Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The twin towers stood tall over the edge of the city, modern, floor to ceiling windows, grand balconies, barely a ten meter gap between them. Hyunjin’s condominium was on the eighth floor of Tower A, directly across from Tower B. If one left the curtains open, they could see into the living room of the opposite unit with startling clarity. Especially at night when the lights were on. That’s exactly why Hyunjin never left his open.

He wasn’t the type to enjoy the exposure. His curtains were thick, blackout, always drawn, except for one small sliver in the morning for fresh air. Privacy mattered. Silence mattered. The only reason he even chose this place was its proximity to the university, the spacious unit layout, and the lack of noise. At least, it had been vacant across the way for a while.

That changed at the beginning of summer.

Hyunjin first noticed someone had moved into the unit across when he spotted moving boxes scattered through the window one afternoon. He paused only briefly, eyeing them before returning to his reading. The next morning, curiosity made him crack the curtain just slightly again. That’s when he saw her.

Long pale platinum blonde hair that shimmered like fresh cream under the sun, a loose crop top exposing the soft slope of the waist, and arms adorned with tiny bracelets. She leaned on the rail of her balcony like it belonged to her soul, not just her body. Hyunjin’s heart stuttered as he ducked reflexively, embarrassed for no reason at all.

He didn’t understand why he hid. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. But she looked so radiant, almost glowing under the morning light, that he felt like an intruder just witnessing her. She looked like…summer.

Like a field of warm daisies and wild chamomile. Like youth and softness and something he had no business looking at.

He thought about her all day.

He told himself it wasn’t watching. It was just…timing. Every time he went for a glass of water, there she was again, sometimes sipping something from a straw, sometimes dancing barefoot on the balcony. Always in shorts too small for her delicate legs and crop tops with little cartoon animals like chicks, bears, sleepy cats.

She was whimsical. Ethereal. Everything he wasn’t.

He started to leave the curtains open more often. Just a sliver, enough to see movement, enough to know she was still there. Once, he watched her laughing on the phone, hand twirling her hair. Another time, she bent down to fix a plant, and his fingers clenched on the rim of his coffee mug, eyes wide.

But then, one morning, everything shattered.

She took her shirt off.

And Hyunjin’s breath caught in his throat, his blood running ice cold. Not because he was embarrassed but because beneath that soft crop top and delicate bracelets was a very flat chest. And then he saw it. CLEAR AS DAY. A pair of boxer briefs.

That person wasn’t a girl.

Hyunjin stood there frozen, coffee forgotten in his hand, watching the stranger stretch lazily under the sun like nothing had changed. But everything had changed. Because now, he was faced with a strange dilemma: he wasn’t supposed to feel what he was feeling. Was he?

His first reaction was denial. Maybe he misread it. Maybe he was still a girl. But deep down, he knew. And even deeper than that, something whispered— but he’s still beautiful.  More beautiful than anyone Hyunjin had ever seen.

Even after learning the truth, he couldn’t stop looking.

He adjusted his routine. Started jogging later in the morning, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

But that day, while retrieving his ordered chicken from the lobby, he paused mid-step. From across the marble tiled entrance, someone laughed and called out, “Felix!”

The name rang sweet and light, too fitting for the boy bathed in sunset light near the glass doors. Felix turned, grinning, eyes crinkling. But he didn’t see Hyunjin. Didn’t notice the man half-hidden by a column, clutching a paper bag and pretending not to care. But Hyunjin did care. Because now, his summer fascination had a name.

Felix.

Felix who always looked like he’d just walked out of a dream. Tousled hair, shorts hanging low on his hips, always with a smile, always humming.

They never met. Not really.

But they lived like they did.

Hyunjin started noticing the patterns. They cooked at the same time. Hyunjin saw the glow of Felix’s stove from the kitchen window. Sometimes they’d both be chewing in their respective dining nooks, eyes flicking to the TV, maybe even watching the same movie. Once, Hyunjin realized they both had the same brand of cereal. It was stupid. It made his chest warm.

Felix loved his balcony. He’d sit there for hours, legs kicked up, wearing those ridiculous tiny shirts with frogs or smiley suns. Sometimes shirtless, always sun-drenched. Hyunjin, on the other hand, rarely stepped onto his balcony. But when he did, he lingered longer than he should have. Pretending to water a non-existent plant. Pretending to stretch.

Once, Felix laughed so hard on the phone that Hyunjin found himself smiling too. Alone, in his kitchen, clutching a dish towel like a fool.

He tried not to think about it too much. About the way his chest tightened when he saw Felix wave at someone below. About the jealousy that simmered when he imagined who Felix might be calling at night. Hyunjin didn’t do crushes. He was too old for this. Too serious. Too distant.

And yet, every time he saw Felix, the world tilted just a little.

By July, he knew Felix’s rhythm by heart. He knew the way Felix scratched his head when sleepy, the way he tucked a leg under the other when watching TV. He knew the little hop he did when music played and the habit of licking whipped cream off the spoon.

They had never exchanged a word. Never shared a nod, a hello, nothing.

But Hyunjin caught himself waiting for him every morning. He cracked the curtain open before boiling water. He waited for Felix to emerge.

That summer, Hyunjin lived like they were something.

Even if they weren’t. Even if Felix didn’t know he existed. Even if this quiet, one-sided companionship was nothing but illusion. He didn’t care.

Because for the first time in years, something—no, someone made him feel alive.

And it terrified him.

That night.

The balcony was washed in golden light, the summer breeze lifting Felix’s tendrils as he leaned against the railing in his usual cropped shirt. This one had a tiny bear on it, sleepy-eyed and holding a heart. Felix turned to him, eyes soft and shining, lips parted as though he’d been waiting. When Felix kissed him, it was tender, slow, like petals brushing against skin. Like everything Hyunjin never allowed himself to want.

He felt it in his chest. T he warmth, the ache, the quiet desperation of wanting something forbidden. Felix’s hands cupped his face as though it was the most precious thing in the world, and Hyunjin didn’t pull away. He kissed back desperately, like it was real. They were both bare after slowly peeling each other’s clothes, Felix dropped to his knees and tied his hair to a bun. He held Hyunjin’s cock, stoked it gently. His boba eyes met his gaze again. “Can I?” Felix asked in his sweet little voice. Hyunjin gulped and just nodded, patting the blonde’s head. And finally, Felix opened his mouth wide—

The moment shattered the second the alarm rang.

Hyunjin woke up breathless, heart pounding, fingers still curled as if he could hold onto the dream. But the room was cold. Empty. The curtains were drawn, and the sky was dull, nothing like the dream. He sat up, disoriented, and the first feeling that hit him wasn’t guilt. it was disappointment .

He found himself pacing. Showering didn’t help. Coffee didn’t help. So he sat on the couch, pulled out his phone, and typed into the search bar: Is it normal to dream about kissing a boy and fantasizing getting a blowjob if you’re straight?

The screen blinked back at him with a hundred conflicting answers. He clicked another search: Am I gay if I only feel something for one guy?

Hyunjin tossed the phone aside with a frustrated sigh. He wasn’t like this. He didn’t get confused. Didn’t get flustered . But Felix had broken something open in him. The way he smiled at the sun, the way he stretched like a sleepy cat on the balcony railing, the way his eyes turned crescent whenever he laughed. Fuck. it shouldn’t matter. But it did.

For three days, Felix was gone.

The balcony remained empty. No soft humming, no twirling, no glimpses of pale thighs in tiny shorts with printed kittens. Hyunjin tried not to think about it. Maybe he went home. Maybe he got sick. Maybe it wasn’t his business at all. But his mornings felt quieter. Colder.

So Hyunjin returned to the gym. An old routine he’d dropped over summer. He focused on reps, on sweat, on counting until his muscles burned. On anything that wasn’t Felix. He told himself he was fine. He didn’t think of him. Not even once. Not while showering, not while stretching, not even while watching a boy pass by in a tank top with the same soft blonde hair.

But the moment he returned to his unit, everything came crashing back.

His gaze flicked instinctively to the window. Still no Felix. No movement. The chair on the balcony sat lonely and untouched. The silence pressed in on him again, like a thick fog.

That night, his phone rang. Chan .

“Yo, it’s been a while,” his best friend greeted, voice casual. “Beer? Or are you still pretending to be a monk in your fortress of solitude?”

Hyunjin considered it for a moment. “I’m not really in the mood.”

“I’m already outside your door.”

A beat of silence. Then a sigh. Hyunjin got up and opened the door to Chan standing there with a six-pack and that familiar smirk. They sat on the floor of the living room, the way they used to in college, shoulders brushing as they drank in comfortable silence.

Half a beer in, Hyunjin said, “Can I ask you something? Hypothetically.”

Chan raised a brow. “Always a good start.”

“Let’s say someone,” Hyunjin began slowly, “who’s always thought they were straight… starts feeling something. For… someone unexpected. Like, not just attraction. More like…” he trailed off, swallowing hard. “Like, dreaming of kissing them of doing something crazy. And missing them when they’re not around. Hypothetically.”

Chan didn’t respond right away. He studied Hyunjin with that quiet, perceptive gaze of his. Then, he chuckled, “You smile once a year, Hyunjin. Once.”

Hyunjin frowned. “What does that have to do with this?”

“You’ve been smiling a lot lately,” Chan said, nudging him with his shoulder. “I noticed. You’re distracted, lighter. And now you’re asking me hypothetically about falling for someone? Come on.”

Hyunjin opened his mouth, then shut it again.

Chan continued, gentler this time. “You’re not someone who lets people in. If someone’s gotten close enough to make you feel all that? Hypothetically or not, that sounds like falling in love.”

Hyunjin stared at the beer can in his hand, the condensation dripping onto his fingers. He hated how right Chan sounded. Hated that Felix wasn’t just a passing fascination anymore. He wasn’t a secret to bury under schedules and books. He was a feeling. A real one.

And worst of all? Hyunjin didn’t know what to do with it.

“It’s Friday,” Chan declared, “come on. Don’t kick me out after drinking all my beer. I have nothing better to do. Might as well sleep here.”

Hyunjin groaned, watching as Chan rummaged his closet like he owned it. “You’re going to stretch all my shirts again,” he muttered, eyeing the broad-shouldered man already rummaging through his neatly folded wardrobe. “You’re built like a gym trainer, not a guest.”

“You still keep your socks sorted by shade of gray, I see,” Chan teased, pulling on one of Hyunjin’s black crewnecks that immediately looked too snug on his biceps. “Some things never change.”

Good thing they were both neat freaks. Chan was the only person Hyunjin could live with without feeling like he was slowly dying inside. Still, while they shared the same love for clean counters and aligned book spines, their personalities couldn’t be more different. Chan was warm, open, and somehow knew everyone everywhere. Hyunjin preferred silence and staying invisible.

By Saturday night, they’d shared leftover pizza, watched a sci-fi movie neither of them really paid attention to, and talked about taxes, bad TV writing, and their mutual loathing for small talk. Then Chan sat up suddenly, stretching. “Let’s go to a club.”

Hyunjin blinked. “Are you out of your mind?”

“It’s Saturday.”

“We’re thirty. You’re thirty-one. We are too old for that shit.”

Chan shrugged. “Exactly why we should go. Who knows when we’ll next have time? Once Monday hits, I’ll be locked in with debug hell for our next release, and you’ll be married to your lectures and students again.”

“I have class at 7 a.m. Monday.”

“Which makes tomorrow Sunday. You’ll recover.”

Hyunjin hesitated. He did have the whole Sunday. He hadn’t gone out in months. And it had been forever since he and Chan just existed outside of adult obligations. “Fine,” he muttered. “But I swear to God, if I see even one—”

“I’m driving,” Chan grinned.

The club was loud, pulsing with bass, bodies pressed together under dim lights and strobes. Hyunjin kept to the edge of the bar, nursing a drink that tasted like battery acid and regret. Chan, naturally, was already chatting with someone near the DJ booth, laughing like he’d known them for years.

And then he saw him.

Felix.

He was on the dance floor, wearing one of those ridiculous cropped shirts. This one was fancy tho. Black with scattered Swarovski. And tight jeans that shimmered under the club lights. His blonde hair was tousled, his cheeks flushed from alcohol or dancing, maybe both. He threw his head back laughing at something his friend said, then sipped from a neon drink, straw between lips like sugar.

Hyunjin stood frozen. The music, the lights, the crowd? all of it faded. There was only Felix. Moving with the music, so free, so… Felix . It was like watching his dream come to life, only realer, brighter, louder.

He took a step forward.

Maybe he’d say hello. Maybe something else. Maybr the liquor made him a little braver. He didn’t know. But something pushed him something that felt like gravity pulling him in. He moved through the crowd, weaving past dancers and couples, never taking his eyes off him.

And then… gone.

Felix had vanished.

Hyunjin stopped dead in the middle of the floor, turning, scanning, his heart hammering in his chest. He looked near the booths, near the restrooms, toward the bar. Nothing. Felix was nowhere to be found.

He swallowed, the music suddenly too loud again.

Maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was a sign. Or maybe it was punishment for letting himself believe ( even for a second) that he could reach for someone like that.

When he returned to Chan, he didn’t say anything. Just took another sip of his drink and stared out at the crowd. A part of him still hoped for another glimpse, another accidental miracle. But it never came.

Saturday night bled into early Sunday morning, and the ache in Hyunjin’s chest refused to go away.

Sunday came with a dull ache behind Hyunjin’s eyes and a sour taste in his mouth. His body felt heavy, limbs sluggish as he sat up in bed, wincing at the daylight peeking through the edges of the curtain. His apartment was too quiet, save for the occasional rustling of Chan’s snores from the couch. They had definitely drunk too much.

Still half-asleep, he shuffled to the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and filled it with cold water, the chill helping clear some of the fog. He leaned against the counter, sipping slowly, eyes stinging from the sun’s brightness. Across the room, Chan was sprawled on the couch like a dead starfish, one sock halfway off, hoodie sleeves bunched around his elbows. Hyunjin smirked faintly at the sight. But he’d kill him if he woke up and asked for ramen.

Feeling restless, Hyunjin turned toward the balcony and hesitated.

He rarely opened the curtains fully, especially not, after summer began. But something in his chest, something quiet and foolish, urged him forward. He pulled the fabric aside in one smooth motion, blinking against the sharp morning light, just wanting a glimpse of the sky.

And then he froze.

Across the short gap between buildings, on that same familiar balcony, sat Felix.

His head rested against the back of the chair, tilted slightly to one side, lips parted in soft sleep. One leg was curled beneath him, arms wrapped around a pastel pillow as if it were a childhood habit. His blonde hair was a mess, haloed by sunlight, and his cropped shirt had a sleepy duck on it. Felix looked peaceful. Warm. Real.

Hyunjin didn’t even realize he was holding his breath.

It had been three days. Three days of silence. Three days where the balcony stayed empty, and Hyunjin convinced himself maybe Felix had moved out. Maybe he imagined all of it. Maybe the club was the last time he’d ever see him.

But now, he was back. Sleeping like a dream that refused to end.

He stepped onto the balcony.

The morning breeze touched his skin gently, carrying with it the faint scent of city dew and someone’s too early breakfast downstairs. He sat down on the bench, hands on his knees, trying to act like this wasn’t a big deal. Like he wasn’t sitting outside just to look at him.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.

He still couldn’t look away.

There was something about Felix in sleep that made everything harder. Maybe it was the vulnerability of it, the softness. Or maybe it was that, in this quiet moment, Felix belonged completely to the world without realizing anyone was watching. It felt wrong to stare. But it felt worse to stop.

Hyunjin leaned his elbow against the balcony rail, eyes narrowing as he watched Felix shift slightly, murmuring something incoherent in his sleep. His bare feet flexed, and he curled tighter into the pillow. It was a beautiful kind of stillness. The kind that pulled something out of Hyunjin he didn’t want to admit existed.

He hated this. He hated how Felix had drawn him in. Effortlessly, unknowingly, like gravity, like magnetism, like fate. All without ever meeting his eyes. Without even knowing he existed.

Hyunjin wasn’t a romantic. He didn’t fall for people. He didn’t daydream or imagine alternate lives. He lived in books, theories, formulas. But Felix had cracked something open in him. Not with loud declarations or flirtations. Just by being.

By laughing on balconies. By sleeping in the sun. By existing a little too beautifully across the glass.

He’d only meant to sit for a minute. Maybe five. But it had been thirty now.

Chan stirred inside the apartment, groaning like a wounded animal. Hyunjin heard the sound faintly but didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch. His eyes were still locked on Felix, on the quiet rise and fall of his chest. He told himself he was just enjoying the morning air.

But really, he was mourning the fact that Felix didn’t even know he was there.

And maybe never would.

Hyunjin tried to distract himself. He brought a book out with him with a dense text on quantum field theory, something heavy enough to quiet his mind. But the words blurred on the page, slipping between paragraphs as his gaze kept drifting across the narrow space. Felix still slept soundly, curled up like a cat in the morning light. Every once in a while, he twitched, and Hyunjin’s heart followed.

Then, Felix moved.

Slowly, lazily… he stretched, eyelids fluttering open. And just like that, their eyes met. Hyunjin froze, book forgotten in his lap. Felix blinked, tilted his head like he was studying him, and smiled.

A slow, sweet smile.

Like a goddamn angel.

Hyunjin panicked.

He grabbed his book and covered his face, hitting his thick eyeglasses, heart slamming so loud he swore it echoed into the next building. What the hell, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but it felt like he had. It felt like he’d been caught mid-sin.

After a long beat, he slowly peeked over the edge of the book. And only to find the balcony across now empty.

Felix was gone.

Hyunjin stood up quickly and walked back inside, not trusting himself to keep sitting there. His face was warm, his throat tight. From the corner of his eye, he saw movement across the window. Felix again, now inside his living room, sitting cross-legged on his sofa, casually talking into his phone like nothing happened.

Like Hyunjin hadn’t just died and been resurrected by one sleepy smile.

>>>>>>

Chapter Text

By the time Chan finally left, Hyunjin felt like the air had cleared. Silence returned to his apartment like a long-awaited breath of fresh air. The door clicked shut and he stood still, letting the quiet sink in. His shoulders relaxed for the first time in two days.

He liked Chan. Loved him, even. But even the best company drained him. Hyunjin wasn’t built for shared space and overlapping energy. He needed silence like other people needed touch.

It was Sunday night. Outside, the city flickered with its usual weekend rhythm, but inside, Hyunjin existed in order. His curtains were drawn, the lights almost dim, and the atmosphere composed. He stood in the center of it all with a glass of cold water in hand, letting the quiet fill the spaces Chan’s laughter had occupied.

But something tugged at him. A small itch. A glance.

He walked over to the curtain and opened it just enough to see. Just enough to check. Across the narrow gap, the lights in the opposite unit were on and Felix was running around.

He looked like he was dressed for a casual coffee date: loose black trousers, Nike Jordan shoes, a gray jacket slung over his arm. But what caught Hyunjin’s breath was the way Felix’s cropped knit shirt curled around his waist and the way his earrings shimmered when he turned his head. Within ten seconds, the lights turned off, and he disappeared.

Gone. Again.

“Maybe it’s for the better,” Hyunjin muttered, closing the curtain with a flick of his wrist. He placed his water glass in the sink and moved toward his bedroom, dragging his fingers through his perfectly styled hair.

He began preparing for the next day.

On his bed, he laid out a crisp white dress shirt with structured shoulders, neatly pressed and still faintly scented from the dry cleaners. Beside it, a black tie, minimal and sharp, along with tailored black slacks and polished dress shoes. Last, he placed his gold-rimmed thick glasses carefully on the nightstand. The final detail that gave him both clarity and a certain unapproachable edge.

He didn’t dress for them. He dressed like a man who knew his place at the top.

Hyunjin always prepared the night before. Not because he needed to, but because lateness was a disease he refused to catch. His routine was precise. Predictable. Comforting.

And tomorrow was Monday.

He liked Mondays. He might’ve been the only person alive who did. Mondays meant structure. Power. They meant a fresh set of students walking into his classroom wide-eyed and unaware of how brutal he would be.

Hyunjin didn’t just teach physics. He taught discipline.

He loved watching students crumble under his impossible grading scale, observing who would stay and who would run. He’d deny extensions with a deadpan tone, curve nothing, and fail half the class without blinking. Students begged. Pleaded. Some even cried.

But Hyunjin never bulged.

They hated him, whispered about him in corners, called him every name in the book. But they also stared. Took blurry photos from across the room. Tagged each other in group chats with captions like, “he’s so hot, too bad he’s evil.”

He didn’t care.

He didn’t smile for anyone. Didn’t respond to compliments. Didn’t flirt. He was a portrait in ivory and black, lips pressed into a line and eyes sharp behind gold-rimmed lenses. Intimidating. Cold. Distant.

And yet completely untouchable.

At thirty, he had what most men twice his age still clawed toward. His doctorate, additional master’s degree, and the respect of his entire department. He was head of quantum physics, untouchable even when students complained to the dean. Everyone knew the truth: Hyunjin’s standards were brutal, but fair. He didn’t punish excellence. He just demanded it.

He hadn’t checked his class list for the upcoming term. Why would he? He knew the moment students saw his name on the syllabus, half would drop out. Those who stayed? They would learn.

The lights flickered off one by one. He set his alarm for 5:30 a.m. and climbed into bed, pulling the sheets precisely to his collarbone. Tomorrow would be like any other first Monday.

Clean. Efficient. Predictable.

Someone hugged him from behind.

The touch was warm, comforting even, but it burned against Hyunjin’s skin like fire licking too close to a wound. He turned, slowly, as if afraid of confirming what he already knew. Felix.

Soft lips. Glowing skin. Golden hair that brushed against his cheek as Felix leaned in, cupping his face with both hands as if it was something delicate. He kissed him. Slow at first, then hungry, breathless, his body pressing Hyunjin down into the mattress. There was no hesitation, only want. Fingers gliding over his chest, lips traveling down his neck, his collarbone, lower down his already throbbing hard coc—

Hyunjin shot up in bed, gasping.

His skin was hot. His breath uneven. For a second, he wasn’t even sure where he was. The sheets clung to his body and the room was dark, silent, too silent. He ran a hand over his face, then slapped his cheek lightly. “Get your shit together,” he muttered under his breath.

The clock read 3:07 a.m.

With a groan, Hyunjin pulled himself out of bed and padded barefoot into the kitchen. He poured a glass of water, drinking it down in one long gulp as if it could wash the dream out of him. But it didn’t. The taste of Felix, imagined or not, still lingered like a secret between his teeth.

His feet moved toward the curtain before he could stop himself.

He almost peeked. Almost gave in to the urge to see if Felix was home. Just to check. But for what? His fingers almost touched the curtain. But logic stopped him—thankfully, just in time. He stood there for a moment, glass in hand, heartbeat slowly returning to normal, and then turned away. He didn’t look.

Back in bed, he lay on his back, arms folded, eyes staring at the ceiling. Everything felt wrong.

Hyunjin had always understood himself.

He’d dated two women in his life, both neatly structured relationships that lasted precisely one year each. Not a day more, not a day less. 365 days. It was his personal theory. Enough time, he believed, to know whether you could live with someone forever or not. Neither passed the test.

He didn’t cry. Didn’t feel pain. He forgot their voices the day after. Maybe even sooner.

But Felix?

Felix had barely said a word to him. And yet he lived in Hyunjin’s thoughts like he paid rent. Haunted his dreams like a memory Hyunjin never had in the first place. That kiss. That dream. It felt more intimate than anything he had experienced in real life. And he hated that.

He hated how foreign this was.

Love, lust, desire. He had defined all of those. Studied their chemicals. Reduced them to dopamine and oxytocin. But none of it explained the way his body betrayed him when Felix smiled. None of it answered why just a sleepy smile from across a balcony could ruin his entire day. Or even entire life.

Felix was not part of the plan.

Hyunjin loved science because it was rational. Because there were always laws, formulas, constants. Even the chaos had structure. But Felix? Felix was the only outlier in a life otherwise defined by precision.

He didn’t make sense.

He wasn’t supposed to make sense.

Hyunjin pulled the covers over his chest again and tried to breathe through the noise in his head. His dream had felt too real. The taste, the sound, the way Felix’s thumb brushed over his cheek. No dream had ever felt like that before.

And why him?

Why the boy with the small frame, boba eyes, and crop tops with sleepy ducks on them? Why the boy who didn’t even know his name? Why was it him who crept into Hyunjin’s mind and refused to leave?

The worst part was, Hyunjin had no answer.

And he hated that more than anything. Because he always had answers to everything. Except for Felix.

The alarm rang exactly at 5:30 a.m., thej same every Monday.

Hyunjin sat up immediately, no snooze, no hesitation. His movements were sharp and habitual. Duvet folded back, feet slid into house slippers, shower on before the mirror had time to fog. Precision was everything.

By 6:00 a.m., he was already towel drying his hair, shirtless in front of his full length mirror, the steam from the bathroom still trailing behind him. Coffee was next. Black, no sugar, no milk. He preferred the bitterness. It kept his brain sharp, reminded him to stay focused.

By 6:15, he was dressed: pristine white shirt buttoned to the collar, black tie perfectly centered, pants creased like they were ironed by gods. His glasses were polished, slipped on last, right before he checked himself in the mirror—clinical, clean, composed. Just the way he liked it.

By 6:30, he should be out the door.

He never liked to be late. Especially not on the first day of term. He wanted to see the look on the students’ faces when they walked in bright-eyed and hopeful, only to find him at the front. The moment realization dawned on them and it was almost intoxicating.

But today, something broke his rhythm.

At exactly 6:00 a.m., just as he was pouring his coffee, a sharp, repetitive sound cut through the silence of his apartment. A phone alarm. Loud. Jarring. Obnoxious. The kind of alarm designed to shake an entire building awake. Hyunjin’s jaw ticked.

Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. Still it rang.

Hyunjin, nearing the edge of irritation, muttered under his breath, “Who the hell sets an alarm for the entire neighborhood?” He rarely swore aloud, but this? This was unbearable. It wasn’t even his alarm, and yet it infected the silence he guarded like sacred ground.

Then he remembered.

He had left the sliding glass door to the balcony slightly ajar last night. Just a sliver lining. Barely noticeable. But enough for outside sounds to sneak in. The culprit wasn’t some anonymous neighbor. It was him. His own lapse in control.

Irritated, he marched toward the balcony to shut it, fingers curled around the door handle—

And paused.

Because like muscle memory, his eyes shifted left. Just a glance. Just one.

And as always, his favorite view.

Messy-haired, stumbling across his unit, clearly in panic mode. Still in pajama shorts and a too-large T-shirt with a cartoon frog holding a pencil. The alarm had finally stopped. Felix rubbed his eyes while simultaneously hopping around, trying to put on socks, his face a portrait of morning chaos.

Hyunjin stood there, lips parted slightly, watching.

At exactly 6:27, Felix nearly tripped on his own feet. He mumbled something, ran a hand through his hair, and all but bolted out of frame towards the bathroom. Hyunjin didn’t even notice that he’d started smiling.

Just a twitch. Barely there.

But it was real.

He shook his head, as if shaking off the residue of something sweet. By 6:30 on the dot, he was locking his door. He walked down the hall, hands in pockets, coat swinging behind him like clockwork. Ten minutes to campus. Never longer.

The air was crisp, the kind that made you grateful for breath but resentful of being awake. His black polished shoes tapped against the pavement, rhythmic, steady. The university loomed just beyond the next corner, ivy-covered and still mostly asleep. The early hour left the streets quiet, save for birds, the occasional passing car, and his own thoughts.

Which, much to his irritation, drifted back to Felix.

I wonder what he does for work.

He looked young. Definitely not a minor, Hyunjin confirmed that at the club who only allowed people in the age above minority. But he also didn’t carry himself like a student. Not exactly. He had a freedom to his movements, an ease to his being that didn’t belong to people buried in academic pressure.

Is he into arts? Music? Coffee shop work? Sales?Something creative? He surely doesn’t belong to stem.

Hyunjin stopped walking mid-track.

And groaned.

“What the hell am I doing,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face. Thinking about Felix. Again. On the first day of the semester, no less. His most sacred day. The one he anticipated for weeks.

And now, halfway to campus, completely consumed by the image of a boy with sleepy eyes and a cartoon frog on his shirt.

Hyunjin exhaled, slow and sharp.

He needed to pull himself together.

Today wasn’t about distractions. It wasn’t about the boy next building, across his. It was about standing at the front of a lecture hall, armed with a whiteboard marker, ready to ruin someone’s GPA before lunchtime.

He adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat, and walked forward again.

The moment Hyunjin walked into the lecture hall, the atmosphere changed like a sudden drop in barometric pressure.

Chatter died. Laughter vanished. Room full of eyes snapped to the man in the white pressed shirt and black tie, posture rigid, expression blank behind gold-rimmed glasses. He placed his leather folder on the desk with a calculated thud, gaze sweeping over the room like a blade.

The university had a habit of not announcing the professors assigned to their schedules to avoid uneven enrollment to each classes. However, students still had their freedom to stay or leave. Or even change lanes. Tho the latter was much hassle to pursue.

“You have ten minutes to drop this class,” he announced coolly. “If you’re unsure, unprepared, or unable to follow my pace, hand in your drop form now and leave. Don’t waste my time. This is a three-hour class and I don’t intend to spend a second more than I have to dealing with mediocrity.”

A heavy silence followed. Then the slow, shameful rustle of paper.

One by one, students began to stand, approaching the desk with wide eyes and hesitant steps, quietly laying down their forms like confessions. Hyunjin didn’t blink. He didn’t even bother looking at their names. His attention was focused on the clock. Ten minutes.

When time was up, 23 students had cowardly vanished.

That left 38. In a room that could seat a hundred.

“Anyone else?” he asked, voice sharp enough to slice tension. No one answered. He raised an eyebrow. “Good.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, eyes cold. “My rules are simple. Break them, and you fail. First: attendance. You are allowed a maximum of three absences. That’s it. I don’t care if you were sick, heartbroken, or on the verge of discovering time travel. Three is three.”

“Second,” he continued, ignoring the shifting discomfort of students, “recitation is twenty percent. Paper is twenty. Midterms and finals, thirty each. If you’re absent and I call on you? That’s an automatic zero for recitation. No make-up, no excuses.”

A loud groan echoed from the back.

Hyunjin cleared his throat once, and the room went still.

He stared straight ahead, expression unreadable. “My favorite rule,” he said quietly, “is this…punctuality.”

His voice darkened as he took a slow step forward. “I arrive at 7:00 a.m. sharp. If I walk in before you, you’re absent. I don’t care if you’re one minute late. Or one second. If I don’t see your face when I open that door, you are not present.”

As if on cue, the door creaked open.

A soft click echoed through the room. Every student turned their head. Hyunjin’s jaw clenched.

“Like I said,” he repeated, without looking, “anyone who comes in after me is marked absent. No exceptio—”

He turned.

And the world didn’t know how to function.

There, framed by the open door, stood Felix.

