#chanlix fanfiction

[kjmsupremacist]

poison sweet off the vine (chan/felix)

Chan, a poor student hoping to make a little extra money while he pursues a masters in music production, lands a gig as a super rich family’s pool boy. He thinks it’s pretty sweet at first. He’ll get to stay in a fancy house and eat fancy leftovers and all he has to do is clean their pool and help out around the house. And then he meets Felix, the bratty, sharp-tongued, skirt-wearing son of his employers. He knows he could get fired for just looking at Felix the wrong way, but Felix, even with his stormy, unpredictable moods and ignorant selfishness, is alluring and beautiful.

Part 2  | prev next  mlist

Characters: Chan, Felix, other members of skz throughout

Genre: smut, eventual romance, angst, I cannot overstate how much of this is sex

Pairing: Chan/Felix

Warnings: alcohol, family dysfunction, mentions of homophobia, slut-shaming (both the fun kind and the not fun kind), feminization

Rating: Explicit

Length: 14.3k

Felix has got some shit going on in this one. It’s not, like, super serious and we don’t really get into addiction territory, but I will say it might be triggering for some people, so please just proceed with caution.

Chan wakes to his phone ringing. 

He grunts sleepily, turning over in bed and getting twisted in his sheets. He manages to wrestle an arm free and slaps around for his phone, nearly knocking it into the abyss that is the floor in the process. At last, he grips it and brings it in front of his face. 

It’s horrendously bright and stings his poor, sleepy eyes, but he makes out the caller ID—Lee Minho. 

“Hello?” he croaks, accepting the call. 

“Oh good, I’m still in your favorites,” Minho says in lieu of a greeting. “And good, you’re still not dead.”

“What fucking time is it?” Chan groans.

“About five a.m. for you, so four for me,” Minho answers promptly. “You haven’t texted for three days! I was kind of worried those rich fuckers murdered you and are slow-roasting your body for Christmas dinner.”

“Why the fuck are you up at four a.m.?” Chan asks, choosing to ignore the comment about cannibalism. 

“Calling you,” Minho says. “Look, I figured during the day you’d keep your phone on silent, and wouldn’t pick up no matter what. But at night, you probably have your ringer on for your alarm, and though it might be on DND, as long as I’m still one of your favorites, my call will come through on the second try.”

“I’m taking you off my favorites,” Chan says, though he makes no move to do so. 

“So why haven’t you texted?”

Chan pauses for a second, running the past couple days over in his head. He and Felix have been fucking every chance they can get—after dinner in Felix’s room, in the sauna by the pool, even once in the garden, Felix pressed up against a very expensive statue. 

There’s a soft knock at the door. Chan shuffles to get it while he replies to Minho. “Oh, god, I’m sorry. This job is just—super active, you know, I’m exhausted every day.”

He cracks his door open and sees Felix in a robe standing expectantly outside. Chan gives him a sort of surprised and confused look, pointing at the phone, but gestures for him to come in, opening the door wider so he can slip through. 

“Okay, well, your best friend worries,” Minho is saying, “and so does your best friend’s boyfriend, so maybe text us at least once a day.”

“Oh, I see,” Chan says, dropping back down onto the bed with his legs dangling off the side and patting the mattress for Felix to join him. “You just called me because Jisung is worried, and you love him. Not ‘cause you’re actually concerned about me.”

“I am concerned about you,” Minho says. Felix doesn’t sit on the bed. He settles between Chan’s knees at his feet. Chan gives him a look; Felix blinks back serenely. “Jisung’s just… more teary about it, and I’m the only one that’s allowed to make him cry, so.”

Felix’s hands are on Chan’s thighs. “I promise I’ll text more from now on,” Chan says. 

“Good. So what’ve you been up to?” Minho asks.

Felix’s fingers slip under the waistband of Chan’s underwear. “Uh, not much,” Chan says. “Hey, listen, I should probably just go, like, do my job since I’m up. It gets hot in the afternoons. But get Jisung, and Jeongin if you can, and I’ll call later today. Like around 5 your time?” Minho groans. “C’mon, it’ll be nice if we can all talk.” He freezes when Felix reaches into his fucking pants and wraps a hand around his cock. He hopes his voice doesn’t sound too strained. “Besides, you should be asleep.”

“Fine,” Minho grumbles. “It’ll make Jisung happy.” 

“Okay, talk later, I promise.” Felix has pulled Chan’s cock out over his waistband. “Bye.”

“Bye.” The call barely ends before Felix has his mouth on Chan. 

Chan throws his phone somewhere on his bed and hisses out a moan. “What the fuck, Felix?” Felix doesn’t reply except to hum softly around Chan’s cock. “I was talking to my friend!” Felix takes him deeper, swirling his tongue over the tip. Chan presses his hand to his mouth to muffle a moan. “What if someone saw you?” he tries again. 

This gets Felix to pull off, and Chan squashes his disappointment under his thumb. “No one saw me,” Felix says. “Abeoji is already gone, and Eomma was in the shower.”

“What if she goes to check on you before she leaves?” Chan asks. He takes the sting out of the question by reaching down and cupping Felix’s jaw. “You’re gonna get me in trouble, baby.”

“She’s not gonna check on me,” Felix says. “And even if she did, she wouldn’t care or come looking.” He huffs softly, shaking his bangs out of his eyes. “Now are you gonna let me blow you, or what?”

Chan laughs quietly. “‘Course I am,” he says. “You were just trying to surprise me, right?”

Felix nods petulantly, sinking back down on him, little hands braced on Chan’s thighs for support. Chan combs his fingers through Felix’s hair, getting a good fistful of the pink locks and tightening his grip—not enough to hurt, just enough for Felix to feel it. Felix hollows his cheeks and takes him even deeper, his face practically buried between Chan’s legs.

“Mm, god, Lix, does it ever stop for you?” Chan whispers. Felix shakes his head. “You just woke up and your first thought was, ‘I should go choke on Chan’s cock’?” Felix nods. “Jesus.” He brushes his own hair back with his other hand. “Well, if you’re gonna do it, do it properly.”

He forces Felix’s head down a little, and Felix swallows around him, gagging softly, but he doesn’t resist. His eyes flutter shut as he takes Chan deeper still, until Chan feels the head of his cock hit the back of Felix’s throat. He stops then, giving Felix a second to adjust. “Good girl,” Chan murmurs, and Felix whimpers softly. “Can’t believe how well you take me.” He reaches down and smoothes his thumb over Felix’s pinched eyebrows. “Breathe, baby. Relax. I’m gonna fuck your throat, right?”

Felix does as he’s told with a nod, breathing in deep through his nose, melting against Chan’s body. His grip on Chan’s thighs loosens, and he swallows around Chan again, this time without gagging. He looks up at Chan, pretty eyes wide and inviting. 

“Ready?” Chan asks. Felix gives a minuscule nod. “Pinch me if you need to stop.” Felix rolls his eyes; Chan gives him an exasperated look in return, tightens the fist in Felix’s hair, and first pulls him off, then pushes him back down. 

Felix can take a lot. Chan learned that quickly. But still, it amazes him how quietly and easily he can deepthroat Chan. And Chan’s a realist, he knows he’s sort of just average size, but it’s not like he’s small. He shoves his cock down Felix’s throat and the only noise that comes is the wetness of the thick saliva that has gathered in Felix’s mouth. It takes a long minute or two before Felix starts gagging, but even then he doesn’t ask Chan to stop.

A sort of haze gathers in Chan’s peripheral, and he forces himself to pull out. Felix coughs wetly, panting, as Chan jerks himself off with quick, rough strokes. He realizes Felix has started to cry, but Felix only swipes the tears away and tips his head back, opening his mouth. “Wanna taste you, daddy,” he demands, voice hoarse. He sticks his tongue out, making his eyes big and pleading.

Chan curses softly and lays the head of his cock on Felix’s tongue with shaking hands. “Gonna make me—” He can’t even finish the sentence, too overwhelmed, but Felix knows. It only takes a couple more strokes, and he’s coming on Felix’s tongue, coating the roof of his mouth with his release. 

Felix doesn’t try to swallow until Chan finally pulls out, and once he does he opens his mouth after to prove he did it.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Chan murmurs, waiting for his heartbeat to slow. “Come here, baby, up on the bed with me. I’ll take care of you.”

Felix lets Chan pull him up onto the mattress and manhandle him into his lap. Chan scoots them back, rotating so he can lean up against the headboard. Felix hardly seems to pay this any mind, already attaching his mouth to Chan’s chest, kissing over his collarbones. 

Chan undoes the sash of Felix’s robe, and he shrugs it off, letting the fabric slip away, revealing his pretty body. Chan can see his cock, tip beading precome, glistening even in the dark. He tries not to think about how there’s probably a dark wet stain on one of the folds of Felix’s robes. 

“Baby,” Chan whispers, taking hold of Felix’s chin and forcing him to look up. “There you are.” He leans in and kisses him, letting go of his jaw so he can wrap his arms around Felix’s waist instead, pulling him in. He can taste himself on Felix’s tongue, earthy and bitter. Felix moans into his mouth, rolling his hips up, his cock dragging against Chan’s abs. 

“Mm, I, I,” Felix says between kisses. “I fingered myself open b-before I came down here. Used lots of lube, so—” Chan nips at his lip and he cuts himself off to gasp. “—so I’m nice ‘n’ wet. You can—you can finger me, daddy, please.”

“Fuck,” Chan mutters, letting one hand dip down low, circling Felix’s entrance. He’s slick with lube, just like he said, and two of Chan’s fingers slip in with ease. Chan can picture it clearly, Felix on his elbows and knees, panting quietly in the pre-morning blue dark of his room, working himself open and making sure every spot he can reach is wet and ready before clambering off his bed and wrapping himself in his robe to come down and wake Chan up.

“Told you, I’ll keep myself prepped for you,” Felix says breathily. 

“You’re trying to kill me,” Chan accuses.

“No, I’m not into necrophilia,” Felix replies immediately. 

“I hate you,” Chan mutters, suppressing a smile. He shoves a third finger in and presses up. Felix drops his forehead to Chan’s shoulder, making a noise of surprise. Chan thrusts his fingers up again, hot satisfaction settling under his skin when he feels more precome blurt out of the tip of Felix’s cock and drip down onto Chan’s stomach. 

“Yes, yes,” Felix pants. “Like that, daddy, yes.” He rocks his hips up, and if Chan hadn’t literally just come, he knows he’d be in danger. 

He fingers Felix fast and ruthless, holding him close with his other arm and murmuring praise into his ear. Felix digs his fingernails into Chan’s biceps, bouncing back on Chan’s fingers, rutting his cock up against Chan’s body. His moans are quiet—even he knows what they’re doing is a little risky—but the sounds fill Chan’s head anyway.

“Such a perfect little slut,” Chan coos. “Always wanting to be filled, trying to get off. What am I gonna do with you, babygirl?” 

Felix whines softly, biting down on Chan’s pec, low enough that a tank top will easily cover it. Chan sees the muscles in his back tense. He rarely announces it when he’s going to come—Chan almost wonders if it’s a surprise to him each time, except he can’t imagine that’s true—but Chan’s getting pretty good at figuring him out. 

“Gonna come, sweetheart?” he murmurs, leaning close and speaking into Felix’s temple. Felix nods jerkily. “Gonna come on daddy’s fingers? Lemme see it, baby.” 

Felix lets out a soft, defeated sob, and then he’s coming all over Chan’s stomach, hole clenching and unclenching around Chan’s fingers. “Fuck, oh fuck, daddy, daddy,” he babbles, muffled. It takes over his whole body; he shakes, toes curling in the sheets, fingers and arms rigid. At last he collapses against Chan, right into the mess he just made.

Chan pulls his fingers out, reaching with his other hand for the box of tissues on his nightstand. He presses kisses to the top of Felix’s head while he cleans off his fingers, then reaches down to swipe away the excess around his hole. Felix whimpers softly. 

“Sore?” Chan murmurs. “Sorry, just don’t want you to walk out of here with lube dripping down your thighs.”

Felix moans happily. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Well, I would,” Chan says, pinching his hip. 

“Mmm,” Felix hums. “Merry Christmas Eve.”

“Oh fuck, is that today?” Chan asks. “I was wondering what this was all about.”

Felix sits back, reaching for a tissue too so he can clean off his tummy. “Yeah, ‘cause I’m going to be totally booked all of tomorrow with family stuff. Tonight too. Such a drag.”

Chan nudges him. “You’ll get presents, at least,” he points out. “And it’s just a couple days. I think you can survive without my dick for that long.”

“What if I can’t?” Felix asks, but he’s grinning. 

“Then you know where to find me,” Chan replies, pulling him in for a soft kiss. Felix drapes his arms over Chan’s shoulders and kisses back with a sweet sigh. 

“Who was that on the phone?” Felix asks when they pull away. 

“Oh,” Chan says, glancing around to see his phone balancing precariously at the foot of the bed. “My friend from home. Just wondering why I hadn’t texted for the past couple days. Worried I was murdered or something.”

“Just a friend?” Felix asks. 

Chan frowns at him. “Uh, yeah, just a friend. What are you, jealous? I don’t ask who else you might be fucking.”

Felix sighs. “I was just wondering.” He pats around behind him and finds his robe, drawing it up over his shoulders. 

Chan feels bad for snapping at him. It was just a question. “Sorry,” he says quietly. “I didn’t mean it like that. Would it be a problem, if he wasn’t just a friend?”

“No,” Felix says, but it’s curt. 

“Baby, you can talk to me, you know?” Chan tries to reach up and touch his face, but Felix ducks away, expression souring.

“I said no. It’s fine,” he says. He climbs off Chan’s lab, tossing the soiled tissue in the garbage and bending to pick up his sash. “I’m going back to bed to get some more sleep,” he says as he fastens it. “It’s almost six, so you should probably head to breakfast before Maya leaves for the day. Our private chef won’t cook for you like she does.”

Right, Christmas. Maya will be off at around ten today and won’t be back until the day after Christmas. It’s just going to be Chan and the chef for the holiday. 

“Yeah, okay,” Chan agrees uncertainly. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” Felix says, pausing to give Chan a swift kiss before sweeping out of the room. 

“Merry Christmas,” Chan whispers to the closed door. 

* * *

“Chan!” Jisung picks up on the first ring, even though Chan called Minho’s phone. “I miss you, how are you?”

“Hey Jisung,” Chan replies, grinning. “I’m good. I miss you too. All of you. Am I on speaker?”

“Yes,” Minho calls, sounding a little faint, like he’s across the room. 

Chan finished his chores early and decided to take a walk around the neighborhood for this call. He’s not sure yet exactly how much he’s going to tell his friends, but he definitely wants to talk somewhere where he can’t be overheard.

