, when he spoke again, cracked in the middle. “It still affects me. I..I know you’ve all seen it. The way I eat, or… don’t. I try, I really do. But that voice—her voice—it’s in my head, every single time.. And I thought… I thought if I just worked harder, danced better, stayed smaller, I’d finally feel good enough.”

The confession hit them like a storm surge, crashing over the table and into their chests.

Han’s brows furrowed deeply, and he scooted his chair around the table until he was back beside Felix, throwing an arm around his shoulders and tugging him close. “Lix,” he said hoarsely, “you are good enough. You always have been.”

Felix let himself fall into the touch, pressing his cheek against Han’s shoulder, breath hitching as he tried to keep his composure. Minho stood from his chair then, rounding the table and kneeling in front of him, gently prying Felix’s other hand from his lap and holding it tightly in his own.

“Look at me, Yongbok-ah,” Minho said softly. Felix lifted his gaze, trembling.

“You are beautiful,” Minho said, his voice firm now. “And not just because of how you look, but because of how hard you love. How fiercely you fight for everyone but yourself. You are an incredible dancer, the kind that moves people. Not because you’re thin, not because you’re hungry, but because you have soul. You always have.”

Felix’s eyes spilled over again, tears trailing down his cheeks in silent streams. Hyunjin stood and crouched beside Minho, wrapping both arms around Felix from the side and pulling him into a warm, enveloping hug.

“I wish I could go back in time,” he murmured into Felix’s hair, “and scream at anyone who made you think you had to be less to be more.”

Felix laughed, wet, broken, and grateful. “I don’t want to think like that anymore,” he said softly. “I want to be free of it.”

“You will be,” Han whispered. “We’ll remind you every day, okay? Every single day.”

Minho leaned up and kissed his forehead gently. “And we’ll keep feeding you until you believe it.”

Seungmin’s voice cut through the sniffling four at that end of the table, his voice low and careful, as if he was afraid the words might shatter something. “You’ve been pushing through all of this,” Seungmin continued, “but… we need to know. How bad is your back, really?”

A pause. Felix didn’t look up. His thumbs rubbed circles into the ceramic of his mug, and his shoulders curled inward like he could disappear into himself if he tried hard. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked sideways to Chan.

Chan, who was already watching him, brows knit with concern, his hand reaching across the table to gently take Felix’s. His thumb traced soft circles over the back of his hand, grounding him. Felix squeezed his fingers tightly, his breath catching. Still, the words didn’t come.

Then, he looked up and found Jeongin’s gaze. The maknae’s sleepy expression had sharpened into something focused and protective. He gave Felix a gentle and steady mpd, the kind of quiet encouragement only someone who knew you deeply could give.

It broke the dam.

“It’s bad,” Felix finally whispered. The table fell even quieter, like the apartment itself was holding its breath.

Felix swallowed. “It’s… really bad, and it’s only been getting worse.” His voice cracked on the last word, and Chan tightened his grip, thumb pressing into the soft skin beneath Felix’s knuckles.

“I wake up most mornings,” felix went on, voice small, “and I can’t move. Not right away. It’s like my body forgets how. I try to sit up, and its like fire shotos through my back. And sometimes—” his voice trembled, “—sometimes I can’t feel my legs at all. They’re just… numb.”

There was a choked inhale from across the table, and Felix turned to see Seungmin, his hand covering his mouth. His eyes were rimmed red.

Felix’s heart twisted. “I—I didn’t want you to know,” he rushed out. “Any of you. You all already work so hard, and you’re always hurting too. I didn’t want to be one more thing you had to worry about. I didn’t want to be the one dragging us down.”

Changbin made a soft, pained sound, and Jeongin’s hand reached out across the table, resting lightly over Felix’s wrist.

“I’ve even thought,” Felix said shakily, “about taking a hiatus. Letting you all go on without me for a little while. But—” his voice caught, “—I don’t want to. I don’t want to miss anything. I don’t want to let anyone down.” Tears blurred his vision, and he blinked fast, but they spilled anyway, soft and silent down his cheeks.

There was a beat of stillness, like the world had stopped spinning, and then Seungmin stood from his seat with such force his chair scraped loudly across the floor. He moved around the table and, without a word, crouched down in front of Felix and wrapped his arms around him, tight and trembling.

“You’re not dragging anyone down,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “You’re carrying us half the time and you don’t even realize it.”

Jeongin came over next, joining the hug, pressing a hand against Felix’s back with a soft murmur of, “You don’t ever have to carry that alone again, hyung.”

Minho, who had not gone far, walked to Felix’s other side, brushing his fingers gently along Felix’s damp cheeks before cupping his jaw in his hands. “If I’d known… If I had any idea, I would’ve done everything to make it better. You don’t have to hide this anymore, Bok-ah.”

Chan stood too, lightly pushing the others aside before folding himself into Felix, pressing their foreheads together. “You’re not alone. Ever. And if you need to take a break, if you want to rest—I’ll stop the world for you, we’ll stop the world for you. Just say the word, baby.”

Felix sobbed then—a broken, relieved sound—and blurted, “Can I… can I have a group hug?”

No hesitation. None.

The boys converged around him like gravity had drawn them in, arms tangling and hearts pressed close.

Han wound himself tightly around Felix’s shoulders, his cheek pressed to the back of his head. Jeongin squeezed into the side, wrapping around them both. Hyunjin was next, arms slipping under and around, pressing a kiss into Felix’s temple. Changbin was pressed to his back, a wide grin on his face as Han whined. Minho pulled them all in from the other side, and Chan had never gotten Seungmin to leave Felix in the first place.

Chan held Felix’s heart, his arms around his chest, hands splayed wide like he was trying to protect every piece of him at once.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” Minho murmured into his hair.

“You are already more than enough,” Chan whispered.

“You’re the best part of all of us, Seungmin added.

“I love you,” Felix breathed, shaking in their embrace. “I love you all so much.”

“We love you more,” they whispered back, each voice overlapping, a chorus of unwavering truth. And in the center of it all, Felix closed his eyes, exhaled, and let himself believe it.