Blonde hair still slightly damp, pushed back by careless fingers, cheeks flushed from the morning air. He wore a collared shirt, blue, fitted, tucked halfway into his dark jeans and his hands were clutching an A5 baby pink leather notebook binder with stickers and dainty key rings attached. His doe eyes were wide, apologetic, and shimmering like honey in sunlight.

Hyunjin couldn’t breathe.

Felix.

In his classroom.

It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t real. It was impossible.

He was debating if this was just another dream. His fist balled, nails digging his palms as he felt the pain of his frustration. This wasn’t a dream.

And this was reality.

Hyunjin’s body betrayed him. His heart pounded so loud he feared the students could hear it. Behind his glasses, his gaze drank in every detail. For the first time, his beautiful features came to life. The fluorescent lights were harsh but against Felix’s face? It looked more like an opportunity for crisp pictorial.

He couldn’t believe how clearly he could see Felix’s freckled skin, like a scattered galaxy across the bridge of his nose. he didn’t know Felix had those and never in his entire life he even knew he had a thing for those stupid freckles. Felix’s lower lip slightly bitten from nervousness. It was glossy, soft, kissable. The delicate curve of his collarbone peeking from beneath the fabric made his member twitch a little, bulging slightly against his pants.

Felix walked closer, two steps, too loud in the sudden stillness. The boy smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry, Professor. I—uh, the elevator was slow, and there was… uhm. Traffic yeah, traffic. I ran,” he said softly. Liar.

Hyunjin blinked. He didn’t register a word.

“Sir?” Felix asked again, voice quieter now. “Did you hear me?”

That pulled him back.

“Yes,” Hyunjin said stiffly, voice cracking at the edge of restraint. He adjusted his glasses to buy himself three seconds. “This is the first day. I’ll be… lenient.”

A ripple of whispers spread through the room like spilled ink.

Hyunjin never bent rules. Never offered grace. The students murmured in disbelief, some turning to each other as if confirming what they just heard. Hyunjin pretended not to hear any of it.

Felix smiled again. Too soft, sincere, too innocent. And took a seat in the front row.

Right in front of him.

Of course he did.

Hyunjin’s pulse still hadn’t calmed. He stared at the papers in his folder, eyes unfocused. Felix didn’t belong here. Not in this room. He checked his class list. He was there. Written as clear as the skies.

Felix.

Lee Felix.

His eyes raked from his class list to Felix who was already staring softly at him. That… that familiar look.

Felix tilted his head as if he remembered something, and when he regained the familiarity, he curved his lips to a sweet haunting smile.

No. No. No. He looked like he belonged in a broadcast journalism class. Maybe theater. Or marketing. Something creative, loud, full of life and light. Not quantum mechanics.

Not this hell. Not in his personal hell. 

But here he was.

Hyunjin had taught for five years. Never once had he faltered in front of a class. Not once had he lost his grip on the structure of his syllabus, the flow of his first-day speech, the calculation of fear he instilled in every student.

And now?

He cleared his throat, closed his folder, and muttered, “five minutes break, I’ll just get something from the faculty room.”

Before anyone could react, he walked out of the room.

Not briskly, not calmly. It was just enough to keep from making it obvious that he was spiraling. He stepped into the empty corridor, leaned against the nearest wall, and shut his eyes.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Felix was supposed to stay across the balcony. Stay in the quiet mornings, in his sleep-filled laughter, in the dreams Hyunjin swore he could not ignore but at least couldn’t touch. Felix was supposed to be a fantasy.

Not a student.

Not someone Hyunjin had to see every week, every Monday, three hours at a time.

He breathed in once. Twice. Still, it didn’t help.

Because nothing in physics, not even chaos theory, could explain how a certain Lee Felix had just walked into his lecture hall… and tilted Hyunjin’s world entirely off its organized axis.

>>>>>>

Chapter Text

Hyunjin returned to the lecture hall five minutes later with a coffee in hand. Black, cold, and sharp enough to slice through the fog in his head. His steps were steady, composed, not too fast, not too slow. The buzzing whispers among the students stilled the moment he entered, though not entirely. He caught the soft edge of a murmur about his coffee.

He ignored it.

Let them talk. Let them think. He couldn’t care less. Or rather, he tried not to.

He approached the desk, setting his coffee down with quiet precision before straightening the stack of syllabi he had printed two days ago, anticipating no trouble, no interruptions. Certainly not this . He cleared his throat once and glanced out at the remaining students, eyes flicking to the front row.

To him.

“Take one and pass,” Hyunjin said simply, voice crisp, almost mechanical. “Left to right.”

He was about to pick up the stack and hand it to the student in the front row leftmost but Felix, seated at the center moved.

Hyunjin didn’t even have time to stop him. Felix stood up quickly, light on his feet, and reached for the papers before Hyunjin could. “Let me help you, Sir,” he said gently, a small smile playing on his lips as he took the top of the stack from Hyunjin’s hand.

Their fingers brushed.

It wasn’t even intentional. Not really.

Just a featherlight contact, skin against skin for no more than half a second but it was enough to ruin Hyunjin’s internal circuitry.

The heat was instantaneous, curling up from his fingertips all the way to his throat, his breath catching silently as if someone had struck his chest. Felix’s skin was warm, unreasonably, intimately warm, and the contact left a tingling ghost on Hyunjin’s hand, like static that refused to settle. He felt himself blinking too slowly, eyes locked on Felix’s fingers, slender and elegant, the nails short and clean. Multiple gold dainty rings glimmered.

He could still feel the shape of them on his skin.

Ridiculous.

It was ridiculous, how just a touch, that innocent, that fleeting, could undo him so completely. It wasn’t even intentional. Felix wasn’t flirting. He was helping. And yet Hyunjin’s heart was doing somersaults like it had never been trained to stay cold.

He clenched his jaw, adjusted the knot of his black tie with a sharp tug, and reached for his coffee like it was a lifeline. The cold bitterness grounded him, or at least, he wanted it to. But it only reminded him of how his mouth had gone dry.

He watched.

Watched as Felix turned and carefully stepped around the first row desk, walking two seats to his left. He passed the syllabus to the next student, a girl who looked barely awake, and offered her a small smile as he murmured something Hyunjin couldn’t hear.

Felix’s shoulders curled slightly inward, a soft shyness in the way he moved, like he wasn’t quite sure of himself yet but still tried to be polite. His hair fell gently over one eye as he tilted his head, his freckled cheeks lifting as he smiled. His lips moved again. Another quiet word to his classmate.

Hyunjin watched it all.

He shouldn’t have.

But he couldn’t not.

Everything about Felix seemed so far removed from the rigid world Hyunjin lived in. He moved like light. Graceful without meaning to be, tender without even realizing. He looked out of place here, like a watercolor painting mistakenly hung in a gallery of equations and stone walls. Too bright. Too soft.

Too threatening.

Hyunjin took another long sip of his coffee to buy time, to mask the twitch of his fingers still remembering the brush of contact. The lecture hall was cool, air conditioned, quiet and yet his skin burned like it had been pressed against sunlight.

He had been touched before. Of course he had.

But never like this.

Never with so little intention, and never with so much consequence. Felix didn’t even know. Didn’t know what he’d done. And that… that… was what made it worse.

Because Hyunjin already knew.

He was spiraling.

Focus. He took a deep breath and collected himself.

Hyunjin began to lecture as he always did, without a smile, without a pause for breath.

“Today, we start with the Schrödinger equation. It is the foundation of non-relativistic quantum mechanics. If this intimidates you, good. It should. This is not a class built to make you feel intelligent. It is a class meant to see if you are.”

His voice echoed through the half-empty lecture hall, words crisp and merciless, whiteboard pen scratching equations across the board in precise lines. ∂ψ/∂t = Ĥψ. He didn’t explain it slowly. He didn’t give analogies. He simply wrote, turned, and spoke.

“You will learn operators. You will learn eigenvalues. You will learn that reality is not what you see, but what you observe , and yes, there is a difference. Don’t raise your hand unless you’re willing to argue with me on Planck units or the Copenhagen interpretation. I will humiliate you if you fake understanding.”

The room was silent except for the occasional scribble of desperate note taking.

Hyunjin didn’t glance at the front row. Not once. Not even when he heard the slight, almost imperceptible shift of Felix crossing his legs. Or when Felix pulled his sleeves down, or when he let out a small breath that tickled the edges of silence.

Hyunjin couldn’t afford to look.

He told himself: Felix is not here.

He is a seat. A shadow. An empty chair with a human-shaped illusion.

That was the only way to survive the next three hours.

Hyunjin continued, gesturing once to the board with his hand. “This,” he said, pointing to the complex wave function unraveling across the white surface, “is the heart of quantum theory. Ψ, the wavefunction, does not describe position, it describes probability . We do not observe electrons. We observe what we allow ourselves to collapse into certainty.”

He turned away sharply, clicking his pen. “Welcome to uncertainty.”

The class groaned. Some sank deeper into their seats. Others exchanged looks of mutual despair. Hyunjin relished it, normally.

Today, he didn’t feel the same sense of cold satisfaction.

Because every time he paused, every time he turned his back to the class, he thought he could feel Felix behind him. Not doing anything. Just existing. Breathing softly. Fingers playing with the edge of a notebook. Probably biting his lower lip in thought.

Hyunjin didn’t dare confirm it.

Instead, he pressed forward, lecturing harder, faster, trying to outrun the heat crawling up the back of his neck. “Next meeting, I will begin cold recitations. I expect you to be familiar with the next topic written in your syllabus. Do not show up unprepared.”

A collective groan swelled from the rows of students, their despair almost comical.

But Hyunjin didn’t laugh.

He didn’t smirk.

He slammed both his palms flat against the desk.

The sound was loud. thunderous in the high ceilinged lecture hall. It echoed like a gavel across courtroom marble. Students jolted. Pens dropped. A girl in the second row swore under her breath.

Hyunjin’s voice was low now. Dangerous.

“I don’t care if you’re not ready,” he said. “Be ready.”

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating.

And that’s when he made the mistake.

He looked up.

And Felix was looking back.

His doe eyes were wide, rounder than ever, startled from the sudden noise, like a deer caught in headlights. But he wasn’t scared. Not really. His gaze wasn’t afraid. It was soft. Fragile. Like he was pleading with Hyunjin silently, begging him to soften even just a fraction.

Like prayer.

Hyunjin couldn’t breathe.

His eyes traced the freckles dotting Felix’s nose, a constellation of warmth on porcelain skin. His lashes curled slightly at the tips. His bottom lip looked bitten, flushed. His hands were clutching his pink notebook tighter than necessary.

And Hyunjin? Hyunjin wanted to touch him.

God. I want to touch him.

Not in a way that would ever be acceptable between a professor and a student. Not in a way that could be written off as kindness or formality. He wanted to cradle Felix’s face in both hands, press his thumbs beneath those wide, pleading eyes, and feel if the freckles were real. He wanted to see if that mouth tasted like summer or sin.

He snapped his eyes away.

Grabbed his coffee. Took a long sip even though it had already gone warm. He adjusted his tie again, too tight now. Everything felt too tight, his collar, his chest, his skin. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this hot in a lecture hall.

Not from nerves.

From want .

He turned his back to the class again, scribbling the next equation with more force than necessary. |ψ⟩ = Σ cn |φn⟩. It looked clean, unbothered. Nothing like him.

He didn’t speak for a full minute.

Just stared at the board, eyes glazed.

Because Felix was in his class. Felix, who should be part of a dream, a memory, a balcony sunrise. Not here. Not close enough to touch.

And Hyunjin, after all his walls, all his rules, all his order, was breaking.

Hyunjin ran every night from 8 to 9 p.m., without fail, without excuse. On the dot. He just took a break during summer to heal his sprained ankle. And now, he’s back.

It was ritual. Precision. Discipline. Two hours after his last meal, timed down to the minute, consisting of high-protein chicken breast, steamed broccoli, and just enough brown rice to regulate his energy. Then the treadmill: 5 to 10 kilometers, depending on his mood, his schedule, his rest.

Today, he’d meant to do the usual 10.

But when he finally glanced at the treadmill screen, his lungs burning and shirt clinging to his back, it read: 19.7km . His fingers hovered over the stop button, trembling slightly. The calorie count blinked at him, absurd. Ridiculous. His body was drenched in sweat, and his heart thudded like it was trying to crack through his ribcage.

What the hell am I doing?

It wasn’t discipline anymore. It wasn’t training.

It was Felix.

From the moment he tied his laces to the last meter, all he could see were Felix’s freckled cheeks. The way his sleeves bunched up at the wrist, the tilt of his head when he smiled, the softness in his voice. And the worst part? That featherlight touch from earlier. Their fingers brushing. It replayed in his mind like a cruel, endless loop.

He thought running would help.

It always had. It was his way of burning off chaos, of converting unwanted emotion into structure, order, distance. But today, it betrayed him. Today, it couldn’t cleanse what had settled into his bones like poison.

With a shaky breath, he slammed the stop button.

The treadmill slowed, the belt easing to a halt under his heavy steps. Hyunjin’s knees buckled slightly as he stepped off. His legs, usually strong and obedient, wobbled beneath him. He stumbled to the bench in the corner of the gym and dropped onto it like his entire body had collapsed.

His head hung forward, sweat dripping from his jawline onto the floor.

He reached for his water bottle and drank too fast, choking on the first gulp. He coughed, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and pressed the cold plastic against his temple. It did nothing to cool the storm inside.

His pulse was still racing. Not from exertion, but from Felix.

Get it together, he told himself. It was a touch. A second. Less than that.

But it wasn’t just the touch.

It was the eyes. Those stupid, soft, shimmering eyes that looked up at him like they were asking for something more than forgiveness. Like they were asking him to feel. And Hyunjin did . He felt too much.

The image wouldn’t leave.

Felix, flinching ever so slightly when he slammed his palms down, then lifting his gaze… wide, round, filled with light and a trace of vulnerability. Like he wasn’t afraid of Hyunjin’s cruelty. Like he saw past it. Like he was searching for something in him.

Hyunjin squeezed his eyes shut.

He hated this. Hated how real everything had become. He had controlled his life for so long, calculated every move, reduced even emotions to patterns and logic. But nothing about Felix was logical. He was the flaw in the equation. The unexpected variable that made the whole theorem collapse.

And no amount of running could fix it.

Hyunjin looked down at the towel in his hands, soaked and clenched. His chest still rose and fell like he hadn’t stopped. His thoughts were spinning faster than his legs had. For a moment, he pressed the heel of his palm against his eyes. Hard. Hoping it would push the image away.

It didn’t.

The touch, the eyes, the freckles—God, even the freckles. A whole galaxy of them scattered across Felix’s nose like someone painted stars on skin. They were stupid. Beautiful. Impractical. Hyunjin wanted to kiss every single one just to prove they were real.

And then, he stopped himself.

He sat up straighter, forced himself to breathe. Deeply. Slowly. Tried to piece himself back together with structure. Numbers. Control.

19.7 kilometers. 1,238 calories burned. 73 minutes and 12 seconds. Still not enough.

Still, Felix remained, lodged in his head like a dream that refused to fade after morning.

Hyunjin stood, legs still sore, and grabbed his towel and water bottle with clenched fists. That was enough for today. Enough spiraling. Enough feeling. He needed sleep. Silence. Logic.

But deep down, he knew. None of it would help.

Because no matter what he did… Felix had already gotten under his skin.

Hyunjin was mad at everything.

Mad at the treadmill, mad at his own legs, mad at the digital screen that blinked numbers he hadn’t meant to reach. It was 9:22 p.m., his entire schedule blown to hell because he had been running like an idiot. He’d lost more than an hour of his life chasing a feeling he couldn’t outrun. His skin itched with frustration. His pulse hadn’t calmed since he stepped off that machine.

The gym was on the 5th floor of the complex, nestled in the shared amenity area where all the towers met. Polished glass walls, automated lighting, artificial plants arranged in unnatural symmetry. Hyunjin hated the aesthetics almost as much as he hated the air, which was thick with chlorine and overpriced perfume.

He exited the gym in a storm, towel draped over his shoulder, his black shorts sticking slightly to his legs. His hair was damp, plastered to his forehead, sweat trailing along the column of his neck. As he passed the swimming pool, he wiped his face with the edge of the towel, eyes narrowed, jaw locked tight.

Then it happened.

A thud. A sudden splatter. Something warm, sticky. It hit his stomach and chest. Dripping everything down to his legs and shoes.

The sharp scent of tteokbokki and something disgustingly sweet filled the air before he even looked down.

His white dry-fit shirt, pristine moments ago, was now stained orange red in wild, dripping streaks. The liquid burned slightly from heat, clinging to the fabric like a punishment. At his feet, a cup of bubble tea rolled to a stop, the neon pink lettering still legible: Watermelon Burst.

“THE FUCK!?” he growled, his voice low and violent.

Then he saw the source. Someone had fallen face-first near the shallow pool steps. Hood up, head low, limbs flailing in panic. Their hands scrambled across the wet ground, trying to gather the wreckage, the container, the drink, the plastic bag that now floated half-submerged.

“ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID ?!” Hyunjin snapped.

No filter. No grace.

He was done being calm.

The person flinched, pausing like the words had physically struck them. Then, without a word, they reached toward him. Small hands grabbing the damp, scattered tissues that had spilled with the food. With quick, shaky movements, those hands went straight for Hyunjin’s shoes.

Tissues dabbed carefully, desperately, against the tops of his black sneakers. Then his socks. Then up—his knees, calves, thighs—until they reached the hem of his shirt. A small palm pressed lightly to his stained abdomen, smearing rather than cleaning. Still wiping. Still kneeling.

Hyunjin’s breath caught in his throat.

The hoodie had slipped back just enough to reveal soft, golden hair.

Then the face turned up.

And there he was.

Felix.

Eyes wide, lip bitten, face flushed with panic and guilt. His cheeks were red, either from embarrassment or exertion, and the glint of earrings caught the pool lights. His voice broke the moment he met Hyunjin’s stare.

“I’m, I’m so sorry, oh shi- Professor Hwang?” Felix stammered. “Sir, I didn’t see you—oh my god. I dropped everything. I’m really sorry. Sorry. Sir, sorry.”

His hands were still moving.

Still touching Hyunjin’s legs.

Still pressing the tissue into the mess like he could undo it all by sheer will. His small fragile hands were touching him. In places he shouldn’t have. He felt his bulge twitched. Getting harder and harder, the more Felix wiped his shorts near his shaft. He wanted to put his dick on that parted mouth. And—

And Hyunjin… he couldn’t move.

Because this was wrong. All of it was wrong.

Because Felix, kneeling in front of him, apologizing like he was begging for mercy, hands on his skin, his skin —it was the kind of image that belonged to some forbidden dream. Not real life. Not here. Not now.

Hyunjin took a sharp step back.

Too fast. Too sudden. The contact broke, and the air rushed between them like cold wind. Felix froze, hands still suspended mid-air. His eyes darted up, like he wanted to say more. Like he wanted to explain.

But Hyunjin was already gone.

He turned and walked away without a word. No reaction. No glare. No answer.

His steps were stiff, his jaw locked, eyes wide with something he couldn’t name. Shame. Hunger. Rage. All of it. None of it.

Behind him, he could still hear Felix calling out, voice soft and full of apology. Still kneeling.

Kneeling.

Hyunjin didn’t stop. Didn’t turn.

He just kept walking. Because if he didn’t, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

Felix’s gaze followed his professor’s shadow until he was swallowed by the glass door leading to Tower A. His tongue licked the corner of his lips before it slowly, playfully curved.

>>>>>>

Chapter Text

The moment Hyunjin stepped back into his apartment, he ripped his shirt off with a growl of frustration.

The tteokbokki sauce had already begun to stain. The vivid red streaked across the white fabric looked like an insult. He crumpled the shirt into a ball and slammed it into the sink, pouring detergent straight onto the fabric without measuring, scrubbing the fibers aggressively. The more he scrubbed, the more angry he felt.

His whole body was still buzzing.

Sticky. Shaken. Not from exertion, but from Felix .

He caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror, the light too bright, too revealing. His skin gleamed with sweat under the harsh glare, his hair damp and clinging to his temples. Chest rising, muscles sharp from his earlier run. Tense and twitching. His abdomen flexed unconsciously as he stood there, half-naked and unreasonably breathless.

He looked good. Too good.

His face was sculpted, bone structure clean and cruel, jaw sharp even under pressure. Eyes dark and hollow. He looked like the man people feared in class. The professor, the intellect, the impossible standard. His body? Lean, long, honed with years of routine and discipline.

And yet… a mess.

He never looked like this. Even post-workout, he was composed. Towel draped, hair styled back, skin cool with order. But now? His breath was erratic. His pupils dilated. His whole image, this pristine, controlled version of himself… was unraveling at the seams.

He closed his eyes.

And there he was again.

Felix.

On his knees.

Those wide, pleading eyes. The ones that didn’t just look. They searched. Like they were trying to reach inside him. Felix’s face was already burned into his memory. The curve of his lips, the freckles across his cheeks, the softness of his jawline, the way his lashes caught light like they had no right to.

But it wasn’t just his face this time.

It was the way Felix touched him.

Not like earlier in class, a fleeting brush of fingertips.

No. This was real. Hands on his shoes. His socks. His bare knees. And then his thighs and around his bulge. His abdomen. The side of his torso. Pressing gently, apologetically, with trembling hands and breathless whispers. Felix touched places students should never touch professors. Places no one had touched Hyunjin like that before.

And Hyunjin hadn’t stopped him.

He’d stood there. Let it happen. Felt everything. Recorded it with agonizing clarity.

Now it echoed in his nerves.

He clenched the edge of the sink, knuckles white. His entire body was buzzing not from rage now, but from something far more lethal. His skin remembered it. The warmth of Felix’s palms. The shape of his fingers. The brush of those goddamn delicate wrists against his hip bone.

It was maddening.

Hyunjin groaned, voice guttural and low, bouncing off the tiled walls.

He shouldn’t want this. He couldn’t. This was a student. This was wrong. But his body didn’t care. His body wanted, it longed.

He could feel it. This aching hunger growing in his chest and crawling down his spine.

He wanted Felix closer. Too close. He wanted to hear him say his name, wanted to hold his face, tilt his chin up, watch those lashes flutter as he leaned in. He wanted to run his hands along the same places Felix had touched. He wanted more.

More of those eyes. More of that voice. More of that softness that ruined everything Hyunjin thought he’d built.

His mind screamed no, but his body betrayed him.

Again.

Groaning, he slapped the faucet open and twisted it until the water poured cold.

So cold it shocked the heat from his limbs.

He stepped into the shower, not waiting for it to warm. The icy stream cut across his back, down his spine, seizing his lungs. He pressed his palms to the tiled wall, jaw clenched, water soaking through his hair, down his neck, washing away sweat and sauce and shame.

But not the memory.

Not Felix.

Not the burning need that bloomed every time Hyunjin closed his eyes.

So he kept them open, standing under the freezing water, praying it would drown the sound of his own heartbeat.

And the name he refused to say aloud.

Hyunjin shut his curtains that Monday and didn’t open them again all week.

He told himself it was about light control. About productivity. About managing distractions in an overstimulating world. But deep down, he knew he was avoiding one thing. One person. Like the plague. Felix.

So he kept himself busy.

He drowned in class schedules, over-prepared his lectures, and let his frustration bleed into his tone. He was merciless. Brutal. He grilled second-year students on concepts they hadn’t even encountered, barked equations, dismissed trembling hands. By Wednesday, a hushed consensus spread across campus: Professor Hwang was on a warpath.

And he didn’t care.

He preferred the silence of students too terrified to look him in the eye. The echo of marker against the white board. The weight of absolute control. It numbed him, slightly. Kept him from spiraling into dreams and memories of wide eyes and kneeling apologies.

By Sunday morning, the rhythm returned.

At exactly 7:00 a.m., he opened his front door, placed his neatly sorted laundry bin outside in the hall, and closed it without hesitation. A small win. Routine held. He made his coffee next. Black, no sugar, no cream. He sat down on the edge of the sofa with the news murmuring softly in the background.

And then, his hand twitched.

He didn’t even know why. Maybe his thoughts drifted. Maybe his brain finally jolted. But the mug tilted, and hot coffee sloshed over the rim, dripping straight down onto his shirt and lap.

“Shit,” he muttered, jumping up, grabbing the hem of his shirt and dabbing uselessly. The splash had soaked into the waistband of his cotton shorts. He stripped them off with an annoyed grunt, pulling on a fresh pair.

Grumbling, he picked up the stained shorts to toss them into the laundry bin outside, only to find the bin already gone. Too efficient. His building’s pickup staff were usually late. Today, they were early.

Of course.

He sighed, closed the door, and walked them to the kitchen sink. Stain it was, then. Scrubbing over ceramic, wet fabric clinging to his knuckles, the smell of bitter coffee and detergent curling in the air.

He needed air.

Just a breath. A second.

So, for the first time that week, Hyunjin stepped out onto his balcony.

The wind hit his skin with a cool, early-morning sharpness, and he closed his eyes, inhaling like he’d been underwater all week. When he opened them again, his gaze flicked naturally, inevitably to the opposite balcony.

God, not again.

Felix was reclining lazily on his chair like he belonged to the sun. Ridiculously large white headphones swallowed his ears, and his eyes were closed, head tilted back slightly as if he were floating somewhere far from reality. His skin glowed pale under the morning light, his legs stretched out in short shorts that should have been illegal in this weather. Bare thighs, knees slightly bent, toes curled over the edge of the chair.

Hyunjin’s throat tightened.

Felix looked serene. Innocent. His lips moved subtly, mouthing lyrics, probably something stupidly upbeat or dreamy. He breathed like someone who’d never known anxiety. He stretched arms over his head, spine arching, his shirt (a yellow one today, printed with a cartoon duck drinking juice) riding up to reveal just a sliver of toned abdomen.

Hyunjin’s mind didn’t stay innocent.

He watched the thin lines of Felix’s legs unfold. The way his head rolled to the side. The angle of his neck, the flutter of his lashes as he breathed against the sunlight. His beauty wasn’t just delicate, it was effortless . Like it wasn’t trying, and that was what made it so maddening.

Felix looked like a soft daydream.

But Hyunjin’s thoughts weren’t soft at all.

He remembered the touch. The kneeling. The voice whispering “I’m sorry, Professor” like it meant more than just an apology. He remembered those hands and how real they were. How they clutched at him. Touched him.

Hyunjin swallowed thickly, fingers gripping the balcony railing tighter than necessary.

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be looking. But he was.

Then, suddenly, Felix’s eyes opened.

For a heartbeat, he looked dazed, caught between music and waking. Then his gaze landed on Hyunjin.

Hyunjin didn’t have time to pretend to look away.

Felix froze, recognition sparking instantly in those big, amber-brown eyes. For a beat, they just stared. Then Felix’s lips parted. He broke into the brightest, purest smile. Eyes lighting up, cheeks lifting, dimples pressing into place.

And he waved.

Enthusiastically. Childishly. Like it was the most natural thing in the world to greet your cold, unreadable professor from across the balcony at 7:35 on a Sunday morning.

Hyunjin just stood there.

Frozen. Wordless. Heart slamming. Shirtless but with boxers, holding damp coffee-stained shorts and shirt, staring across the void at the boy who didn’t know how dangerous he was.

Felix kept waving, both hands now, as if he thought Hyunjin hadn’t seen him the first time.

“Good morning Professor Hwang!” he called out, voice loud enough to travel across the small distance between balconies. There was a slight echo in the space between their units, bouncing his cheerfulness right back at him. “I’m Lee Felix! Your student! Monday 7 a.m! You remember me, right?”

Definitely.

Hyunjin didn’t move.

He stood still, expression blank, shoulders tense. The shirt and shorts still hung from his fingers, forgotten now. Felix’s voice clashed against the quiet of the morning like bright confetti thrown into a funeral. It didn’t belong. It shouldn’t belong.

“I thought that was you last time outside the gym near the pool,” Felix added, lowering his arms with a laugh. “I’m really sorry about the sauce. I—I didn’t see you. I was trying to balance the drink and the tteokbokki and my phone and uhm, yeah. Stupid. I’m stupid.” He scratched the back of his head, sheepish.

Hyunjin’s gaze remained flat.

Not sharp. Not cruel. Just blank.

Felix stood there, still holding his headphones in one hand, the other resting on his hip. He looked too much like summer. Skin pale, hair glowing gold, his shirt wrinkled from lounging, and his eyes, those impossibly warm, doe-like eyes… still searching.

Hyunjin didn’t give him anything.

No acknowledgment. No shift in expression. Not even a blink.

The silence was pointed. Like a blade. Like a line drawn between two worlds.

Felix’s smile faltered slightly. “It’s just… funny, right?” he said awkwardly. “You live right there. I live here. And then you ended up being my professor. The universe is weird sometimes.”

Still, Hyunjin didn’t respond.

He stepped back, slow and deliberate, retreating from the railing with military precision. The sunlight fell off his skin as he passed through the threshold of his sliding glass door. He didn’t glance over his shoulder. Didn’t offer a polite nod.

He shut the curtain.

Without a word.

Without a trace.

And left Felix standing there alone with the sun.

Hyunjin loved Mondays.

The structure. The silence before the world woke. The rhythm of crisp clothing, timed footsteps, and clean lecture halls waiting to be conquered. Mondays gave him control.

But now, he wasn’t sure.

Not when he was part of the picture.

At exactly 7:00 a.m., Hyunjin entered the lecture hall. Not a second early, not a breath late. The students had already learned, sit, straighten, silence. The air in the room stilled with his arrival. Conversations stopped. Pens were quietly clicked into readiness.

His eyes scanned the room automatically.

Felix was there.

Second row this time, slightly to the left. Back straight, notebook open, hair still slightly damp from the morning shower. Hyunjin noted it all in one breath and then forced himself to look away. If Felix had been late, he would’ve had to mark him absent. No exceptions. No softness. But he was on time.

So Hyunjin wouldn’t have to lie.

He didn’t say good morning. He never did. What was good about it anyway?

He opened his folder, pulled out the roll sheet, and began.

Last names first. Each student responded as expected, “present,” “here,” or some shy mumble trying not to attract attention. The roll call was smooth, detached. It was his armor.

Then he called, “Lee.”

He paused.

Just a second. Barely noticeable.

But inside, his breath hitched. He couldn’t say Felix. Not here. Not in front of everyone. Saying it felt… intimate. Like a whisper shared beneath covers. Like he was confessing something in front of forty-eight people.

Before Felix could reply, Hyunjin said flatly, “Okay. Lee is here. Next.”

He moved on.

Quick. Sharp. Efficient.

Felix didn’t react. Not outwardly. But Hyunjin could feel those eyes on him again. Wide. Curious. Too unbothered.

The lecture began.

He filled the board with equations, his voice fast and firm. “Wave particle duality. Understand this before anything else. Everything we measure, light, electrons, matter—possesses both wave like and particle like properties. You don’t believe that? You shouldn’t be here.”

No one dared to breathe too loud.

Recitation came after.

Hyunjin adjusted his glasses, eyes sweeping the front rows. “Let’s start simple,” he said. “What is the foundation of quantum mechanics? I want the principle. Not the poetry.”