“Hi Chan!” This is Jeongin. “We’re at Minho’s parents’ house for a Christmas party! We’re hiding out in Minho’s bedroom with the cats while all the grown-ups deal with the food.”

“So what have you been up to?” Minho asks, sounding much closer to the phone now. “I refuse to believe you’ve just been working. How’s Australia?”

“It’s good to be back,” Chan says. “And it’s hot.”

“It’s so weird to me that Christmas is in the summer there,” Jeongin says. “It fucking snowed here last night.”

“Sounds nice,” Chan says, wiping some sweat off his forehead. “It’s literally brutal here.”

“So, seriously, you’re just sweating your balls of cleaning some rich family’s pool, and that’s it? Do you get time off?” Minho resumes grilling him. “School hasn’t started yet, so you can’t be that busy.”

“You guys are alone?” Chan confirms. 

“Yes, we are,” Jisung says. “What, what is it?”

“So, uh.” Chan scratched the back of his head, looking around to make sure he’s alone on the street. “Well, this family has a couple of kids, right, and they’re all around our age. The son, Felix, he’s the same year as you, Jisung. And…” Chan hesitates, not sure how to explain.

“Oh my god,” Minho says loudly. “Oh my god, Chan, are you fucking him?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Chan mutters, and then has to hold his phone away from his ear as his friends erupt into shrieks of shock. 

Jeongin: “Hyung, you’re gonna get fired.”

Jisung: “Is he hot?”

Minho: “So that’s why you haven’t been texting us!”

“Yes, obviously he’s hot,” Chan says, choosing the easiest of these to reply to. “He’s beautiful, and he wears little skirts and stockings and makeup. And he was the one that seduced me, I’ll have you all know. He wouldn’t leave me alone! What was I supposed to do, tell him no?”

“Yes,” Minho says drily.

“So, like, what are you gonna do?” Jisung asks. 

“I dunno! He goes back to school in like a month, which is over in Perth so it’s not like I’ll see him after that, except maybe over Easter break.” Chan kicks at a pebble. “I like him, though. When he’s not being a little brat, he’s very sweet.” He pauses, thinking back to this morning. “A little odd, though.”

“Anyone would be odd if they grew up around that much money,” Minho points out. 

“He’s really moody,” Chan says. “Not sure what causes it, but… he’s just hard to figure out, I guess. But I like him.”

“It’s that good, huh?” Minho teases, and Chan groans. 

“Yes, okay? I wish you guys could see him, you’d understand,” Chan says. “He’s so pretty. He doesn’t look real.”

“Maybe you’re hallucinating him,” Jeongin suggests, laughing. 

“I almost wish I was,” Chan mutters wearily. “But anyway, that’s it, really. Just me making some really poor decisions. But what about you guys? How have things been since I left?”

The other three launch into updates about their lives—family drama, news from school. Chan listens, comforted by their voices and the familiarity of their struggles. The whole time he’s been here, he’s been so busy with his work (and with Felix) that he didn’t realize how homesick he was, but now, listening to his friends chatter, he feels kinda lonely. He takes a couple more turns around the block this way, chatting and laughing.

“My mom’s calling, I think we have to go,” Minho says finally. 

“Go on, enjoy your party,” Chan says. “We’ll call again soon.”

“Enjoy your fuckbuddy,” Jeongin says.

“Think about it this way!” Jisung says cheerfully when Chan groans. “At least you don’t have to worry about getting him pregnant!”

“I’m hanging up,” Chan says over their laughter. “I love you all, somehow. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, hyung!”

“We love you, too.”

Chan waits for them to hang up, then pockets his phone with a sigh. The air is still and quiet now without their voices in his ear. He makes his way back to the house, punching in the code for the gate and slipping past, making sure it closes behind him. He goes around back, taking the staff entrance by the garage. The family is still having dinner. Once they move to the second floor, he supposes he’ll go scrounge for leftovers. 

* * *

Christmas passes. Chan doesn’t see Felix again until a couple days after, which does strike him as bizarre seeing how they live in the same house. Felix returns to him with a smile, like the weird moment they had the morning of Christmas Eve never happened. Chan chooses to ignore it, too, and in doing so, closes a door on some of his emotions swirling beneath the surface. It’s not like that will go anywhere, right? Felix has made that clear. 

And so they fall into a routine. Now that the holidays are coming to a close, Felix has realized he has some prep work for school, so he spends his mornings on that while Chan does his chores. When he finishes, he sneaks up to Felix’s room so they can fuck before dinner. Luckily, with the sparse number of staff members, they’re never in danger of getting caught.

New Year’s Eve comes before Chan knows it. The family has a party to attend after dinner, so Chan hurries through his chores since Felix will need time to get dressed. He scarfs down a lunch of cold leftovers, and then picks his way upstairs, dodging Olivia and one of the maids. They didn’t have a chance yesterday since Felix had an appointment in town—something about a magazine shoot, though Chan didn’t really get the details.

Felix is at his desk, bent over a textbook, glitter pen in hand when Chan opens his door. He looks up and immediately breaks into a smile when he sees him, capping his pen and putting it down, closing the book over it to mark his place. Chan locks the door behind him and crosses the room, taking Felix’s face in his hands and kissing him without saying hello. 

“Ugh, finally, you’re so slow,” Felix complains between kisses, letting Chan pull him to his feet and push the chair out of the way. His beautiful voice, Chan finds himself thinking. Deep and rich and smooth. “I was so bored, daddy, and I missed you yesterday, and—ah!”

Chan bends him over his desk with a hand on his back. Felix’s knees knock cutely as he grips the edge of the desk, making breathless little noises of want. His tiny skirt—white today, with a matching bralette and thigh-highs that dig into the soft skin and create a little bubble over the top—hides nothing at this angle, flipped up to reveal Felix’s pink little hole, his cock hanging between his thighs. He’s not wearing any panties.

“You’re such a brat,” Chan murmurs, hoping his tone hides the worst of his affection, pulling the chair back and sitting down in it, scooting closer and spreading Felix’s ass with one hand. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” Felix chants, shivering. 

“Did you get all clean for me?” Chan asks, pressing a dry thumb to his rim. 

“Yes, I saw you finishing up in the pool,” Felix tells him, breathless. “But you’re gonna have to prep me, I didn’t have time.”

“That’s fine, baby,” Chan says, and leans in, licking a flat stripe over his entrance. Felix moans again, pushing his ass back, and after a few more minutes of teasing, Chan eats him out in earnest, getting both of them messy with spit as he works to push his tongue inside.

One day without each other shouldn’t make such a difference, but both of them have clearly gotten used to getting off multiple times a day, so the wait has felt like forever. Chan’s already rock-hard in his shorts, a tent forming in the fabric over his crotch. 

Felix is dripping precome onto the floor between his feet, Chan notices when he pulls back to take a breath. It’s kind of cute and really hot, the way he hands his body over to Chan and does very little to manage the way it reacts.

Chan reaches into the second desk drawer for lube so he can actually open Felix up, drizzling some over his index finger and giving Felix one last kiss before pushing his finger inside. 

“Oh-hhh, yes, Chan,” Felix slurs, pressing his cheek to the desk. 

Chan stretches him easily, Felix’s body already used to this kind of intrusion. He finds his prostate and pets over the spot, watching Felix shake. They’ve never tried it, but Chan wants to watch him come like this, so he stays here, massaging over the spot and stroking over Felix’s perineum with his thumb at the same time. 

“Oh, fuck, feels so good,” Felix mumbles. “Mm, keep going. I feel warm, Chan, all over.”

“Good,” Chan says quietly. Felix gasps out little moans, his legs trembling. “Relax, baby, it only works if you relax.”

Felix whimpers but obeys, slumping against the desk and letting Chan milk his prostate. After a few more minutes, a shudder passes through Felix’s whole body, and a small spurt of release dribbles from Felix’s cock, dripping down his legs and mixing with his precome on the floor. 

“Ohhh, god, that’s so—I can’t—Chan,” Felix babbles. “More.”

Chan adds a second finger, scissoring them inside Felix to press at his walls. He is trying to prep him, after all. Once Felix’s body seems to accommodate the stretch, Chan starts again, stroking over his prostate, slow and insistent. 

He’s only seen it in porn, if he’s being honest, but Chan does his research. He tried it on himself once, but either it’s really that much better with a partner or Chan’s body just doesn’t do that, but it didn’t work—it felt nice at first, but ended up just kind of uncomfortable. He’s delighted (and honestly unsurprised) to find that Felix is capable.

Felix shudders out soft moans, voice sweet and poisonous as ever, shakily readjusting his grip on the desk. It’s obscene, Chan thinks, leaning back in the chair to take him in. His little skirt lies flat against his back. One of his thigh-highs is slipping down. There’s a puddle of his release between his feet. Chan couldn’t have imagined something hotter. 

“Daddy,” Felix whimpers, so soft, so helpless. “Think I’m gonna—feels so—” He chokes on a moan, going up on his tiptoes and bending his knees. More release drips out. He settles again, body heavy against the desk, like his legs really are going to give out at any moment. “It feels like coming,” he mumbles, “but not.”

“You look so pretty, baby, so wrecked,” Chan says softly, leaning around so Felix can see him over his shoulder. “Think you can take another finger?”

“Yes,” Felix says immediately. “You’re still gonna fuck me, right?”

Chan’s lips twitch in amusement. “Of course I am,” he replies. “We have all afternoon, don’t we?”

Felix hums, placated. “Yes,” he agrees softly. 

Chan pushes three fingers in. Felix tenses around him for half a second, and then relaxes with a sigh. Chan sinks his fingers all the way to the last knuckle, moving slow and enjoying Felix’s reactions, the way he huffs out little moans, the way his legs still won’t stop shaking. 

One of Felix’s hands slips off the desk, and instead of trying to regain his grip, he brings the dropped hand to his cock, stroking in time with Chan’s fingers. Chan doesn’t even bother saying anything. He knows even if Felix comes, he’ll be able to come again when Chan fucks him. 

“Chan, mm, god, Chan,” Felix mumbles. “Always make me feel so good.”

It only takes Chan cramming his pinky in beside the others for Felix to convulse against his desk, hips twitching as he comes. It spills over his knuckles and down his legs, soaking into the fabric of his thigh-highs. 

“Ready,” Chan says calmly, pulling his fingers out and letting Felix struggle through pushing himself off the desk and upright. 

He manages it, turning around and carefully avoiding the puddle of his release on the floor, leaning back against the edge of the desk and looking down at Chan through heavy-lidded eyes. He brings his soiled hand up to his lips and sticks one of his fingers in his mouth, cleaning himself up as he catches his breath. 

“God,” he hums. “It’s gonna be so annoying when I go back to school.” Another finger pops out clean; he moves on to the next. “Who’s gonna fuck me like this?” He turns his hand so he can lick over the back of it. “You’re gonna have to call me, daddy.”

Chan smiles. “Guess I will,” he agrees. 

“Good.” Felix’s hand is clean of come, and he reaches behind him for a tissue, then turns back around and bends down to wipe off the floor. Chan clenches his hands in his lap so he doesn’t pinch Felix’s ass, even though he’s pretty sure that’s exactly what Felix wants. Felix stands again, tossing the tissue into the garbage and giving Chan a glance over his shoulder before waltzing over to his bed. “Well? Come fuck me.”

Chan stands, tugging off his clothes and draping them over the back of the desk chair. “Just one round, though,” he says. “Your parents will be home soon, and you have your New Year’s dinner to get ready for.”

“If you hurry, we’ll have time for two,” Felix says slyly. 

Chan, now naked, strolls past him to grab a condom, one hand on his cock to start working himself up to full hardness. “Why are you so insatiable?” he asks.

“C’mon, quick,” Felix demands, pouting.

Chan tears the condom open with his teeth, rolling it on and spreading a little lube over his cock. “God, but if they find out, they’d be so mad,” he says. The fear is real, but right now it’s far away, and easy to joke about. “They’d never forgive me for corrupting you.” 

They both know if anything, it was the other way around, but neither of them mention it. Instead, Felix bends over the bed, arching his back and spreading himself with his hands. “Corrupting me?” he repeats. “Then come finish the job, daddy. Fuck me like you mean it.”

“Careful what you wish for,” Chan murmurs. He grabs his underwear from the chair and brings them back to the bed with him. “Open. You’re gonna be loud, and I know one of the maids is right downstairs.” 

Felix obeys, blinking up at him prettily as Chan stuffs his underwear into his mouth. Satisfied, Chan steps back, lining himself up behind Felix and gently swatting his hands out of the way. He collects Felix’s wrists in one of his palms and pins them against his tailbone, right over the pleats of his skirt.

For how casually he’s been acting, Chan is aching. He stops wasting time, finally pushing in with a soft groan. Felix lets out a muffled whimper, squeezing his eyes shut. Chan tightens his grip on Felix’s wrists as he bottoms out, clenching his jaw.

“So tight today, babygirl,” he grits out. “Does it hurt?” Felix nods with another tiny whimper. “Doesn’t matter how much I fuck you, does it? Just one day, and your body tightens right back up for me.” He takes a couple slow, shallow thrusts, waiting for Felix to open up for him. “Perfect,” he adds. “Made for fucking.”

Felix moans at this, barely audible through the fabric crammed in his mouth. His hair has partially fallen into his face. He looks like an angel, Chan thinks before he can stop himself. It wouldn’t matter; it’s true whether Chan lets himself think it or not. 

Chan can move with ease now, so he speeds up, thrusting in with much more force until the sound of skin against skin is loud enough to make him a little nervous. But Felix is making pleased sounds, so Chan decides it’s worth a little risk. He lets his jaw drop open, panting out sharp exhales, trying to keep himself silent as best he can.

It’s difficult, though. Felix is warm and wet around him. Pleasure is a hot, heavy stone in the pit of Chan’s stomach, and the feeling only grows with every movement. The A/C is on high, but still Chan feels sweat beading on his hairline, can feel the flush that’s crept up his neck to his cheeks and down to his chest.

Felix moans out what sounds like yes, daddy, faster. Chan obeys immediately, somehow speeding up the rocking up his hips. Felix’s eyebrows pinch prettily, his eyes finding Chan’s. He’s picture-perfect, even with his hair in his face and tears welling up quick on his waterline. Maybe especially. One tear spills over, a fat drop of water. It rolls sideways down his face, over the bridge of his cute nose, distorting his freckles. He blinks, and another tear falls, and another. His eyeliner begins to smear. 

Chan doesn’t know why, but Felix’s tears turn him on just as much as the skirts and stockings. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs. “Feels that good?” Felix manages a nod, sniffling. “Finally getting fucked like you wanted?” Another nod, followed by a muffled sob. Chan has half the mind to take the makeshift gag out, just to hear Felix’s voice. “Gonna take care of you,” he says instead. This gets him another muted sob in response, and pride glows warm in his chest. 