A few students looked down. A few looked frozen.

Then a hand went up.

Hyunjin swallowed hard.

It was instinctual, this reaction. His fingers tightened around the edge of the desk. He should’ve ignored it. Chosen someone else. But it was too late now. “Mr. Lee?” he managed, sounding calmer than he felt.

Felix stood slightly. “Sorry, Professor Hwang,” he said brightly, “I’m a transferee. I don’t know how strict things are here yet since i missed your house rules last meeting.”

Hyunjin blinked. “Yes?”

Felix grinned. God, that grin . And continued, “My stomach’s been growling since six, and I didn’t have time to eat. Would it be okay if I had a snack during class? I swear it won’t be loud or smelly or anything. Just…” He tilted his head. “Can I eat?”

Hyunjin cleared his throat.

His classroom was a warzone. Not a café. But he hadn’t said anything about food or drink in his syllabus, had he?

“No food restrictions were listed,” Hyunjin said, measured. “As long as it doesn’t bother the class. no kimchi, nothing too crunchy. I expect discretion. That’s all.”

Felix nodded eagerly. “Got it. Thanks, Sir!”

Hyunjin turned back to the board. “Now, again. The foundation of quantum mechanics—”

But he didn’t finish.

Because from the corner of his eye, he saw Felix unzip his tiny backpack.

It was pastel, soft blue, small, just enough to fit a notebook, a pen case, and apparently… a banana. Felix pulled it out without any hesitation, setting it gently on the desk in front of him as if he was about to unbox a delicate artifact. He unpeeled it slowly, carefully. Thumbs pressing into the soft yellow skin, peeling it down one side, then the other.

Felix didn’t look away, His expression remained soft, attentive, almost too polite. Like he was still waiting for Hyunjin to continue explaining the foundation of quantum mechanics. Like he was genuinely interested in Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle. But his gaze didn’t leave Hyunjin’s face.

He took the first bite of the banana.

It was slow. Thoughtful. Innocent only in theory.

Felix chewed slowly, his lips pressing together softly as his teeth sank in. His eyes didn’t move. They were still fixed on Hyunjin, patient, curious, glowing with a strange sort of quiet focus.

Hyunjin’s mouth went dry.

He took took another bite, lips covered the girth of banana before he chewed thoughtfully, then smiled. That same soft, polite smile that made his entire face look like sunlight.

Hyunjin’s entire thought process glitched.

He stuttered, actually stuttered, mid-sentence.

“The… the principle… um—” He shook his head, glaring briefly at the marker. “The principle of uncertainty. Heisenberg. Right.” His voice tightened and did not call recitation. He explained it himself. “It states that you cannot simultaneously determine the exact position and momentum of a particle. The more precise one measurement is, the less precise the other becomes.”

Felix nodded while nibbling.

Nibbling.

Nibbling. A fucking banana.

It wasn’t sexual. It wasn’t vulgar. But it was. Because Felix wasn’t trying. He was just existing. And that was what made it unbearable.

Hyunjin looked away.

He could still feel it.

That stare.

He risked another glance, just a flicker of vision to the side and Felix was still watching. Still chewing. Still holding that half-peeled banana in one hand, the rest resting delicately on the napkin he had laid out over his notebook. Every movement was gentle. His posture remained perfect

Hyunjin felt the back of his neck burn.

He turned slightly, pretending to adjust the marker in his hand, but his eyes moved without hs permission. They flicked to the second row, just a glance and there was Felix, bringing the banana again to his mouth.

Innocently. Naturally.

And yet.

Felix took another bite, soft and clean. His soft luscious lips pressed to the fruit without urgency. He chewed slowly, eyes downcast almost closed, feeling and tasting the banana, entirely unaware of the storm he was stirring in the mind of the man standing five meters away from him.

It wasn’t lascivious. It wasn’t even particularly dramatic. But Hyunjin’s brain was short-circuiting.

The curve of the banana. The relaxed posture. The softness of Felix’s expression, completely at ease, completely unaware.

His lips closed around the next bite like it was nothing.

And Hyunjin— God —Hyunjin felt something twist deep in his stomach. His bulge felt like it was the one being held softly, nibbling the head of his shaft, lips enclosed the entirety of it. He got unnecessarily, disgustingly hard.

He immediately looked away.

Confusion. That was the first thing. Denying his carnal desires. Not lust. Not hunger. Just confusion. He thought.

Because how could someone look like that and not know it? How could someone do something so mundane and yet—

He shouldn’t be thinking this.

He knew he shouldn’t.

This was a student. Eating a banana. That was all.

But his body didn’t believe him.

Hyunjin cleared his throat sharply, hoping to shake the heat crawling up his throat. “As I was saying,” he muttered, voice a little too low, “the principle of uncertainty means we cannot determine both position and momentum with exact precision…”

His words blurred. He felt the marker squeak against the board.

But in his mind, he still saw Felix. Still chewing. Still blinking up at him with those stupid, pure, boba eyes.

Hyunjin tried to ground himself, recited equations mentally, forced himself to stare at the formula on the board, but nothing helped. The moment was imprinted in the corners of his vision. Not because Felix was being seductive.

But because Hyunjin was the one giving it meaning.

And that was the most frustrating part of all.

Felix wasn’t teasing him. He wasn’t playing games. He wasn’t even paying attention to Hyunjin anymore. He was just hungry. A boy who skipped breakfast. A boy who asked for permission politely. Who followed the rules.

And Hyunjin?

I am the problem.

He was the one with the thoughts. The one whose hands were clenched. Whose pulse refused to slow. He was the one staring too long. Breathing too shallow. Reading malice into innocence like a man losing his grip.

He wanted to believe he still had control.

But then Felix lifted his eyes again, lips gently pressing into the last bite of soft flesh of the banana, and Hyunjin looked away so fast he almost dropped his marker.

He hated this.

Hated that he was the one ruining himself.

Because Felix was just being Felix.

And he was the one turning it into sin.

At the end of the class, Hyunjin tapped the board once, firm and final.

“There will be a quiz next meeting,” he said, voice flat.

Groans erupted like thunderclouds rolling in from all directions. Some students slumped in their seats. Others sighed in exaggerated disbelief. A few glanced at each other like they were planning their next excuse.

“I don’t care if you’re tired or shocked,” he added, tone even sharper. “Your score will be included in the twenty percent grade of your paper.”

Silence again. Exactly the way he liked it.

As the students packed their things, shuffling papers and zipping bags, Hyunjin retreated to his table, flipping through his notes with purposeful distraction. He didn’t want to look up. Didn’t want to see him.

But he still felt it.

That gaze.

That presence.

And just as the last few students filed out of the lecture hall, Felix paused at the doorway, hand on the frame. He turned, bright-eyed and smiling, and waved goodbye, cheerfully, without expectation.

Hyunjin didn’t respond.

Not a nod. Not a blink. Nothing.

Felix left anyway, undeterred.

That night, Hyunjin tried everything to distract himself. Papers. Laundry. Journals. The science podcast he usually found comforting played in the background, but nothing took root in his mind. The only thing replaying over and over was that damned banana and the look on Felix’s face while he stared straight through him.

He clenched his jaw, arms crossed on the sofa, refusing to move. He told himself he wouldn’t look. Wouldn’t feed the obsession. He’d kept the curtains drawn for days for this exact reason.

But it was like gravity.

With a bitter sigh, Hyunjin stood, walked to the balcony, and nudged the curtain open, just a small opening.

Felix was dancing.

Alone in his apartment, barefoot, a loose oversized T-shirt slipping off one shoulder, a bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. He was twirling lazily, bouncing to a rhythm only he could hear. His eyes were closed, lashes casting soft shadows down his cheeks. The lights inside his apartment were dim, warm, golden.

He looked like a painting in motion.

Glowing.

Hyunjin didn’t blink.

Felix scooped something from the bowl, popped it in his mouth, and kept dancing, hips swaying, feet shuffling, completely free. He danced like no one could see him. Like the world didn’t exist. Hyunjin’s heart twisted. There was nothing polished or performative in it. Just joy. Pure, dizzying joy.

Then suddenly the bowl slipped.

It hit the hardwood and shattered, the sound echoing faintly through the air.

Felix jumped back, blinking rapidly. He crouched immediately, brushing his fingers across the floor to gather the pieces. Hyunjin couldn’t look away, caught somewhere between concern and awe. Felix disappeared from sight for a moment, ducking behind the couch, then reappeared, holding a dustpan and brush.

He knelt on the floor. Began sweeping slowly.

And then Hyunjin’s breath caught.

Felix bent forward.

Knees pressed to the floor. Legs parted slightly for balance. His back arched as he reached beneath the couch, stretching for something, bottom raised instinctively in the air, completely unaware of the sight he was offering.

Hyunjin’s heart slammed violently against his ribs.

He stepped back from the curtain, running both hands down his face.

Fuck.

God, fuck.

He hadn’t meant to look like that. It wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t a pervert. He didn’t mean for it to become this. But that position? Those bent legs, that tiny waist, the flash of pale skin where Felix’s shirt had ridden up, it burned into his mind like a fever dream.

He paced his living room once. Twice. Three times.

He wanted to forget. He wanted to stop thinking about Felix’s mouth, Felix’s soft sway while dancing, the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck when it got damp. But worst of all was how Felix didn’t know . How Felix never looked embarrassed, never looked like he was doing any of this on purpose.

And still, Hyunjin’s thoughts were anything but clean.

He clenched his jaw, furious.

At Felix.

At himself.

At this whole damned thing.

Because this wasn’t just a crush anymore.

It was obsession.

And Felix… that boy was dangerous in ways he didn’t even understand.

And Hyunjin was already neck-deep in something he knew he couldn’t control.

Felix finally cleared the last shard of the broken bowl, brushing the dustpan clean before setting it aside with a small sigh. He stood up, stretching his back, and glanced, almost habitually, toward the unit across from his.

His lips pouted slightly. “Where did he go?” he mumbled, noticing the balcony was now dark. The curtains were drawn shut tight, not even a sliver left open. The warm, steady light in Hyunjin’s living room was gone too. Only the faint glow of his bedroom remained, the blinds closed, still and untouched.

Felix tilted his head, expression unreadable.

He reached for his phone and tapped the screen, pausing the thing he’d been half-listening to while dancing. It wasn’t a Kpop song, not a musical or piano covers. It was a podcast.

He sat to his couch and sipped his water through a glass straw. Pressed play again. A soothing voice had just continued listing ways to make someone obsessed with you without them knowing. Steps. Techniques. The psychology behind desire.

>>>>>>>

Chapter Text

Thursday. It was already 9:30 PM when Hyunjin made his way down to the parcel area in the lobby.

Everything that day had followed his precise routine: his lecture concluded at exactly 3:00 p.m., checking papers from 3 to 4:30 p.m., then a protein-rich meal, followed by his usual gym time from 7 to 8. He clocked in 8 kilometers, came back, showered, and marked some attendance sheets to his google sheets while sipping warm green tea. Everything checked, everything done. Just the parcels left.

The air in the lobby felt colder at night. Dim lights glowed faintly above the wall of parcel lockers. Most residents retrieved their packages earlier, but Hyunjin preferred the silence. No conversations, no awkward nods, no one asking about syllabi or grading curves.

He went straight to the drop zone marked Tower A , then to the locker for Unit 808 .

Four parcels today.

Three were expected. Two from his usual online hauls. A new serum set, the latest volume of a quantum physics journal, and a sleek box containing a portable handheld fan he liked to keep in his car. All accounted for. Neatly labeled, from reputable shippers. All correct.

And then there was the fourth.

Smaller. Lighter. Placed on top of the others.

Hyunjin reached for it automatically until he read the way bill.

Recipient: L

Address: Tower A - Unit 808

He stared at it.

His name wasn’t there. No “Hwang.” No professor title. Just the letter L , printed neatly in block letters like it was a placeholder.

His first instinct was a mistake. A misdelivery. But the unit number was undeniably his.

808.

His.

Hyunjin stood there a moment, unmoving. The concierge had already clocked out, the night shift in charge was not yet there, and there was no one to ask. So, reluctantly, he brought the box upstairs with the others.

Once inside, he lined them up on his kitchen island, arranging the three he knew against the backsplash in order of arrival. He opened them in sequence, inspecting each. The journal pages were crisp and freshly bound. The skincare set was packed with bubble wrap and contained the right toner, essence, and night cream. The fan, minimalist, matte white, functioned perfectly with the battery charged at 40%. He returned it all to their designated spaces.

Then he looked at the last box.

L.

 

Tower A - 808.

 

No courier name. No order confirmation. No return address. Not even a sticker. Just some few chinese characters he didn’t understand.

It was sealed cleanly, quietly. Like it had just appeared.

He narrowed his eyes.

Was this a prank? A passive-aggressive gift from a student who had failed last semester? A sarcastic warning from Chan? But Chan always made his stupid antics obvious. “With love, dumbass” was more Chan’s style.

This was… elegant. Precise. Calculated.

Too calculated.

Hyunjin crossed his arms, staring at the box for longer than necessary.

It wasn’t the size that unnerved him. It was the anonymity. The absurd formality of it. The boldness of addressing it to “L” like that meant something. Like he was supposed to know who that was. Like someone wanted to make him guess.

A strange unease settled under his skin.

He’d never gone by L. No nickname. No alias. Not in school, not now. His name was Hyunjin, and everyone: friend, enemy, or indifferent knew better than to shorten it.

So why…?

His jaw tightened.

He didn’t open the box.

Not yet.

Hyunjin stared at the parcel like it had personally insulted his PhD.

He had no plans of opening it. None. But it sat there on the kitchen island like an unresolved equation, quiet, suspicious, taunting. It had his address. His unit. 808 . That was indisputable. The name, “L,” still bothered him, but what kind of coward sends a mystery box to a stranger without clarification?

Eventually, the curiosity outweighed his pride.

He sighed and slit the tape open with the precision of a surgeon. Inside was… a matte black box. Sleek. Fancy. A subtle logo etched on the lid in cursive he didn’t recognize.

“What is this? A pen? Perfume?” he muttered, already regretting everything.

He opened it and blinked.

It was… furry?

A small purse. No, a fur purse . A little too pink. A little too soft. It looked like it belonged to someone who said “slay” unironically and possibly owned multiple pastel scrunchies.

“This isn’t mine,” Hyunjin muttered, horrified, already reaching for the trash.

But something was inside the purse.

He opened it.

A lipstick.

Or so he thought.

“Lipstick??” he said out loud, like the item might explain itself if challenged.

It was a matte bullet-shaped tube in hot pink. Unbranded. Suspiciously heavy.

Then he noticed the small silver button.

He pressed it.

The entire thing vibrated in his hand.

He screamed.

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

He dropped it like it was radioactive. It buzzed violently across the table before falling off the edge, hitting the hardwood floor with a sinful little zzzzzzzzip .

Hyunjin jumped back like it might bite him.

Heart pounding, he scrambled to pick it up, turned it off, shoving it back into the cursed fur purse like it had shamed his ancestors. His fingers trembled as he checked the black box again, and finally saw it: a folded instruction manual tucked in the underside flap.

“ Dual-Speed Mini Discreet Vibrator ,” it read in perfects cursive font.

He was going to die.

Not from the item. From embarrassment.

He clutched the purse like it was made of plutonium.

A misdelivery. Clearly. Clearly . He checked the parcel box again and saw what he hadn’t noticed earlier. A faint phone number printed in a microscopic font beneath the name “L.”

How did he miss that?

Probably because he didn’t think he’d be handling a vibrator in his living room.

He snatched his phone and typed in the number.

It rang once. Twice.

Then a soft voice answered. “Hello? Who’s this?”

Hyunjin cleared his throat, trying to sound like someone who hadn’t just had a near-death experience with vibrating plastic. “There was a parcel delivered to my unit. 808. I believe it was a mistake. The recipient is listed as L and this isn’t mine.”

“Oh!” the voice chirped. “Yeah, I’ve been waiting for that! I’m in Tower B. I don’t know why it ended up at yours.”

Hyunjin froze.

That voice…

He’d heard it before.

Too sweet. Too familiar. Too… dangerous .

“I’ll just come get it from the lobby,” the caller said. “Can we meet there?”

Hyunjin nearly choked. Meet?

“No,” he said too quickly. “I’ll leave it at the lobby desk with security. You can retrieve it from there. I don’t need… to be there.”

“Oh. Okay,” the voice said, disappointed. “Sorry for the trouble.”

Hyunjin ended the call and exhaled .

Disaster: narrowly avoided.

He shoved the vibrator lipstick back in the purse, then into the black box, then sealed it in the original parcel like it was top-secret nuclear intel. He headed down to the lobby, greeting the sleepy night guard with a polite nod.

“There’s been a misdelivery,” he said. “This goes to Tower B. Someone will come pick it up. Please don’t open it.”

The guard gave him a look.

Hyunjin did not elaborate.

Just as he placed the box gently on the lobby counter and turned to leave, disaster struck. Again.

“Wait! That’s mine!”

Hyunjin almost jumped out of his skin.

From behind the hallway wall, Felix emerged like a rom-com plot twist in crop top form, ridiculously short shorts, hoodie halfway zipped, cheeks flushed, and hair damp like he just got out of the shower.

Hyunjin blinked. Opened his mouth. Closed it.

Why did he have to look like that?

Felix beamed as he jogged over, waving. “Sir! Thank you so much for bringing it down!”

Hyunjin wanted the earth to open and swallow him.

Felix reached for the box and froze. His eyes squinted at Hyunjin’s expression. “Wait… oh my god. Sir.” His voice dropped to a scandalized whisper. “Did you open it?”

Hyunjin’s mouth worked before his brain did.

“I—I mean—I opened the parcel. The outer box. I saw the black one inside but I didn’t…” he coughed. “I didn’t inspect it. I don’t know what’s inside.”

Felix squinted. “Are you sure?”

“Completely,” Hyunjin lied, feeling his ears burn. “I didn’t… press anything.”

Felix looked like he wanted to laugh. “Oh. Okay.” He hugged the box to his chest, then added sweetly, “Thank you again, Professor Hwang. You saved me. I thought I lost it forever.”

Hyunjin nodded mutely and turned to walk away, heart galloping.

Saved him?

No.

Felix had just ruined him. Again.

With a toy.

And a crop top.

And a voice like he hadn’t just committed emotional arson.

He shut the door behind him with more force than necessary. The lock clicked, but it didn’t make him feel safer. Not from what he was thinking.

His thoughts were loud. Unruly. They crawled over him like static. No order, no logic, just noise. He rubbed his temples hard, tried to breathe through his nose the way meditation apps said, but his pulse wouldn’t settle.

His mind replayed it all: Felix, in that stupid crop hoodie, holding that cursed box like it was nothing. Like it was normal. Like it wasn’t holding the very thing Hyunjin had touched with trembling hands just thirty minutes ago.

He wasn’t thinking that Felix had planned it. No. He didn’t think Felix was doing any of this on purpose . Felix didn’t strike him as someone that calculating. Not some master seducer hiding behind boba eyes and oversized headphones. That wasn’t it.

But what shook Hyunjin? What really scrambled his insides? Was the realization that Felix wasn’t as innocent as he had convinced himself.

He had built Felix in his mind like a character from a dream. This quiet boy who danced barefoot in crop tops, who hummed while eating cereal, who lived with such bright softness that Hyunjin thought touching him would be like reaching for a sunbeam. Untouchable. Unreal. Holy. That the only one drowning in lust was Hyunjin.

But now… he knew. Felix wasn’t made of air and light. He was flesh and desire. He had his own life. His own hands. His own mouth. His own…

hobbies.

Hyunjin groaned and dropped into the chair by the kitchen counter, gripping the edge like he might fall off the world. The image of Felix clutching that black box and asking, “Sir, did you open it?” looped again in his head.

No malice. No teasing.

Just curiosity.

And yet, it made Hyunjin’s blood run hot.

He had spent weeks thinking he was the one at fault. That he was giving too much meaning to Felix’s stares. That he was the one who turned bananas and dance moves into something impure.

But now the line between fantasy and possibility felt thinner.

Too thin.

It wasn’t that Felix had done anything wrong. It wasn’t that he had done anything at all. It was just… closer . Touching Felix had been a fantasy. Now it felt like something that could actually happen. Something tangible. Something real.

And that scared the hell out of him.

Because Hyunjin could control equations. He could control students. He could even control the ache in his chest if he buried it deep enough.

But he couldn’t control this, whatever Felix was awakening in him.

And he didn’t know what was worse: the longing or the fact that the longing was now within reach.

Monday slip in.

The classroom was full by 6:59 AM. No one dared test his punctuality policy again. Not after last week’s zeroes. He stepped in exactly on time, his black trousers crisp, his white button-down tucked with precision, his gold-rimmed glasses in place, shielding eyes sharper than scalpels.

“Quiz,” he announced coldly.

A groan rippled through the room like wind hitting glass.

He ignored it. “Ten questions. Multiple choice. No calculators. Ten minutes. And yes this will affect your midterm standing. Exchange papers with your seatmate after.”

He handed out the quiz printouts with the same energy he reserved for death warrants.

The questions were brutal. Half weren’t even from the last lecture but from prerequisite concepts they should’ve mastered in their first year: Dirac’s bra-ket notation, basic uncertainty principles, eigenstates, tensor products. No room for guessing. No room for mercy.

As the silence grew heavier, he stood at the front of the room, stone faced, arms crossed, gaze unwavering.

But it wasn’t on the class.

It was on Felix .

He sat there, lips pursed slightly as he read through the paper. Pen twirling unconsciously in his fingers, one leg bouncing under the desk. His hair was down today, brushed and soft-looking, covering part of his face as he tilted his head to read. His lower lip was caught between his teeth.

Hyunjin swallowed hard.

He hated this. Hated how Felix had become a quiet obsession. Just sitting there, scribbling answers with that ridiculous little wrinkle between his brows. His skin practically glowing under the shitty fluorescent lights. His eyelashes long enough to cast shadows.

The desire snuck up on him again slow and intrusive, like heat under the skin. Felix wasn’t even doing anything seductive. He was just existing. Breathing. Moving slightly in his seat. But to Hyunjin, it felt like gravity had shifted in the room and everything was tilting toward him .

And when Felix looked up for a second, eyes scanning vaguely toward the front, Hyunjin looked away too fast.

He turned to the whiteboard like it needed urgent inspection.

Control yourself , he thought bitterly.

When the ten minutes ended, he snapped his fingers once. “Exchange papers.”

The room rustled.

He didn’t notice who Felix handed his paper to. Didn’t care. He was too busy cataloging every detail of him again. The veins on his wrist. The way he sat, spine straight but loose, comfortable in his body. Hyunjin’s jaw clenched.

He barely heard the students correcting the answers as he recited them.

His voice remained cold, flat, detached.

But his eyes, God help him, his eyes stayed tethered to Felix like he couldn’t cut the line.

And every second he did, the desire only grew.

The air in the room got tense as the papers were passed back to the front. The students had fallen into nervous chatter, laughing awkwardly at their own mistakes, whispering guesses about what might be asked next. But Hyunjin didn’t speak. He sat at the edge of his desk, flipping through the returned quizzes like he was leafing through a list of personal betrayals.

His brows twitched at each score. Two out of ten. One out of ten. One. One. Two. One.

“What is this?” he muttered, jaw tightening.

He raised his voice. “If anyone in this room got a zero, I suggest you take the hint and hire a damn tutor or reconsider your major entirely. Quantum mechanics isn’t a favor I hand out—it’s a field that will crush you if you’re not competent.”

The class went silent.

He continued flipping, knuckles pale with tension, as he added, “There’s no curve. No mercy. Just the laws of this classroom and the ones of the universe.”

He hated failure. Not because it made his class look bad. But because it made him feel like he hadn’t been terrifying enough.

Then he saw it. The last paper in the stack.

Name: Lee Felix.

 

Score: 0.

His eyes stalled there, locked in place.

The number circled in red. A whole blank canvas of failure.

Zero.

Felix got a zero.

He blinked slowly, unsure which part hit harder: the score itself or the look Felix had worn when the papers were exchanged. Because he’d seen it. That second where Felix’s eyes dropped to the paper, lingered, then widened. He didn’t pout. Didn’t whine. His lips simply parted a bit, and his shoulders dropped the way a string unravels from tension.

Hyunjin had memorized his face too well. The way it lit up in sunlight, or squinted when he laughed too hard, or softened into something divine when half-asleep on the balcony.

But this?

This was a version of Felix he hadn’t seen.

Disappointment.

And it stung in a way that Hyunjin couldn’t make sense of.

He looked back down at the paper again. Recounted the answers, hoping maybe there had been a mistake. Something. Anything.

Weird.

He answered questions 1-9 with A. The tenth question was answered with B. He could’ve gotten at least a single correct answer if he wrote A all throughout. And yet. His answers were all wrong.

He tapped the edge of the quiz against the desk, hard.

He could hear his pulse in his ears.

He should’ve been angry. Furious even. The rule was clear: study or fail. But now, seeing that zero circled in red, something tangled inside his chest.

He shouldn’t care.

It shouldn’t matter.

And yet—

His grip on the quiz tightened, knuckles pressing hard into the paper as he stared at that one name: Lee Felix.

Why did this boy, this glowing, messy, infuriating boy, always find new ways to unsettle him?

And why, of all people, was he the one Hyunjin didn’t want to see fall behind?

The clock hit 9:53.

Hyunjin closed the textbook with a dull thud, the sound echoing across the lecture hall. His voice was steady when he said, “We’ll continue from the collapse postulate and operator notation next meeting. Make sure you’ve actually read the references I assigned. You’re not here to warm the seats.”

The students began packing up in scattered waves. Bags zipped. Chairs dragged against the floor. A few groans, a few sighs, the usual defeated murmurs of students too exhausted to even complain properly.

Then, before he could leave, he heard it.

“Sir?” a voice called.

He looked up sharply. Felix, hand half-raised, eyes too wide.

Hyunjin swallowed.

“Yes?”

“I… would like to talk after class, if that’s alright.”

It was soft. Hesitant. Almost polite. But it carried across the room like thunder.

Immediately, a murmur broke out, whispers and sideways glances, heads turning, someone even stifled a quiet gasp.

Hyunjin’s gaze flicked around the room once, sharp as a blade.

“If it’s about your score,” he said coolly, “I’m not curving the quiz. So if you’re hoping for special treatment, don’t waste your time.”

Silence.

Felix didn’t respond. He just nodded, lips pursed, and lowered his hand back down.

Hyunjin dismissed the class, and chairs scraped louder now, boots and sneakers filing out in uncoordinated lines. Felix stayed in his seat as others filtered out around him, expression unreadable, gaze fixed on the floor.

Hyunjin didn’t wait. He turned and walked toward the exit at the side of the hall and into the nearest faculty restroom. He stood in front of the mirror and stared at his reflection like it might fight him.

His voice was hoarse when he muttered, “What the fuck are you doing?”

He looked exhausted. Flushed. His glasses slightly fogged at the edges from how warm the classroom had been. He adjusted them and inhaled, pressing his palms briefly into the counter before shaking his head.

Keep it together. It’s just a student. Just a stupid student who eats bananas too slowly and owns a vibrator and has eyes like an angel that crawled into your veins. He screamed in his head.

He didn’t stay long.

When he returned to the faculty room, the hallway was mostly quiet. Half the doors were closed. The other half buzzed faintly with other professors holding office hours or sipping coffee behind stacks of exams.

Then he saw him.

Felix was waiting outside his door, arms behind his back, backpack dangling off one shoulder. Loose corduroy pants rolled at the ankle, a pale blue tee with a sleepy-looking cat on it, oversized and soft, like it had been washed a hundred times. His freckles were more noticeable under the white hallway light. His hair was parted slightly to the side today, fluffy. Still a little curled at the ends.

He looked up.

And smiled.

“Hi, sir.”

Hyunjin didn’t answer immediately. His breath caught in his throat for half a second. He nodded stiffly, unlocking the faculty room door.

Felix didn’t move to enter.

Instead, he tilted his head slightly and said, “Can I ask something?”

Hyunjin looked at him from the side. “What.”

Felix scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t want to use the transferee student excuse. I know I failed the quiz. And I’ll study, I promise I will. But…”

His eyes locked with Hyunjin’s. Something sincere. Something terrifying.

“Would it be okay if you help me with the tutoring?” he asked, pupils staring directly at his soul, wide round eyes. Those eyes, pleading, searching again. “Just until I can catch up. Professor Hwang, please?”

>>>>>>>

Chapter Text

“I don’t do tutoring,” Hyunjin said flatly.

The words came out quick, sharp, mechanical, like a reflex. No emotion, just habit. A rejection coated in indifference.

But he was lying. Not about the tutoring. He really didn’t do that. More about the coldness.

Because Felix didn’t move. He didn’t flinch or walk away. He just stood there, biting his lip, eyes wide and pleading in a way that made Hyunjin feel like the hallway temperature spiked ten degrees.

Then… he pouted.

Not dramatically. Not annoyingly. Just this soft, helpless downward curve of his lips, bottom one plush and pink like it had never been touched, like it was made to be kissed. Bitten. Worshipped.

Hyunjin froze.

Felix was close now. Too close. A half-ruler away. Maybe less. Ten centimeters? He could see everything. The freckles dusted over his nose like constellations. The near-invisible baby hairs at his temple. The faint blue thread of veins just beneath the whites of his eyes. Pores. Lashes. The micro-movements of breath.

And God. His eyes. Those eyes weren’t just brown. They were deep . Layered. Alive. Like if he stared long enough, he’d fall into something he couldn’t escape from.

“Sir…” Felix said quietly.

Then it happened. A hand, small, warm, so painfully casual, reached out and rested on Hyunjin’s arm. Not just anywhere.

His biceps.

And of course , Hyunjin was holding his textbook and laptop to his chest like a shield, which meant his arm was slightly flexed. Tightened. Unintentionally but unavoidably taut beneath Felix’s gentle grip.

Every nerve lit up.

He didn’t move. He couldn’t move. His knees felt locked. His breath stalled. His heart was thudding in his ears now, loud enough he swore Felix could hear it. His vision narrowed, focused entirely on where Felix’s fingers pressed against him.

And something inside him, something raw, repressed, perfectly contained for years… snapped like a weak circuit.

This isn’t normal.

This isn’t safe.

He’s a student. You’re a professor.

Your pulse shouldn’t do this.

He felt the walls closing in. Not literally, but in his chest. His lungs drew in air like it was syrup. Slow. Sticky. His body was overheating. His throat went dry. Panic was crawling up his spine, icy and electric all at once.

He wanted to shake Felix off. Not because it hurt. But because it felt too good.

Too dangerous. Again and again. By now, Felix was considered a dangerous person for Hyunjin.

“No,” he said, too soft to be convincing. It didn’t even sound like himself.

Felix blinked, confused.

And Hyunjin couldn’t stop staring. Couldn’t stop spiraling.

This boy, this breathtaking boy, wasn’t innocent. Not completely.

But God help him, Hyunjin didn’t want innocence anymore.

He wanted Felix. And it was killing him.

Felix sighed. Not loud, not exaggerated, just quiet resignation. Like someone folding in on themselves, giving up without asking for pity. His hand slipped away from Hyunjin’s biceps.

And hell… it hurt.

Not the absence of pressure. Not the physical part. No. The hurt came from the warmth fading too fast, like someone pulled a blanket off him in the middle of winter. It left his skin cold, and his chest even colder.

He didn’t understand how a touch that had sent him spiraling into panic just moments ago could, when taken away, leave behind something close to heartbreak.

The ache crept in slow, then sudden. He wanted to reach out. Just to feel it again. Just to hold onto something— him —before it slipped through completely.

Felix didn’t pout this time. He didn’t argue. He simply looked at him with the kind of sad understanding that split Hyunjin in two. His soft lips opened, then closed again, eyes flicking to the floor.

“I... I’m sorry, Sir,” he said gently, voice calm like it wasn’t crushing Hyunjin’s ribs. “It’s okay. I understand. I know this is a hassle for you. And I'm just a regular student. You don't have to help me. You're right, maybe I don't belong here. I don't belong to your class. So, I might just submit a late drop form later this afternoon. I’ll see if the admin allows it.”

No.

The word echoed in Hyunjin’s skull like thunder in a cave.

No.

He didn’t know why it hit him so hard, maybe it was the way Felix looked, defeated but polite, holding his backpack strap with both hands like he was anchoring himself. Maybe it was the realization that if Felix dropped the class, he’d never hear his voice again. Never see that stupid head tilt when he was confused. Never catch him eating anything during lectures or watching him through the corner of his eye like he wasn’t obvious.

Never feel that touch again.

Never spiral like this again.

That he will just be nothing but a sight across his apartment. Safe from Hyunjin's dirty thoughts.

He should have felt relieved.

But all he felt was emptiness.

Felix turned around, slowly, and Hyunjin’s chest squeezed so tight he thought he might black out. The silence felt like punishment. And in that silence, one image clawed its way back into his mind:

Felix kneeling at his feet, eyes wide, mumbling frantic apologies while trying to wipe bubble tea and tteokbokki sauce from Hyunjin’s shorts and shoes. That helpless kind of kindness, that chaotic softness.

It was all coming together now.

The boy who spilled food and begged with big doe eyes was the same one who stood in front of him, asking for help and walking away without expecting anything.

“Lee,” Hyunjin said suddenly.

Felix stopped.

He turned halfway, brows slightly lifted, a little surprised to be called back.

Hyunjin’s throat dried. His brain screamed at him to shut up. But something else moved faster, his tongue, his longing.

“I don’t do tutoring,” Hyunjin repeated, carefully this time. “But I can spare… only thirty minutes.”

Felix blinked.

“Every Monday after our class. That’s all I have.”

His next class will start at eleven. One hour free, but he was only offering half an hour, just enough to justify it to himself. Not enough to want it.

“Only thirty, we can start now,” Hyunjin added quickly, like that would somehow undo how desperate he sounded.

Felix’s face lit up. Not a grin. Not overexcited. Just a slow, relieved smile. His shoulders lowered, and his entire presence softened like sunlight leaking through a window.

“That’s okay,” he said. “Thirty is perfect, professor Hwang.”

Hyunjin didn’t say anything more. He didn’t trust himself to.

He just nodded.

But inside, something grew. His wall guarding himself cracked. And through it, Felix had walked in without asking.

Hyunjin’s faculty office was everything he was.

Minimalist. Quiet. White-walled with sharp lines, chrome finishes, and matte black bookshelves arranged with academic precision. Not a single misplaced item. The floor gleamed. The air smelled faintly of eucalyptus and aged paper. No unnecessary decor. No sentimental clutter. A large glass window stretched behind his desk, blinds tilted perfectly to filter the sun. His desk was solid mahogany, head of the department privilege. Unlike the rest of the faculty who crammed into partitioned cubicles, Hyunjin had earned this sanctuary. The biggest room. The only one with a literal door and a double lock.

He didn’t usually let people in.

So when Felix stepped past the threshold, quiet, uncertain, eyes flicking around as if unsure he was allowed to exist in such a space, Hyunjin’s world adjusted a degree.

Felix looked out of place here.

Too soft in his pale blue tee, oversized on his frame. His hair glowed in the sunlight that spilled through the blinds. He was fidgeting, fingers tangled with each other like he was holding onto his own hands for comfort. And his cheeks, Hyunjin noticed, were tinged a delicate, bashful pink.

He looked divine.

A daydream.

A fantasy bleeding into reality, right here in Hyunjin’s clean, clinical office.

Hyunjin wiped his glasses, slowly, methodically, anything to give himself a moment to recalibrate. He couldn’t allow himself to see Felix like this. Not here. Not when the desk between them wasn’t enough of a barrier to stop his thoughts from running wild.

“Sit,” Hyunjin said, voice firmer than it needed to be. “Tell me what topic you’re struggling with.”

Felix sat across from him, legs together, posture respectful, eyes scanning the desk as if it might eat him. “All of it,” he murmured. “I mean… I remember some from freshman year, but everything after the transfer has just felt like a blur. The jump was too much. I got lost somewhere.”

Hyunjin sighed. Long and quiet.

He opened his laptop and glanced back at Felix, who still looked so unsure. His eyes had dimmed, dark lashes lowering with guilt or embarrassment that Hyunjin wasn’t sure which. But he felt it like a dull pressure in his chest.

He wanted to say something like… It’s not your fault. You’re doing your best. I’ll help you. He wanted to stand and walk around the desk and cup those flushed cheeks, press his thumb under Felix’s jaw, tilt his face gently and say You’re not failing. Not to me.

But he didn’t.

He clenched his jaw and looked at his screen. “I’ll give you pointers,” he said instead. “Mnemonics. Keywords. Easy to remember jargons, so you can at least follow what I say next time.”

Felix nodded eagerly. “Okay, Sir. I’d appreciate that.”

Hyunjin shifted the laptop slightly, turning the screen. “Let me pull up my lecture notes…”

Hyunjin cleared his throat softly, forcing himself to look away from Felix’s kissable lips. He blinked, steadying his breath, and turned his laptop back toward Felix. “Alright,” he murmured, voice lower than usual, “let’s start with the basics.”

Felix sat up properly now, cross-legged on the chair, still annoyingly cute but focused.

“Quantum mechanics,” Hyunjin began, fingers scrolling through a minimal slideshow, “deals with physical phenomena at atomic and subatomic levels. Unlike classical physics, which assumes certainty and determinism, quantum theory embraces probabilities.”

Felix tilted his head. “So… it’s like nothing is ever fully certain?”

“Exactly,” Hyunjin said, glancing at him. “Take the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. It says you can’t precisely know both a particle’s position and momentum at the same time. The more you know one, the less you know the other.”

Felix nodded slowly, processing. “That sounds… kind of poetic.”

Hyunjin’s lips curved ever so slightly. “It is, in its way. The universe isn’t always rigid. Sometimes it just wants to exist in possibilities.”

Felix smiled, eyes still soft from earlier. “The possibilities are limitless. Like you and me?”

Hyunjin paused.

His heart stuttered.

And for once, the man who believed in certainties… said nothing.

Hyunjin replayed Felix’s words again in his head like a broken record.

“Like you and me?”

He blinked. Once. Then again. His fingers gripped the edge of the desk. Electric current trailing his spine. He stared at Felix for five full seconds, unmoving, not even breathing properly, like the sentence had knocked the air from his lungs.

Like you and me.

Like you and me?

It was a question. A quiet, wide-eyed, sincere observation. Not laced with flirtation. Not teasing. Just a simple thought from a boy who, for whatever reason, had sat across from him with no fear, no hesitation, and asked if the uncertainty of the universe might also apply to them.

Hyunjin’s lungs forgot to function.

He glanced at Felix. The younger boy wasn’t even smiling. His lips were parted slightly, expectant but unassuming, his expression so terribly innocent it made Hyunjin’s chest ache.

Felix’s face was relaxed, unbothered by the silence, entirely at ease. His gaze wandered the screen, chin resting on his palm. The posture of someone unafraid. Of someone comfortable. He looked up briefly, eyes gentle.

And then it hit Hyunjin like a wave: no one had ever sat across from him like this. Not in all his years of teaching. Not in all the years he built walls higher than skyscrapers to keep people out.

No one dared feel comfortable in front of him.

But Felix did.

That face was too delicate, yet fragile. It was familiar in the strangest way. Like déjà vu. Like Hyunjin should already know the softness of his cheeks, the warmth of his skin. He twitched. His hand betraying him for a second, curling into a fist on his lap. What would it feel like to touch his face? To press his thumb against that cheekbone?

He shut the thought down immediately.

“Professor Hwang?”

The voice was light. Curious.

Hyunjin snapped out of it, blinking hard. “What?”

“You zoned out,” Felix said gently, offering a small, polite smile, nibbling his nail. “Sorry, was that a bad question?”

Hyunjin shook his head and straightened in his seat, clearing his throat. “No. It wasn’t. Just don’t read too much into quantum metaphors.” He turned his laptop slightly, forcing his attention back to the notes. “Let’s move on.”

Felix nodded, folding his hands together obediently.

Hyunjin forced himself to recite from the screen.

“Quantum superposition means that particles can exist in multiple states at once until observed. Schrödinger’s cat is the classic illustration. Until we open the box, the cat is both alive and dead.”

He dared one glance at Felix, who was actually taking notes now, pen gliding carefully over the lined page.

“The act of observation collapses the possibilities,” Hyunjin murmured, more to himself than to Felix.

Felix hummed. “So when we look, it chooses?”

“Yes,” Hyunjin said. “The universe… decides.”

And when Felix smiled faintly, nodding, Hyunjin had to look away again. Because in that moment, the only thing more terrifying than uncertainty…

Was the thought of choosing.

And in this moment, Hyunjin was questioning his own morals.

He had never done that before.

He was, by every definition, an upright man. A rational one. Precise. The kind of person who never crossed boundaries, who prided himself on knowing the difference between right and wrong like the backs of his calloused hands. He was the moral compass people turned to in ethical dilemmas. The iron spine of the department, untouchable, disciplined, always in control.

But now?

He sat across from a student—no, not just a student, from Felix—and he felt every line he’d spent his life drawing slowly smudge.

I’m not doing anything illegal. He reminded himself. Repeated it like a silent mantra. Felix was clearly of age. Old enough to vote. Old enough to be at clubs, to transfer universities, to sit here without fear. Probably 20, 21 or 22. Still… too young.

Too dangerous.

Because in the eyes of the school system, of tenure, of every rule written into his contract, this was already the beginning of something wrong. And the worst part?

Felix wasn’t even trying.

He didn’t know the power he held, and somehow that made it all the more unbearable. Because it meant Hyunjin had no one to blame but himself.

He stared down at the table, swallowing hard. That thought again: CHOOSING, buzzed in his chest like an alarm.

He was choosing the wrong path. He knew it.

And Felix was making it far too easy to reach for the door.

Then it happened.

Felix laughed.

It was a soft one. Genuine. The kind that slipped out naturally, like breath. He’d scribbled something funny on his notes, some inside joke about quantum cats and when Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, Felix chuckled again, eyes nearly disappearing into moon shaped crescents.

The sunlight caught his cheekbones, lit up his freckles. A ray stretched across the office blinds, falling squarely across his face. It was warm, golden, almost surreal. Like some divine spotlight was tracing every curve of his smile.

Hyunjin felt like the ground had slipped under him.

He’d dated before. Twice. Two relationships. Logical, time limited, year long. Enough time to study, assess, and discard. Enough time to know there was no forever in them.

But this?

This moment?

He felt like daisies bloomed inside his sterile, monotoned office. Felt like breath returning to lungs that forgot how to expand. Felix had a way of bringing life to things Hyunjin had already buried under structure and order. Like spring entering a locked vault.

And then both of them reached for the laptop at the same time, Hyunjin’s hand over Felix.

Their fingers touched.

Hyunjin’s hand almost enveloped Felix’s completely, but he pulled away at the last moment. Eyes darting to those small, delicate knuckles. His hand felt warm, too warm. Felix’s fingers were tiny and soft, a sharp contrast to his own lean callused ones.

God. Even their hands didn’t make sense together.

And still, he wanted to hold them anyway.

Hyunjin’s phone buzzed sharply, a low chime vibrating through the still air. His eyes dropped to the screen. The thirty-minute timer had gone off. Exactly on schedule.

“Time’s up,” he said, tone clipped, professional. Distant. His voice didn’t match the way his heart was thudding in his chest.

Felix was startled, visibly jolting in his chair like a cat that had just been caught stealing food from the counter. “Oh my god—” he gasped, placing his hand dramatically over his chest. “You scared me, Sir.”

Hyunjin pressed his lips together to stifle a smile. He shouldn’t encourage that kind of sweetness, but it was there, plain, adorable, and impossible to ignore.

“Thanks, though,” Felix said while standing. He gathered his bag with a quiet shuffle, eyes still smiling. “Seriously, Sir. You explained it way better than the textbooks. And I learn better with one on one. My head couldn't understand a thing during your lecture but this thirty minutes did the thing. Thank you, Professor Hwang!”

Hyunjin gave a simple nod, just short of a bow. “You’re welcome.”

But then Felix paused, slinging his small backpack over one shoulder. “Oh actually, I’ve been meaning to ask,” he said, blinking up at him innocently. “How did my package end up with you? My unit’s in Tower B… 818.”

Hyunjin froze.

For a second, everything inside him went completely still and then his mind filled like a flood with the very thing he’d spent days trying to suppress. That package. That black box. That discreet little item inside the soft purse. That vibrating thing.

Was it really Felix’s?

Was it a mistake?

Or did Felix use it?

Did he press that button at night, curling under his covers, small hands trembling, mouth parted? Did he moan? Was the moan loud enough that it sounded like heavens? Was his ass leaking?

He was getting hard again. The image of a boy with shut eyes and moaning in the dark. The image he was creating was plastered on Felix’s face like a damn slideshow. His hand almost move to reach Felix but he didn’t.

Hyunjin shook his head internally, snapping himself out of it.

He stared at Felix, desperately trying not to imagine him flushed and breathless with that object. God, stop. Please. He swallowed hard, then forced a breath.

“There are regular misroutes,” Hyunjin said, voice clipped again, reaching for rationality like a lifeline. He came up with a rational explanation. “Delivery errors happen when unit numbers are similar. Tower A 808, Tower B 818… same first and last digits. Likely just a scanner mistake.”

Felix hummed in understanding, tapping his chin in thought. “Ohh. That makes sense.”

And just when Hyunjin thought the conversation would end there, Felix smiled wider, a little mischievous now. “But I’m still kinda glad, you know?”

“Why?” Hyunjin blinked, already scared of what could be the answer to his question. 

“Because now I know where you live. Tower A 808,” Felix said so casually, it sounded almost innocent. “And you know mine, Tower B 818. You even have my number now, Sir. You called me, right?”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened. He felt his chest tightening.

Felix giggled softly. “So maybe Sir… if I ever struggle again, I can text you? Or maybe even visit you? I can send you some snacks as a thank you token. Glad we have each other’s number so we can call—” His voice dropped to a whisper, grin slowly fading. “Oh sorry for being too talkative. I mean, I will only contact you if I struggle academically again. Only if I’m really, really desperate, of course.”

Desperate. No. Hyunjin was the desperate one.

Hyunjin’s thoughts imploded. Thinking of ways he’d fuck Felix in his own condominium apartment while screaming his name. On the counter, on the sofa, on the balcony. Stop your thoughts. Please.

He didn’t respond.

Couldn’t.

Felix just waved goodbye with his small hand, stepping out the office door like he hadn’t just set fire to Hyunjin’s entire nervous system.

And all Hyunjin could do was stare at the empty space where Felix had stood, utterly ruined by a boy who didn’t even know the damage he caused.

It was Sunday night, he passed by the window again with a glass of water in hand. He was walking in circles for a while so his protein rich dinner will get digested well before his scheduled run. Then sneak a peek.

Felix was on the balcony across, doing yoga.

Barefoot. Mat rolled out. Cropped shirt sliding up every time he raised his arms, revealing pale, soft skin beneath. His eyes were closed, lips slightly parted as if in trance. The curve of his back in a slow stretch. The slow, precise bend of his waist.

Hyunjin blinked. Looked away.

Then looked again.

How was it possible that someone looked like that at six-thirty in the evening? He should be cooking dinner. Eating. Doing homework. But no, Felix was breathing through some graceful, upside down position that defied every bone in Hyunjin’s body.

Hyunjin sighed, standing in the dim lit of his living room like some deranged night creature. His grip on the water glass tightened.

They lived completely opposite lives. He knew this. His day was structured, every minute accounted for. He once told Chan that if someone wanted him dead, all they had to do was watch him for a day. He was the definition of predictable.

But Felix?

Felix was chaos in cropped sleeves. Unscripted. Unplanned. Endlessly fascinating.

The memory came back like a thunderclap. The moment Felix tilted his head, eyes big and soft, asking “Like you and me?”

The way Hyunjin nearly choked on his breath hearing it.

He stared at his phone. Pulled up the call log. The number he called to return the misdelivered parcel sat there, unsaved.

Except now. He pressed save .

Felix.

Just his name. No label. No last name. No department or note, like he did for all his students and colleagues. Nothing that suggested caution or distance. Just… Felix. Like how he saved Chan. Like how he saved his sister. Like someone close. Trusted.

He hated how natural that felt.

He shook his head and turned back to the window. Felix had shifted positions again. Something involving a full back arch, his hands clasped behind him, his torso bending with impossible grace.

Hyunjin felt weird.

Too weird.

He should look away.

Instead, he imagined things he shouldn’t. Thought about what kind of balance it would take to bend like that. What kind of soft noises Felix might make while being stretched. If he could even hold Felix in that position. If his hands would fit around Felix’s small waist. If Felix would even let him.

God.

He groaned and rubbed his face.

This wasn’t normal.

This wasn’t okay.

But Felix kept breathing through his poses like he was untouchable, like he didn’t know the destruction he was doing just by existing. Just by moving. Just by being the question Hyunjin couldn’t solve, one that kept rewriting his laws of attraction, bending his will like gravity warped time.

And the worst part?

He didn’t want to stop watching.

Hyunjin stared out the window again, the rim of his glass now warm from how long he’d been holding it. Felix was still there, on his yoga mat, breathing through another stretch with eyes closed and limbs flowing like he’d been built from soft rivers and sun.

Hyunjin’s routine had officially collapsed.

He leaned on the frame, shoulders tense. The quiet of his apartment should’ve been peaceful, used to be, but lately, silence only gave his mind space to wander.

Then, his phone vibrated slightly in his hand.

He looked down. Screen still open. A call was in progress.

His stomach dropped.

He hadn’t meant to call him, hadn’t even realized he’d pressed anything. But there it was. Connecting.

And just then, as if fate had a cruel sense of humor, Felix stopped in the middle of his stretch and looked up, straight at him. Their eyes met. Hyunjin froze, phone still in his hand like it stopped with time.

Felix tilted his head, brow raised. He raised his phone to his ear, then pointed at it with a questioning smile.

Hyunjin’s throat dried.

He slowly lifted his own phone to his ear.

“Hello?” Felix’s voice came through the speaker, soft and sweet like the late spring breeze. “Professor Hwang? Why’d you call?”

Hyunjin inhaled too sharply. He fumbled. “I—ah. Sorry. It must’ve been a mistake. Or no. Actually. I just wanted to let you know I’m available again. After class. If you still want tutoring. Monday. Yes, tomorrow.”

A beat of silence.

Then Felix laughed softly. Not teasing. It was just warm, like the sound of gratitude personified.

“Really? That’d be great. I’d love that. Thank you, Sir.”

Hyunjin felt himself melt. It wasn’t the words. It was the way Felix said thank you so sincerely, so easily, like Hyunjin was someone worth thanking.

“Alright,” Hyunjin replied, keeping his voice as steady as he could. “See you tomorrow.”

Felix beamed across the balcony, still holding the phone to his cheek. And Hyunjin who was utterly undone, stepped back and pulled the curtains shut.

He couldn’t deal with this right now.

Not when his heart was slamming so loud.

That night, he barely got through it. His notes sat untouched. His planner ignored. And when sleep finally took him, it didn’t bring peace.

“The possibilities are limitless.”

Felix crept in.

Hyunjin stood with a coffee in hand, its warmth lost to the heat rising beneath his skin. Across the living room, Felix was sprawled over a yoga mat in a pose that did nothing to help Hyunjin’s concentration. Black cycling shorts clung scandalously to his hips, the hem barely grazing the curve of his ass, while a cropped top covered in tiny ferrets rode high with every stretch. His hair was tied back in a messy knot that made him look devastatingly relaxed, annoyingly desirable.

“You’re just going to stare and drink coffee, Professor?” Felix glanced over his shoulder, twisting while stretching. “Aren’t you supposed to be teaching me?”

Hyunjin didn’t answer immediately. He took one more sip, slow and deliberate, eyes darkening as they dragged along the line of Felix’s spine.

“Do that back arc again,” he finally said, voice low.

Felix narrowed his eyes. “Seriously?”

Hyunjin stepped forward, placing his cup down with a gentle clink. “Yeah. Just once more.”

Felix rolled his eyes but turned away, lowering into position. Arms reached overhead. Chest up. Back curved. The motion was fluid, effortless, except Hyunjin’s hands found his waist before he could settle.

“I said I’d help,” Hyunjin murmured, his fingers brushing the exposed skin where Felix’s top had ridden up. “You’re not engaging your core properly.”

“I am,” Felix protested, breath catching as Hyunjin pressed a little closer, palms firm but patient. “You’re just making excuses to touch me.”

“Maybe,” Hyunjin replied. His thumbs swept lightly across Felix’s sides, and Felix shivered. “But you don’t seem to mind.”

Felix turned his head slightly. “I’m starting to think you’re a terrible professor.”

“I’m an excellent professor,” Hyunjin said, leaning in until his chest brushed Felix’s back, lips dangerously close to the shell of his ear. “You just make it hard to focus.”

Silence pulsed between them. Heavy, electric.

Then Felix pushed up and turned to face him, still half folded from the stretch, still breathless. Their eyes locked. Felix’s lips parted as if to speak, but Hyunjin was already moving.

The kiss landed hard, messy, desperate, all heat and hunger. Hyunjin’s hands slid from Felix’s waist to his lower back, tugging him closer as Felix clutched at his shoulders, nails scraping lightly through the thin cotton of his tee. There was nothing slow about it, nothing careful. Just the shared, unspoken ache of weeks pretending.

Felix gasped when Hyunjin walked him backward a step, lips never parting, until the back of his knees hit the yoga mat again. They dropped together, knees tangled, mouths colliding over and over, like they couldn’t get enough. Like they’d waited too long.

And maybe they had.

“Terrible professor,” Felix murmured against Hyunjin’s lips, but his fingers were already kneading Hyunjin’s shaft.

The alarm went off. It was Monday, 5:30 a.m.

“GOD DAMN IT!”

Chapter Text

Hyunjin turned the knob all the way to blue. The cold water hit his back like a punishment, but he didn’t flinch. If anything, he welcomed it. Maybe it would ground him. Maybe it would rinse Felix out of his bloodstream. But no, he didn’t even fight it anymore. He let Felix live in his head, let his presence sit somewhere between a sweet ache and a unforgiving addiction.

He dried off in silence, mechanically buttoned his shirt, adjusted his tie like always. Precision.

The curtains in his living room were pulled a quarter open again, just enough for a quiet peek. Just enough for weakness.

Felix was there, sitting on his couch, legs propped up on the coffee table, a cartoon-print robe hanging off one shoulder, cereal bowl in one hand. His hair was wet, soft curls clinging to his forehead. With his other hand, he rubbed lotion on one knee, then the other. His eyes were glued to something on his tablet, but he kept laughing to himself. God, he looked like a dream Hyunjin wasn’t done dreaming.

He sipped his coffee too fast.

By 6:30, Hyunjin was out the door, everything crisp and calculated again. His slacks sharp, his shoes polished, his face unreadable.

By 6:59, just as he rounded the corner of the hallway toward his lecture room, Felix came sprinting past him like a gust of warm wind, his backpack bouncing behind him, yelling, “Good morning professor Hwang! I have to get inside before you do!”

He turned while running, waved, and winked before disappearing through the classroom door, barely a second ahead of Hyunjin.

Cute.

Hyunjin bit the inside of his cheek to suppress the smile. No. Not now.

He pushed the door open exactly on time, face void of expression.

“Phones off. Eyes front. I will give you instructions for paper due before midterms.”

The class quieted like usual. Routine.

But now there was Felix, sitting right in the middle again, slumped a little but glowing like he brought light with him. Hyunjin kept his distance, eyes darting across the room like he always did when he taught. But occasionally, unavoidably, his gaze landed back on him.

Felix was biting his lower lip as he scribbled something into his notes. A soft crease between his brows. He chewed the end of his pen thoughtfully without meaning to, maybe. But to Hyunjin, it was almost disastrous.

He breathed through it. Controlled. Focused.

He pressed the marker to the board harder than necessary and continued explaining probability amplitudes and superposition, let the science anchor him. The laws of quantum mechanics had no space for Felix’s knee, or Felix’s mouth, or the freckles scattered over his cheekbones like stars begging for an orbit.

Still, something had changed. He was handling it.

He could almost pretend he was fine.

Almost.

Almost until the end of the class, Hyunjin was composed.

He paced slowly across the front of the room, his voice like ice against the dense air. He scribbled the last bit of the day’s equation on the board. An elegant transition from the Schrödinger equation to the time-independent case. His movements were fluid, clean, detached.

“Memorize the form. You’ll need it when we derive particle-in-a-box next week. Class dismissed.”

Chairs screeched, zippers zipped. Backpacks swung. A low hum of chatter filled the space as students filtered out like water draining, murmuring about lunch, or sleep, or how utterly terrifying Professor Hwang still was.

But Hyunjin stood still at the podium, organizing his papers methodically. He closed his laptop with a soft snap, placing it neatly atop the stack of graded quizzes. Precision.

Then there were soft footsteps.

“Professor Hwang!”

The familiar voice was a little too cheerful for this room. Hyunjin didn’t lift his head immediately. But he didn’t need to. The voice lived rent-free in his skull.

Felix.

Some students still near the doorway glanced back, frowning. They whispered something among themselves because no one called Professor Hwang that casually, like a classmate, like a friend.

Hyunjin finally looked up. “Yes?”

Felix only grinned in response.

There were no words, not at first. Just that glowing, incurably innocent face, backpack slung on one shoulder like he didn’t notice the world was watching. And maybe he didn’t. Felix didn’t carry shame the same way others did.

They didn’t speak in the hallway.

They didn’t need to.

The next scene found them in Hyunjin’s closed faculty office. Cold, hard, organized. Not even a plant survived. No warmth. Only logic.

But today? That warmth came with Felix.

He stood by the desk, eyes dancing from the laptop screen to the chalkboard, where Hyunjin had written a few review formulas.

“So,” Hyunjin began, fingers resting near his keyboard, “last week I walked you through the principle of superposition. This,” he pointed at the equation scrawled across the board “...is the time-independent Schrödinger equation for a one-dimensional system. It describes how the quantum state behaves when the potential energy is time-invariant.”

Felix blinked at him like he was speaking a dialect of Martian. Then he scratched the back of his head, ruffling his hair a little. “Right… okay. I think I remember the psi thing. This squiggly guy,” he pointed, “is the wave function, right?”

Hyunjin allowed himself a quiet exhale. “Correct. Psi. It contains all the information about the system.”

Felix leaned over slightly, staring at the equation with narrowed eyes, mouthing it to himself:

-\frac{\hbar^2}{2m} \frac{d^2\psi}{dx^2} + V(x)\psi = E\psi

“This looks like the one from the textbook, but meaner,” he mumbled. “So that… energy, E, it’s the total energy, right?”

“Yes.” Hyunjin tilted his head a little. “Potential energy plus kinetic energy. Except here, it’s expressed in terms of the second derivative. Because particles behave like waves.”

Felix looked awed for a moment. “It’s kind of… beautiful. Complicated. But beautiful.”

Hyunjin wasn’t expecting that.

That soft wonder in Felix’s voice did something to him. Made his spine too straight, his tie too tight.

He glanced at the boy across from him.

Felix had both palms flat on the desk now, leaning closer to see the notes Hyunjin was pulling up on his screen. His sleeves were pushed up to the elbow, revealing the delicate wrist he always adorned with some cheap bracelet. His lashes fluttered as he read. He was too close. Too bright.

Hyunjin turned the screen a bit to face him.

“You’re not behind, by the way,” he said, voice quieter than usual. “Not yet. But you will be if you don’t review this carefully.”

Felix smiled sheepishly. “I’m trying. I promise I’m trying.”

Hyunjin didn’t respond right away. He looked at Felix. Really looked.

It was terrifying, the realization. That this student—this odd, charming boy with boba eyes and cereal breath and pink-tinted cheeks wasn’t just distracting. He was his danger zone. Not because he tried to be. But because of what he made Hyunjin feel.

Hyunjin’s fingers twitched slightly over his keyboard.

He cleared his throat.

“I’ll send you my review notes. And a list of suggested readings.”

Felix’s smile widened. “You’re seriously saving my life, sir.”

Sir.

Hyunjin closed his eyes for half a second. That word. So simple. So formal. But when Felix said it…

“You’re dismissed, Lee.”

Felix nodded, still beaming. “Thanks again, Professor Hwang!”

He slung his bag over his shoulder, just like earlier, all bounce and sunshine.

And as the door clicked shut behind him, Hyunjin remained seated at his desk. Staring at the closed laptop. At the empty chair Felix had just occupied. At the board still carrying the ghost of his wave equation.

He should wipe it clean.

He didn’t.

And just like that, every Monday became theirs.

It was their fourth tutoring session now. Quiet, consistent, and no one seemed to notice. Or maybe someone did. A classmate or two would glance as Felix followed Hyunjin down the hallway toward the isolated faculty wing, but no one said anything. Just glances. Just thoughts hanging in the air like dust that didn’t settle.

If there were rumors, Hyunjin didn’t care. He wasn’t breaking any rules. Not technically. Not yet.

That day was recitation.

Hyunjin held the flash cards in one hand, the other casually tucked into his pocket. His voice remained as cold and crisp as the air conditioning in the room. He called the first student up to the whiteboard. She answered the equation correctly. Textbook example of Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle application. A few classmates clapped under their breath.

Next card. Hyunjin blinked.

Lee, Felix.

He never called him by his full name. Couldn’t. “Felix” felt too tender, too sacred. Like saying it aloud would split him open. So he did what he always did.

“Lee,” he called.

Felix stood and made his way to the podium, smile shy, posture casual, shoulders back like he didn’t feel every eye follow him.

Hyunjin watched him step under the whiteboard light. A baby pink t-shirt, slightly oversized, fell against his frame. There was small, ironic text on the front that read: “ew, people.” Very Gen Z. His hair was done in a messy bun with small braids framing his cheeks. His skin flushed in soft rose. It matched the shirt, and made him glow.