Chan continues to pound into him, almost enraptured by the way Felix’s tears work to ruin his careful makeup. Felix’s wrists slip from his hold, but Chan doesn’t move to take them again. If Felix wants to take the underwear out, Chan doesn’t think he wants to stop him. Felix doesn’t, though, just uses his arms to prop himself on his elbows, fucking himself back on Chan’s cock, taking fistfuls of the sheets and letting his head hang. 

Chan secures a hold on Felix’s waist with one hand, using the other to reach up and grab Felix’s hair. Felix makes a noise of want in the back of his throat the instant Chan’s fingertips brush past his scalp. Chan takes his pretty hair into his fist and uses it to pull his head back up, until Felix is arched back and whimpering. He wishes there was a mirror, so he could see the tear-tracks on his face, the red blush that colors his neck and chest, the way his tiny fingers are curled tight into the duvet. 

Felix spits the gag out, almost like a challenge. “Y-yes,” he stutters, finally free. “Chan, yes, like that. Fuck, I’m gonna feel you all night long, you’re all I’m gonna think about.”

Chan can’t help the noise that escapes him, low and guttural. He likes that a lot. Felix will be around so many rich, beautiful people tonight, but he’ll have the reminder of Chan with every step. A mark of possession. Chan might never be part of the world Felix is from, but he’ll have this. He’ll know he had him. 

Felix does seem to try to keep his noises to a minimum, despite the fact that he doesn’t have anything stopping him anymore. Either he’s just humoring Chan, trying to prove that he can be good, or he’s actually taken Chan’s warning to heart. He cries softly, the sound muted by his closed lips. 

“Staying so quiet for me,” Chan whispers. “Good girl.”

“Oh, fuck,” Felix says in a small, broken voice. “F-fuck, daddy, thank you, thank you.” 

Chan presses his fingers into Felix’s hips, wondering if he can sear his fingerprints in through the fabric of the skirt if he tries hard enough. He feels the heat build inside him, a fever threatening to eat him alive. Stars float in front of his vision, and he fights to keep an even pace. Felix hiccups out little moans, mumbling more thank you, daddys and right there, yes, pleases. Chan’s world is spinning, spinning; he makes some kind of noise, but it’s hazy even to his own ears. He thinks he feels the tension snap in his stomach.

“Mm, yes,” Felix hisses out. Chan closes his eyes, his hips still moving, though erratically now. “So warm, daddy, can feel it. Wish you could fill me up for real, wish I could keep you with me tonight, a load plugged up and hidden—”

There’s rushing in Chan’s ears, and he sways, body twitching. He thinks he lets go of Felix’s hair, thinks he can feel Felix clenching around him, can feel him writhing in pleasure beneath him, but it’s all so far away.

Chan tilts himself forward, caging Felix’s body with his arms and resting his forehead against his back, breathing deep and slow. Felix giggles softly. The noise is a little clearer, or maybe Chan’s just closer. “Are you gonna pass out?” he hears Felix ask.

“No,” he says hoarsely, then reconsiders and adds, “I don’t know.”

Another breathy giggle. “‘Cause I wouldn’t be able to move,” Felix says. “I’d—I’d be trapped here with you on top of me, still inside me.”

The world is coming back into focus, but Chan doesn’t dare open his eyes. He feels lightheaded. “You sound like you’d like that a lot,” he mutters. “Didn’t you just come?

“Yeah, but you know. Worse people to be trapped under,” Felix hums placidly. “Worse cocks to be stuck on.”

“Thanks, I think,” Chan says.

They lay there for a few long moments, just breathing. Chan doesn’t drop his full weight onto Felix—as much as Felix seems convinced he’d like it, Chan is a little worried he’s going to crush him. It is oddly peaceful, slowly floating down together in the afterglow. The room smells like sex, but Chan’s nose is against Felix’s skin, and the sweet citrusy scent all but overpowers it. He takes another deep breath.

“Felix! Olivia!” The intercom crackles to life and Chan nearly has a heart attack, snapping his eyes open and lurching off of Felix’s body before realizing Mrs. Lee’s voice is coming from the speaker, which means she has to be downstairs in her office. “We have dinner in an hour and the Hwang’s New Year’s Eve party to get to right after. Your sister is already ready. I won’t allow us to be late! Dressed and downstairs in forty-five minutes, no excuses!”

The room is silent, and then Felix buries his face in his duvet and laughs.

“How are you laughing?” Chan complains. “I think I almost pissed myself.”

“Take back what I said,” Felix says into the duvet. “Glad you have a condom on. Piss is where I draw the line.”

Chan pulls out, rolling the offending condom off and tossing it in the trash. “Shut up,” he mutters. “Well, you heard her.” Felix stands, too, reaching for a tissue to wipe his come off the bed. “You have forty-five minutes to not look like you just got fucked, so you better hurry up.”

“I’m a professional, I can do it in twenty,” Felix says. When he turns to Chan, he’s got a glint in his eye that Chan knows means trouble. “Which means we have time for one last round.” 

“Felix, she’s home,” Chan hisses.

“So?” Felix says. “We’ve fucked with my parents home before.”

“Yeah, but not on a night like tonight!” Chan says. “What if she comes up to check that you’re actually getting ready?”

Felix makes a face. “She won’t,” he says, and there’s a bitterness there that Chan doesn’t quite understand. “She’d rather be disappointed.” He seems to sense Chan is wavering, and clears his expression. “Please,” he wheedles. “One more, just one. So I can make it through this stupid party.”

“I thought you were friends with the Hwangs’ son,” Chan says, but he’s already going for a fresh condom. Felix tosses him his underwear and he puts them with his other clothing.

“Yeah, but our parents are going to be breathing down our fucking necks,” Felix says. He crawls up to the head of the bed. “You can go slow this time, so the bed doesn’t creak. Besides,” he adds with a giggle as he unclasps his bralette and throws it in the general direction of his hamper. “I think if you fucked me like you just did, I’d bleed—which normally I wouldn’t mind, but I don’t think Eomma would take kindly to bloodstains on my new suit.”

“Oh, a suit?” Chan says, raising an eyebrow, climbing onto the bed, too. Felix reaches out for his cock, so Chan moves closer, watching Felix’s little hands wrap around it. He’s sensitive, but they’ve taken enough of a break that it’s not unbearable.

“Mm, a suit. It’s white silk, very pretty,” Felix says. “This is a serious event, my parents would never let me go in a skirt.”

“I’ll always like the skirts best,” Chan says as Felix sits up properly so he can press his tongue to the tip of Chan’s cock. Chan inhales sharply through clenched teeth, the air almost whistling from the speed. “But I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a pretty suit, too.”

“Come see us off after dinner,” Felix says. “Ask my mum if she needs anything before she goes. She’ll like that, and you’ll get to see me.”

“Okay,” Chan agrees softly, running a hand through Felix’s hair.

Felix uses his hands and mouth to work Chan back up to hardness. Chan watches the clock. It takes ten minutes. He’s going to have to be quick if they don’t want to get caught. There’s a part of him that knows he should’ve said no, should’ve gotten dressed and left, but a bigger part of him is enjoying the risk. Or maybe it’s just the part of him that wants to agree to everything Felix says.

So Chan rolls the new condom on, adds more lube. Felix settles back into the pillows, spreading his legs, cock just beginning to harden again underneath his skirt. Downstairs, Felix’s family prepares for dinner, for a party, and doesn’t wonder what’s taking Felix so long, doesn’t wonder where Chan has disappeared to. Just a few floors above them, Chan pushes back into Felix’s body with a soft grunt. Felix wraps his arms around Chan’s shoulders, his legs around Chan’s waist, pulling him close. 

It’s slow and quiet, completely different from the way they are just a half an hour before. Chan stays buried deep and circles his hips, grinding into Felix, his lips on Felix’s throat, his Adam’s Apple, his jaw. Felix ducks his head so they can kiss, deep and fierce and almost noiseless. 

“Chan,” Felix whispers between kisses. “So good to me.”

Chan smiles against his lips. Here, wrapped in each other's bodies, they can’t possibly hurt each other. “Of course I am,” he says. “I want what you want.”

“Even when it’s a terrible idea?” Amusement is a shining light behind Felix’s eyes.

Chan kisses him, quick and almost chaste. “I’m here, aren’t I?” he asks when he pulls away.

“Yes,” Felix whispers. The amusement fades, replaced by something else. “You’re here.”

Chan cups his face in his hands, stroking over his cheekbones with his thumbs. His makeup is destroyed, mascara drying on his cheeks and lip gloss smudged on his chin. His nose is still red, eyes still puffy, from crying. And he’s beautiful. I’ll be here as long as you want me, Chan thinks helplessly.

He kisses him again so he doesn’t say it. Their noses bump, but Felix leans in insistently, holding Chan close, fingers interlocked behind his neck. Chan breathes Felix in, lemon and sugar and sweat, rolling his hips, dirty and deep, swallowing all of Felix’s soft moans. Chan can feel Felix’s heartbeat under his fingertips, quick like a rabbit’s. Felix holds him close like he doesn’t want to let go.

When Chan comes, he doesn’t even make a sound. It passes through his body like something washing up on the shore—slow, almost languid, final. Felix kisses him through it, clenching tight dutifully, making it good for him. 

Chan pulls out and replaces his cock with a couple of his fingers, and works them in as deep as they’ll go, then thrusts shallowly, not enough to make a lot of noise. With his other hand, he thumbs over the slit of Felix’s cock. Felix covers his mouth with his hands, eyes wide and staring up at the ceiling, abdomen tight from the exertion. 

He comes in a few weak dribbles that run down Chan’s knuckles, a tiny amount of fluid, nearly clear. Felix twists in the sheets but stays quiet, lifting his hips up off the bed as he shakes. “Good girl,” Chan murmurs, and Felix whines high and faint in the back of his throat.

There are twenty minutes exactly left for Felix to get ready when Chan hops off the bed to discard the condom and go wash his hands. Felix is working his way to the edge of the bed when Chan returns from the bathroom. He grabs his tank top and throws it on, walking over to the bed to give Felix a kiss on the forehead.

“I’ll come see you off later, yeah?” he says.

Felix nods. “I’ll see you later.” He slips down onto the floor and stumbles, knees buckling. Chan grabs him before he can fall to the floor, and Felix giggles weakly. “Oh god, you fucked me so good, hyung,” he says, voice syrupy-sweet. “Oh, shit.” Chan lets him go and he wobbles, but remains standing. “Oh, my legs feel like jelly. What if I can’t walk?” He’s still giggling when he looks up at Chan.

“That’s not funny,” Chan groans, heading back to the desk chair to put on the rest of his clothes. “If your parents find out about this because I fucked you so hard you can’t walk right, I will literally never forgive myself.”

“Kind of a great way to go, though,” Felix says blithely, waltzing into the bathroom. “Go, before they really do catch you.”

“Right,” Chan mutters to himself, tying the waistband of his shorts.

* * *

Chan goes to bed early that night. He sees the family off, watching Felix out of the corner of his eye. The suit is very pretty, a warm-toned white, oversized and draped over Felix’s body perfectly. The shirt is made of a shimmery, gossamer fabric, and Mrs. Lee reminds Felix three times to button another button. She also tells Chan to take a bottle of champagne from the cellar to celebrate. 

Chan takes a bottle but doesn’t open it, just leaves it on his desk and heads into the shower to wash the day’s sins off of his body. He finds Felix’s come crusted in his nailbeds, and hopes to god nobody noticed.

He falls asleep long before midnight and wakes sometime in the stifling darkness of the early hours to a body next to his own, warm and smelling of champagne.

“Felix?” he whispers. “What time is it? Are you drunk?”

“No, just a little tipsy,” Felix whispers back. He sounds clearheaded; he must be telling the truth. “And it’s a little past two. Your door was unlocked. I just—wanted to come say goodnight. I wanted to see you.”

He’s not in his suit. He’s not in a robe, either; instead, little sleep shorts and an unassuming t-shirt, loose and soft from wear. Chan blinks against the dark, reaching a hand up to touch his face. His hair is still damp from his shower. “How was the party?”

Felix crawls under the blankets, pressing cold toes to Chan’s shins. “It was alright. I got to see my friends, at least. I need to see you and Changbin side by side. I think his arms are even bigger than yours.”

Chan exhales soft laughter, wrapping an arm around Felix and kissing the tip of his nose. “Well, alright is better than bad, I guess,” he says. “Make any resolutions?”

“To continue being a horrible little brat,” Felix replies, giggling. “You?”

“I didn’t,” Chan admits. “I didn’t really think about it.”

“It’s just another day,” Felix says with a half-shrug. “Just like yesterday. Just like tomorrow.”

“That’s true,” Chan agrees softly, some tender feeling blooming in his chest. 

“Happy New Year,” Felix whispers.

“Happy New Year,” Chan repeats.

“I didn’t have anyone to kiss at midnight,” Felix says.

“You do now,” Chan says, and kisses him. And kisses him. And kisses him.

When Chan wakes up the next morning, Felix is already gone, but his sheets smell like champagne and lemons and sugar.

* * *

Chan is in the garden, trimming away dead leaves. Jerry went home early—a doctor’s appointment, Chan thinks he said, so it’s up to Chan to tend to the plants. The afternoon sun is punishing, beating against his back, but Chan honestly doesn’t mind it. The garden, when he’s alone, is peaceful. 

The first week or so of January has passed quietly. There’s only a couple weeks now before the new semester begins, and Chan finds himself looking forward to it. It’ll be nice to have other people around his age to talk to—Felix doesn’t count. 

Speaking of Felix, he thinks to himself as he moves down the row of plants, I wonder where he is? Chan didn’t see him at breakfast or at lunch. It’s not unlike him to sleep in, especially now that his break is almost finished, but Chan usually sees him before the afternoon wears on. Then again, Chan is usually around the house, not out in the gardens. 

He works his way to the center of the garden throughout the afternoon, pausing every now and again for water or sunblock. He gets to the clearing where he found Felix that first evening, and after he finishes his work there, he decides to give himself a break, dropping down onto the bench with a sigh.

He sits there awhile, answering a couple texts and checking his socials. It’s not so bad in the shade, and there’s a breeze today, so Chan actually finds himself comfortable after a few minutes of rest. He tips his head back, looking up at the trees.

He can’t imagine growing up in a place like this. This is an estate. It should be a museum. The whole property is so sterile, almost, pristine; meant for looking at, not living in. Chan honestly found it hard to believe anyone lived this way, except maybe the richest people in the world. But now here Chan is as proof—this sort of life is lived in, just meticulously looked after by unseen hands. 

Chan lets himself sit and contemplate for about a half an hour, and then begrudgingly gets to his feet to get back to work. He collects his tools and is about to move on when he hears uneven footfalls coming his way. 