God, he looked pretty. Painfully so.

Hyunjin caught himself drifting. The sound around him quieted like water filling his ears. His thoughts floated. He stared at the soft way Felix’s lashes curled over his cheekbones. His mouth slightly opened as he began writing. His fingers gripped the marker in the most delicate way. Pink. Freckled. Breathtaking.

He didn’t notice the answer until Felix turned to look at him.

Those eyes, wide, boba-dark, and pleading. Hyunjin blinked back to reality.

His eyes fell to the whiteboard and...

It was all wrong.

Not just a little wrong. Comically, fatally, absurdly wrong. And yet Hyunjin didn’t say a word.

The class shifted uncomfortably. They remembered last week. How he humiliated a student for using an incorrect symbol. How his voice cracked through the hall like thunder.

They were waiting for lightning bu t Hyunjin only cleared his throat. “Sit.”

A few students murmured in confusion.

Felix’s eyes widened. He tilted his head, lips twitching like he thought he was about to be scolded. But Hyunjin didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t even sound disappointed.

Instead, he turned to the whiteboard and calmly began rewriting the entire formula. “This is why the wave function collapses incorrectly,” he said, gesturing. “Because you inserted an invalid boundary condition.”

He explained the whole thing like he was talking to a ten-year-old. Slow, clear, patient.

And when he looked at Felix again, he wasn’t thinking about the mistake anymore.

He was thinking about how soft Felix’s face looked when it flushed with embarrassment. He was thinking about how long he could keep this calm, this quiet, before he unraveled completely.

His phone buzzed. With a tight sigh, Hyunjin set down the marker and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Five-minute break,” he muttered to the class. The room collectively exhaled. Pens dropped. Chairs creaked. Students stretched like prisoners temporarily released.

Hyunjin stepped into the hallway and answered the call without checking. “What?”

Chan’s voice came through, chipper and too loud. “Minho added your name to the group list for the reunion next month!”

Hyunjin pinched the bridge of his nose. “No. I’m not going.”

“Oh, come on,” Chan whined. “A high school reunion won’t kill you. Besides, we haven’t seen Minho in years.”

“Is Changbin going?”

“Yup.”

Hyunjin sighed. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

“Hyunjin. You don’t ‘think about it.’ You either go or you rot in your predictable condo like a vampire.”

“I need the exact date, venue, expected headcount, parking logistics, and timeline,” Hyunjin said flatly. “If I’m even considering it, it has to be scheduled into my life. I don’t do casual.”

Chan laughed. “God, you’re exhausting.”

Hyunjin stared at the floor tiles. “Isn’t Minho working abroad?”

“That’s the point. That weird menace bastard is coming home. Vacation. One month.”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “You made me pause my lecture for a reunion announcement?”

“Minho made me promise I’d get you on board,” Chan replied smugly. “I’m just the messenger.”

“Is she going?”

“Oh, her? Your… ex. I’ll check the list Minho sent.” There was a long pause. Hyunjin didn’t feel anything. He just wanted to avoid unnecessary drama. “She’s not on the list.”

A few students passed by, heading to the restroom. Some took long sips from water bottles. Others fished out energy bars and chewed in silence. Hyunjin casually turned his head and glanced through the classroom door’s small glass window.

Inside, Felix was leaning close to a classmate, animatedly talking about something. He was smiling. His face practically glowed in the soft light from the projector.

Hyunjin told himself he didn’t care.

Still, he found himself frozen there, watching. Wanting more of that smile directed at him. Not out of possession. Not really. But maybe a little. Maybe because Felix’s smile did something dangerous to the clockwork order of his life.

“Hyunjin?” Chan said on the other end. “You still alive?”

He blinked. “Yeah. Got distracted.”

“By what? Quantum collapse?”

“Something like that.”

Chan yawned on the line. “I’m coming over this weekend. I have a new game I want you to try.”

Hyunjin groaned. “I’m thirty. I don’t play games anymore.”

“You don’t do anything anymore,” Chan said. Then softer, “I just want some company.”

Hyunjin’s spine straightened. He recognized the tone. Chan’s yearly spiral came as expected whenever seasons changed. S.A.D. And every time autumn approached, his energy dipped with the sun.

“I’ll see you this weekend,” Hyunjin said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool,” Chan replied, pretending like it was no big deal. “I’ll bring beer and uninstall your mental firewall.”

Hyunjin hung up and glanced again at the boy through the glass. Felix, pink and radiant, still laughing.

He turned away before the five minutes ran out.

After class, Hyunjin left the room first as he always did. Swift. Wordless. Not a glance thrown back.

But he could feel Felix trailing him. He didn’t need to turn around. The echo of his footsteps had a different rhythm than the others. Lighter. Less rushed. Like he had nowhere else to be but near.

By the time Hyunjin settled behind his desk in the faculty room, Felix had already entered. Uninvited but expected. Unapologetically casual, like he’d done it for years.

And without a word, he took the seat across from him. Unzipped his canvas tote. Pulled out a small bottle of strawberry milk.

Hyunjin stilled.

The bottle was pale pink. Softly sweating from the chilled drink inside. The cap came off with a familiar twist-pop, and the straw followed, puncturing the silver foil with a muted sound that somehow felt loud in the silence of the office.

Then his lips.

Hyunjin was doomed the moment Felix’s lips wrapped around the straw.

It was obscene how innocent it looked. He wasn’t even doing anything suggestive. He was just… sipping. Cradling the bottle with both hands, elbows on the table, eyes low like he was focused on something important. But he wasn’t reading. He wasn’t talking. Just drinking.

Hyunjin tried to ignore him. He reached for his laptop. Turned it on. Tried to pull up a problem set from last week. His fingers hovered above the keyboard, motionless.

Another sip.

A quiet slurp.

Hyunjin’s eye twitched.

He glanced up without meaning to, just to check how much was left.

Half the bottle. Still time to escape. Still time to breathe.

He cleared his throat and clicked something, anything, on his screen. A spreadsheet opened. It wasn’t even the right file.

Another sip. Longer this time.

Hyunjin couldn’t stop looking.

The way Felix’s bottom lip puckered slightly as he sucked. The faint pop when he released the straw. The way his cheeks subtly hollowed with every pull. The edge of his mouth stained slightly pink, like leftover candy. His fingers curled delicately around the base, thumb tracing the ridges in the plastic like he was idly thinking, unaware, or pretending to be.

Felix didn’t even look at him. He was just enjoying his milk. Mind elsewhere.

Hyunjin was losing his.

He couldn’t remember what topic they were supposed to cover today. His brain was in the milk bottle. The straw. The mouth. The way Felix tilted his head just slightly, hair swaying, throat moving with every swallow.

He looked away again, this time harder. Shut his laptop without a word. Adjusted the sleeves of his button-up. Reached for a pen. Anything to ground himself.

Another slurp.

The bottle was nearly empty now.

God.

The noise of it. Faint and soft, like the end of something sweet, made Hyunjin close his eyes. Just for a second. Just to breathe.

Felix finally looked up.

“Finished,” he said with a small smile, shaking the bottle to show the last few drops.

Hyunjin said nothing.

He only stared. Lips pressed tight. Knuckles white from gripping his pen too hard.

And that was when he realized:

He couldn’t keep doing this.

Not like this.

Not when strawberry milk and silence could unravel him so completely.

Hyunjin inhaled slowly. Collected himself. Gathered every fraying thread of discipline that had ever made him the man he is.

Without a word, he reached for his laptop again and cracked it open. The startup chime cut through the silence like a blade. His fingers moved with purpose this time, not fluid, but forced. Controlled. As if motion alone could distract his mind from the way Felix had just licked the rim of the empty bottle.

He didn’t look at Felix.

Instead, he turned the screen toward him. Not abruptly. No sharp motion but with that same restrained elegance he used to shut doors without sound. The screen glowed faintly between them, displaying a dense slide of quantum mechanical operators and postulates.

“Earlier,” Hyunjin said, low but clear. “We only reached up to the time-dependent Schrödinger equation. Look here.”

Felix blinked, then leaned in slightly.

Not as close as before. Just enough for Hyunjin to catch the smell of strawberry sugar lingering on his breath.

Hyunjin pointed at a specific section on the slide — ĤΨ = iħ ∂Ψ/∂t — and spoke, eyes fixed to the math. Not to Felix. Never to Felix.

“This is the foundation of quantum evolution,” he explained, voice steady. “It describes how a quantum state changes over time. Ψ is the wave function — it contains all the information about a system. Ĥ is the Hamiltonian operator, essentially the total energy operator of that system.”

Felix nodded, his eyes serious now. It was always like this, a strange flip. One moment he was a boba-eyed creature of mischief and softness, and the next, he looked like he wanted to crack open the world just to understand it.

“But how do you know what the Hamiltonian is?” Felix asked, soft.

Hyunjin tapped the screen. “It depends on the system. If it’s a particle in a potential field, we build Ĥ from kinetic and potential energy. Like this—” He clicked to the next slide. “—Ĥ = -ħ²/2m ∇² + V(x). The first part is kinetic energy, second is potential. That defines the system’s behavior.”

Felix squinted at the equation and leaned in again.

Hyunjin could see the glint of sunlight catching in Felix’s hair and for a brief, fatal second, he imagined pressing a kiss to the very spot the light touched.

He caught himself. Focused harder on the math.

“You solve that equation,” he said, quieter now, “to find how the particle behaves. Where it might be. What its energy levels are. It’s—” He faltered. “—it’s everything.”

Felix smiled softly. “Everything?”

Hyunjin nodded. And for the first time since the lesson began, he looked up, really looked and met those eyes again.

“Yes,” he said.

And he wasn’t sure anymore if he meant the equation.

But the sun cut across the screen in slanted stripes, golden and blinding. Felix leaned forward instinctively, squinting at the glare. His nose scrunched. His lashes fluttered.

God. He looks pretty and too cute.

Hyunjin forgot how to breathe.

Before he could adjust the laptop, even before he could react, Felix stood up.

“I can’t see,” he mumbled, and instead of waiting for Hyunjin to fix it, he stepped around the desk.

And stood beside him.

So close.

So warm.

He leaned in to the screen, hand brushing the desk for balance, face tilting toward the notes with the earnest focus of someone trying very hard to learn. His scent reached Hyunjin immediately. Something citrusy, sweet, youthful, faint like laundry soap and something sweet beneath.

Their shoulders almost touched. Hyunjin’s fingers hovered frozen over his keyboard. His heart was loud again. Obnoxiously so.

And all he could think was don’t move because if he did, even the slightest twitch, he might brush against Felix’s arm. And he wasn’t sure what he’d do after that.

Then it happened.

A tiny nudge of Felix’s elbow against the edge of the desk sent a small metallic rattle spiraling into chaos. Hyunjin’s paperclips neatly stacked, organized by size in a matte black holder, tipped and spilled in every direction, scattering like startled ants across the office floor. The sound wasn’t loud, but it might as well have been thunder in the silence between them.

Both of them immediately looked down.

Felix’s eyes widened in horror. “Shit—sorry, I’m sorry Sir. I didn’t mean to,” he blurted out, crouching instinctively. He dropped to his knees beside Hyunjin’s chair in one fluid motion, already reaching for the tiny mess.

But Hyunjin had seen it.

That split second of panic. Raw panic. Not at the mess but at him.

Felix looked afraid. Of Hyunjin’s reaction. As if he expected to be scolded, judged, punished. And it sliced something inside Hyunjin open. Because Felix wasn’t just a pretty face to him anymore. He was delicate. Something too soft for the way Hyunjin normally existed in the world, too soft for someone who’d built his entire life on sharp edges and self-discipline.

“It’s okay,” Hyunjin said, voice softer than he’d meant. “Relax. They’re just clips.”

He didn’t stand from his chair. Parted legs just slid the chair back slightly, giving Felix space without intruding.

But Felix was already on the floor. Picking the chaos he accidentally made. Reaching some under his table, back arched.

Kneeling.

Again.

>>>>>>

Chapter Text

For the second time in Hyunjin’s life, Lee Felix was kneeling at his feet, head bowed, hands moving frantically to collect the paperclips one by one. His sleeves drooped down as he reached, fingertips brushing the legs of the desk, then flattening against the cool tile floor. His hair bounced gently with every movement.

Hyunjin held his breath. He didn’t know what to do. His body told him to freeze. His mind screamed to look away. But his heart?

It was thundering. Dizzying. Loud enough to drown out all logic.

Felix was chaos.

Pure, radiant chaos in the middle of Hyunjin’s precision built world. Every part of Hyunjin’s life operated on a timetable. Every object had a place. Every rule was obeyed without question. No deviations. No clutter. No color.

But Felix…

Felix was all clutter. All color.

He was freckles and flushed cheeks. Bubble tea and soft-spoken questions. Banana breakfasts and missed alarms. Knees on the floor, lips forming soft apologies, fingers brushing against polished tiles.

He was Hyunjin’s favorite kind of disaster.

And Hyunjin should have been furious. Felix had disrupted his routine, his thoughts, his entire psychological foundation. Nothing about Felix was predictable. Nothing about Felix was professional. Nothing about Felix made sense.

But all Hyunjin felt was an unbearable, quiet excitement.

Even if it killed him. Even if every moment like this made him burn with longing and shame.

Then, without warning, Felix’s small frame disappeared beneath the desk, crawling under to retrieve the paperclips that had scattered farthest. A sudden thud echoed out as Felix’s head collided with the underside of the table.

“Ow—fuck.”

Felix groaned, cupping the top of his head, his face scrunched in cartoonish pain.

Hyunjin blinked, startled, concerned, and after a long while, he smiled.

Genuinely. Unfiltered.

Felix looked so tiny crouched like that, so helplessly animated as he rubbed the spot on his head. His fingers moved in circles against his scalp, face twitching from the sting, brows furrowed with all the seriousness of a child who bumped into furniture for the first time.

Hyunjin leaned forward. He didn’t think, didn’t plan it. And his hand reached out.

He touched him.

His fingers met Felix’s soft curls gently, almost solemn, brushing them back from his forehead. The moment his hand settled, a wave of shivers bolted down his spine.

It was instinct. It was madness. It was wrong.

But it felt real.

He patted his head softly, not unlike how someone would soothe a hurt pet or child. But this wasn’t just anyone. This was Felix. And Hyunjin’s hand lingered too long than necessary, his palm against that warm, golden hair. His fingertips buzzed.

“You okay?” he asked.

Felix looked up.

Eyes wide. Bambi, shimmering, innocent but not quite. There was something deeper in them now. A kind of quiet ache, a question unspoken.

Their eyes locked. Hyunjin’s hand was still on Felix’s head.

Then—God help him—it slid.

To his cheek.

No. Hyunjin. NO.

But yes. His thumb was on his cheek now. Right below the cheekbone, where Felix’s freckles were densest, like galaxies scattered over porcelain. His palm pressed lightly against the side of Felix’s face, warm and soft. He could feel the heat rising from Felix’s skin.

Felix didn’t recoil. His lips parted slightly, and his expression didn’t change. Still pleading. Still wide-eyed. Still there.

And Hyunjin couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

His mind screamed at him: This isn’t you. This isn’t allowed. This isn’t safe.

But the rest of him was already gone. He didn’t know what this was. He didn’t know what Felix was doing to him. All he knew was that Felix had found a way to crawl into his life, into his senses, into his heart with the quiet grace of someone who never meant to cause destruction but did anyway.

And Hyunjin…

He wasn’t sure he ever wanted to recover.

A sudden knock hit the door blasted. Hyunjin froze because Felix was still under the desk.

This… this… didn’t look good. It didn’t look okay. It looked criminal.

“Stay,” he hissed quietly, eyes darting down toward the space under his desk. “Don’t move. Don’t speak.”

Felix blinked up at him, half-kneeling, half-sitting, cramped between the wooden walls of the desk and Hyunjin’s long parted legs. His expression showed panic, but he nodded once. Silent. Trusting.

The door creaked open before Hyunjin could stand to intercept it. But Hyunjin was fast enough to grab Felix's small bag on the table and placed it on the floor. Two professors walked in. Not one. Two. The ones from the curriculum committee. Professor Kim from Statistics and Professor Kang from Applied Math.

“Sorry for barging in,” Professor Kim said casually, waving a few printed sheets. “Finalized student list for PHYS401. Thought I’d hand it over directly.”

“And we have a quick concern about the grade weight averages,” Professor Kang added, stepping inside like he owned the place. “There’s been a complaint about your recitation being too heavily weighted. Dean wants uniformity across departments.”

Hyunjin clenched his jaw.

Under the desk, Felix stilled completely, making himself smaller somehow. But the space was tight. Too tight. Especially with Hyunjin still seated. He couldn’t move his legs too far apart. Couldn’t shift without brushing him. Couldn’t breathe without being aware of him.

Sweat began to form on Hyunjin's brow. Not just nerves since Felix was still under the table and he couldn't do anything about it.

“Sit,” Hyunjin gestured to the chairs in front of his desk, heart pounding. “Five minutes.”

As the professors droned on, waving charts and percentages, Felix began to shift under him.

Not intentionally. He was just cramped. But his knee bumped against Hyunjin’s calf. Then slid further up. Felix tried to tuck his legs beneath him. A soft inhale, probably discomfort and then…

His hand.

It landed directly on Hyunjin’s knee.

A jolt shot up Hyunjin’s entire spine like a pulse of electricity. His throat dried. His palms were slick. And still, he tried to look neutral, professional, bored even.

“Yes, well, if the dean is concerned about recitation weight, I’ll… look into it,” he managed, voice a notch too low.

But Felix wasn’t done adjusting. He moved again. This time trying to lean sideways under the table, giving himself more space and his forearm brushed straight across Hyunjin’s inner thigh .

Shit.

Hyunjin sat up straighter too fast. The chair creaked. The movement sent another wave of heat rushing to his ears. He bit the inside of his cheek and stared at the two professors like if he glared hard enough, they’d vanish.

Professor Kim blinked at him. “Are you alright?” he asked. “You’re… sweating.”

Hyunjin reached for a napkin by instinct, dabbing his forehead. “I'm fine. It’s warm. I’ll call maintenance later.”

“We’re just saying,” Professor Kang continued, oblivious, “a 20% weight on recitation might discourage quieter students. Perhaps shifting some of that toward attendance—”

“I’ve made it clear,” Hyunjin cut in, sharper now. “My students know the system. They adapt or drop.”

There was a pause.

Under the table, Felix remained still. But his fingers were still against Hyunjin’s leg. Barely. A phantom touch. Not intentional but Hyunjin’s body didn’t care about intentions.

The worst part?

He didn’t want it to stop.

He should have been angry. Panicked. Disgusted with himself.

Instead, he was breathless.

“Anyway,” Hyunjin continued, standing suddenly, forcing the chair back slightly just enough to create distance without giving anything away. “I’ve got a class at eleven. I’ll review the weights this week.”

The two professors stood as well, finally reading the room.

“Let us know if you need help standardizing,” Kim said, shrugging. “We’ll send the soft copy too,” Kang added.

Hyunjin didn’t answer. He just sauntered and opened the door for them, face flushed, breath tight, body barely under control.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

They left. The moment the door clicked shut, Hyunjin leaned back against it. Hard.

Eyes closed. Heart pounding. And under the desk?

Felix whispered softly, “…Can I come out now?”

“No,” Hyunjin said under his breath. “You can’t come out yet. They might come back.”

Felix, still tucked beneath the desk, stiffened at his words. Hyunjin’s eyes flicked toward the glass door, where the blinds were drawn, but the soft slant of light still revealed faint shadows. Movement. The two professors hadn’t gone far. Their outlines hovered near the corridor, talking just outside. He couldn’t risk it. Not now. Not with Felix under his table, the air already thick with tension he couldn’t exhale.

Hyunjin sat down again, spine tight, trying to look composed. Legs parted in a casual sprawl he’d perfected over the years. His expression carefully schooled into apathy. But inside, he was chaos.

Just as he predicted, a knock followed by the familiar click of his door opening again.

Professor Kang stepped back in, eyes scanning the desk. “Ah, I forgot my phone. There it is.”

Hyunjin nodded stiffly.

Felix, without a word, without meaning to, rested his chin on the cushion of the chair. Right between Hyunjin’s thighs. His soft cheek pressing just beneath the edge of Hyunjin’s lap. And Hyunjin nearly stopped breathing.

The world blurred. His heart slammed violently in his chest, and he prayed—prayed—he didn’t flinch. He was an atheist. 

“Are you going to the Dean’s birthday party this weekend?” Kang asked while walking over, completely unaware. “They’re planning something fancy this year. Faculty only dinner.”

Hyunjin tried to stay still. Tried to stay cold. “No,” he replied flatly. “I’ve already made plans.”

The moment felt endless. Felix’s warm breath ghosted through the fabric of his slacks. His weight was light but present, grounding. Incubus.

Professor Kang nodded. Picked up his phone. “Alright. See you next meeting.”

The door clicked shut again.

But Hyunjin didn’t move. Couldn’t.

His hands gripped the arms of his chair, knuckles white.

Felix whispered, “Sorry sir… my neck is hurting. I needed to rest it.” Then, softer, almost a question: “Can I seriously come out now?”

Hyunjin looked down a nd something snapped. Not loud. Not feral. Something small. Something human.

He reached forward, hand trembling just slightly, and cupped Felix’s face again. Like he already missed him. His palm against that warm cheek, thumb grazing the line of his jaw. The skin was soft, impossibly soft, just as he’d imagined for weeks now. Maybe longer.

Hyunjin’s fingers trembled. His entire body was screaming. He didn’t know what he was doing anymore. He only knew one thing,

He couldn’t stop.

“What… what are you doing, Sir?” Felix asked, voice barely above a whisper.

His words were gentle, but they sliced straight through Hyunjin’s daze like a siren in the fog. It hit him like a crash. What was he doing?

Hyunjin blinked, hands still on Felix’s face and then reeled back as if burned. His chair scraped as he pushed a little, the heat rushing to his cheeks so fast it made him dizzy. He felt shame consuming him. His student questioning his morals now.

“I—” he started, but nothing came out. Just air and regret. His lips parted again, then clamped shut. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He moved his ergonomic chair a little away from the blond. Like he was a poison.

Felix, still kneeling crawled closer to him with his palms open. “Professor Hwang, I got all of them,” he said, grinning like an angel, holding the tiny metal pieces in both palms like a child showing off a treasure. “Didn’t leave a single one behind, sir.”

Hyunjin could only stare.

That smile. So bright. So unaware of the chaos it caused. Felix was beaming, eyes crescents, teeth visible, cheeks round and pink. That joy. That softness. That danger.

While he was hypnotized, Hyunjin reached forward and ruffled his hair again. Like his hands were always trying to reach him without even thinking. As if he was back to his dreamland where he could do anything to Felix without any restrictions.

The moment his fingers sank into the golden strands, he swore he felt heaven again like earlier. Felix’s hair was impossibly soft like warm cotton or the surface of a peach or something unreal. His scalp radiated a comforting heat. Felix laughed, flustered, but didn’t pull away.

He was soft. His whole being was soft.

Everything about him was squishy. Even the air around him. Felix radiated some kind of purity that didn’t make sense. He was like a sunbeam in a sterile lab. A marshmallow in the middle of military drills. And Hyunjin… Hyunjin had always thought himself immune to light.

But their eyes still gazed to each other.

And he saw it. That sparkle. That weightlessness. That goddamn sunshine.

Before he could stop himself, Hyunjin leaned down, fingers found his chin, tilting Felix face up.

Closer.

Too close.

His heart thundered in his chest like a thousand drums warning him don’t do it—but his soul whispered, you already have. Cross the line.

“Professor Hwang?” Felix breathed, still kneeling. His voice barely registered. His eyes, wide and round, flicked up at him from beneath long lashes, lips parting ever so slightly in confusion. He looked like a cat. Or a deer. Or a dream.

Fuck it. Hyunjin closed the distance. No permission. No thought. Just need.

And when his lips finally met Felix’s—it wasn’t fire. It wasn’t chaos.

It was quiet.

Warm.

Sweet.

Like summer.

Hyunjin’s lips tasted sweet, tasted Felix, slowly, like moving through water.

His hand cupped Felix’s cheek, thumb brushing along the curve of his face like he was porcelain—fragile, impossibly breakable. Felix didn’t withdraw. His eyes fluttered closed. He melted into the touch and kissed like it was something he’d been waiting for.

So Hyunjin kissed him more.

Softly.

Not rushed. Not desperate. Just careful.

Their lips met with barely any pressure, like a question too afraid to be asked. Hyunjin could taste the lingering sweetness on Felix’s mouth, cool, sweet, citrusy, almost unreal. Damn strawberry. He kissed him like Felix might vanish if he pushed too hard, like one wrong move might end the spell entirely.

Felix made a sound in the back of his throat, quiet.

Hyunjin pulled back, just enough to look at him.

And in that moment, with Felix still kneeling, lips parted, gaze dazed and shining, Hyunjin realized he was already ruined.

He didn’t know what he was doing. Like his brain was fried enough and he was running on autopilot. Out of instinct. Against his student. Against the university code. Against the ethics of teaching. His hands unbuckled his pants, his member was pulsing and he felt suffocated being trapped inside his slacks.

“Give me a blow job,” he ordered, adjusting his thick, gold-rimmed glasses. Firm. Cold.

Felix was somehow confused, innocent eyes looked like a lost cat in the forest. Felix looked at his already hard member then back to his eyes. That face of cluelessness. Those haunting pleading eyes. The warm blush across his cheeks. It made Hyunjin harder down, his shaft aching to be touched. To be sucked.

Like he wanted to own him. Frame him.

“Give me your hand.” His words were sharp, throwing another order just like that. It didn’t annoy him that Felix didn’t know what to do with his orders. Maybe this is his first. Maybe he was afraid. He got more aroused that he had to guide Felix throughout. That Felix was too pure to be doing things like this.

He knew this was a power play, that he’s a professor and should be behaving like one. But Felix hands full of paper clips, trembled. He carefully placed the clips on the table and then offered a hand wholeheartedly.

His small fingers wrapped around Hyunjin’s base. Too small that he wasn’t sure if his thumb ever touched his middle finger. Hyunjin mouth dried, his length was pulsing, leaking.

He grabbed Felix’s hair lightly, guiding him to his massive shaft. There was a pause with Felix. A hesitation. He looked back at Hyunjin with scared eyes. Like asking for help. Asking if it’s okay to trust Hyunjin in this one.

"I... I don't know..."

“Go, open your mouth and suck it deep down to your throat.” He was still cold, strict, detached. 

The room was too quiet. Hyunjin could hear the wet sound of lips parting, the slow suction of his head being taken into a warm mouth. Tongue swirling across the tiny slit of it.

Hyunjin moaned shamelessly. He wished he hadn’t.

His shaft, red and huge, looked obscene against Felix’s mouth. Like a sin swallowed by an angelic figure. Felix tilted his head to the side, closed his eyes as he swirled his tongue, and Hyunjin couldn’t look away.

He was frozen. Literally and figuratively. Felix looked so mellow and tender like someone tasting a new ice cream flavor. His cheeks turned flamingo with those magical freckles as he spotted a heart shaped one. What the actual fuck. 

He was literally his hot summer wet dream. The office felt twenty degrees hotter.

Felix licked a slow trail along the side of his length, then circled the tip with his tongue like it was instinct, innocent yet intentional. His lips were flushed from the heat, pink and soft, and when he opened his eyes again, they're caught with Hyunjin’s.

He stared. Unflinching.

Hyunjin could see his reflection against Felix’s round pretty eyes directly to his dilated pupils. He could see his own sins staring back at him. He could see detention and possible termination of his license. I don't fucking care now.

Hyunjin’s lungs seemed to freeze. His fingers curled into Felix’s soft hair. Making sure this was happening. And he wasn’t imagining things.

But then Felix blinked once, slow. Let his shaft slide between his lips, holding it there for just a beat too long before drawing it back out, wet and gleaming. His cheeks hollowed briefly. The suction was quiet but unmistakable.

It was unbearable.

The worst part was Felix looked so clueless doing it. That same doe-eyed softness. Like he was just enjoying something sweet on a warm afternoon. Like having a popsicle after a morning play in the trampoline. Like his mouth wasn’t doing things that made Hyunjin’s thoughts derail completely.

Then he remembered Felix wasn’t that innocent. He had hobbies. Vibrator. He could imagine Felix hole consuming the vibrating thing, or consuming his cock entirely.

God.

Felix bobbed his head slightly fast. His fingers tightened around the base. His lips curled around it again. Slowly, his hand was caressing while sucking his oozing cock.

“Felix…” Hyunjin called his name while moaning, for the first time, loud and clear. The name he refuse to say out because it felt illegal. And now he called him like a prayer. Like a dream coming true.

And Hyunjin swore the air in his lungs just… left him.

Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

All he could do was feel everything as Felix licked and nibbled and sucked, and somehow still looked like he didn’t know what he was doing.

The silence between them stretched, thick with tension. His eyeglasses were fogging.

He gritted his teeth. Groaning like he knew he was almost clinging to the edge. “Felix, faster!” He fisted his hair more as he growled, violently grinding his hips against Felix’s mouth and hand.

He felt like he reached the heavens gate through the warmth of Felix’s mouth. His body convulsed with the pleasure as his mouth gasped for air, eyes half lidded. “Oh, God. Hmmmm…”

Felix swallowed hard. Everything. He even cleaned Hyunjin’s cock with his tongue. Licking every last drop of his cum. He finally licked his lips as the white sticky fluid was consumed. The sinful evidence, gone like that.

Felix hummed softly. “Did I do a good job, sir? Are you happy now?” he murmured, eyes glistening, staring at his soul.

The alarm went off like a slap across the face. It was shrill, sharp, and final.

Thirty minutes. Already.

“Stand up,” Hyunjin muttered, voice low and urgent. He didn’t even answer Felix’s question. Just reached for his phone, stopped the timer and began stacking the scattered worksheets on the table after zipping his pants. Felix moved slowly, almost as if reluctant to end the session. Hyunjin didn’t blame him. The deed was dense, the pressure heavier.

“Don’t tell anyone, Lee,” Hyunjin added coldly, still seated, back straight, tone detached like always. It was easier to pretend he didn’t care. Safer. If anyone found out—no, he couldn’t let that happen.

“Or else, what? You’ll fail me?” Felix asked, voice barely audible. He didn’t look up, just quietly shoved his things into his bag like it was muscle memory. No resistance, no fight. Just tired eyes and obedience.

Hyunjin didn’t answer.

Then came the sniffle.

He looked up instinctively and froze.

Felix looked… pitiful. More than pitiful. He looked crushed, like someone had kicked his ribs in and left him to breathe around the pain. His eyes were red, his lower lip trembling, and his hands clumsy as they tried to zip his backpack. Hyunjin’s chest tightened.

A soft, broken sound escaped Felix’s throat. and then another. Tears streamed down his cheeks, not the theatrical kind, but quiet, hopeless ones. Real. Raw. Devastating. And all of it was because of him.

Hyunjin’s stomach twisted with guilt so sharp it nearly doubled him over. Shit, what the hell have I done?

He was such an asshole. The worst kind. Not only had he made Felix cry, he’d been using him. Asking for things no professor should ask for. He hated how he let his primal instincts and lust took over him and forced Felix for a blow job. He was a professor, and he wielded that like a weapon. Like a sex maniac and disgusting pervert hiding behind thick glasses and neckties.

He deserved hell for this. For all of it.

“Shhh… shhh… No.” He sprang from his seat and rushed to Felix’s side, looking around first, checking that no one was near, no one watching through the half-glass doors of Hyunjin’s office. Then, slowly, like approaching something breakable, he cupped Felix’s cheeks in his palms. His thumbs brushed away the tears, careful and shaking. Felix flinched but didn’t pull away.

“No. Don't cry. I’m literally helping you to pass this. I won’t make you do a blow job again next time. We will just seriously study the things you need to understand.” Hyunjin whispered, reassuring. “I won’t fail you. I’ll help you so it will be easier for you to understand the lessons.”

Felix blinked up at him through teary lashes. “Promise?” he whispered.

Hyunjin opened his mouth but couldn’t lie. Not when Felix still wasn’t passing. Not when he still had so much work to do.

Instead, he cleared his throat. “Just see me on Monday again, after class. I’ll help you.”

And if Felix showed up, Hyunjin swore this time, he’d do better.

Felix locked the restroom stall behind him, exhaled, and dropped the act like a costume slipping off his shoulders. He blinked multiple times, no more tears. The corners of his lips twitched up in amusement as he reached for a tissue and wiped under his eyes, careful not to mess up the illusion too much. “God, I’m so good,” he muttered to himself, tossing the tissue into the bin.

He stepped out and faced the mirror, eyeing the slight shimmer under his lower lashes. “Nice mascara,” he whispered, admiring the product’s stamina. “Didn’t even smudge. Worth the hype.” He adjusted the hem of his baby pink tee, smoothing out the wrinkle near the text that read, ew, people, in tiny, ironic print. Fitting, honestly.

Felix leaned closer to the mirror, turned his head slightly, and inspected his cheekbones. Just the right amount of redness around the eyes to make him look fragile, delicate, artfully bruised by emotion, not stress. He dug into his pocket, pulled out a pale pink lip gloss, and applied it in two swipes.

Click. The selfie came out perfect.

His eyes were still a little glassy, his lips shiny and full, his cheeks flushed like a porcelain doll just dropped. “Crying but pretty,” he murmured as he typed the caption and saved it to post later or maybe right now, just to stir curiosity.

He tilted his head, looked himself over once more, and smiled, satisfied.

Level 1: complete.

“He’s bigger than I thought. Must feel nice inside me.”

Now he's on to the next class, where he’d act like nothing happened, just another student with perfect face, a perfect pout, and a secret tutor no one could ever know about.

He blew himself a kiss in the mirror. “I’m so pretty.”

For five straight nights, Hyunjin spiraled.

“Did I do a good job, sir? Are you happy now?”

Felix’s questions left unanswered. His tears was worse. It replaced Hyunjin’s peace. It was echoing in his head every single day.

He hadn’t meant to. He hadn’t planned on caring this much. But every time he tried to sleep, he saw it—Felix’s face crumpling. His lips parting around a silent sob. His lashes wet. The way he wiped at his tears like he wasn’t even surprised they were there. Like he’d expected to cry. Expected to be hurt. And worse? Expected it because of Hyunjin.

Hell. What kind of person made someone cry like that and still wish to see more?

His brain wouldn’t shut off. Not even during his scheduled treadmill runs from 8 to 9 PM. His sacred hour of sweat, speed, and mental reset. Every night, he went to the gym like clockwork. Headphones in. Playlist blaring. But everything was a blur now. The machine beeped, the belt moved, his feet pounded yet all he could see behind his closed eyes were those boba eyes of Felix, wide and watery, flickering up at him with innocence that bordered on worship.

One second he’d imagine Felix licking his length and swallowing his cum, lips sticky and tongue playful, and the next, he’d be crying again, devastated, humiliated, broken and it was Hyunjin’s fault.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

The weirdest part? The darkest part, if he were being honest? It was that he didn’t just feel sorry for Felix. He felt guilty, yes. Disgusted. Miserable. But buried under all that was something far worse.

Power.

There was a twisted, fucked up satisfaction in knowing Felix listened to him. That whenever Hyunjin said “Sit,” Felix just did. When Hyunjin muttered, “Give me a blow job,” Felix obeyed. Not because he wanted to—God, maybe he did—but because Hyunjin asked. And Felix didn’t say no.

That sick sense of control. Of dominance. Of owning something soft and helpless. Something illegal.

It made Hyunjin’s skin crawl. And yet part of him wanted it again.

That scared him more than anything.

He wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t that kind of guy. He knew right from wrong. He had read about manipulative dynamics. He’d told friends to stay away from people who used others like that. He studied ethics in his college philosophy elective. The university’s professor manual he’d memorized was now a joke on his bedside table. The morals he stood for years... He knew better.

So why the hell had I done it?

Why had he looked Felix in the eye while asking for those things, knowing exactly how Felix would respond? Why had he pretended it was casual, a professor’s order, a nothing-favor, when deep down he wanted the imbalance?

What kind of monster takes advantage of someone already so… bendable?

Hyunjin groaned, running faster on the treadmill like he could outrun the guilt pressing on his lungs. Sweat dripped from his hairline, down his spine. He was breathless, but not from exertion. It was like drowning in his own conscience.

He was a good person. But not when it came to Felix.

Because Felix made him feel things he didn’t know what to do with. Guilt. Attraction. Lust. Sadism. Shame.

All he could do now was avoid him. Less chances of wanting to fuck him raw. Make things right by staying away. Tutor him without the requests. Without the exploitation. Be boring. Be clean. Be safe.

Hyunjin didn’t even notice the figure standing outside the glass wall of the gym, one brow raised while smirking, as he watched him sprint like a man possessed. Legs flexing each step.

Felix tilted his head, chewing on a lollipop slowly, his own reflection ghosted over Hyunjin’s sweating form.

“Yummy,” he muttered under his breath, before tossing his lollipop to the bin and sipping his Gong Cha. “I’ll ride your huge dick next time.”

Hyunjin stepped out of the condominium gym, still flushed and damp from the run, shirt clinging to his back, breath unsteady but nothing prepared him for what he saw.

Felix.

Walking past one of the pool benches with bubble tea again like he had fallen straight out of some fantasy dream. A cropped white tee barely covered his ribs, it had crying cartoon bear printed in front, fluttering slightly with the breeze, and his tiny black shorts left nothing to the imagination. His skin glowed, not from the sun but from the cool night lights, like the moon had kissed every inch of him on purpose. The halo of the city shimmered around his silhouette, lamps behind him, stars above. He wasn’t just pretty.

He was ethereal.

Hyunjin felt his breath catch, and not from the run. Felix looked unreal beneath the night sky. His hair tousled, lips glossed, eyes reflecting every flicker of distant neon signs. His frame was small but bright, like something that didn’t belong in this dull, polluted city. Like a secret miracle.

It wasn’t fair, how easily Felix could look like that and make Hyunjin feel like absolute scum.

They were slowly nearing each other now, the silence between them louder than any apology Hyunjin could ever offer. He thought for a moment, maybe this was fate. Maybe the heavens were giving him second chance to make things right. Maybe this was his chance to finally admit he felt guilty and say he won’t make any weird requests again and just help Felix pass his class.

But then, Felix stopped walking.

His entire body stopped altogether. His eyes locked with Hyunjin’s. Not angry. Not cold. Just wide, doe-like. Not fear, not exactly. Sadness. Sure it was sadness.

Hyunjin’s chest tightened.

Felix looked vulnerable. Not weak, no. It was something far more sacred. His expression made Hyunjin want to kiss him, to press his forehead to Felix’s and cup his face, and promise he’d change. Worship the sadness away. Take responsibility.

But Felix took a single step back. Like Hyunjin was a wound he couldn’t risk reopening. Like he was disgusted and realized how evil Hyunjin was. He clutched his chest, as if holding something together, and turned to walk away.

Hyunjin’s entire body screamed to follow him. To chase after and say sorry. To catch the elevator up to Felix’s unit, kiss the ache off his face, and whisper all the regrets he couldn’t say back then. And maybe fuck him in the mouth a little more and make him scream my name. He hated his brain.

No. He wanted to properly apologize and kiss him gently. Just to make sure Felix won't run away again from him. But he didn’t move. His legs couldn’t. Like he was glued in place.

He wasn’t a man who speaks about his emotions. He regulated them in his own terms. He never let anyone see his emotional side. He didn’t even cry in front of anyone, not even to Chan. He was supposed to be that cold, firm, righteous man.

“Felix,” he mumbled to no one. He stood frozen outside the gym, guilt cutting deeper than any run could ever burn.

>>>>>

Chapter Text

Hyunjin liked the silence of Saturdays. He had a strict routine, wake at seven, run a few kilometers (he decided to swap it with morning schedule whenever he has other plans that will hit his run at 8-9p.m.), make coffee exactly the way he liked it, and finish whatever responsibilities lingered from the academic week. By noon, he had already checked all the final-year thesis drafts stacked on his desk, answered emails from the department, and double checked his lecture schedule for Monday. Even his refrigerator was spotless. Wiped clean and reorganized, minimalist like everything else in his condo.

He had nothing left to do except wait. By 6 p.m., the doorbell rang, and as expected, it was Chan, holding a six-pack of beer in one hand, wearing that relaxed grin like he’d been waiting for this moment all week. They did this occasionally, shared drinks and quiet company. Hyunjin liked that Chan didn’t expect too much from him. He just existed there, grounding him in a way few people could.

Chan lined the cans neatly on the dining table like little soldiers. “You seem off,” he said casually, cracking one open. “Is something bothering you?”

Hyunjin stayed quiet, taking a long sip from his own can. He didn’t like to be asked questions he couldn’t answer. Not because he didn’t have words. He just didn’t trust them to come out right. Especially now. Felix kept flashing through his mind. Felix, his student. Felix with the honeyed voice and quick smile. Who looked like he might cry last night after accidentally locking eyes with Hyunjin in the amenity area.

Hyunjin felt the memory stab at him again. Felix had looked betrayed, even scared. Like being seen by Hyunjin was a threat. The image haunted him, Felix stepping back like a frightened animal, lips parting, not saying anything, then rushing away. And Hyunjin hadn’t moved. Hadn’t said anything. He just stood there, as if guilt were a coat he could shrug off later.

Felix was younger by eight or nine years, new to the university, and helpless, clueless. Hyunjin adored him for that. But somewhere along the line, admiration twisted. He started making unethical requests. Nothing innocent. Kissing him first. Then harder-to-justify things like asking directly for a blow job. It was always framed as a command, and Felix never said no. But Hyunjin hated how easy it was for him to make Felix do shitty things in his advantage.

The imbalance was real, and it festered in him like something rotten. He didn’t know if Felix noticed from the beginning that he was lusting over him. Or worse—if Felix did and tolerated it out of fear. That thought made Hyunjin sick. And he couldn’t even tell Chan. Not the details. So he drank more instead, like it could flush out the weight sitting in his chest.

Chan didn’t press. Just sipped his beer slowly, his eyes calm but observant. He could tell Hyunjin wasn’t ready to talk. Not fully. Not yet. “You can say it when you’re ready,” Chan said eventually, voice low and steady. “You know that, right?”

Hyunjin stared at the condensation on his can. His fingers were cold, but his throat was burning. “What if I already made the mistake?” he murmured, more to himself than to Chan. “What if I did something… that questions morality?”

Chan leaned back slightly in his chair. He wasn’t surprised, he knew Hyunjin well enough to expect philosophical anguish hidden beneath every silence. “You?” he said with a quiet huff of disbelief. “You live like some kind of modern day monk. Even as an atheist, you live more righteously than most people I know.”

Hyunjin shook his head slowly. “You don’t understand.”

“Maybe not,” Chan admitted. “But I know you. You hold yourself to impossible standards, Hyunjin. So whatever you did, I’m sure it’s not the catastrophe you think it is.”

But Hyunjin wasn’t convinced. It wasn’t implied. It was the very act itself. That he had failed to recognize the power he wielded. That he cearly crossed a line with someone too gentle to say no. And worst of all, that his guilt didn’t come with a solution. Just silence, shame, and a young student who now avoided his gaze.

He didn’t say that part out loud. Instead, he poured himself another drink. Let it settle in his mouth like penance. And let Chan sit there, steady as always, beside him in the quiet wreckage of a Saturday night.

The beer was starting to seep into Hyunjin’s bloodstream. Not enough to make him slur, but just enough to blur the edges of his thoughts. He leaned his head back on the wall, letting the coolness of the paint soothe his scalp. Chan was still nursing his second can, spinning it absently on the table.

“You excited for tomorrow?” Chan asked, casually. “That forum with Brian Greene is kind of a big deal, right?”

Hyunjin blinked, as if pulled from underwater. Of course. The Brian Greene. Renowned theoretical physicist. Columbia University. Author of The Elegant Universe. A man whose work on string theory and quantum mechanics had practically reshaped how popular science was consumed in the west. And Greene was scheduled to host an international hybrid forum on quantum determinism Sunday morning, a rare opportunity for academic institutions to engage with him live.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin said. His voice was hoarse. “I’m the head of the department. I should be thrilled.”

“But?” Chan prompted.

Hyunjin stared at his halfmempty beer can. He should’ve been preparing. Reviewing Greene’s latest papers, finalizing the introductory remarks he’d been asked to deliver, coordinating the students attending the live stream. Instead, all he could think about was Felix. Not his notes. Not the equations. Just Felix with his boba sweet eyes and delicate mouth, the way he’d looked up at Hyunjin like he wanted to speak but had decided not to.

It was the memory of that expression, obedient, hesitant, and fragile, that wouldn’t let Hyunjin go. Felix had been kneeling by his office table, holding the stack of paper clips, his hands trembling slightly as he extended them. Hyunjin had been sharp-edged, coldly ordered, "give me a blow job.” He had guided when Felix didn't know how to hold his shaft. He guided a student for his own pleasure instead of guiding him for better grades.

And Felix had nodded. Just nodded. That’s what broke him now. How quietly he accepted it. How his eyes had filled, glassy and red-rimmed, and how Hyunjin didn’t say anything. Didn’t apologize. Didn’t ask if he was okay. A professor should never let things get that far. Felix was too soft for someone like him. Too kind. Too breakable.

Hyunjin exhaled, stood up abruptly, and walked toward the wide, ceiling-to-floor curtain that draped the living room window. He grabbed it in one sharp movement and pulled it aside.

Chan choked. “Whoa. Wait, wait! Are you okay?” He sat up straighter, blinking at the sudden flood of city light pouring into the room. “You never open your curtains.”

Hyunjin didn’t answer. His gaze was fixed, burning through the glass toward the residential building across from his. Eight floor, Felix’s unit. It was dark. No lights. No movement. The city felt colder than usual. Inside his chest, something tightened. 

Now the absence was a void. Empty windows. Curtains drawn. No shadow of movement. Felix had vanished into that cold summer night and hadn’t returned. Had he gone to clear his head? Drop his class? To leave the city entirely? Hyunjin had no idea. He had no right to ask. 

Chan followed his line of sight, brow furrowing. “What’s over there?”

“Nothing,” Hyunjin said too quickly, blinking. “Just… there’s usually a cat on that ledge.”

Chan gave him a look. “A cat.”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin muttered, taking another sip of his beer. “Orange. Fat. Has this dumb, judgmental stare. Makes me feel seen.”

There was no cat. There had never been a cat. But Chan accepted it with a raised brow and a small laugh, shaking his head like he knew better than to ask too many questions. Still, Hyunjin kept staring. His eyes were dry, chest tight. The window across from him remained dark. Still no sign of Felix. No glow of warm light. No shadowy movement. Not even the shape of the desk Felix used to sit at sometimes, illuminated by his little desk lamp. Gone.

Chan wandered back toward the couch, muttering something about how weird Hyunjin was acting. Hyunjin didn’t respond. His throat felt tight. He could feel the beer in his bloodstream now. His arms and feet buzzing faintly, head swimming just enough to lower his guard. His hand gripped the curtain, knuckles white, as he leaned forward like being closer would summon Felix back.

But there was nothing.

Just that same hollow ache in his chest, the one that opened up when Felix flinched at his voice, when those wide, innocent eyes brimmed with tears. He hadn’t meant to. But Felix didn’t deserve it. And now he was gone.

Hyunjin’s heart ached as if someone had taken it between their fingers and pressed. Just enough to remind him how fragile it was. How much he didn’t know what to do with this kind of feeling. Unprofessional, overwhelming, and entirely unwelcome. Still, he stared across the gap between buildings, silently begging for a sign that Felix had come home. That he was still there. That maybe it wasn’t too late.

But the window stayed dark. Chan glanced over his shoulder again, then said casually, “By the way… I heard she might be coming.”

Hyunjin didn’t move, still staring at the dark window across the gap. The word she barely registered until Chan added, “Your ex. The one from high school. She RSVP’d last night.”

Hyunjin blinked slowly, the heaviness in his chest deepening. “Then I’m not going.”

Chan snorted. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not,” Hyunjin said, voice flat, fingers tightening around the cold aluminum in his hand.

“Minho will be pissed,” Chan added, now sitting up properly, facing him. “You know how long he’s been organizing that reunion? He even pulled favors to book the auditorium and coordinate alumni invites. You backing out is like... God, it’s like pulling a foundation stone from a house.”

“I don’t care,” Hyunjin muttered. “Tell Minho I hope the house collapses.”

Chan gave him a long stare. “Why are you so affected with her? After you broke up with her, you never changed and remained cold. While she had to beg you over and over again. And it’s more than a decade now. For sure she’s no longer mad at you. Also most importantly… You already put it in your calendar.”

“I’ll scrap it out.”

That made Chan go still. “You’ll what?”

“I’ll delete it.”

“No, no, no. Wait—Hyunjin , you don’t scrap things out once they’re in your schedule. That’s, like, one of your core rules. I once watched you attend a lecture you hated just because you’d slotted it a week before and felt it was ‘disrespectful to time’ to cancel.”

Hyunjin didn’t reply. He drained the entire can in one slow, heavy pull. Tilting his head back and letting the bitter fizz run down his throat like a punishment. When he finally set it down on the table, the metallic clink sounded final. Heavy. A full stop.

Chan leaned forward, now completely serious. “You have something going on. Really.”

Hyunjin groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. His vision blurred for a second—not from the alcohol, but from the weight pressing in on his temples. “Don’t start.”

“I’m already starting,” Chan said, brows furrowed. “You’re skipping the reunion. You opened your curtains. You stared at a window for ten minutes. And now you’re breaking your own system.”

Hyunjin didn’t respond. His fingers picked at the beer label until it started peeling off in strips. Everything about him looked tense, wound, like something coiled tight and ready to snap. But there was no visible anger. Just fatigue. Something in his eyes that looked more like grief than frustration.

Chan sighed, quieter now. “Is it about someone?”

Silence.

“Someone new?” he pushed gently.

Hyunjin didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Not when Felix’s name sat like broken glass on his tongue, too sharp to speak, too dangerous to touch. Not when the memory of those trembling lashes, that tear filled glance, made him want to rip the words out of his own mouth in shame.

Chan exhaled deeply, sensing the wall. He didn’t ask again. Just sat back with his own beer, cracking the tab, the hiss filling the silence between them like static.

Hyunjin turned back to the window. Still dark. Still empty. It was ridiculous how much he wanted the lights to flicker on. How much he wanted to believe Felix would return like nothing had happened. That the pain in his chest wasn’t guilt but something easier to dismiss. But it wasn’t. It was sharp and real and eating away at every corner of him.

So he drank again. The bitterness didn’t help. But at least it numbed.

The egg carton almost slipped from Jeongin’s grip the moment he opened the door to his apartment. “What the hell are you doing here, Felix?” he blurted, voice half a gasp, half a scream as he fumbled to catch the groceries in his arms.

Felix, casually sitting on Jeongin’s couch with his legs up and a half-eaten peach in hand, gave the most nonchalant shrug. “Told you to change your door passcode. It's still my birthday.”

Jeongin dropped the groceries on the counter with a loud thud, one of the eggs cracking in the process. “Are you actually serious right now?” His eyes were wide, fury barely held back by confusion. “You ghosted me. Without warning. Just said you were transferring schools and then radio silence. No messages, no calls. And now, four months later, you’re suddenly here in my apartment like this is some kind of rom-com comeback moment?”

Felix took another bite of the peach, his expression unreadable. “I just needed somewhere to stay until Tuesday afternoon. Seungmin kicked me out after Friday and Saturday night.”

Jeongin froze. “Wait, Seungmin? Isn’t he your best friend?”

“Yeah,” Felix muttered, licking juice from his thumb. “Apparently, I’m a ‘toxic source of distraction.’ His words, not mine.”

Jeongin slammed the fridge shut, his face flushed red with anger. “We already broke up, Felix. You don’t just barge in here whenever the hell you want to. This isn’t a pitstop for your rejection tour.”

Felix set the peach aside, standing slowly and walking toward him with that same soft, calculated expression Jeongin used to fall for and now wanted to rip off his face. “Shut up, Jeongin,” he said quietly. “You still want me. You know you do.”

Jeongin recoiled like he’d been slapped. “You’re the reddest flag I’ve ever waved in my life,” he snapped. “I don’t want you here. I don’t want you, period. And aren’t you somehow rich or something? You have your siblings all in thirties and funding you and your bullshit. Your sister or... brother. I don't know. They let you do things your way because you're what? Their baby? Go stay in a hotel. Or hell, or rent a penthouse. Don’t crawl back here.”

Felix laughed. An amused, high pitched sound that had no business being charming but somehow still was. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Jeongin stared at him like he was staring at a ghost. Because in many ways, Felix was one. A beautiful, well-dressed, emotionally reckless ghost with a habit of showing up where he didn’t belong and acting like nothing ever happened.

“You know what your problem is?” Jeongin said, stepping forward now, chest rising and falling rapidly. “You think affection is some infinite bank you can withdraw from whenever you’re low. Like people are just safe houses. Seungmin, me, whoever else you’ve latched onto lately.”

Felix tilted his head. “And you think I’m wrong?”

“Yes!” Jeongin shouted. “Because at some point, you have to ask what it costs people to keep forgiving you.”

The room fell into a tense silence.

Felix looked down for a second, as if considering something. Then he muttered, “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Jeongin’s voice dropped. “Don’t say that. Don’t try to pull sympathy out of me with half truths.”

Felix looked up again, but something flickered behind his eyes, briefly, something raw. “It’s not a lie. I burned too many bridges. And some of them were on purpose.”

“Yeah, I noticed, you do everything on purpose,” Jeongin replied coldly to Felix's narcissistic ass.

Felix stepped closer, close enough that Jeongin could smell the faint scent of expensive cologne mixed with peach. “Just until Tuesday,” he said again. “Then I’ll disappear. I swear.”

Jeongin held his ground. “You already disappeared, Felix. You’ve been gone. This version of you… showing up with luggage and no warning? That’s not love. That’s intrusion.”

Felix didn’t argue. He just walked past Jeongin, sat down again, and propped his feet on the couch like nothing had happened.

“I’m still not okay with this,” Jeongin said, arms crossed, heart hammering.

“You’re not okay because you know I won’t let you fuck me,” Felix said while grinning. “Because you know you’re no longer my obsession.”

The cold water ran over Hyunjin’s skin like ice slicing through fog. It should’ve jolted him awake, but it didn’t. Nothing did. The entire forum he’d attended yesterday, the one hosted by Brian Greene, the world renowned physicist whose theories once made his heart race was now a complete blur. He remembered taking his seat. Remembered nodding during Greene’s opening remarks. But after that, it was all static. He had been there, physically present, but mentally lost somewhere between shame and regret.

He stood under the shower longer than necessary, water cascading over his broad shoulders, dripping off the ends of his dark hair. The fog in the mirror only reflected his blurred outline. Tall, sharp-jawed, too perfect in posture to look as wrecked as he felt. His skin was pale against the steamy backdrop, eyes red from another sleepless night. He looked exactly like the man in the mirror always did: pressed, polished, composed. Except he wasn’t. Not inside.

He was unraveling.

He had been losing sleep for nights now, thoughts spiraling endlessly around Felix. Around the look on Felix’s face. Those round, soft eyes glistening with tears. Hyunjin’s stomach twisted. He touched him. Authority. He used it. And it made him sick.

He dried himself off with a mechanical efficiency, dressing in a crisp white shirt, perfectly ironed, buttoned all the way up. His black tie was symmetrical, his Versace glasses spotless. Hair styled back just enough to look effortless. Everything about him, the structure, the appearance of a man in control, was a lie today.

He checked the window again.

Eighth floor. The apartment across. Still empty. Curtains unmoved. Lights off. Felix hadn’t come back.

He swallowed thickly, his eyes burning as he stared longer than he should have. “Please,” he whispered under his breath, knowing there was no one to hear it. “Come back.”

But the silence of the building answered him like it had all weekend.

By the time he reached campus, his chest felt like it had been cored. Hollow. He walked through the halls like a ghost in dress shoes, students offering polite bows as he passed, unaware of the storm in his ribs. He reached his lecture hall, the one he taught advanced quantum mechanics in, gripping the steel handle before stepping inside.

And then, it hit.

Felix wasn’t there.

Hyunjin had half expected him to be. He didn’t know why. He thought, or hoped , maybe stupidly, that Felix would still show up. That he hadn’t vanished entirely. That he hadn’t given up on everything between them.

But every empty was an aching void.

He stood at the podium for several seconds too long, the class watching him quietly, waiting for him to begin. He opened his mouth, but his throat closed. He looked down at his notes. They were unreadable. Symbols and words meant to explain the unexplainable, wave functions, uncertainty principles, decoherence, but his mind was not there.

It was still in his office, outside the gym, inside that dim apartment. With Felix. With the moment he shattered someone too soft for the rigid world he ruled.

Hyunjin swallowed again, tightening his grip on the podium. He wasn’t afraid of being fired. If anything, part of him wanted to be punished. Terminated. Stripped of the title and power he had wielded so carelessly. But it wasn’t about professional consequences.

It was about hurting someone who didn’t deserve it. Someone who looked at him like he was a safe place, and left looking like he’d been betrayed.

He glanced at the door. Still no Felix. He would bend his rules as long as he needed to for Felix. He would welcome him even if he's late or what. And just like that, Hyunjin, dressed in ivory, draped in authority, and framed by the sharpness of gold-rimmed glasses, felt his whole world quietly collapse inside his chest.

It was starting to take a toll on him, this silent, maddening routine. Tuesday, by his schedule, was supposed to be perfectly timed. Dinner by 6:00 p.m., gym by 8:00, then one hour of reading and note consolidation before bed. But at 6:10, Hyunjin was still seated at his immaculate dining table, staring blankly at a plate of untouched food. Cold rice. Grilled salmon now drying under the overhead light. Miso soup gone lukewarm. He hadn’t taken a single bite.

The guilt was unbearable. He didn’t know why it was hitting harder today. Maybe because he was starving and yet couldn’t stomach anything. His body rejected it. His chest twisted like it was full of something rotten. The heaviness of regret sat on his gut, and he felt physically sick with himself.

He hadn’t changed much in his condo. The books were still stacked in vertical precision, the sofa throw still folded at a 90 degree angle. But one thing had changed. The curtain that normally remained tightly drawn had been left slightly open, like a confession. He told himself it was to let in air. But he knew the truth. It was in case Felix came back. In case the apartment across from his balcony lit up again.

And just when he was about to give up, when he pushed back his chair, resigned to go to the gym on an empty stomach to burn off the anxiety even if his schedule was still at eight. Then at 6:30 exactly, a flicker.

A light.

Hyunjin froze. His heart jumped to his throat, and he turned his head sharply toward the window. There it was, warm, golden light filtering through the sheer curtain across the building. Unit 818. Felix’s unit. He was back.

Hyunjin slowly lowered himself back into the chair, breath shallow, eyes locked on the glowing square in front of him like it was sacred. Through the gap in the curtain, Felix came into view. He was setting down his bags, moving slowly, almost heavily. He looked thinner than before. Tired. His face carried the kind of loneliness that hung in the air even after a person left the room. His shoulders slumped as he walked around the space, like whatever happened over the weekend had carved him empty.

Hyunjin’s chest constricted.

He watched in silence, guilt swelling like a tide. He didn’t deserve to be watching, didn’t deserve to long the way he did. But there it was, the ache. The way his stomach curled at the sight of Felix biting his lip in thought, the way his hands carefully arranged a new vinyl player on the table near the window. He looked fragile. Intimate in his solitude. And it made Hyunjin ache with a kind of hunger that had nothing to do with food.

God, he missed him.

He missed the way Felix spoke in a higher tone when he was excited. The way he’d look up with those wide, pleading eyes like he was always on the verge of asking permission, even for air. He missed the accidental brushes of skin. The way Felix had tasted when he dared to lean to kiss, thos small trembling hands, like he didn’t know what to do next. And now, Hyunjin wanted nothing more than to rewind everything. Yet also erase everything.

Felix pulled the curtain aside slightly, letting more of his room show, and Hyunjin instinctively leaned back into the shadows. The music player turned on, something soft, analog, nostalgic. A low hum. Then Felix lit a few scented candles, their glow flickering along the window frame. Hyunjin watched him move gently, like someone trying not to break in his own home.

Then Felix reached for a towel and disappeared from frame.

A moment later, his shirt dropped to the chair.

Hyunjin’s breath caught. Not because of lust, not now, though Felix’s bare back had always stirred something visceral in him. But because this felt too close. Too private. He looked away immediately, face hot, heart rattling against his ribs. You shouldn’t be watching. But still, part of him waited. An instinct he couldn’t kill.

And then, just as Felix vanished from view and the sound of running water probably filled the apartment, Hyunjin saw it.

The flame of one of the scented candles flared too high. A loose napkin from the unpacked bag fluttered off the edge of the table and landed against the wick. The fire spread fast. Paper curled black, and the flame licked up the corner of the curtain.

Hyunjin’s blood ran cold.

He jumped up, nearly knocking over his chair. Grabbed his phone and called Felix immediately. Once. Twice. Three times. No answer.

“Shit, shit, Felix ,” he hissed, sprinting to the door. He didn’t even stop to change, just bolted for the elevator with house slippers, phone in one hand, panic rising in his throat.

The elevator was full. Of course. Packed with residents on their way down, no space, no time. The next one was still stuck at the penthouse, floor 35.

Hyunjin didn’t wait.

He turned and ran for the stairwell, bursting through the fire exit, his breathing loud and ragged as he flew up the concrete stairs from Tower A to Tower B, skipping every second step, lungs burning. His legs felt like stone but his adrenaline didn’t let him stop. Eighth floor. Come on, come on, faster.

He burst through the door of the hallway, not caring about the stares from other residents. “There’s a fire!” he shouted. “Unit 818! Fire!”