Felix appears in the entrance to the clearing, wearing the tiny booty shorts and holding a nearly full bottle of wine. It’s a red today, and looks expensive. His lips are stained the faintest hint of dark purple, and his eyes, vacant and unfocused, light up when he sees Chan.

“Oh my god, there you are!” he exclaims. His crop top is slipping off the one of his shoulders; it slips further as he heads Chan’s way. Uneasy, Chan drops his tools back in the grass and pockets his phone. 

“Hey, Felix,” he says slowly, eyeing the bottle in his hand. “Is that… all you drank?” He can’t imagine it is; Felix stumbles over his own feet in the grass. 

Felix holds it up and looks at it, then takes another sip. “No,” he says, almost sing-songy. “I finished one after I got home.”

“Home from where?” Chan asks, letting Felix fall into his arms. “Careful, baby.”

Felix doesn’t answer. He’s busy pressing closer to Chan, nose against his neck. “Hi, daddy,” he slurs. “Missed you this morning.” He surges up and kisses Chan, wet and messy.

Chan raises his chin to get out of his reach. “Uh, yeah,” he says, debating the merits of taking the wine from Felix and the chances he’ll succeed. “I was working, like usual. Where… were you?”

“Oh, you know,” Felix mumbles vaguely, leaning in. Chan flinches back instinctively, and Felix frowns. “Why won’t you kiss me?”

“You’re super drunk, baby,” Chan says softly. “I’m worried about you. Here,” he says, bending down and picking up his water bottle. “How about some water?”

Felix shakes his head, and takes another swig of wine just to spite him. “I don’t want water,” he says petulantly. Chan swears the slurring is getting worse by the sentence. “I want wine, and I want you.” Another swig, and then he offers the bottle to Chan. Chan shakes his head. “‘Member how I said I want it all the time, even if I’m drunk?” He takes one of Chan’s hands with his own. “Well, I meant it.” He tries to pull Chan’s hand around his back, down toward his ass. 

“Felix.” Chan tries to pry his hand out Felix’s grasp as gently as he can, but Felix’s grip is surprisingly strong.

“C’mon, daddy,” Felix murmurs. Chan can feel the swell of one of his cheeks on his palm. “Don’t you want me?” He presses one of Chan’s fingers to his entrance, and Chan registers that he’s already loose and wet with lube.

Chan wrangles himself free, trying to ignore Felix’s gasp of pain when he accidentally bends one of his fingers. “This isn’t a good idea, Felix,” he says softly, hoping to gentle the rejection by keeping his tone light. It’s not that he doesn’t want him, he just doesn’t want him like this. “C’mon, let’s get you inside. The heat can’t be helping.” He tries to start walking them in the direction of the house, but Felix refuses to budge.

“No, please, Chan,” Felix whines. “Why not? You fucked me here before, remember?” Chan does remember. He remembers pressing Felix up against one of the statues and smothering his moans with a hand clamped tight over his mouth. There’s no way he couldn’t remember. “Why won’t you do it now?” Felix continues. “Just ‘cause I’m a little drunk? I told you, it’s fine. I’m a slut, I always want it.” He’s practically spitting the words at Chan; his voice has taken on a strange quality that Chan isn’t sure how to interpret. “I need it.”

“Baby,” Chan says softly. “I’m not gonna fuck you right now. Okay? I’m in the middle of working, and you need to drink some water and sober up, or your mum is going to lose her shit. C’mon, let me help you.”

This seems to infuriate Felix. He wrenches himself away, nearly losing balance. “If you don’t fuck me, I’ll tell her about us.”

Fear courses through Chan’s body, but he knows immediately he’d rather take that risk than do something he knows is bad for Felix. “I don’t care,” he says softly. “Tell her. This isn’t right, I won’t do it, I’m not going to fuck you when you’re drunk and clearly—upset about something—”

“I’m not upset, the only thing I’m upset about is that you don’t like me anymore,” Felix protests. “Please, Chan. I need it.”

“No, you don’t,” Chan sighs, going up to him and linking their arms together. “And of course I still like you. We’re gonna go inside, okay? And we’re going to get you some water, and find Maya, and she’ll make you something to eat. I’m worried about you, baby, okay? Will you do this for me?”

Felix grumbles incoherently, but complies nonetheless, letting Chan march him out of the gardens. Chan thinks he murmurs a good girl in Felix’s ear; maybe that’s why he keeps walking. Felix takes drinks of his wine as they go, but Chan decides that that is not a battle worth fighting. He’s going to take this small victory and run, because the last thing he needs is for Felix to refuse to come with him again. In any case, he has much bigger problems to contend with at the moment—Felix trips over his own feet every few steps, most of his weight falling on Chan to carry. 

“Chan,” he slurs, giggles. He presses a sloppy kiss to Chan’s neck, nearly toppling both of them in the process. “You’re soooo strong. How come you’re walking so straight?” More giggles, interrupted by a hiccup. “The world is sideways.”

“Just keep moving,” Chan says. “I’ve got you.”

So he lets Felix drink without saying a word as they cross the bridge, the patio, and finally make it to the back door. Chan isn’t quite sure how he gets both of them inside, but he manages that, too, closing and locking the door behind him and letting Felix use him as a support while he kicks off his shoes. They pad clumsily down the hall, Chan veering them towards the kitchen and praying Maya will be there.

She is, thankfully, cleaning up at the breakfast bar and setting out some fruit. Her eyes widen when she sees them, taking in the drunken flush of Felix’s cheeks and Chan’s strained expression, dropping her work and hurrying to meet them.

“What happened?” she asks Chan.

“I don’t know,” Chan says, lies. “I ran into him when I was working in the garden. He’s…” Chan glances at the bottle in Felix’s hand. It’s already half-empty. “I think that’s his second bottle, I don’t know. He’s really drunk, and I didn’t know what to do, so I managed to convince him to come inside to get some water.”

Maya reaches out for Felix, but he just turns his head away. “Thank you, Chan,” she says softly. “Thank you for looking out for him.” Guilt runs through Chan’s veins like ice, but he nods. “He has days like this, but we’ve survived every one. Here, can you get him into a chair? I’ll go grab some water.”

She turns to go, and Chan starts to walk, but Felix groans, hanging his head, and vomits unceremoniously and without warning onto the floor. It spatters against the hardwoods, some of it splashing onto Chan’s socks. Watered down wine, purple-red, and nothing solid. No wonder he’s so fucked up, Chan finds himself thinking as Felix sways, bottle slipping from his fingers.

Chan’s memories of the next few minutes are blurry. He manages to catch the bottle as Felix drops it, saving it from shattering on the floor. Felix continues to throw up, all liquid, coughing and gagging even when it’s all gone, his full weight sagging against Chan’s side. Chan manages to get Felix into a chair; Maya brings him water and some paper towels to clean himself up with. Chan cleans up the mess on the floor while Maya calls for Felix’s parents. Mr. Lee isn’t home, but his mother takes one look and walks out, disgusted. 

Rachael is the one who takes Felix back to his room. Chan sees them get into the elevator, and that’s the last of it, Felix’s pink hair falling into his eyes and obscuring his face, Rachael with her arm wrapped tight around him, eyes stormy. The door closes, and Chan takes soaked paper towels to the trash.

The kitchen is quiet in the aftermath. Maya sighs softly, looking at Chan over the island. “Sorry,” she says. “But if you work here long enough, you see that eventually.”

“Is he… okay?” Chan ventures, just above a whisper.

“It doesn’t happen that often,” she says. “Usually, he’ll have a glass or two once in a while, and it’s fine. But sometimes…” She gestures helplessly around her. “I don’t know. They…” She lowers her voice. “They took him to a doctor once, but they said it wasn’t unusual for a kid his age to overindulge on occasion. Mr. and Mrs. Lee agreed, so they didn’t send him back.”

“What do you think?” Chan asks.

“I think he’s sad,” she says quietly after a moment of hesitation. “More than he lets on, and sometimes this is the only way he knows how to deal with it.”

* * *

The house has a sort of haunted silence to it for the rest of the day. Chan finishes his work quickly and retreats to his room to try and escape it, only leaving to grab something for dinner in the late evening. But the silence is everywhere, hanging heavy in the air, oppressive.

Still, the next morning, it seems things have returned to normal. Rachael leaves for her internship at her usual time. Felix doesn’t come to breakfast.

Chan only sees him after lunch when he’s restocking the patio. He comes down the stairs almost shyly, taking small, calculated steps and sitting down in a lounge chair slowly, like if he moves quietly enough, Chan won’t see him.

“Thank you,” Felix says finally. “For taking care of me yesterday.”

Chan blinks, setting down a water bottle and straightening, hesitating for a moment before walking over to Felix and sitting in the chair next to him. “Yeah, no, don’t worry about it,” he says. “It was the right thing to do. And…” He looks Felix over. He’s a little pale, and there are bags under his eyes, but he looks fine. “I’m glad you’re okay. Do you… wanna talk about it?”

Felix is silent for a few long minutes. Chan waits patiently, looking out over the sparkling water of the pool.

“My parents hate me,” Felix says at last. There’s a finality to his tone that makes his words sink in like dead weight. “They’re disappointed in everything I do. And you know? Sometimes I am too.” He runs his hands through his hair. “They have an idiot for a son, who gets so drunk he throws up on their hardwoods before dinner, and who has no direction in life and no idea what he wants to be. And honestly?” He waits until Chan is looking at him before he continues. “I’d just feel bad for them, except I know that the thing they hate the most about me is that I’m gay, and I dress like—“ He gestures down at himself. He’s in a demure linen dress today, the top three buttons undone and the waist cinched tight. “—like a sissy slut.” The words come out hard as stones, and Chan understands the tone he took in the garden yesterday. It wasn’t his own voice. It was his mother’s, stealing his tongue. “They pretend they’re supportive, because they don’t want to harm my dad’s image, but—I know the truth,” Felix says. “And I’m—I’m not ashamed of it. I know who I am. But I just wish—” He breaks off, presses his lips together, looking through Chan. “I just wish they loved me,” he finishes quietly. 

Chan’s heart twists in his chest. He still doesn’t really understand—where Felix goes, why he acts the way he does, what it is exactly that he’s running from—but he does feel hurt for him. “Felix,” he says softly.

Felix looks back up at him. “You know I wouldn’t have actually told them, right?” he asks seriously.

Chan blinks. “You… remember that?” He kind of assumed Felix had blacked out for most of the afternoon.

Felix nods miserably. “Yeah,” he mutters. “It’s spotty, but… I remember trying to—to get you to fuck me, and then threatening to tell my parents when you wouldn’t. And I just want you to know that I wouldn’t.” He pauses, looking at Chan, his expression unreadable. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Thank you,” Chan says softly.

“And I’m sorry.” The words sound like they’re being dragged from Felix’s chest. He must not apologize often, so Chan is honestly touched that he’s doing it now. “For—for throwing myself at you, and for saying I’d do that. And for puking on your socks.”

Chan can’t help the laughter that bursts out of him. “It’s okay,” he says, trying to rein it in. At least there’s a ghost of a smile now on Felix’s lips. “Really, it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. I forgive you. Do you know, the reason I don’t drink often is because I had a night like that in college?”

Felix leans in, intrigued. “Really? You?”

“Yeah,” Chan says, happy to be on a lighter topic, happy that Felix is no longer stewing in a world of self-pity. “It was my freshman year, right after finals, and I drank so much I was throwing up I swear for an hour straight. And the worst part is, it started in my friend Minho’s room, and his floor was carpeted.”

“Oh, fuck,” Felix laughs. The sound warms Chan.

“Yeah, so don’t feel bad. The cleanup yesterday was really easy,” Chan says. “Your hardwoods have a good sealant on them, don’t worry. Back then, we had to call in the poor cleaning staff, and they kicked my friends out of their room so they could shampoo it…”

* * *

“I’m gonna get lunch,” Felix says, emerging from the pool and wrapping a towel around his shoulders. “You know where to find me.”

Chan nods wordlessly, peeking up at him as he leaves before getting back to work. 

The break is coming to a close. Felix leaves first out of his siblings, going back in just a few days now. Though neither of them say it, Chan can tell they’re both making a more concerted effort to see each other as often as possible. It’s easy in some ways. Since the holidays are over, Mr. and Mrs. Lee spend most of their days out of the house, coming back late. And though all the staff members are back, which makes dodging them hard, at least Chan doesn’t have any extra work to hold him back.

So Chan finishes his work, grabs a quick lunch, and then heads upstairs. Felix is exactly where Chan expected him, curled up at his desk, busy gaming, cute round glasses on and a green Melona popsicle between his lips. 

Felix sees him when he comes in and scrambles to pause his game, pulling off his headphones and grabbing the popsicle out of his mouth. “Hi,” he says, almost breathless. His lips are bright red and glossy from the popsicle. 

“Hi,” Chan replies. He takes his time with the lock, strolling slowly over to Felix and running a hand through his hair. The roots are really starting to grow in, deep, inky black against faded pink. A measure of how long Chan has known him. “Still in your swimsuit,” he says.

“Thought maybe we could shower together,” Felix replies. He holds Chan’s gaze and licks a stripe up his popsicle. 

“Mm, good idea,” Chan agrees, bending over him and finally kissing him. Felix moans softly, his free hand coming up to grip one of Chan’s biceps, tiny fingers pressing into the muscle. His lips are cold and he tastes sweet. Chan licks over his bottom lip, then pushes in past his teeth. He’s sweet everywhere, popsicle coating his tongue.

Felix’s eyes are glazed with pleasure when they break apart. His popsicle is melting in his hand, but he seems unaware of it. Chan grins at him, bending to the side and catches a drop with his tongue. “I’m gonna eat this if you don’t,” he says. Felix just hums, holding it out to him, so Chan does the only logical thing, which is to take the whole thing in his mouth and then pull back off real slow, keeping his cheeks hollowed and his eyes on Felix. 

“You’re just as bad as I am,” Felix says with a dreamy giggle as Chan licks his lips.

“Wasn’t like this before I met you,” Chan says, which is mostly true. He kisses Felix again, pinning him to the chair. “We gonna shower?”

“Mm, yeah,” Felix says, but he keeps kissing Chan, alternating between that and taking licks of his popsicle. Chan knows he’s not helping; he reaches down between Felix’s legs and cups his cock in his palm, groping him through the thin fabric of his tiny swim bottoms. Felix lets out another moan, bucking up into Chan’s hand.

“Should really get in the shower, then,” Chan hums, but he keeps going, running his fingers up and down the length of Felix’s cock until he’s hard. Precome leaks a wet patch into the swim bottoms, the stain spreading as the minutes drip by. Felix swirls what’s left of his popsicle in his mouth, movements slow and lazy, moans muffled. “Should get going before you make a mess in your bikini,” Chan continues. 

“Mm, Chan,” Felix sighs, so pretty. “S-stop touching me, then.”

Chan hums like he’s considering it. “Do you want me to stop touching you?” he asks.

“N-no,” Felix stutters. He pulls the popsicle stick out, clean. “Kiss me.”

Chan obliges, bracing himself with a hand on the headrest of Felix’s chair. Felix pushes his cold tongue into Chan’s mouth, whimpering in the back of his throat as he runs it over Chan’s teeth. It’s messy, but Chan doesn’t care. He’ll happily lick any taste off the surface of Felix’s tongue.

They keep kissing until Felix comes, sticky white soaking through his swim bottoms and getting all over Chan’s hand, moans muffled in Chan’s mouth, popsicle stick dropped and forgotten on the floor. Felix goes limp against the chair when Chan pulls away, sighing softly. “Ohh, I felt that in my toes,” he mumbles, eyes fluttering shut. 

Chan grins, kissing him on the tip of the nose, then reaches around with his clean hand to grab lube and a condom out of the desk drawer. “Okay, definitely shower now,” he says. 

“I can’t move,” Felix complains. “My legs won’t go.”

“You’re such a piece of work,” Chan mutters fondly, readjusting his grip on the lube and then simply scooping Felix out of the chair and carrying him to the bathroom. Felix squeaks in delight, giggling softly as Chan lowers him gently onto the edge of the tub. 

“You’re seriously so strong, Chan,” he says, watching as Chan pokes his head into the shower to start the water. “I bet you could squat me.”

“I could definitely squat you,” Chan agrees. “I could squat two of you.”

“We have a gym,” Felix says, now sounding a little dreamy. “You could probably even bench me.”

“Probably,” Chan says, setting the lube and condom down on the counter and giving him a look. “But I think if someone catches us in the gym together, they’re really gonna start asking questions.”

“Oh, but naked in my bathroom is okay?” Felix asks pointedly as Chan shucks his tank up and over his head. 

“The point of your rooms is people won’t just walk in,” Chan replies. “‘Cause you might be naked. Speaking of which, get moving.”

“Point taken,” Felix chirps, untying the strings of his bikini top and letting it fall to the floor, then stepping out of his soiled bottoms and hooking them over a finger. “Hurry up.” He steps into the shower and disappears behind the steam.

Chan shakes his head, carefully folding his underwear and laying it on top of the stack of the rest of his clothes on the counter. He picks up the lube and condom and heads into the shower.

Felix is waiting under the water, scrubbing at his swim bottoms. “One sec,” he says softly, glancing up when Chan brings in a whoosh of cold air. 

The shelves are out of the way of the spray, so Chan puts the lube and condom on the highest one, holding his hand out for Felix’s swim bottoms so he can hang them on one of the little hooks on the wall when he’s done. 

“Thanks,” Felix says, a genuine, proper show of gratitude. Chan hides his smile, reaching for the shampoo.

“Turn around,” he says. “Close your eyes.”

Felix obeys, and Chan squeezes a dollop of shampoo out onto his palm, capping the bottle with a click and putting it back before rubbing his hands together. He spreads the shampoo on Felix’s wet hair, pressing the pads of his fingertips into Felix’s scalp in a gentle massage, running his fingers through the strands to make sure the soap gets everywhere. 

“Your hair’s so smooth,” Chan finds himself saying. “Even though you’ve dyed it. It’s so soft.”

Chan can hear Felix’s smile even though he can’t see it. “Thanks.” Felix leans into his touch. “Feels good.”

“Yeah?” Chan asks, slowing his movements, working his fingers in circles. Felix moans lowly, and Chan’s pretty sure it’s not even sexual. “Good?”

“Yes, daddy,” Felix breathes, and—okay, maybe a little sexual. But he does kind of look like he’s melting a little bit, relaxing under Chan’s hands. 

He remains pliant as Chan washes his hair out for him, and patient when Chan works on his own hair. But the instant the soap is gone, his hands are on Chan’s body, pressing little kisses to his chest and arms. 

“Ready for round two?’” Chan asks needlessly. “Want daddy to fuck you now?”

“Mm-hm,” Felix agrees.

Chan puts the water on super hot and then points the faucet away from them so they don’t drown, but they stay warm. “Up against the wall, then,” he says, nodding to it. Felix goes immediately, pressing himself up against the tile and sticking his cute little ass out. “Jesus, baby,” Chan says before he can stop himself. “You look like a dream.” Felix just smirks at him over his shoulder.

Chan finds the lube, drizzling a little over his fingers as he walks up behind Felix. He kisses his shoulder blade, staying close as he feels around for his entrance and pushes a finger in. Felix moans softly, the sound echoing against the walls. “God, I always forget how big your fingers are,” he says. “Can’t ever make myself feel the way you do.”

“Good thing I’m here, then,” Chan says, pushing in past his middle knuckle and waiting for Felix to relax around him.

“Yeah, but—mm—you won’t be soon,” Felix says. “I mean, I won’t be. I’m gonna fuck my way through all the jocks trying to find someone who can do what you can.”

Chan tamps down the jealousy that flares in his chest. Felix isn’t his. He can fuck whoever he wants. “Good luck with that,” he says. “You’d have better time with artists. They actually have fine motor skills.”

“Mm, that’s a good point,” Felix huffs. “Hyunjin’s always been good with his hands.”

Chan decides he’s not going to ask exactly what Felix means by that. “Besides, I bet most of the athletes’ll only last a couple minutes.”

“I dunno,” Felix says, mischief rich in his voice. “Changbin has great stamina, and my other friend Seungmin is a baseball player, and he does too.”

“You trying to make me jealous?” Chan asks. “Or do you just fuck all your friends?”

“You’re not my friend,” Felix points out. “And I’m fucking you.”

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with that,” Chan says, exhaling laughter.

“You should come visit me,” Felix says. “During a long weekend or something.”

“Your parents are gonna ask questions,” Chan says.

“You’re from here,” Felix argues. “You could just say you’re visiting an old friend.” 

“That’s true,” Chan acquiesces, retaliating by adding a second finger. Felix’s jaw drops open and satisfaction boils hot in Chan’s stomach. “Maybe I will.”

“You better,” Felix says, somehow still sounding all sharp and demanding despite the strain in his voice. “I don’t wanna wait until Easter to fuck you again.”

Chan can agree with that, at the very least. “That’s true, it’s a while to wait. And calling isn’t the same.”

“Mm-mm,” Felix agrees. “Not unless I commission a replica of your hands. Or your cock.”

“I don’t think even that would be enough for you,” Chan says, and Felix giggles.

“Probably not,” he admits. “Can’t help it. I just want you.”

Chan fits a third finger in, pumping them viciously even though it’s tight just so he can watch Felix squirm. “Yeah? Like the way I fuck you?”

“Better than anybody else,” Felix says, and if Chan wasn’t certain he says that to everyone he fucks, he’d probably do something embarrassing. As it is, his dick twitches anyway. He pets over Felix’s prostate, so familiar now with his body that he doesn’t even have to search around for it. Felix shudders, muscles in his back tensing up. “Yeah, right there.”

“Here?” Chan massages over it meanly, pressing kisses to Felix’s spine and listening to him whine.

“Too much, Chan, gonna come again,” he protests, trying and failing to escape the sensation by shifting his hips. “Wanna come on your cock.”

That gets Chan to relent. “Fine,” he says softly. “Almost there.”

He finishes opening Felix up quickly, then pulls his fingers out and runs them under the scalding water for just a second to get them clean enough to open the condom packet without slipping. He rolls it on, adding another pump of lube for good measure, and then positions himself behind Felix.

“Put it in,” Felix demands the instant he hesitates. “I’m ready. And if I’m not, and I bleed, we can wash it all away.”

Chan doesn’t need him to say it again. He pushes past his puckered entrance and slides into the sweet warmth. Felix is tight around him like a vice, and Chan only gets halfway before he has to stop. “Shit,” he murmurs. “A little too impatient.”

“Keep going,” Felix insists. “I can take it.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Chan says, but he does try to push in a little more, anyway. It works, sort of, and slowly, he manages to sink in the rest of the way. Both of them let out deep sighs when he finally bottoms out, pressed close to Felix’s body, so close he’s got Felix’s trapped against the wall.

“Fu-u-uck,” Felix moans. “I’m gonna explode. You feel so big, Chan. I think I can feel you in my tummy, against the wall. Feel like ‘m getting split open.”

Chan isn’t sure about that, but the idea makes him grit out a moan nonetheless. “Guess I should spend less time on prep more often,” he manages. “So tight, baby. Feel nice ’n’ full?”

“God, yeah,” Felix breathes. “Fuck, it’s like I can feel you everywhere.” His fingers catch on the grout between the tiles but slip down the wall all the same. 

“Give you a second before I move,” Chan mumbles. “Don’t wanna do some real damage.”

“Mm, kinda want you to,” Felix whimpers. “Ruin my body, daddy, I want it.”

“Fuck, babygirl,” Chan groans. “Want me to make it hurt?”

“Yes.” The word is a breath sucked in between bared teeth. “Please.”

Chan draws his hips back excruciatingly slow, letting Felix whimper for him for a second before pushing back in, fast and hard. The force of it punches a weak moan out of Felix’s chest. “Like that?” Chan pants, doing it again, legs shaking from the exertion and the delicious drag of his cock against Felix’s walls. “Fuck, you’re so tight, feels so good.”

Felix only sobs out a moan, the sound garbled by the echoes it makes and his slack jaw. Chan spreads a hand between his shoulder blades, pressing him into the wall and using his other hand to grip his hip so he has nowhere to go. Felix slumps against the tile, pink tongue just visible over his bottom teeth, eyes drooping shut. Chan hears himself grunt, something low in the chest, gravelly, reverberating around them. He slams his hips forward with every stroke, rough and mean like Felix begged for. Every movement sends spikes of arousal dancing under Chan’s skin, almost painful with how good it feels. Felix’s body loosens around him, but even then there’s hardly enough room, and Chan’s pretty sure that if he’d used even one less drop of lube that this wouldn’t be working. 

But it’s what Felix asked for, and as Chan looks at him, he knows he couldn’t stop. Felix’s face is twisted into a beautiful expression of bliss, eyebrows pinched and mouth open in a silent scream. His fingers rest gently against the wall, hardly supporting him. Chan can’t see, but he knows his cock is hard and leaking against his stomach, an angry red.

Chan can feel sweat beading on his forehead, partially from the steam, but he can’t reach the faucet dial now. They’re surrounded by a fine mist, and it kind of makes Chan a little dizzy. But he keeps going, fucking Felix ruthlessly, pounding him into the wall with soft groans as his abdomen tightens and tightens.

And then Felix is moaning, a low string of total incoherence, and he curls over himself, convulsing weakly, head disappearing between his shoulders and hands scrabbling at the tile above them. “Daddy, daddy, yes,” Chan thinks he hears him babble as he begins to still.

“Can you last a little longer, babygirl?” Chan asks, his voice rough.

“Yes,” comes Felix’s voice, his head still out of sight. “But daddy, hurts.”

His voice is wobbly, small and pitiful, and Chan knows the face he’s making. He’s sure he’s crying, cute little nose all red and cheeks splotchy. “So good for me, so patient,” Chan soothes breathlessly. He thrusts, shallow, a few more times as the hot pleasure takes over his body at last, making his legs shake. He comes deep inside Felix, hips pressed to his ass, head tipped back and hands with a punishing grip on his waist.

They catch their breath. Chan can hardly hear anything over the soft roar of the water. After a moment, he pulls out, almost stumbling backwards to turn the temperature back to something a little more bearable, rolling the condom off with unsteady hands before going back to check on Felix.

Felix is still bent over at the waist, leaning on the wall for support, forearm braced against the tile and face hidden in the crook of his elbow. Chan looks closer and sees pinkish-red at his entrance. Blood and lube.

“Oh, shit, oh fuck, Felix, I’m so sorry,” Chan stutters, setting the condom gingerly on one of the shelves and hurrying to him. He pets down his back, wondering how painful it would be if he tried to wash him clean. “Didn’t mean to actually hurt you. I’m sorry.”

Felix looks up, dazed. “What are you talking about?” he mumbles.

“You—you’re bleeding,” Chan says helplessly with a vague gesture. 

Felix just smiles, lazy and undisturbed. “I said I wanted it,” he says, tone serene and level. He peels himself off the wall, straightening as he goes, turning and wrapping his arms around Chan’s shoulders. “Mm, it felt good. So good, Chan, I haven’t come that hard in so long. Don’t be sorry. I don’t mind a little blood.”

“Jesus,” Chan says weakly, catching him and holding him close. “I still feel bad. Let me take care of it, okay? Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Chan cleans him out tenderly, pressing apologetic kisses to his low back and the swell of his asscheeks. Felix makes little hurt noises, but there’s just as much pleasure in his voice as there is pain, so Chan keeps going until the water runs clear. If Felix liked it—then Chan has to admit it’s a little hot. Still, a sort of prickling guilt settles under his skin. His memory of those moments feels almost blurry. He isn’t quite sure what came over him—just that Felix asked, and Chan, like always, said yes. 

At last, they turn off the water. Chan collects their mess, tossing the used condom and its wrapper in the trash and setting the lube on the counter. He dries both him and Felix off, then pulls on his underwear from before while Felix goes out into his room to find himself something to wear. Chan follows slowly, placing his clothes on Felix’s desk before joining him in bed.

Felix curls into his side, pressing sweet, openmouthed kisses to his chest. “Chan,” he says, soft and dreamy. “Thank you.”

“For nearly sending you to the ER?” Chan asks wearily. 

Felix giggles. “I liked it,” he says. “Felt so good. And you always treat me so nice after.”

Chan kisses the top of his head. “Of course I do,” he murmurs. “Least I can do after taking you apart is to put you back together.”

Felix giggles again, and they lapse into silence. Chan listens to Felix breathe–deep, measured, sated. He glances out the window, stroking Felix’s back absently. The sun is bright on the gardens below, a perfect day, almost unreal.

Finally, Felix speaks. “Chan?” There’s something strange in his voice, quivering and vulnerable. Chan blinks, suddenly curious and afraid all at once.

“Yeah?” he replies.

“Do you—?” Felix cuts himself off, his voice wavering still. He’s silent for a few long moments while Chan waits, scarcely breathing. He can hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He can feel Felix’s against his chest.

“What?” he asks, after a minute has passed and Felix still hasn’t said anything.

He can feel Felix deflate, and the tension is gone. When he speaks, his voice is slow and sleepy again. “Do you think you really can come visit me at school?”