He dialed emergency 911 as he pounded his fists against Felix’s door, yelling his name, harder and harder, his voice cracking. “Felix! Open the door! Felix!”

No answer. 

>>>>>>>>

Chapter Text

The fire was bigger than Hyunjin expected.

The smoke was already creeping through the narrow gaps of Felix’s door. The corridor was loud with alarm sirens, red lights flashing in dizzy pulses, and the heavy smell of burning fabric and plastic made his throat tighten.

He gripped the doorknob with both hands and yanked. Still locked. The metal was hot, nearly scalding, but he didn’t let go. He rammed his shoulder into it once. Twice. Nothing.

“FELIX!!” he screamed, voice breaking. No response.

Panicking, he turned toward the fire exit. Mounted on the wall beside it was the emergency equipment. The building standard glass cabinet. Inside, a hose, a crowbar, and the fire extinguisher. With trembling fingers, Hyunjin yanked open the box, grabbing the extinguisher and crowbar, hauling them back toward the door. He jammed the metal tool into the side of the door frame, sweat dripping from his temple as he used every bit of strength to force it open.

It finally gave way with a loud crack.

A thick wave of black smoke poured out immediately, curling into the hallway like a living thing. Hyunjin stumbled back, coughing violently, but pushed forward again. He raised the extinguisher, pulled the pin, and blasted foam inside, aiming blindly. The smoke stung his eyes. His lungs screamed. He covered his mouth with his arm and charged inside.

The living room was almost unrecognizable. Curtains completely ablaze. The table blackened and melting. The scent of burning plastic and chemicals choked the air. He sprayed the extinguisher again and again, but it wasn’t enough. The fire roared back at him. Too fast.

“ Felix! ” he shouted, voice hoarse, cracking under panic. “Felix, where are you?!”

There was no answer.

People in the hallway were shouting now, some yelling to evacuate. He heard the rush of feet, the chaos of neighbors fleeing. The building was being emptied. But Hyunjin didn’t leave.

He couldn’t leave.

He dropped the empty extinguisher and ran deeper into the unit, searching through the dense smoke. He checked the kitchen, it was empty. The bedroom was still untouched by flame, but also empty. His heartbeat was a drum in his ears. Felix was nowhere.

His legs moved on instinct toward the bathroom. The door was shut. He kicked it open.

Steam. Heat. And there, crumpled on the floor beside the tub was Felix.

Hyunjin’s breath left his lungs. He rushed to him, kneeling down. Felix was unconscious, a towel draped loosely over his lower half, hair damp from the bath, chest rising faintly with each shallow breath. His skin glistened with sweat, and his lashes were stuck together like he’d just cried. His lips were slightly parted.

“ Felix… ” Hyunjin whispered, touching his face. It was warm. Burning, but not from the fever kind. From fear. From survival. From almost being lost.

Firefighters were arriving now. He heard their boots stomp through the hallway, heard the metal clank of the emergency hose being dragged open, uncoiled. Water sprayed through the broken window, dousing what was left of the flames from the outside. Inside, others were flooding the living room with water from the hose, pushing back the last stubborn flames.

Hyunjin didn’t think. He just moved.

Felix didn’t stir, not when Hyunjin lifted him from the floor, not when the scorched door slammed shut behind them, not even as the smoke curled down the hallway like a warning. His body was limp, head lolling against Hyunjin’s chest, and for one terrifying moment, Hyunjin couldn’t tell if he was even breathing.

His mind raced. Please don’t be gone. Please.

He didn’t stop to think. Just moved. He barreled through the corridor, dodging panicked neighbors and spraying water, his bare feet slapping against the soaked floor. The air was thick and hot, but he only tightened his hold, whispering promises into Felix’s hair, things like “you’re okay” and “just stay with me,” though Felix couldn’t hear a word.

They reached the elevator. It dinged open, packed with more fire fighters and guards who stepped aside the instant they saw him. No one questioned him. No one dared to.

By the time they reached the lobby, bright with chaos, Hyunjin dropped Felix near the paramedics. His chest heaving, he barely registered their voices. All he saw was Felix: unconscious, soaked in sweat and steam, too still. Too quiet.

Someone shouted for oxygen. Another asked for vitals. Hyunjin finally took off his smoke drenched shirt and clumsily wrapped it around Felix’s bare torso, hands shaking as he tried to shield him from the cold of lobby's air conditioner. It stuck to the damp skin in awkward patches, but Hyunjin didn’t care. He just needed to do something.

He’s not moving. God damn, he’s not moving.

Then a sudden, violent cough. Felix’s body jolted. His chest heaved.

Hyunjin froze.

The moment the oxygen mask was placed over Felix’s mouth, another cough racked his small frame, raw and gasping, like his lungs were clawing their way back to life. His fingers twitched. His brow creased. He was breathing.

Hyunjin’s head spun, heart aching with something between relief and panic. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. He just watched, wide eyed, as color slowly returned to Felix’s face, as air finally reached his lungs, as the boy he carried out of fire and smoke started to come back to him, piece by fragile piece.

And Hyunjin… Hyunjin stepped back.

He watched as they cared for Felix, and suddenly, the strength in his legs gave out. He staggered to the side and immediately went to the common restroom. There, he dropped to the floor, his back hitting the wall as he sank down.

And then it happened.

Tears.

Not soft ones. Not the kind that could be hidden with a blink or brushed away with the back of a hand.

Real, stinging, soul deep tears.

They welled in his eyes slowly, then spilled over all at once, streaking down his smoke-smeared cheeks. His shoulders shook despite himself, fists clenching against the cool tile. He tried to breathe through it, to suppress the swell in his chest, but it was useless.

He hadn’t cried in years. Not in high school. Not when his parents divorced. Not when he was in that car accident on the way to his thesis defense. He didn’t even cry when he’d been forced to bury his grandmother while pretending to be strong for his mother.

He had become a man who didn’t cry.

But now?

Now, with Felix alive but weak and pale only a few meters away, the fear caught up to him. The image of Felix lying there in the bathroom, still and silent, nearly consumed by smoke, refused to leave his mind.

He buried his face in his hands and let the panic pour out of him.

He wasn’t just crying because Felix was hurt. He was crying because he realized, with terrifying clarity, how close he’d come to losing the only person who made him feel something.

And that nearly destroyed him.

After a full breakdown for five minutes, he splashed water to his face before going back.

Emergency responders were all on site. The lobby had become a blur of red and blue lights and motion.

Hyunjin stood back, arms crossed tightly over his bare chest, pacing the floor. He tried to look composed. Stoic, even. But inside, a storm was still boiling. His hands were clenched into fists. His jaw locked so tight it hurt.

And then the head of the condominium corporation stepped into the lobby, adjusting his suit and offering a diplomatic smile that immediately made Hyunjin’s blood boil. “Mr. Hwang,” the man said, approaching with caution. “I heard what happened. We’re looking into it—”

“You heard what happened?” Hyunjin snapped, his voice cutting like a blade. “Then tell me, why wasn’t the smoke detector working in Unit 818?”

The man faltered. “We’re still assessing—”

“And the water sprinkler?” Hyunjin continued, stepping closer. “Why didn’t it activate? Why was there nothing to stop the fire until I broke down the door and found him unconscious on the bathroom floor? He could’ve died!”

The room went quiet.

Hyunjin’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was sharp. Controlled rage laced through every syllable. “Do you understand that? He could’ve died because of your negligence. So don’t tell me you’re looking into it. Fix it. And if I find out this happened because of outdated maintenance or skipped inspections, believe me, I will take it further.”

The man nodded quickly, sweating. “Understood, Mr. Hwang. We’ll address it immediately.”

Hyunjin turned away before he said something worse. His eyes flicked back to Felix who was still coughing, but breathing now.

Alive. Barely. But at least alive.

Hyunjin hovered just inches away, soaked in sweat, eyes locked on Felix like the world hinged on every rattling inhale.

Then came the question that snapped him back. “Are you his guardian?” the paramedic asked, voice sharp but not unkind.

Hyunjin didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

She nodded, not questioning the lie. “We need to bring him in. He was unconscious earlier, there’s potential for delayed respiratory failure, carbon monoxide exposure, and thermal injury. He needs a full panel, chest x-ray, and possible oxygen therapy overnight.”

Hyunjin swallowed hard. “Okay. Yeah. Do whatever you have to. Just please keep him breathing.”

The hospital lights were too white. Too clean. Everything smelled like bleach and alcohol nothing like safety, even though that’s what it was supposed to be.

Felix sat upright on the bed, fingers twitching nervously where they gripped the edge of the blanket. He wasn’t hooked to any machines now, just an IV and a heart monitor that beeped steadily beside him. His skin still looked pale under the fluorescent glow, but he was breathing on his own. Just some oxygen diffuser beside him. That alone made Hyunjin feel like he could exhale again.

“I’m okay, Professor Hwang,” Felix said softly, voice rough from smoke and exhaustion. “Promise, I really am. Can I just… go home?”

Hyunjin didn’t answer right away. He watched him.

There was no defiance in Felix’s voice, just fear. His wide eyes flicked toward the hallway beyond the curtain, glassy and uncertain, like a deer too close to the road. His knuckles had gone white from how tightly he was gripping the blanket, trying not to show he was shaking.

Hospitals scared him. Hyunjin could see that as clearly as the oxygen mask that had been on his face just half an hour ago.

Still, he kept his tone flat. Controlled. “No. You’re not leaving until they run the tests.”

Felix flinched not at the words, but the way they were delivered. Firm. Unmoving. Not up for debate.

“They already gave me oxygen,” Felix whispered, as if that should be enough. His lashes lowered, a quiet kind of pleading in his eyes. “I can breathe now. I just… I don’t like it here, sir. I don’t like hospitals.”

Hyunjin stepped forward, his jaw tense. His eyes didn’t soften, not outwardly. But something about the way Felix curled in on himself, small and silent and scared, made something twist in his chest.

“You passed out,” he said, low. “You weren’t breathing. They need to check your lungs. Run bloodwork. Look for carbon monoxide levels. It’s not negotiable.”

Felix looked up at him again, doe-eyed, lips parted like he wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words. He didn’t say anything.

Hyunjin sighed through his nose. His voice stayed calm, but it dropped in pitch, quiet and absolute “You’re staying. Just for tonight. Let them do the scans. And don’t worry about the bill. I’ll handle it.”

That made Felix’s mouth open slightly in protest, but Hyunjin shook his head before he could speak.

“I don’t want to hear whatever you’re going to say,” he added. “Your job is to rest. That’s it.”

Felix looked at him for a long moment. Then nodded, small and slow. He pulled the blanket higher over his lap, curled his fingers into the folds. He didn’t speak again.

Hyunjin turned away slightly, settling into the chair beside the bed. His body ached, his head still foggy from the rush of it all, but he didn’t take his eyes off Felix.

Not once.

The morning passed with quiet footsteps. Felix had fallen asleep sometime around dawn, curled up on his side with one arm draped across his chest, IV still in place. He looked small like that. Vulnerable. Too fragile for someone who had nearly suffocated hours ago.

Hyunjin hadn’t slept. He sat through the night in that stiff plastic chair, unmoving, barely blinking. His mind had run through every worst-case scenario: fluid in the lungs, delayed respiratory failure, neurological damage from lack of oxygen. But as the sun filtered weakly through the ER windows and the nurses came in with their soft voices and sterile gloves, the test results slowly trickled in.

All clear.

No permanent damage. No carbon monoxide poisoning. Some throat irritation, minor inflammation in the lungs, but nothing that wouldn’t heal with rest and care.

Hyunjin had barely breathed until the doctor looked up from the chart and said, “He’s lucky.”

Lucky. That word made Hyunjin’s stomach turn.

He excused himself and stepped outside for five minutes, just long enough to call the university, voice low and even as he said, “I have a personal emergency. I won’t be attending any lectures today.” They didn’t question it. They never did.

When he returned, Felix was sitting upright, blinking at the cup of water on the tray beside him. He looked better. Bright color had returned to his cheeks, and his breathing was no longer shallow. But the moment his eyes found Hyunjin, they dropped again.

The doctor pulled Hyunjin aside shortly after.

“As his listed guardian, I need to walk you through his care plan,” she said, clipboard in hand.

The words echoed in his head. As his listed guardian. Hyunjin nodded silently, arms crossed as she explained.

“He needs a quiet place to recover. No physical exertion for the next few days. His throat will be sore, so warm fluids, lozenges, and rest. If there’s any sign of wheezing, chest pain, or dizziness, bring him back immediately.”

He nodded again, committing each instruction to memory. It wasn’t difficult. His brain had already catalogued every moment of the fire… every second Felix wasn’t breathing, every flicker of panic in those wide, frightened eyes.

They discharged him before lunch. The nurses removed the IV, handed over the prescriptions, and wheeled Felix out to the curb where Hyunjin’s car waited. A spotless white Genesis with seats so clean they looked unused. Felix paused when he saw it.

The car was too perfect. Too pristine. Not a speck of dust on the dashboard, not a fingerprint on the windows. It reflected Hyunjin’s coldness, his obsessive need for order, for control. And as Felix slid carefully into the passenger seat, his hands hovered just above the armrest, like he was afraid of leaving a mark.

They drove in silence for most of the way. Felix stared out the window, face unreadable. Hyunjin’s grip on the steering wheel was tight, but his voice remained calm.

“You’ll stay at my place,” he said quietly, not looking at him. “Just for a few days. Until you’re stable.”

Felix didn’t respond right away. Then, softly, “I’m okay. I can go home, sir.”

Hyunjin glanced at him. Felix’s posture was stiff, unsure. He wasn’t protesting, he was retreating. Pulling away.

The words hit harder than they should have. A small, hesitant refusal but it cut deeper than anger would have. Hyunjin’s heart sank, sudden and sharp.

The thought crept in quietly. It is definitely because of that moment in my office last week.

Because after several tutoring sessions, Felix trusted him fully. And he was cheerful while learning things slowly. And he was innocently showing the collected paper clips in his hands. But Hyunjin, wasn’t gentle by nature, ordered him to do an unethical deed. Felix looked helpless especially when he thought Hyunjin will fail him if anyone got to know what happened in that closed door. And maybe Felix remembered that more than anything else right now.

He took a long breath.

“I won’t do anything that’ll scare you, I won’t… I won’t take advantage of you.” Hyunjin said quietly, his eyes fixed on the road. The words came slower than usual, careful and intentional.

Felix turned his head slightly, watching him. Not with fear but with something close to disbelief. Like he hadn’t expected Hyunjin to say anything at all.

“I mean it,” Hyunjin added. “You don’t have to be afraid of me. Don’t run from me. It was a mistake.”

He just changed lanes and kept driving, eyes never leaving the road. The drive was even more silent after that.

When they finally pulled into the underground parking lot of Hyunjin’s building, Felix still didn’t say a word. He only looked up when Hyunjin cut the engine.

“You’ll stay with me for a few days so make yourself comfortable,” Hyunjin said, voice neutral, stripped down to the facts. “I’ll go back to your place to see what I can get. They’re already assessing the damage and I already talked to the insurance personnel.”

Felix flinched at the words. Not visibly but Hyunjin noticed. A pause. A breath caught in his throat. And then, softly, “I don’t want to cause trouble, sir. I can just go back. You don’t have to take care of me. I can handle myself in my own place.”

Hyunjin turned toward him, brow furrowed.

“Everything there is destroyed,” he said evenly. “You still need to recover. The only areas untouched by the fire are your bedroom and bathroom.”

Felix hesitated, blinking up at him. “Sir… that’s why I can still live there,” he said quietly, almost childishly, as if the logic made perfect sense in his head.

Hyunjin’s jaw tensed. “Don’t be stubborn, Felix!”

There it was again. That voice. The one he used without thinking—loud, cold, clipped, authoritative. Final.

It slipped out too easily, even now. Even after he’d promised himself he wouldn’t speak to Felix like that outside the class.

He saw the flicker in Felix’s eyes. That tiny recoil. The way he pulled into himself, shoulders shrinking. The same look Hyunjin had seen when he asked for a blow job. Deference, hesitation, quiet compliance. And now, in this moment, it made something twist in his chest.

Guilt clawed its way up his throat, bitter and burning.

How many times had he spoken that way? Sharp-edged because it got things done without questions? How many times had Felix nodded or obeyed, not because he agreed, but because he didn’t know how to say no?

This wasn’t that. This wasn’t some power game.

This was about safety.

But it still didn’t make the voice okay.

Hyunjin closed his eyes for a second. Forced his lungs to fill. And then, carefully, gently, he now forced himself to go as soft as possible, like talking to a child. “I assure you I won’t cross your personal space. I just want to help, okay? I want you to recover as soon as possible. I will give you my bedroom and I will sleep at the sofa of that's bothering you. I promise, I won't ask you to... to do that again. Do you understand? Stay with me. Don’t be stubborn. Please, Felix…”

His name sat heavy on Hyunjin’s tongue. Fragile. Personal. Too intimate for the air between them, yet too necessary not to say.

“I won’t do anything that’ll traumatize you,” he added, quieter now, the edge stripped clean from his voice. “I just want you to recover fast.”

Felix didn’t look at him. But after a moment, he gave the slightest nod. Not agreement. Not surrender. Just permission.

They stepped out of the car into the parking garage, and for a moment, the silence between them thickened.

Hyunjin closed the door gently behind him, the soft click echoing off the concrete walls. He waited for Felix to follow. But Felix didn’t move.

He stood there beside the car, hands limp at his sides, eyes distant. Not resisting, just frozen. Like something inside him hadn’t caught up. Like he was still standing in the middle of the fire, still waiting for permission to move.

Hyunjin didn’t say anything at first. He only watched.

And he saw it. saw the hesitation in Felix’s eyes. The quiet, inward battle. Not just exhaustion or pain. But something else.

His faced displayed: Can I trust him?

The unspoken question hung between them like smoke.

Hyunjin’s heart twisted. He knew that look too well. That cautious, guarded pause. He’d seen it before. When he crossed lines he never should have.

He’d done this. He’d made Felix afraid to follow him.

His own fingers curled against his palm, fighting the urge to reach out. He didn’t want to touch him. Not if it would make him shrink away. Not if it would make him feel cornered.

But they couldn’t stay down here. And Felix couldn’t walk into a burned-out apartment just to avoid him.

So Hyunjin forced himself to move. Gently, carefully, he reached out and took Felix by the wrist.

The contact was light. Barely anything. Just skin against skin.

But Felix flinched.

Not a jerk. Not a protest.

Just a twitch. A reflex. Like his body remembered more than his voice ever said.

Hyunjin hated himself for it.

But he didn’t let go.

“I need you upstairs,” he said quietly, keeping his voice even. “It’s safe there. I promise. I won’t hurt you.”

Felix didn’t speak. But after a second, he took a small step forward, letting Hyunjin guide him.

So Hyunjin did what he had to.

He held onto that slender wrist, not tight, not controlling, and led him toward the elevator. One step at a time. Each footfall echoing against concrete like a decision he didn’t know how to make softer.

It wasn’t how he wanted it.

But he’d get Felix to safety.

Even if it meant holding him like something fragile, something that still didn’t know if it wanted to stay.

>>>>>>

Chapter Text

Hyunjin unlocked the door to his condominium and stepped aside to let Felix in first. The space greeted them with silence, high ceilings, cold marble, the soft thrum of a temperature controlled unit. Everything was immaculate. Unlived-in. Not a single cushion out of place. No clutter. No warmth.

Felix walked in slowly, almost reluctantly. His hospital slippers made no sound against the pristine floor.

Hyunjin watched him from the entrance as Felix hovered near the dining table, unsure. He didn’t sit until Hyunjin gestured toward the chair. Even then, he lowered himself with visible hesitation, like he was afraid of leaving smudges on the fabric. His shoulders were hunched, fingers twitchy, lips pressed together. He looked too small in the space. Too human.

He started biting his nails.

Hyunjin pretended not to see it.

Instead, he moved into the kitchen. The routine helped. It gave his hands something to do. Once the skillet was hot, he placed pork belly slices in and cooked until both sides were golden brown. He cracked two eggs into a pan, added rice from the cooker, and stirred them together with sesame oil and a bit of scallions. Simple. Quick. Something warm that didn’t require asking Felix what he wanted because he knew Felix wouldn’t answer anyway.

The smell filled the quiet.

When he plated the food, he carried both bowls to the table and set one down at the far end.

Then, without a word, he walked around to the opposite end and sat across from him. The table was long, absurdly so for someone who always ate alone and the distance between them felt deliberate.

Felix blinked at the bowl in front of him, then muttered a soft “Thank you, sir,” barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin didn’t respond right away. He picked up his spoon and started eating, the clink of metal against ceramic the only sound between them.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Felix hesitate. He took a single bite. Then another. But his shoulders never relaxed. His fingers still trembled slightly where they gripped the spoon.

He didn’t belong here. Not in this cold, colorless space. Not under the weight of Hyunjin’s silence and his own uncertainty.

And Hyunjin knew it. But he also knew Felix had nowhere else to go.

So they ate together. Ten feet apart. Like strangers bound by a fragile thread of obligation.

Hyunjin didn’t touch his water. He watched Felix finish half the bowl, then set it down with a quiet clink. He kept biting his nails after that, eyes fixed on the table, like he wanted to disappear into the grain of the wood.

Hyunjin’s fingers curled tightly around his spoon.

He wanted to say something. Anything. But everything he thought of sounded too clinical. Too insincere. He was afraid to sound like his normal self, the one who barked orders and expected obedience.

So he said nothing.

And Felix didn’t ask why.

They just sat there, in the silence of a home that had never been meant for two.

When the meal was done, neither of them look at each other. Felix pushed his bowl slightly forward, spoon resting neatly inside like he didn’t want to make a mess. Hyunjin stood without a word, collected both dishes, and carried them to the sink.

He didn’t mind washing them. The running water helped fill the silence that had grown dense between them, too loud in a space as clean and still as this.

Felix remained at the far end of the table, fingers twitching near his mouth before he stopped himself from biting his nails again. His gaze drifted blankly toward the living room, but he didn’t move.

Once the dishes were stacked neatly in the rack, Hyunjin dried his hands and walked over. He didn’t say much. He didn’t trust himself to but he held out the remote control, arm slightly extended like he was peace offering or something.

“Settle at the couch,” he said quietly. “You can watch something if you want. Just… until I get back.”

Felix looked up slowly, blinking. He accepted the remote without touching Hyunjin’s fingers. “Wait—where are you going?”

“I’m going to your place,” Hyunjin replied, already reaching for his keys. “To get things. Whatever you might need. Clothes, toiletries. Anything usable.”

Felix didn’t respond. He just nodded once, then glanced toward the couch like he wasn’t sure he deserved to sit there.

Hyunjin’s throat tightened.

Without another word, he left.

Hyunjin’s footsteps were slow, deliberate. By the time he reached the unit, the smell hit him all at once. Charred wood, scorched fabric, ash clinging to every surface. The door had been forced open by himself the night before, splintered around the edges Cold in a way that felt too personal.

He stepped inside.

It was worse than he remembered.

The living room was ruined. Smoke-stained walls, melted wires. The rug was soaked and blackened. The kitchen was unusable, cabinets half-open and dripping, a mug shattered across the floor in a bloom of ceramic. The ceiling fan was bent, one blade melted sideways.

His chest ached at the sight.

This was where Felix had made his coffee every morning. Where he had texted friends, danced barefoot, probably curled up on the couch with a blanket. This was where he lived.

And now it looked like something out of a disaster film.

The bedroom, somehow, had been spared.

Hyunjin walked inside and paused at the threshold. It was still messy. Felix had never been obsessively tidy but it was intact. His bed, though slightly damp around the edges, was untouched by fire. A sweatshirt was draped over the chair in the corner, a half-read book facedown on the bedside table. His journal, Hyunjin hadn’t known Felix look like someone doing it, was on the floor beside the bed.

Hyunjin crouched and picked it up gently, brushing ash off the cover. A drawing of a moonlit window was scrawled on the first page. Soft, charcoal-heavy lines. Familiar loneliness. But he didn’t read anything.

He exhaled through his nose.

How terrified had Felix been, consumed by smoke and heat? Had he tried to escape? Had he screamed? Cried?

Hyunjin’s fingers clenched around the strap of the duffel bag.

He moved quickly after that.

He packed everything he could. Shirts, sweatpants, his ridiculous tops and shorts. two books from the shelf, Felix’s toothbrush, cologne, headphones. His phone and iPad. He found a small tin box filled with random things but mostly pink. Then packed it carefully, wrapping it in a shirt to keep it from getting crushed.

By the time he zipped the bag shut, the bedroom looked even emptier.

He stood there for a few seconds, the silence loud in his ears. The contrast between this wreckage and the sterile calm of his own apartment made his chest hurt.

Felix didn’t belong in that apartment of polished marble and glass. But he couldn’t stay here either.

Hyunjin slung the bag over his shoulder and turned toward the door. He took one last glance back before leaving, eyes scanning the darkness, the damage, the quiet evidence of fear.

Then he closed the door and headed home.

To Felix.

The worst part of it all? He enjoyed every second.

Even the dying part.

Even when the smoke clung to the inside of his throat like a lover refusing to let go, when the heat curled too close to his bare skin and his head spun from lack of oxygen, he wasn’t scared. He should’ve been. He should’ve clawed at the bathroom tiles, called for help, broken the damn window, anything. But he didn’t. He sat there, cross-legged, heart thrumming not with panic but satisfaction. Peace, even.

Because this was the life he chose. One where he got everything by batting his lashes and serving a carefully crafted cocktail of vulnerability and beauty.

He’d weaponized softness. Turned boba eyes into a currency more powerful than truth.

And now? He loved how everything turned out.

Of course he did. Because he planned it all.

Well… most of it. Just not the part where he almost died.

That part? A little surprise. But what’s a good performance without some improvise?

It started simple: a single candle, a stack of old lecture notes he didn’t need anymore, and the curtains, the thin, flammable ones he never really liked anyway. He’d done this before. Little smoke, little drama, all very controlled.

He knew the sequence: smoke detector triggers, sprinklers go off, fire alarm screams like a banshee, and suddenly he’s the trembling victim in pajama shorts and a pout, waiting for someone, anyone, to show up and say “Are you okay?”

Ideally Hyunjin.

Always Hyunjin.

Because he knew he was being watched.

But this time? The smoke detector didn’t make a sound. The sprinklers stayed dry. And the fire got greedy.

By the time he realized something was wrong, the room was already filling with thick gray air. He retreated back to the bathroom. Ironic, really, hiding in the one place that couldn’t burn. He sat there, turned on the exhaust fan and turned on the cold shower, wet himself and let the water continue flowing, sat crossed-legged.

When he saw the smoke entering the bathroom door, he ducked at the floor, covered his nose with wet face towel, trying not to cough too loudly, calculating. Waiting.

If Hyunjin hadn’t called.

If Hyunjin hadn’t shown up.

If Hyunjin hadn’t kicked down the door and dragged him out of the smoke like a scene from some tragic romance novel…

He would’ve died.

All for a text message. All for a little attention. All for a man with sad eyes and perfect face.

And yet…

Here he was now. Alive.

Breathing in warm lavender mist. Wrapped in a thick, expensive blanket. On Hyunjin’s couch.

The lights were dim, but not that cozy. Curtains drawn shut. YouTube played from the television he chose like nothing had happened. Like the fire hadn’t nearly gutted his apartment. Like his lungs weren’t still scorched. Like he hadn’t watched his plan backfire with a deadly grin on his face.

And Hyunjin? Cold but sweet, too nerd but dumb, perfect Hyunjin… had fussed over him since last night. Cleaned the ash from his cheeks. Tucked him in hospital bed, paid the bills. Made him food.

Felix had secretly smiled through it all. Covered in terrified eyes and quivering lips.

Soft. Quiet. Damaged.

The role of a lifetime.

And God, how long had he wanted this?

How long had he imagined what it would be like to be in Hyunjin’s space, not as a visitor, not as a friend, but as someone who mattered? Someone who broke things and got held anyway. Someone who could light matches and will surely still be kissed for it, later or maybe within a few days depending on his act. 

He stared at the bookshelf, the color-coordinated spines. The skincare stacked like trophies on the counter. The faint trace of Hyunjin’s cologne on the throw pillow behind his neck.

This was better than he’d ever dreamed.

Because in the original plan, Hyunjin would’ve come to his place. Would’ve stepped over half-burnt curtains and collapsed in a fit of concern. Felix would’ve cried a little, coughed into his sleeve, said “I didn’t know what to do, I was so scared,” and Hyunjin would’ve hugged him like a hero.

But this? This was better.

This wasn’t sympathy. This was something softer. Realer.

Hyunjin had brought him here. Had stripped his smoke-soaked clothes and given him a sweater. Had stroked his damp hair back and said “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Felix wasn’t okay. But he was perfect.

He shifted on the couch, pressing his cheek into the pillow, inhaling. His skin still tingled, from the gentle hands checking for burns. From the fingertips ghosting over his wrist like they didn’t quite know where to land.

There was a part of him that still felt high. Not from the smoke. From the control. From the attention. From the knowledge that Hyunjin saw him now and realized his importance, maybe not clearly, but enough.

And wasn’t that all he ever wanted?

Maybe he was fucked in the head. Maybe no sane person would almost die just to get someone obsessed back. Maybe starting a fire to feel important wasn’t the move a healthy person made.

But it worked.

And that was all that mattered.

He smiled to himself, lips curling slow. The warmth of the blanket, the scent of the room, the knowledge that Hyunjin will just be a few steps away in the next few days, maybe in the kitchen, maybe watching over him like some worried angel… made everything feel worth it.

He lived the life he wanted. He loved the way things turned out. He loved himself for how cleverly he’d played it.

And if the cost of that attention was nearly dying?

Well. It was still cheaper than rejection.

He returned to his unit quietly, duffle bag slung over his shoulder, the weight of it light compared to the heaviness that had pressed into his chest. Inside were the few things he managed to salvage for Felix.

As he entered the apartment, the faint sound of K-pop floated from the TV. The brightness of it, idol laughter and upbeat choruses was jarring against the silence he’d grown used to since last week.

He grinned to himself. First time he’d smiled in days.

The tension that had sat stubbornly between his shoulders seemed to dissolve, just a little. For the past week, he’d been a mess. Wandering the city like a ghost. Worry gnawing at his stomach. Was Felix avoiding him? Was he angry? Hurt? Dead? The fire had ruined more than just a space. It had opened something in Hyunjin, something he hadn’t realized was fragile until Felix nearly died in it.

You could’ve died. The thought still made his throat tighten.

He shut the door behind him gently, careful not to let the latch click too loud, and took a breath. His place looked warmer with Felix in it. Lived-in. Like someone had finally breathed life into the corners he used to ignore. The blanket draped across the couch. The faint steam rising from the humidifier. A half drunk water on the table.

Felix was really the life in his dull life.

And there he was, curled up exactly where Hyunjin had left him.

Sleeping.

Peacefully. Beautifully.

He looked too small in Hyunjin’s clothes. His oversized hoodie had swallowed him whole. The sleeves covered his fingers, the hem bunched around his knees. Only his face peeked out, delicate and soft under the warm, amber light.