Chan lets out a breath. Whatever Felix wanted to say, this isn’t it. But he won’t push. He knows that won’t get him anywhere. “Yeah,” he says softly, brushing some of Felix’s hair back before it falls into his eyes. He looks down at him, this terrible, beautiful boy. He’s not a monster, Chan thinks. He’s not even really spoiled, or at least that’s not why he acts the way he does. He’s just lonely. Maya’s voice plays in his head. He’s just really sad. And Chan still doesn’t know why. But he does know that whether Felix ever tells him or not, he’ll be here. “Of course, I’ll come visit,” he says. “Just say the word. I’ll come.”

Felix makes a happy noise, snuggling closer. Chan tightens his hold on him, feeling his pretty, lithe body under his arms. 

His life, he knows, will be in three parts, now and forever. Before I met you, he thinks. When I had you. And after you leave. How cruel, he thinks, that the most difficult part of the three will also be the longest.

[cuddlepilefics]

HI! I love your stories and I don't know if you've already done it (if so sorry in advance) but you could do a story with Felix who is sick (migraine, stomach cramps whatever you want) but stubborn and only admits it when he hurts himself due to a fall during training and others (specific;chan and hyunjin pls) take care of him??? pls and thank you ❤️

Dizziness

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Felix

Caregivers: Chan & Hyunjin

Prompt @whumpril

No one’s POV.:

Felix had already felt a little odd when he had gone to bed the previous night, muscles achy with exhaustion that didn’t even feel justified considering their schedule for the day hadn’t been that draining. Though he had gotten a decent amount of sleep, the exhaustion hadn’t improved at all and it took all his willpower to get out of bed. At least he was lucky enough to not run late, unlike Minho, Seungmin and Jeongin, who completely missed their friend’s struggle in their rush to get ready and out of the dorm on time. With how tired he was, Felix would’ve almost fallen asleep on the drive to the company building if it wasn’t for the weird swimmy feeling in his head. Every time the car took a turn, the Aussie’s head was sent spinning and watching the buildings pass by did little to anchor him. Since looking out the window barely helped at all, Felix eventually gave up and closed his eyes, resting his head on Hyunjin’s shoulder.

Thinking the younger was falling asleep, Hyunjin gently rubbed Felix’ knee, which earned him a low hum of acknowledgement. In reality, the Aussie was trying his best not to get carsick but his stomach was starting to feel a little fluttery by the time they arrived at the company building. “You good?”, Hyunjin whispered as he helped his dongsaeng out of the car. Still a little unsteady on his feet, Felix yawned: “’m tired.” - “Maybe you can nap between the recordings”, the older chuckled as they made their way to the studio. Luckily, their schedule was starting off with a recording session and they’d have dance practice after lunch, so Felix still had some time to properly wake up and get into the groove. He could only hope it’d be enough because he doubted he’d be able to dance well anytime soon.

The mood in the studio was a little tense because adrenaline was still running high in Minho, Seungmin and Jeongin after the hectic morning they had had, so Felix didn’t dare ask if it was okay for him to lie down for a bit. His head was beginning to hurt as he read over his lyrics, the words blurring in front of his eyes. At least, the nausea he had experienced during the drive was slowly dissipating but he still didn’t have an appetite when Chan asked if they should get anything for breakfast.

Thinking that having something in his stomach might quell the remaining queasiness, Felix figured he could just have some fruit and crackers and he even volunteered to go to the store with Jeongin to get breakfast for everyone. His main intention was to get out of the stuffy studio, hoping the fresh morning air would settle his stomach and maybe wake him up. It did turn out to be a mistake though because he still felt far from steady on his feet but he didn’t want to worry Jeongin when the maknae was still reeling from that morning’s events. Pretending to just be in a bit of a cuddly mood, Felix linked their arms and held onto Jeongin’s arm to steady himself.

The trip to the store had taken more out of Felix than he would have expected but he was glad that he had been able to get out of the studio for a bit because the tension and chaos had almost driven him mad. Once they had sorted out everyone’s food orders, Felix plopped down in his seat and suppressed a groan. Nobody seemed to notice how quiet the Aussie was as he slowly nibbled his crackers. The crackers settled alright but by the time Felix finished his banana, his stomach was in knots. He had been determined to finish both though because he really wanted to take something for his worsening headache and knew he shouldn’t do so on an empty stomach.

“Are you okay, Lixxie?”, Chan asked softly, “You’re so quiet today, mate. Like, something about your energy just feels off.” – “I’m tired”, Felix chuckled, though the little, forced laugh aggravated his headache. He didn’t want to worry Chan, so he wouldn’t let the older know that he wasn’t feeling well at the moment. Especially because he didn’t think he was sick, just having a bit of an off day. Ruffling his dongsaeng’s hair, Chan smiled: “Alright, speak up if you need anything though. Had you said something earlier, you could have taken a nap here but now we’re short on time and need to leave for dance practice soon.” – “Hyung, it’s nothing really”, Felix insisted, too stubborn to crack now because he could’ve asked about taking a nap earlier. It was his own fault that he hadn’t. Poking Chan’s side, he reminded: “I’m tired, not dying. We’ve all been tired before.” – “I guess so”, Chan sighed, getting back to work.

Felix was feeling more miserable by the minute but he decided that he had missed his chances to speak up. That didn’t mean that he would turn down the painkillers Seungmin offered him. The vocalist had noticed how Felix flinched whenever there was a loud noise and pressed long enough for the Aussie to admit to having a headache. Felix could only hope that his stomach too would settle once the pain improved or else he had no idea how he’d get through their dance practice session.

Luckily, his headache did improve and though his stomach still felt funny, he was only the slightest bit queasy. What Felix hadn’t considered though, was the intense vertigo that hit him the moment he got to his feet to head down to the practice rooms. Squeezing his eyes shut, he clutched Hyunjin’s arm for support and was grateful that the older wrapped his arms around his waist to steady him. “Woah, you good?”, Hyunjin frowned worriedly, hesitant to step back even after his dongsaeng had found his balance. Felix nodded but it was barely convincing, still, he muttered: “Got up too fast. We’ve been sitting for too long.” – “Well, guess it’s a good thing we’ll be moving for the next couple of hours”, Hyunjin hummed, patting the Aussie’s shoulder. And boy were they moving.

Felix didn’t know how he did it but he had made it through the first two hours of dance practice with only minor slip ups. Sure, his moves weren’t as sharp as they usually were but hey, that was still pretty good considering that he felt like he was dancing aboard a wonky ship that was tossed about a stormy sea by relentless waves crashing against its hall. His stomach was churning once again, almost as if he was getting motion sick from his own dance moves. Still, he had only gagged into his mouth once and had been able to turn away from his group, so that nobody noticed. When Minho eventually called a ten minute break, Felix didn’t take a single step more, shakily sitting down on the floor right where he had stood.

Chan seemed worried about Felix despite the younger’s best efforts to hide his struggle. By now, the boy was too out of it to notice Chan’s concern though. Felix’ stomach cramped horribly and it was almost impossible to move but somehow, he still managed to get to his feet and resume practice once the short break was over. How he was able to stay on his feet, the dancer didn’t know because his head spun and his vision blurred. Felix wasn’t even sure if his moves were on beat, not hearing the music over the ringing in his ears, and he also didn’t notice how he lost his balance, realizing a moment to late that the blurry picture was tipping sideways.

Without as much as an attempt at catching himself, Felix crumpled to the floor, the impact sending shock waves through his body and making his head pound. “Shit, you alright, mate?”, Chan frowned as he crouched next to his dongsaeng. Felix’ eyes seemed out of focus despite the leader being pretty sure that the boy hadn’t hit his head, which confused and worried the older greatly. Dazedly sitting up, Felix slurred: “Gonna be s-“ Before choking up his meager breakfast over his lap. He almost slumped over, had it not been for Chan catching him by the shoulders, steadying him as he retched. Hyunjin was by their side in an instant, carefully brushing Felix’ hair out of his face, impressed by how long it had gotten. Tugging the hair tie out of his hair, Hyunjin tied his dongsaeng’s hair into a messy ponytail and gently rubbed the younger’s back.

A few unproductive heaves later, Felix collapsed backwards and Chan slowly lowered him to the ground, so he wouldn’t hit his head. “You with us, Lix?”, the leader asked softly, taking the other’s hand and lifting up his arm to examine it. Humming in confirmation, Felix squeezed his eyes shut and tried to fight off the unbearable dizziness that threatened to send his stomach over the edge again. It was only now that he was taking stock of his body that he felt warm liquid running down his arm and the moist warmth that soaked through the fabric of his pants. Realizing that his stomach contents were currently seeping through his pants, Felix tried to roll onto his side and gagged emptily. He couldn’t even really prop himself up because Chan was still holding onto his arm. Felix tugged in the arm in Chan’s grasp, whining hoarsely.

There were a few muffled voices in the background but Felix couldn’t decipher what anyone was saying until Chan’s calm voice right next to him promised: “It’s okay. Your elbow is bleeding though, so don’t put it on the floor. We wouldn’t want you getting any dirt into that wound.” Or vomit but Chan didn’t say that out loud. “His knee’s bleeding too, hyung”, Hyunjin mumbled and Felix could feel him tug on his soiled pants. Barely even lifting his head, the younger winced: “Could you stop, please?” The skin on his knee stung already and Hyunjin’s fussing was making it worse. “I’m sorry, do you think you can sit up and change into some clean shorts though?”, the older hummed, “If not, at least keep your eyes open, so we know you’re still conscious.” – “Dizzy”, Felix breathed but shakily sat up to wriggle out of his pants.

Taking a seat behind Felix, so his dongsaeng could lean against his chest, Chan whispered: “Did you hit your head or have you been dizzy before?” – “Been dizzy for a while. Wouldn’t have toppled over that easily if I hadn’t”, the dancer muttered but relaxed into his hyung’s arms. Minho had handed Chan a towel, so the eldest could wipe the sweat from Felix’ pale face, while Hyunjin had removed the younger’s vomit stained pants and was making quick work of cleaning the mess of his thighs, so he could patch up his knee. “Can you tell us how you’re feeling now?”, Chan hummed as he cupped Felix’ cheek, “And the truth please, no more, I’m-fine-just-tired-BS.” Drawing a deep breath, the other shuddered: “Dizzy an’ my head hurts. Stomach really doesn’t this merry-go-round.” – “Can I have your arm, please?”, Hyunjin asked softly once he had finished patching up Felix’ knee.

“How long have you felt like that?”, Chan continued, feeling his dongsaeng’s forehead, “You feel pretty warm and I don’t think that’s just because you’ve been dancing.” Leaning into the leader’s touch, Felix yawned: “Went to bed exhausted as hell and woke up feeling odd. Didn’t think I was sick though.” – “Well, I think you’re sick though”, the eldest countered with Hyunjin adding: “Same here.” The were quiet sounds of confirmation from the other members, making Felix sigh: “I guess. Just really wanna go home.” – “We’ll take you home”, Chan promised, “Could you sip some water first?” Weakly shaking his head, the younger admitted: “Wouldn’t stay down.” – “Okay, we’ll try later. Would you like some gum?”, Hyunjin offered, handing Felix a strip of gum when the boy nodded. He really wanted to get this awful taste off his tongue.

Minho lent Felix his spare pair of shorts and they hoisted the boy to his feet afterwards. Felix hadn’t been kidding when he said he was dizzy, almost tumbling down again if it hadn’t been for Chan and Hyunjin steadying him. “Easy there”, Chan shushed, rubbing Felix’ back when the younger slumped against his chest with a tired whimper. He really didn’t feel good at all and why was he still so dizzy? Clutching the leader’s shirt, Felix sniffled: “I really want my bed and not to get up anytime soon.” – “That sounds like a great plan actually”, Chan smiled. With how stubborn his dongsaeng had been earlier, he had already feared how difficult it would be to get him to rest but it seemed the young dancer was done putting up a fight. “Come on, let’s get you home and to bed”, Hyunjin whispered, taking Felix’ arm to guide him on their way.

[amelee23]

Fluff? Chanlix. Those two constantly melt my heart. (they feel safe, if that makes sense- i know i dont know them personally, but i get that feeling from them and the way they act in situations- they're always to selfless) A date with them? literally anything. Though... baking, making a mess, but it would taste amazing. cuddling while watching a movie/show. playing a multiplayer game together, and the looser whining, probably mario kart or some wii party game. Staying up late watching the stars and talking about whatever (probably remembering silly adverts from when we were younger- Aussie ads used to have catchy jingles) going for a walk in the scrub and finding a secluded beach, hunting for pretty shells and mucking around... just being with them would be enough for me, even if they wanted to do something i dont like, if it meant being with them, i would probably do it. sigh...

No, it totally makes sense! Chanlix are very warm and safe. They really seem the kind to take you out to try new things and not be even a little drop mean or judgmental if you suck at something 😂 like for example they take you bowling and you keep hitting the gutter? I think they'd start trying to do some fancy spinning moves to literally end up in the gutter with you and make you feel better 🤣 or you play pool (billiards?) and your ball literally flies off the table? "Damn you'd probably score more than us on the strength machine" 😂 like yeah they'll tease you but nothing major 😂 (and I mean, who are we kidding. They're stray kids. They cannot roast you for being bad at games when they can't even name one game they're good at 😂)

And since they're more extroverted they probably would love going out to try new things... Like coffee shop hunting.. or if in Australia, a lot of beach volley or maybe even something cool like geocaching! You can chill back in the car with Felix as Chan drives around town searching for treasure hihihi

But I mean, staying at home could also be an adventure... Especially if you play Uno in three... Or Monopoly. We all know that game breaks people to pieces 😂 you could get to see Felix burst like a volcano when he goes bankrupt 🤣🤣

A little basic, but! Let's not forget adventure parks! With all the rides and the cool games you could play! (It's time to show off your muscles on the strength game, I know you can do it!) They'd literally go around trying to win you as many plushies as possible. You'd have to strap the teddy bear in the back of the car as a fourth passenger. 😂

When it comes to cooking... I wish you good luck 😂 we all know Felix can cook a 5 star meal when he's alone but when he cooks with Seungmin it's a literal disaster... I don't know if cooking with Chan would make it better or worse 🤣 hopefully you can save the day! (And the dish)

And like ... Since you said they are selfless... Picture this. You're all three caught in the rain and you only have one umbrella. You know that thing people do, to make sure their loved one is completely protected from the rain, they get one of their shoulders completely soaked? You can bet these boys will each get half soaked walking you home. And then you'll have to plop down the two stubborn boys and dry their hair </3

I'll stop here before I yap for another year 😂

[skz-fanfic-recs]

day one of skz author recs

gaeultaeyang

hynchns

hanville

dawnshine

adisadastra

[gooeyscallywagg]

my adhd holding a gun to my head: next fic

me, sobbing: but it’s 2:07 in the morning

my adhd, now cocking the gun: make it ABO

[daeristay]

Masterlist ⋆ 🐈‍⬛ ˒ ༉

★ ' : MIS OBRAS

Stray Kids. — Bangchan x Felix {ChanLix}: Sudden Desire: smut, drama, romance. 00. > 01. > 02. > 03. > 04. > 05. > 06.

¿Te gustaría leerlo en Ao3? ¡Mira aquí!

¿Te gustaría leerlo en wattpad? ¡Mira aquí!

[hollands-butterflies]

Are you ready my beautiful butterflies? A new update has been officially posted!! 💛❤️

Story: Mates Bound by the Soul

Where to read: ao3

[straykeedz]

i may or may not have written a chanlix mxm only smut…….. do you guys want it????? (on ao3 of course) 🥹 honestly i don’t think it’s good, it’s just an idea i kept thinking of and i just had to write it down ‘cause it was haunting me

(i forgot to add the poll im fucking dumb fhfkgk)

[bangchanswaistchain]

Chapters: 3/? Pairing: Chanlix Fandom: Stray Kids Rating: Explicit Status: WIP Warnings: Explicit sexual content, smut, past toxic relationship  Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not claim to know Bang Chan, Felix, or any of Stray Kids, nor do I assume their sexualities. This is simply for fun.  Summary: “Nervous?” Minho asked, cocking his head to the side. “Because it’s your first big role?” Felix nodded slowly, his grip tightening on the script in his hands. “Who’s your co-star?” Jisung perked up at the question, large round eyes glinting curiously. He’d been so wrapped up in teasing Felix he hadn’t asked. He swallowed dryly. “Christopher Bang.” “Wait, are you serious?” Jisung squeaked, his eyes widening in amused surprise. “Christopher Bang? As in like…the hottest actor in BL right now? Are you seriously going to give up this part when co-starring with him could literally be a huge advantage?” OR Christopher Bang is a former idol turned popular BL actor. Felix is still a relatively new and unknown actor. When Felix is presented the opportunity to star in a new BL with Chris he's hesitant but knows it's too good of an opportunity to pass up. What he wasn't expecting was how his relationship with Chris would evolve into something far more than professionalism. READ MORE ON AO3

[sharonanelie]

Fanfic recommendation

DARKNESS WITHIN THE SUN by Tinker_Tomato

Felix finds himself feeling sick for several days unknown to the the big storm approaching his life, he neglects his illness as casual flu and goes on with his idol work, until one eventful Christmas eve when all of the stray kids are suppose to sit near their Christmas tree and exchange gift laugh and enjoy, instead they are wheeling their lovely freckled member to the emergency room of hospital.

I swear im not crying, you are...

If u want hurt or comfort, this is your story. It's filled with all the feels and m totally here for it. I needed something like this totally unreasonable, both fluffy n sad n yooo this, was it. I had no idea i loved Chanlix that much. I swear my favourite ship is Hyunho or Minchan, but this!!!!!

[justmorebtsffs]

Which one of my AUs is your favourite? I'm asking this because I know that most of them are less than half finished. 

If everyone has one that they really want me to finish I'll try to put some extra time this weekend into a new chapter (or two). 

I'm very sorry for leaving you all on hold with these for so long but, I'm trying, I promise.

💜 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 💜

My AUs are (the ones I can remember off the top of my head)

Monsters of Verity AU (Run To the Light | Taekook) (only about three chapters left to write max, probably will finish soon anyways)

Hunger Games (Taekook) (Only on echapter so far. I'm VERY stuck on Tae’s character sooo)

I Could Never Forget You | Namjin (technically finished but I wanted to write the wedding chapter and have been busy) Also I had an idea to do a story on Chanlix in the same universe.

Idol Tae, non-idol Jungkook breakup get back together AU Probably 2 - 3 chpaters left to write. (Can I Be Your One | Taekook)

Harry Potter AU (I don't think I posted it here, but if you'd like to see it I can clean it up and start posting it, let me just tell you it's a whole mess so it may be a while.)

President & Cabinet AU (Namjin, Sope, maybe possibly a maknae line ship.) (I started it on Wattpad, I don't think I posted it here at all. It's called West Wing AU)I have a Plane Crash AU that I haven't even posted yet but if you'd like to see it pls pls pls let me know. I'm stuck on Hoseok's character for the fic but I really want to write it.

[kjmsupremacist]

a trick of the light (chan/felix)

Chan wanders into a faerie ring during a hike. He is taken and enslaved by the faeries, and though he's furious and dreams of escape, he can't deny that the king catches his eye. But Chan shouldn't want the very person holding him prisoner, should he? And regardless, King Felix couldn't possibly be interested in a mere human.

Characters: Chan, Felix, Hyunjin, Jeongin, Minho

Genre: oneshot, smut, fae!au, faerie!felix/human!chan, falling in love

Warnings: it’s not dub-con per se (everyone wants everything that happens in sexual and romantic scenes) but there are some tricky elements. there is the question of the influence of magic, as well as the nature of any relationship between a captor and those they hold captive.

Rating: Explicit

Length: 25k

It takes five days, Chan is later told, of keeping him on sedatives, before he doesn’t resist. Everyone says they’re glad the delirium cleared, that he was able to fight through it and recover.

“Malnourishment and dehydration do terrible things to the brain,” the doctor tells him. “But typically the confusion dissipates once your body is no longer so exhausted.”

“I knew you were crazy, but not that crazy,” his little sister says, rolling her eyes, when she’s allowed in to visit. 

Chan lets her hug him. He lets his family believe it was just a momentary lapse—delusion brought on by exposure to the elements, just as the doctors say. That he stopped fighting because he stopped believing it. 

The truth is, he’s not sure what to believe anymore. He knows how it sounds; he saw the terror in his mother’s eyes when he tried to explain everything that happened, when he tried to make them understand as the nurses pinned him down and stuck him with drugs that put him under, that made him slow and weak so he couldn’t so much as lift a finger. And they’re right—it is crazy. But he can’t accept that it was just a hallucination, or a particularly vivid dream his starving brain had conjured up when he lay dying in the woods. 

It had felt so real. 

When he’s discharged from the hospital, he goes to the forest to try and find his way back, but he can never find the spot where he first saw him. 

Felix. King of the Fae.

Chan went for a hike on a warm spring day. He’d always liked being outdoors, always liked exercise, so a hike was perfect. He had hiked in these woods before, many times, ever since he was a child. He knew his way around each trail, knew what lay ahead of each step. 

But the clearing he came upon that day was completely unfamiliar to him. The trees seemed more lively, the flowers more vivid, the sunlight more radiant. Most interestingly, there was a haphazard ring of white-spotted mushrooms along the entire perimeter.

Chan probably should have known better. He should have at least questioned it—the sudden appearance of this clearing, its odd energy—but instead all he felt was excitement and curiosity. How could he have known it had magical properties? Magic was only for stories, anyway. And Chan was much too old for stories.

But when he stepped into the ring, the air shimmered and changed. He almost thought it was a trick of the light at first, just the sun shining through the trees and getting in his eyes. But like a heat mirage disappearing as you draw near, a veil seemed to lift over Chan’s eyes, and there before him stood the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

His hair was pure white, like fresh snow. He wore a light white robe made of a shimmering, gossamer fabric. Threads of gold glinted in the sunlight when he moved. The man blinked, lifting his pretty head, and Chan saw that his eyelashes, too, were white. Jewels sparkled under his eyes, and freckles sprawled over his nose and cheeks. His mouth, lips a soft pink, was rounded in faint surprise, delicate fingers hovering over the leaves of a plant at his hip.

“Hello,” Chan stuttered, entranced.

“How did he get in?” the man said, voice melodic and much deeper than his appearance would suggest, and Chan realized then they were not alone in the clearing. A few paces away was another young man, beauty just as enrapturing, but somehow much more frightening. 

This man was taller than the first. Two braids lined one side of his head, running along his temple and disappearing beneath the delicate black ribbon that bound his blonde hair in a half-ponytail. The unbound hair settled just lower than his shoulders; short bangs brushed his forehead directly above his eyebrows. His robes were made of a tougher material, black where the first man’s were white. Notably, he had a sword strapped to his waist, the hilt of which he used to rest the heel of his palm as he regarded Chan.

Something about the way he was looking at him seemed… almost predatory. His eyes were narrowed; he scanned Chan like he was sizing him up. At length, he turned his head towards the first man, though his eyes never left Chan. “Would you like me to kill him, Your Majesty?”

The beautiful monarch, apparently, shook his head. Chan watched the way his eyelashes fluttered when he blinked. “We lost a few this last winter. He looks strong, doesn’t he?”

“Yes,” the taller man agreed. He focused his full attention back on Chan. “How did you find us?” he asked.

Chan shook his head. He felt almost sleepy; his eyelids were heavy, and a sort of serene calm had settled over him. “I don’t know,” he replied. His tongue felt like it was made of wet cotton. “I’ve never seen this place before, but I come to these woods all the time. I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

“An accident, then,” the man said, nodding. “We’ll have to check the wards.” The first man waved his hand in approval. He was still standing beside the plant, other hand still ghosting the leaf, golden eyes fixed on Chan.

“I’m sorry,” Chan found himself repeating. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I really don’t know how I got here.”

“That’s alright.” The second man’s voice was warmer now, soothing. Chan let it lull him. “Come,” he beckoned. “May I have your name?”

The words came easily; Chan didn’t even stop to think before he found himself giving his full name. “Christopher. Christopher Bang.”

Now the man smiled. “Perfect,” he said, and Chan’s knees suddenly felt weak, his head spinning. The man’s smile grew, and Chan realized his teeth seemed sharp. Something wasn’t right. Chan froze, then tried to back away. But his body wouldn’t obey him; instead, his feet carried him to the man. “Yes,” he continued, “I think you will do nicely. Shall we return, Your Majesty?”

“Yes,” the first man said, and the second man snapped his fingers. Chan felt himself falling, and then he could feel nothing at all.

* * *

When Chan woke, it was to very strange surroundings. 

He sat up, and realized what he had sat up from was not a bed, but a simple wooden cot. Instead of fabric beneath him, however, he found himself sitting on woven grass. He swung his legs over the side and jumped in surprise at the sensation under his feet. Someone had taken his shoes and socks, and when he looked down, he saw the floor was stone, padded by soft green moss.

Chan stood carefully, turning in a full circle. Someone had not only taken his shoes and socks, but the rest of his clothes as well. Chan flushed, embarrassed at the thought. There was nothing for it now, though; he was dressed in a simple brown robe, the fabric light but sturdy, and his clothes were nowhere to be found.

His other things were in the corner, though upon searching through his bag, he found all of his food missing, along with his phone. Panic rose in his chest as he scrabbled in vain at the bottom of each pocket and came up empty every time. 

He realized there was an opening to his left, and went around the wall to find what he took to be a bathroom. There was a small pool into which a steady stream of water trickled. Its source seemed to simply be a crack in the wall; when Chan tried to push his hand into it, he found he couldn’t even fit a finger. In the other corner was a toilet—Chan recognized it as something akin to the composting toilets he’d used on camping trips, though it smelled much fairer. Next to it was a sink, similar to the pool—water came from the wall in a constant stream.

There was a wooden shelf with towels and robes matching the one Chan wore, all folded neatly. There was light coming from somewhere, too,  and Chan looked up and saw there were small squares of opaque glass studding the ceiling. He couldn’t tell if the light was artificial or natural, couldn’t tell how far underground he was. 

He went back into the main area where the cot was and began circling the room, feeling along the wall. There was no door that he could see, though he had a feeling one might be hidden. Still, after three or four passes around the whole room, he could find nothing that hinted at an opening, nothing that would provide an escape. With nothing else to do, he laid down on his cot again and stared up at the ceiling.

They would have to bring him food eventually. He should stay alert, he decided, and wait. At the very least, he could get a glimpse at what was outside this room—no, not a room. A cell. A nice cell, clean and well-furnished, but a cell all the same. Maybe that could give him a hint at where he was, and how he could get out 

He wished he knew how much time had passed. Had it been hours? Or days? He doubted it was days; he wasn’t terribly hungry. Hours, then. Which meant a meal should be on its way soon, unless they meant to starve him. But, he reflected, if they meant to starve him, they wouldn’t have given him such a nice room. Would they? 

What had the two men said? He looks strong, doesn’t he? They wanted to keep him—for labor, probably—which meant they couldn’t let him get too weak. That was good, that meant Chan would be able to fight his way out.

These thoughts carried him until he heard scraping. A small, rectangular hole appeared in the wall near the floor, a few feet from his bag, and a tray was slid in through it. Chan dropped to his knees, peering through the opening, but all he could see was more stone before it slid closed again, and he was left with the echo of the noise and nothing more.

Sighing, he picked up the tray and went back to his cot. There was a bowl of berries and another of nuts, as well as a large glass of water and a roll of bread, still warm to the touch.

Chan turned the bread over in his hands. It could contain poison, he reflected, but, again, if they wanted to kill him they wouldn’t be keeping him here. They would have done it when Chan first encountered them; the taller of the two had even offered to kill him at the start. 

So Chan ate, and was perplexed and a little disgruntled to find that the food was good. The bread was soft, the berries bright and sweet. Chan ate until he was full, then left the tray on the floor and resumed his staring at the ceiling.

Hours passed. The lights faded, and the room grew dark except for one dim light in the corner of his bathroom. Artificial, then, Chan decided. He was definitely underground. 

He tried to stay awake, tried to keep his ears straining towards sounds from outside his cell, but he could hear nothing. Eventually, exhaustion from the day’s exertion took hold, and he fell asleep.

The next couple of days passed like this. Chan saw no one, spoke to no one. He received three meals a day—a breakfast of nuts, berries, and a pastry, and lunch and dinner the same as his first meal. The nights were all dark and quiet. 

Chan did find a glass bottle in his pack they had failed to confiscate. It was a small thing, filled with white flower oil, meant to help with the itching from bug bites. Chan struck it against the stone wall, then plucked up the largest shard and used it to cut through one of his backpack straps, then wrapped the fabric around one end to make a handle. They would have to come get him eventually, he knew, to put him to work or whatever it was they had in mind. And when they did, he would be ready 

He was not ready. They came early in the morning, before the lights had been turned on. He always kept the weapon close, but he was shackled before he’d even fully awoken, and dragged from his cell by armed guards. They, like the men who had found him, were also beautiful, hair glossy and bright, skin radiant. Chan was slowly coming to the realization that these people were not human. They couldn’t be. They had an aura about them that seemed otherworldly; he had hoped it was just his shock that first day, but now, as he was marched through stone halls, he couldn’t imagine they were like him.

What were they, then? He tried to get a closer look, but couldn’t see much before he was wrenched into a large room with high ceilings and vines growing all along the walls. The floor was covered in the same moss as Chan’s cell, but this moss was dotted with pretty white flowers. They seemed to sparkle in the light. Chan realized they were above ground now; they’d climbed many flights of stairs, and the sun shone through the glass roof. 