Hyunjin set the duffle bag down on the table with a muted thud. He didn’t want to disturb anything. This moment felt sacred.

He sat beside him carefully. Not too close. Just near enough to watch his chest rise and fall. Just near enough to whisper what he couldn’t say when Felix was awake.

“You could’ve died,” he murmured. His voice broke around the edges. “I’m sorry. You must’ve been so scared.”

He hadn’t stopped replaying it. The smoke, the panic, the door that wouldn’t budge fast enough, the gut-wrenching fear that he’d be too late. That he’d open the door and find silence instead of Felix. Ash instead of skin.

And now here he was.

Right in front of him.

Warm. Real. Breathing.

Hyunjin hesitated, hand hovering in the air like it didn’t belong. He hated how badly he wanted to touch him but couldn’t because he promised him he will no longer touch him. That he won’t take advantage. That he won’t look at Felix with a lustful eye.

But he needed to. Like the act itself would confirm that Felix wasn’t just some fever dream he’d conjured in his panic. He was here. In Hyunjin’s space. Not just occupying it but owning it. Painting it with his scent, his warmth, his existence.

God. The same person he used to steal glances at across balcony. The one he’d memorized without even trying. The one he used to dream about, filthy, lustful, aching dreams he’d wake from with guilt and longing and now he was here.

In his clothes.

On his couch.

Like it was meant to be.

He exhaled slowly and finally gave in. Fingers trembling, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind Felix’s ear, brushing it carefully away from his face. Then, hesitantly, he rested his hand on Felix’s cheek.

His skin was soft. Always, always, too soft.

Hyunjin froze.

His pulse jumped violently when Felix stirred. Just a twitch. And then, unexpectedly, Felix reached for his hand in his sleep, holding it loosely, like a child clinging to a safety blanket.

“Warm,” Felix mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

Hyunjin didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. His heart felt like it had stopped.

Felix didn’t let go.

He just curled closer, his cheek pressing more firmly into Hyunjin’s palm. His lashes fluttered but didn’t open. His lips parted slightly, and for a terrifying, beautiful second, Hyunjin wondered if this was some elaborate punishment for all the times he pretended not to care. If this moment was too good to be real.

His fingers tightened gently. Not enough to wake him. Just enough to make sure this wasn’t a dream.

Because in that one word, ”warm,” was something Hyunjin had never been given. Not like this. Not so freely.

He stayed like that, hunched awkwardly over the couch, letting Felix use his hand like a pillow. His own shoulder began to ache, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t. Not when Felix was right there, clinging to him in his sleep like he was something good. Something safe. Something worth trusting.

He closed his eyes, just for a moment. Let the sound of the soft K-pop song from the TV blur into the quiet murmur of the humidifier. Let himself believe, for a little while, that maybe he wasn’t too late after all.

When Felix loosened his grip, he let him go. Hyunjin then stood in front of his wardrobe, shifting his neatly pressed coats aside to make space. The hangers clinked softly as he pushed them to the left, creating a gap that hadn’t existed before.

He placed Felix’s salvaged clothes there with surprising care, folded, fluffed, organized by color even if they still carried the faintest trace of smoke. His hands lingered on a hoodie with a faint tear on the cuff, and he smiled to himself.

He had never done this before. Not for anyone.

Even to Chan, who’d slept over more times than he could count, never had designated space. And Chan was a clean freak too, always wiping his mug and lining up his shoes. Still, Hyunjin remembered how somehow irritating it was. The way he’d roll his eyes whenever Chan made himself too comfortable.

But now? Felix?

Felix’s glass of water was still on the table. He left the toilet’s lid up. He used too many tissues and one didn’t even make it to the bin. There was also a hint of toothpaste on the mirror in the bathroom.

Hyunjin didn’t mind. He cleaned more, anyway. Wiped down the shelves, fluffed the pillows, dusted corners that didn’t need it. His apartment had always been spotless, but now it was almost obsessive.

And still… Felix’s quiet mess made it feel alive.

As he walked back into the living room, he slowed down. Felix was still curled on the couch, but something was different. His chest was rising unevenly, shoulders twitching slightly under the blanket. His lips were parted like he was struggling to breathe. Sweat clung to his forehead.

Hyunjin’s breath caught. Was he—?

He knelt down beside him quickly, placing a hand on Felix’s arm. “Hey… Felix,” he whispered gently, brushing some hair from his face. “Hey. Wake up.”

Felix flinched, face contorting. His brows were scrunched, and his lips trembled.

“Felix,” Hyunjin said again, firmer this time.

Then, suddenly, Felix’s eyes shot open. Wide. Unfocused. He looked around like he didn’t know where he was, and then his eyes landed on Hyunjin. Panic washed through his features in a wave and then he broke.

He lunged forward, arms wrapping around Hyunjin’s torso like a lifeline, sobbing into his chest.

“Please… please save me,” Felix whispered, voice cracked, raw. “Sir, don’t leave me please! I’m going to die…”

Hyunjin stiffened for a brief moment. And then slowly, his arms wrapped around Felix with so much hesitation. He promised to distance himself but this was different. He felt bad how traumatic it must’ve been for this little boy.

He held him closer. Tight. Protective. He buried a hand in Felix’s damp hair and patted.

“Felix… You’re safe,” he whispered. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. Nothing’s gonna hurt you here.”

Felix just sobbed harder. And Hyunjin held him like he’d never let go.

Felix buried himself into Hyunjin’s neck, trembling as he clung to him like he might vanish if he let go. His breath was warm against Hyunjin’s skin, shaky and uneven, each exhale brushing along his collarbone.

And God, it sent a tingling sensation straight down Hyunjin’s spine.

He swallowed hard, fighting to compose himself, to ignore how his heart stuttered at the closeness. Felix was scared. Shaking. Vulnerable. This wasn’t the time for that. That stupid fantasy of Hyunjin. He reached up, gently placing his hands on Felix’s arms, trying to ease him off.

“Felix,” he whispered, soft but firm, “it’s okay. You’re safe now, I promise.”

But Felix only tightened his grip, fingers digging into Hyunjin’s back like he was afraid reality would rip them apart. His face pressed deeper into Hyunjin’s neck, breath hitching as a fresh wave of silent tears escaped.

Hyunjin froze again.

He let his arms fall back around Felix, grounding him, holding him. The room was quiet except for the small, shuddering sounds Felix made. Hyunjin exhaled slowly, resting his cheek against Felix’s head, whispering again, more for himself this time.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

>>>>

Chapter Text

The warmth was gone maybe the second Felix realized what he was doing. One moment he was buried in Hyunjin’s neck, trembling like the world was ending, and the next he was pulling away, his breath uneven, his eyes wide as if caught doing something wrong.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Felix muttered, his voice raw. “I’m so sorry…” He repeated it like a mantra, over and over, until Hyunjin’s chest ached just listening to it. “I… I just had nightmares. I thought… I thought I was back there. The fire…” His voice broke, and he bit his lip, glancing down at the floor.

Before Hyunjin could tell him he didn’t need to apologize, Felix scooted further away, creating a space between them that felt colder than anything Hyunjin had felt in days.

His heart sank. Every part of him wanted to pull Felix back, to wrap him up again and whisper that he didn’t have to act brave here. That Hyunjin didn’t mind. But instead, he forced himself to straighten, to keep his tone neutral. Boundaries. He needed to remember boundaries.

“The room’s ready,” Hyunjin said quietly. “You can use it now. Your things… I put them in my wardrobe.”

Felix blinked, confused. “Your wardrobe?”

Hyunjin stood, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I made a space for you. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Felix followed him, slow and hesitant, his socks making soft sounds against the polished floor. When they reached the bedroom, Hyunjin stepped aside, giving him space. “There,” he murmured, gesturing toward the part of tbr wardrobe he’d cleared out.

Felix paused at the sight of his salvaged belongings folded neatly on the shelf, a few hung on wooden hangers as though they were prized pieces. His expression softened instantly, confusion melting into something that looked painfully close to joy.

“You… did this?” he asked, turning toward Hyunjin.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin said, clearing his throat like it was nothing. “Figured you’d want your things organized. They’re… safe here.”

Felix’s lips parted slightly, and for a second, Hyunjin thought he was going to cry again. But instead, Felix smiled. A small, fragile smile that looked too pure for someone who had just been shaking in terror minutes ago. He hugged one of his sweaters to his chest, pressing his cheek against it like a kid holding onto his favorite toy.

Hyunjin bit his lip hard, forcing down the overwhelming rush of something warm and heavy in his chest. He didn’t want to show how much this affected him. But God… seeing Felix smile like that, even after everything? After the fire, the nightmares, the broken sobs? It was like watching sunlight seep through storm clouds.

Felix looked like a happy little kid, clutching those clothes like they meant everything. And maybe they did.

Hyunjin looked away, afraid his expression would give him away. But inside, he couldn’t stop the quiet thought whispering through him: I’d do anything to keep you smiling like this.

Hyunjin’s gaze lingered again on Felix’s soft smile as he hugged the sweater, but he cleared his throat and stepped aside, pointing to the desk near the window. “I also put your other things there,” he said quietly. “The smaller stuff I found… I thought you’d want them close.”

Felix’s attention shifted immediately. His eyes followed Hyunjin’s finger to the desk where a few items had been carefully arranged. Some trinkets, a worn-out pen, a battered tin can with faded stickers, his iPad and phone, and other things with wires.

Felix froze. His smile faltered.

“Did you open the tin can, sir?” he asked, his voice sharper than before, almost alarmed. His wide eyes turned to Hyunjin, searching.

Hyunjin blinked at the sudden shift in tone. “Yeah,” he admitted after a pause. “I just wanted to see what was inside before I threw anything out. It looked… important. So I didn’t throw anything.”

Felix’s brows knitted, his hand tightening on the sweater he was holding. There was something in his expression. Concern, maybe. Even fear, that Hyunjin didn’t understand.

“Why?” Felix whispered.

Hyunjin tilted his head. “Why what?”

“Why did you open it?”

Hyunjin shrugged lightly, sensing that this was something delicate. “I just didn’t want to miss anything that mattered to you.”

Felix’s lips parted as if he wanted to say more, but nothing came. He just stared at the tin can for a long moment and then muttered, almost to himself, “They’re just—personal.”

Hyunjin didn’t press. Whatever was in there, Felix clearly wanted to keep it to himself.

But then Felix spotted the A5 leather-bound journal on the desk. His eyes widened again, and he rushed forward, snatching it up with both hands and hugging it tightly to his chest as if it was the only thing tethering him to this world.

“Oh my god! Did you read this?” His voice was almost trembling.

Hyunjin shook his head immediately. “No,” he said firmly. “Of course not. I wouldn’t.”

Felix’s shoulders sagged with visible relief, his fingers pressing against the worn leather cover. He didn’t look at Hyunjin but nodded, quietly retreating into himself.

Hyunjin exhaled slowly, giving him space. He glanced at the bed, then back at Felix. “You can stay here,” he said gently. “In this room. Or… anywhere you want, really. Make yourself at home. I also put some of your toiletries near the shower.”

Felix didn’t answer, still hugging the journal, but Hyunjin caught the way his breathing slowed.

“I’ll cook dinner later,” Hyunjin continued, trying to keep his tone light. “I usually eat around six, but if that’s too early for you, I can just leave some for you to heat up later.”

Felix looked up briefly, nodding wordlessly.

Hyunjin offered him a small, reassuring smile. “Alright. I’ll let you settle in. Just… call me if you need anything.”

With that, Hyunjin excused himself quietly, stepping out of the room. He left the door slightly open, just in case Felix needed to feel the safety of someone nearby.

Dinner time came quietly. Hyunjin sat at the dining table with a single plate of food, the clinking of his chopsticks the only sound filling the apartment. He chewed slowly, his mind half-focused on the taste and half on the closed door down the hall. He thought about knocking, about asking him to join, but something stopped him. Felix had looked so fragile earlier, clutching his journal like a shield. Maybe he needed space.

This was his routine, after all, eating alone. The stillness of the apartment had always been normal for Hyunjin. But tonight, it wasn’t just quiet. It was heavy. Like the silence wasn’t just his anymore. Like it belonged to both of them.

When he finished, Hyunjin rinsed his plate and washed the dishes with mechanical precision, his mind still elsewhere. He glanced at the hallway again. Felix’s door remained closed. Not a sound. Not a step.

What’s he doing in there? Hyunjin wondered. Was he writing in that journal? Sorting through the clothes he had saved? Or was he curled up on the bed, lost in the shadow of his nightmares again?

He dried his hands and leaned against the sink, debating for a moment. He could knock. Ask him if he wanted tea. Something. Anything. But then he sighed and shook his head, letting it go. Felix wasn’t a child. If he wanted company, he’d come out.

Hyunjin returned to his desk, opening his laptop to sort through his missed lectures. Just one day away from the university had created a mountain of emails and notes to catch up on. He had assignments to review, schedules to adjust, and a class plan to prepare. Normally, this would have irritated him, being pulled away from work always did.

But not tonight.

Tonight, he found himself almost grateful. Caring for Felix had been worth the chaos. Worth the missed lectures. Worth everything. The thought didn’t annoy him like it should have. If anything, it calmed him, softened something sharp inside his chest. He’d rather deal with the backlog than imagine what could have happened if he hadn’t been there to pull Felix from the smoke.

The keys of his laptop clicked softly as he typed, but every so often, his gaze drifted back to the hallway, as if expecting Felix to appear.

And eventually, he did.

Hyunjin’s head lifted when the door creaked open. Felix stood there, hesitant, his hair slightly messy, sleeves hanging over his hands. Their eyes met, and Felix froze like he’d been caught sneaking out.

“I… I’ll just shower,” Felix said, his voice quiet and a little awkward. He didn’t look directly at Hyunjin, instead fiddling with the hem of his hoodie.

Hyunjin blinked at him for a moment, then nodded. “Okay,” he replied simply. His tone was even, but inside, something twisted. There was so much he wanted to say. Do you want to eat? Are you okay? Do you need me to help with anything? But he swallowed it all, giving Felix the space he seemed to need.

Felix’s lips pressed into a small line as he gave a half-smile, almost like a thank you that never made it to words. Then he turned toward the bathroom, the soft sound of his footsteps disappearing into the hallway.

Hyunjin leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly, the faint scent of dinner still lingering in the air. He watched the bathroom door close, listening to the faint click of the lock.

Okay, he thought to himself. One step at a time.

Hyunjin almost choked on his water. It wasn’t dramatic, not the kind of choking where someone needed to hit your back, but the kind that burned down your throat and made your chest tighten as if your body had forgotten how to breathe. He tried to swallow quickly, setting his glass on the counter before he made a fool of himself. But how could anyone react calmly when Felix stepped out of the bathroom looking like that?

Those ridiculous short shorts. He had no business wearing those. Pink with zebra print, too short to be legal, clinging to his damp thighs in a way that made Hyunjin’s mind wander to dangerous places. And that crop top, black, snug, with a stupid smiling panda in the middle didn’t help. It wasn’t even revealing, not really, but the hint of Felix’s toned stomach peeking every time he moved sent Hyunjin into a silent spiral. His hair was wrapped in a towel, still dripping from the shower, the wet strands at his nape clinging to his skin.

Felix walked barefoot across Hyunjin’s pristine floor, glancing around as if he didn’t belong. And maybe that was the thing. Felix didn’t. His colorful, playful clothes, the pastel socks Hyunjin folded earlier, the faint scent of fruity body wash that drifted after him, all of it clashed with Hyunjin’s monochrome world. Hyunjin’s condo was all clean lines, steel, and muted tones. Felix was warmth and noise and softness, standing there like some accidental invasion of color.

“Uhm… sir, do you have a nail cutter?” Felix’s voice broke the silence, awkward but casual, like this was just any normal moment and not some cruel test of Hyunjin’s sanity. He rubbed the towel over his hair, ruffling the damp strands, his arms flexing as he shook out the water.

Hyunjin blinked. For a second, all he saw was skin. Smooth, glistening skin under the soft, warm light of his multiple lamps. Like no fire or smoke touched his perfect skin. Like he was a brand new Felix who wasn’t trapped with smoke.

His gaze trailed down the curve of Felix’s neck, the sharp collarbones, the pale stretch of stomach revealed when he reached up to adjust the towel. It wasn’t even intentional. Felix wasn’t trying to seduce him. But that somehow made it worse.

Hyunjin swallowed hard. He felt the weight of his heartbeat, loud and unreasonable in his chest. What the hell is wrong with me? It was just Felix. Just Felix asking for a nail cutter. There was nothing remotely sexy about that.

And reminded himself that he was vulnerable. He was still traumatized about the fire. And yet Hyunjin’s mind betrayed him, his brain was running nonstop at the sight of Felix’s bare skin, the damp shine of his lips, the relaxed way he leaned against the counter like they’d done this a thousand times.

Hyunjin’s jaw tightened. He wanted to look away, to find something else to focus on, but his eyes were drawn back to Felix as if on a leash. The boy’s hair, damp and messy, made him look soft, almost innocent. And the worst part was that Felix didn’t even know. He didn’t know how Hyunjin’s thoughts tangled, how they dipped too easily into territory that felt inappropriate.

“No,” Hyunjin said too quickly, voice rougher than he intended. “I mean—maybe. I’ll check.” He turned on his heel, hoping Felix didn’t notice the flush creeping up his neck.

As he rummaged through the bathroom drawer, Hyunjin cursed under his breath. This wasn’t Felix’s fault. It was his brain’s fault. His stupid, easily distracted, stupidly turned on brain that couldn’t handle something as simple as Felix existing in his space. It wasn’t like Felix was doing anything remotely suggestive. He was just… Felix. Warm, soft, and maddeningly close.

Maybe I should make Felix wear oversized hoodies again.

Hyunjin found the nail cutter, gripping it like it would help. When he returned, Felix was perched on the edge of the couch, towel now hanging around his shoulders, shorts riding even higher up his thighs. Hyunjin’s throat went dry.

“Thank you so much, sir,” Felix said politely with that bright smile that only made Hyunjin’s chest tighten further.

And for one dangerous second, Hyunjin wondered if Felix had any idea what he was doing to him or if Hyunjin was simply too far gone to think straight anymore.

Hyunjin stood there for a moment, staring at Felix as if he’d been bewitched. It wasn’t just the outfit, though that alone should have been enough to send him to hell. It was everything.

The Felix earlier covered in his hoodie and sweatpants was so different. He looked helpless, afraid and might cry at any second.

Now? He seemed… different. Like it was a random weekday in his normal life.

The way Felix sat cross-legged on his couch, towel loose around his shoulders, damp hair falling over his forehead like honey-tipped threads. The boy didn’t even look real. His skin gleamed under the warm yellow light of the living room, soft and unblemished, catching shadows in the dips of his collarbones and the faint cut of his abs when the crop top rode up.

Felix was busy inspecting his nails, completely unaware of the havoc he was causing. His brows furrowed slightly in concentration, lips parted just a little, the pink curve of his mouth glistening faintly after he just licked them. Hyunjin couldn’t stop staring at that mouth. He imagined again the taste—sweet or soft like the faint sugar Felix’s presence seemed to leave in the air.

And those shorts? Hell, those shorts. Zebra print, absurd and loud against the muted blacks and grays of Hyunjin’s condo. They barely covered Felix’s thighs, the pale skin exposed and still damp from the shower. Beads of water rolled down the back of his knee, slow, like they had no right to exist but still mocked Hyunjin by being there. His legs were slender, deceptively toned, and when Felix shifted slightly to get comfortable, the fabric stretched just enough to make Hyunjin forget how to breathe.

He wanted to look away. He really did. But his gaze kept betraying him, drinking in every detail like it was the last time he’d ever see him. Felix’s eyes were warm brown and bright and sparked like they were forbidden in this sterile place. His lashes, dark and soft, brushed against his cheeks whenever he blinked, and Hyunjin found himself thinking about how unfair it was that someone could look like this without even trying. Felix’s beauty wasn’t the kind you could explain. It was the kind that snuck up on you, the kind that pulled you underwater.

Felix glanced up for a second, catching Hyunjin watching him. But instead of looking smug or worse, knowing… he just smiled. That innocent, disarming smile that tilted slightly to the left. Hyunjin felt something in his chest constrict. He wanted to blame Felix for it, but how could he? Felix didn’t even know . He was just there, sitting barefoot on Hyunjin’s couch, soft towel framing his neck, nails glinting as he clipped them with quiet precision.

“Your place is so… clean, sir,” Felix said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was raspy from the shower, deep yet sweet, like warm honey dripping too slowly. “It’s nice. Kinda feels like one of those fancy catalogs. I’d get scared of messing it up. I will clean my trimmed nails after. Don’t worry.”

Hyunjin swallowed hard. Mess it up, his brain repeated, and the image that followed was nowhere near innocent. He shook it off, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just… minimal,” he muttered, forcing his gaze to stay on the glass of water on the counter instead of the way Felix’s top lifted again as he leaned forward.

“You like things clean and simple?” Felix smiled again, tilting his head. The towel slipped from his shoulder, exposing the pale stretch of his collarbone and the faint shimmer of water droplets that hadn’t dried yet. Hyunjin nearly cursed under his breath.

This wasn’t normal. He shouldn’t feel like this just because Felix was breathing in his living room. It wasn’t even that Felix was trying. Felix wasn’t seductive on purpose. He didn’t know how his skin looked like silk under the light, how every little movement drew Hyunjin’s eyes like gravity. He didn’t know that the way he laughed softly to himself, or the way he tucked damp strands of hair behind his ear, made Hyunjin’s thoughts spiral into places he didn’t want to admit.

Hyunjin’s fingers curled against the counter. He thought of saying something, anything, to cut through the heat building in his chest. Maybe he could tease Felix about his ridiculous outfit, or pretend that the crop top was what annoyed him. But his throat was tight, and the words wouldn’t come out right. He knew that if he said something now, it might not sound like a joke at all.

For a moment, he almost moved toward him. Just one step, maybe two, to close the space between them. He could almost feel what it would be like, standing too close, smelling the faint sweetness of Felix’s shampoo, seeing those lashes up close. His breath faltered at the thought, and that was when he realized just how far gone he was.

Hyunjin exhaled sharply, backing up before he could do something stupid. “I’m—” He coughed once, grabbing his keys off the counter. “I’m going to the gym.” His voice came out low, almost strained.

Felix blinked at him, confused but still smiling like he didn’t understand the storm brewing in Hyunjin’s head. “Now? It’s eight.”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin muttered, slipping on his shoes. Anything to get out of the room before he burned alive from his own thoughts. “I just… need it. It’s a routine.”

He didn’t dare look back at Felix as he left, because he knew if he did, if he caught one more glimpse of that soft, innocent beauty on his couch, he might not leave at all.

“Guess who’s alive, lol.”

Felix didn’t bother with greetings. He sprawled on Hyunjin’s desk chair, one hand holding the phone to his ear, the other absentmindedly spinning a pen between his fingers. His voice was light, almost sing-song, like he hadn’t just burned the edges of his old world down.

Seungmin sighed on the other end, loud and sharp. “Did you really put on a fucking fire for attention?”

“Yes,” Felix said without hesitation.

A pause. Then, incredulous laughter. “You did that before, to get Jeongin’s attention too?”

“That was a small fire,” Felix replied with a grin, leaning back until the chair creaked. “This one’s big.”

“Big,” Seungmin repeated flatly, like the word itself annoyed him. “You’re insane. You almost died! Do you know that? Actually, no—you’re crazy .”

“I know.” Felix smirked, eyes flicking toward the window where the faint outline of smoke-stained walls still lingered in his apartment walls. His tone wasn’t defensive. If anything, he sounded proud, like Seungmin had just complimented him.

“So I’m right, you’re planning something stupid that’s why you crashed in my place and Jeongin called me, you slept at his place too. Do you know he’s having relapse now?”

“The hell I care? I just needed some place to sleep until Tuesday. So somebody will miss me before the fire.”

On the other end, Seungmin clicked his tongue. “Who is it this time?”

“What?”

“Your new obsession. There’s always someone. That’s why you left me here, right? Transferred schools, disappeared like some dramatic protagonist? Risked your life and other lives too for a fucking attention? Let me guess, you’re his classmate now? Someone with nice body? Someone boring and perfect who doesn’t even know you exist before you lure them in?”

Felix laughed, a low, quiet sound. He spun the pen faster between his fingers. “No. Not a classmate. And definitely not a new obsession.”

“Then who?” Seungmin asked, irritation creeping into his voice.

“Someone…” Felix hesitated, biting his bottom lip. “Untouchable.”

Silence. It was heavy, like Seungmin was trying to read between the lines and coming up empty. “Untouchable? What the hell does that even mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like.” Felix’s voice softened, almost wistful now. “You wouldn’t get it, Min. This one’s different.”

“I don’t even want to know,” Seungmin muttered. “Don’t burn down the whole city for this one, yeah?”

“No promises,” Felix teased. But before Seungmin could throw another sarcastic remark, he ended the call. The sudden quiet of his room made his chest feel lighter.

The phone slipped from his fingers onto the desk with a soft clatter. His gaze drifted, drawn to the object sitting there like it had been waiting for him all along. A dented tin can, with stickers and looked ordinary, except for the scratches along its surface where his nails had dug into it absentmindedly.

It was already 9:30 when Felix heard the faint thud of footsteps in the hallway. The sound of Hyunjin coming back from the gym. By 10 p.m., the apartment was quiet again, and Felix assumed he was showering or winding down. The thought of Hyunjin’s return sent a flutter through his chest. Because, deep down, Felix knew he didn’t belong here. Not in this spotless, monochrome condo. Not in Hyunjin’s space. Not after everything. And that thrilled him anyway.

He scrolled through his phone, replying to a barrage of messages: friends, acquaintances, people who’d heard about the fire. Are you okay? Do you need a place to stay? What happened? He answered each one with vague assurances, careful not to let the panic slip through. But he hadn’t told his family. Not a word about how his unit had caught fire, or that he was now crashing at his neighbor’s place—well, not exactly his neighbor, but his professor. Someone who was falling right into his trap.

Hyunjin.

Felix sighed and turned onto his back, blinking up at the ceiling. The apartment’s bedside lamps were dim, a soft golden hue that made the shadows look almost sleepy. His phone hovered above his face as his eyelids grew heavier, sleep creeping in around the edges.

His grip loosened. Then there was a thud.

“Aw—” he groaned, rubbing his forehead after his phone smacked the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, seriously…”

He rolled onto his side, pushing himself up with a low, tired grunt. Sliding down the edge of the bed, he reached toward the floor, fingers groping blindly along the cool wooden boards until they brushed the edge of the phone.

That was when he heard it, soft, unmistakable footsteps in the hallway.

Felix froze, hand hovering over his phone. The sound was deliberate, unhurried. Before he could fully sit up, the door creaked open with a long, hesitant sound.

Hyunjin stood there.

He looked like he’d just stepped out of something sinful, damp hair falling across his forehead in messy, dark strands, droplets of water trailing down the sharp cut of his jaw. A white towel was slung low around his hips, barely clinging to the sharp lines of his waist. His hugeness was bulging. His chest, still glistening from the shower, rose and fell with shallow breaths, every muscle in his arms and stomach tense, like he’d been carved from something too perfect to touch. His skin was flushed, dewy, the kind of warm tone that made Felix’s throat go dry. God, I wanna suck him bad.

The position? Oh, God, the position was helping him. The scene he did before was reenacted. Now was purely accidental. He was on all fours, one knee bent, the other leg slightly splayed as he leaned over to grab his phone. His shirt had ridden up, exposing the curve of his back and his nipples, and the faint waistband of his shorts. He hadn’t planned this, actually. He hadn’t meant for it to look like… that.

But he was sure Hyunjin’s eyes were dark and cold, moved slowly over him, tracing the shape of his body before locking on his face.

Hyunjin swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I,” His voice cracked, unexpectedly rough, like he’d been caught in a dream he didn’t want to admit to. “I was just… getting pajamas. From the cabinet.”

>>>>>

Chapter Text

Felix stayed frozen in that awkward position, his hand hovering above the phone he’d dropped. He wasn’t sure what he expected. But knowing Hyunjin, he expected maybe another order of blow job again, maybe a raw fuck, something from Hyunjin that would break all his walls. His heart pounded as he searched for Hyunjin’s eyes, waiting for some reaction.

But all Hyunjin did was glance at him briefly, expression unreadable, before turning to grab a pair of folded pajamas from the cabinet. No smirk. No lingering gaze that would confirm Hyunjin was lusting over Felix. Nothing.

Felix felt his stomach drop. A strange disappointment settled over him, heavy and sharp. He got so irritated and did overthink as to why Hyunjin did not bit the bait. It stung.

“Goodnight,” Hyunjin muttered, voice even but distant, and left the room.

Felix stayed there for a moment, still crouched on the floor, staring at the doorway long after Hyunjin had gone. The silence felt louder now. Eventually, he exhaled a long breath and grabbed his phone, pushing himself back onto the bed. "You wanna play hard to get, sir? I'll give you a fucking show."

The screen lit up with messages, one after another, but his gaze landed on Jeongin’s name.

[Jeongin: Lix, are you okay? I heard about the fire. And you were hospitalized. Please, tell me you’re safe.]

Felix’s thumb hovered over the keyboard before typing a quick reply, smirking. 

[Felix: I’m fine. Don’t worry. Just... resting for now.]

[Jeongin: Where are you staying? Do you want to come to my apartment? I know we argued before you left. I said some hurtful things but... Seriously, you don’t have to deal with this alone.]

Felix stared at the message for a few seconds, he laughed while shaking his head. "Jeongin, you're still stupid as fuck. You always worry too much. You're a push over that's why I got bored with you." 

[Felix: No. I’m staying at my neighbor’s. It’s fine. I just need to rest for a while.]

He paused, thinking of Hyunjin again. Of the way he’d looked, damp and unbothered, as if Felix’s presence didn’t shake him at all. That stupid, cold, composed expression. 

[Felix: Might attend class again this Friday.]

[Jeongin: Alright. But can we talk when you’re feeling better? Maybe meet after your classes? I’ll come to your school.]

Felix stared at the message, chewing on his lip. He thought about the fire, not the recent one. But the fire he started to get Jeongin attention before. Jeongin was... easy. Easy to read, easy to manipulate, easy to throw. 

[Felix: Yeah. Friday. I’ll see you at the university. I'm done around lunch.]

He set the phone down beside him, staring at the ceiling again. It was too quiet. His thoughts wouldn’t stop circling back to Hyunjin. To the way the man had looked standing in his doorway, dripping water, wrapped in nothing but a towel.

Felix closed his eyes and let out a slow, heavy breath. He slid his hand under his shorts, kneaded himself. Moaning. The image wouldn’t leave him alone.

Breakfast was quiet at first. No, it was too quiet. It was deafening actually. Hyunjin sat across from Felix at the table, idly stirring his spoon through a bowl of high fiber cereal that had long gone soggy. He used to not eating breakfast. It was always solely black coffee. But Felix mentioned he felt sad eating alone, so he forced himself to join him before going to his first class.