The taller of the two men that Chan had met on the first day was waiting just inside the door. “I’ll take him from here,” he said. The guards retreated, closing the door behind them as the man took a strong hold on his arm. “Walk,” he said, and Chan found he could not disobey.

It was now Chan realized what was at the other end of the room—a delicate throne, made of what looked like glass, gold detailing along the edges. It was up a few steps on a stone dais. The vines grew thicker there, tendrils of green giving way to lush leaves and large, colorful flowers. At the foot of the dais stood a young man Chan had not seen before. His hair was bright turquoise, his robes, like the man at his side, a deep black with accents of gold. He, too, had a sword hanging in a sheathe from his hip, but he also had a quiver of arrows strapped to his back, a bow balancing across his shoulder. 

Up on the dais, a man with purple hair stood beside the throne. His robes were black as well, but the fabric was lighter, and it shimmered when he shifted his weight from one foot to another. He had no weapons.

And on the throne itself was the first man Chan had set his eyes on that day in the forest. White hair, white eyelashes, delicate white robe, still just as beautiful. The only difference now was that he also wore a golden crown, seemingly woven from the branches of some mystical tree, with a few small jewels set in the gaps. 

They were close to the foot of the stairs now, and Chan was shoved to his knees. “Your Majesty,” the tall man said, bowing, and then forced Chan’s head down. “Bow, you stupid human. Bow to your king.”

Chan bowed, letting his forehead brush the moss before straightening again. 

“Thank you, Prince Jin.” The king’s voice was just as soft as Chan remembered it. He seems too gentle to be a king, Chan thought. Too young. But when he chanced a look up, he found piercing golden eyes staring back at him. Gone was the thoughtful surprise from that moment in the clearing. Now, only cold intelligence remained, and Chan could only wonder how someone so beautiful could also look so terrifying. 

“What am I doing here?” Chan blurted quietly when the king didn’t speak right away. “What do you want from me?”

This seemed to amuse them; a faint ripple of laughter floated around the room. “You’re here to be a servant,” the king said. “You belong to me and my court now. We lost a few stablehands this last spring—the colts can be so feisty, you know. You’ll do nicely. And we’re not unfair,” he continued lightly. “As long as you behave, you’ll be treated well. We’ll move you out of that dingy little room in the cellars and into something much more comfortable. If you prove yourself trustworthy, you will even be allowed free days, and be granted access to our feasts and festivals. So you’ll behave, won’t you?”

Chan spat at him; it landed on the first step. “I don’t want your berries and your pretty rooms. I want to go home. I have a life, I have a job, I have family and friends.” The king seemed entirely unmoved, so Chan switched tacks. “There are people who care about who will miss me, who are looking for me right now.” He glared up at the king. “They will find me, and I will escape. I won’t work, you can’t make me.”

The king laughed, beautiful and musical and cruel. “Oh, but we can,” he said. “We can make you do whatever we want. 

Chan reached for his little glass knife, lurching to his feet and lunging toward the throne, but found he couldn’t move more than a step. The king laughed again, and Chan craned his neck, confused and afraid. 

“No one will be able to find you here, silly human,” the king continued. “You are in the realm of the fae now. With time, you will forget your past and the life you left behind when you so kindly gave your name to our prince. With your name, he can make you do anything. He can stop your pathetic attempt on my life. He can force you to work, and he can ensure that you never leave.” 

“I hate you,” Chan gritted out as the prince dispelled his magic and he fell back to the ground. His makeshift weapon slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor; he saw the teal-haired soldier flip his hand over, and it flew from the floor up into his palm.

The king only smiled. “I don’t care,” he said sweetly. “To us, humans are tools—meant to be servants, or playthings. You would do best to adjust to that role quickly.”

“I found you,” Chan argued. “I found this place. Other people will come looking, and they’ll find it, too. They’ll find me, even if I can’t escape myself.”

“You should hope they won’t,” the purple-haired man by the throne cut in. He seemed to revel in speaking; Chan realized with cold fear that he was not going to like whatever it was he had to say. “You taught us a valuable lesson. We’ve tightened our defenses. Those who do slip past will be killed on the spot. We can’t risk any of your little human friends finding out about you. If your family is out there searching, pray they don’t stumble into one of our little circles the way you did. They will not be so lucky.”

“You’re scaring him,” the king giggled. “That’s enough for now. Prince Jin, take him away.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The prince walked towards him, grabbing his arm again and pulling him to his feet, dragging him away from the throne.

“And if he fights you,” the king called, “just put him to sleep. He’ll be working hard for us, after all. He’ll need all the rest he can get.”

The prince escorted Chan back to his cell personally. “If you make another attempt on the king’s life,” he warned, voice low and dangerous, “I don’t care what his Majesty says. We need workers, but we need obedient workers. While the Lord of the Forest was certainly in no danger from your theatrics back in the throne room, this human stubbornness you seem to possess an abundance of is boring, and a nuisance. I will take great joy in locking you in a room with my teal-haired friend you just met, and letting him dissect you with his sword. Do you understand me?”

“Fuck you,” Chan snarled, and the prince sighed and waved his hand. Chan sank into black nothingness.

* * *

Though Prince Jin had threatened violence, none came. Food was waiting for him when he woke. Chan ate it reluctantly; he knew he would have to keep his strength up if he wished to survive. He bathed as well, changing into a fresh robe and getting the nervous sweat off his skin. 

This time they left him alone for nearly five days. Chan, luckily, was a very creative person, and so passed the time composing music in his head to stop himself from going insane. Still, when his door was opened once more and he was dragged out into the halls, he found himself profoundly grateful. 

The teal-haired man was waiting at the entrance to the stables when Chan arrived. He smiled as he watched them approach.

“The newcomer, sir,” one of the guards announced as they pulled up to a stop.

“Thank you,” the man said, dismissing the guards with a nod. He tilted his head, looking Chan over. “I am Sir Aiyen, a knight and general under Prince Jin. Sword of the King,” he said. “Prince Jin informed me you know what is to become of you if you step out of line.” He didn’t wait for Chan to confirm. “Have you worked with animals before? Livestock?”

“No,” Chan said, shaking his head. 

“Then you’ll begin with cleaning.” The knight waved his hand and a pitchfork and shovel appeared. He directed them towards Chan, waiting until he’d taken hold of them before dropping his hand. “Keep your head down, and the shackles will come off. Try anything with those, and you’ll be left alone in your cell for a week. Try again, and you and I will have a personal meeting.”

Chan kept his gaze on the floor. He knew he couldn’t fight his way out now, at least not alone, so he just nodded, adjusting his grip on the tools. If he wanted to get out, he would need help, which meant he would need to recruit some allies. Hopefully he could steal a moment to talk to one of the other human prisoners he assumed would be working alongside him. Maybe they could work together to escape. 

He was thrown into one of the stalls and given a wheelbarrow to dump the manure. There was another person already inside working; he could tell by his robes that he must have been another human prisoner. Chan waited until he was sure the teal-haired knight was gone, then scooted closer to the other human.

“Hey,” he whispered. “How long have you been here?”

The human turned, and Chan nearly flinched away. His eyes were filled with a starry blankness. “Here? Only since this morning. They give us breaks, you know. Is it your first day?”

“Yes,” Chan said, and then, “but I meant here, as a slave for the fae.”

The human blinked. “Oh,” he said. “I don’t remember.” This didn’t seem to bother him.

A chill of terror ran through Chan’s body. “Do you remember anything? From before?”

“Before?”

“Like your friends, family,” Chan pressed, feeling frantic. “People you love. Don’t you want to go back to them? Don’t you want to leave?”

“Leave?” the human echoed. Something flickered behind his eyes, then disappeared. “Why would I want to leave?”

“Give it up,” a new voice said, and Chan turned. It was a girl, hair tied back and sleeves of her robes tied down to her arms. “He’s been here for far too long. He doesn’t even have a nickname left.”

Buoyed by the sight of someone who at least seemed partially sane, Chan crossed the stall to her. “What do you mean, left?”

“Do you remember your full name?” the girl asked.

Chan opened his mouth to respond, and found that he couldn’t. Eyes wide, heart racing, he shook his head. “No,” he gasped. “Why can’t I remember?”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Yes, because King Felix always has the prince steal his prisoner’s names. You must have some kind of nickname, or chosen name? What is it?” When Chan hesitated, she sighed. “They’ve already taken your full name. He—” she jutted her chin out in the direction of the other prisoner “—has simply forgotten his other names, lost to time and the enchantment over this whole place. I can’t take your name from you, anyway. I’m a human like you.”

“Enchantment?” Chan asked, feeling more and more lost.

The girl was getting to work, scooping as she spoke. “They’ve enchanted this place to feel beautiful, lovely, safe. Let your guard down, and you’ll become like him, too enraptured in it to want to leave. Even if someone came for him now, he wouldn’t go.”

“How long have you been here?” Chan asked. 

“A few months,” she replied. “Go on, get to work. I’m not cleaning this mess up by myself.”

“Right, sorry.” Chan laid his pitchfork aside and got to scooping. “So, okay, try to fight the enchantment. There must be a way to escape, though, right?”

The girl gave him a wry look and shook her head. “No,” she said, and her tone made it sound so final. “Trust me. I was just like you when I first arrived. Most of us are. Desperate to go back, determined to escape, drunk on the hope that this won’t be all there is. I fought them the whole first month I was here.”

“Prince Jin said that knight would dissect me if I fought,” Chan blurted.

The girl gave a short, humorless laugh. “Oh, Prince Jin likes to say all kinds of things,” she said. “Sir Aiyen, too. I think they get off on it. But they would never do something without an order from the king, and while King Felix is merciless, he is also practical. Catching humans is harder than training us.”

King Felix. Twice Chan had heard his name now, but there was something he didn’t understand. “If names hold such power,” he asked, “why do you know their names?”

“Those aren’t their real names, of course,” the girl said. “Only the king knows everybody’s true name. I don’t think anybody knows his. Maybe the Sage, but even that I doubt.”

“The Sage?”

“Purple hair,” the girl explained quickly. “He’s… basically the king’s principal advisor. I've heard him called Lino by some of the others, I think. Certainly a nickname.” She turned her eyes back to Chan. “So, what’s your nickname? I’ll help you remember it.” When Chan still hesitated, she added, “You can call me Sha.” Chan gave her a bewildered look. “It’s a name from my childhood,” she said, and her eyes were sad. “It’s all I have left.”

“Sorry,” Chan said quickly. “Uh, Chan.”

They shook hands briefly and then got back to work. Sha explained a little more as they went, the other nameless human puttering around in the background as she spoke.

King Felix was, as Chan suspected, quite young. He did not have parents; faeries were not born the way humans were. Instead, they emerged as infants from flowers that had been blessed on a full moon, and brought up by a team of nurses. When they got old enough, they were trained to scavenge, and to fight. 

Certain flowers only bore faeries a few times every generation. Prince Jin and King Felix came from the same kind of flower, but while Prince Jin’s had been of the common gold variety, King Felix had emerged from a flower as white as snow, petals shimmering with what seemed like starlight. It was the flower of a king, and though Prince Jin was actually a few months older than King Felix, he was only a prince. Felix was raised to be the next king, and when the old king passed some years ago, he assumed the title. 

“Do you think Prince Jin resents him?” Chan asked. “Had it not been for his birth—”

Sha shook her head. “No,” she said. “He seems perfectly content as Crown Prince and head of the royal guard. He has no patience for the political song and dance of being king. He prefers a different kind of power, I think.”

Chan tried to imagine any of them coming from a flower. How small they must have been, how delicate. It seemed impossible any of them could have grown into the fearsome creatures they were now, Sir Aiyen especially.

“And what about that other knight?” Chan asked.

“His flower was black as coal,” Sha said quietly. “Stem covered in thorns. Some say it was a carnivorous plant, but I’m not sure. He’s known as the Sword of the King because there isn’t any living thing he does not know how to kill.”

Chan shivered, eager to move on. “And the Sage?”

“I don’t know much about him,” Sha admitted. “I’ve heard he wasn’t born of just a flower, but a tree of some kind. People think this is how he became so wise. I think he’s just good at collecting secrets.”

“It seems like you are, too,” Chan said. 

Sha smiled then. “I’ve tried,” she said. “I know there is no way out. Too much stands between us and the outside world now. And they will make good on their threat to kill all those who come searching for you.” Her smile faded. “They killed someone very dear to me.” She shook herself. “So since I cannot escape, I’ve decided I must find a way to live here. And it sure as hell won’t be in these stables, shoveling shit every day. I’ll find my way into that court. I’ll make myself valuable.” She glanced at Chan. “You would be wise to do the same.”

Chan thought of his friends, his parents, his siblings. Already, their memory seemed faint. He frowned. He couldn’t give them up, not so easily. “I appreciate your advice,” he said, “but I can’t abandon hope.”

“Well, if you won’t listen to me on that, then at least listen to me now,” Sha said. “Don’t fight them, not outright. You won’t win. Life is easier when they like you. And you make them like you by working hard and doing as they say. You can plot your escape much more easily when you have comfortable quarters to live in and Prince Jin isn’t enchanting you to sleep every night.”

This Chan could agree with. He nodded. “I’ll keep it in mind,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Your instinct was good,” Sha said, nodding at the other human. “We have to protect each other. We have to work together.”

Chan shivered at the thought of becoming like the other human and nodded vehemently. “I’m glad I met you, Sha,” he said.

Sha smiled. “I’m glad I met you, too, Chan.”

* * *

And so the weeks passed. Most other humans were either like the first one Chan had tried to speak to, or were too beaten down and afraid to hold a conversation for long. At least he had Sha to talk to. She was bright and witty and determined, and knowing he had a friend was enough to stop him from lashing out when Prince Jin made a snide comment or Sir Aiyen snapped at them to work harder. 

Soon, a month had gone by. Chan hadn’t seen the king since that day in the throne room. Sha said he kept busy; they weren’t the only faerie kingdom in existence. From what she told Chan, it seemed like he had gotten lucky. King Felix was kinder than the other faeries, more forgiving to humans, though Sha said it was probably just for economic reasons. Other kingdoms would catch humans to use not just as slaves, but also for entertainment, as toys for much more intimate forms of service. There had even been one kingdom, Sha said, that fell because the fae had acquired a taste for human blood and they’d gotten too reckless in their thirst for it. The other kingdoms had to crush them before the humans found out.

When Chan asked why the fae hated humans so much, Sha only shrugged. “It seems like one of those things, going back so far no one really knows,” she said. “It’s just natural.” 

Chan knew in order to get out, he would have to find a way to trick Prince Jin and get his name back. He couldn’t even think of the rest of his escape plan until he had worked out a way to complete that. While he tried to figure that out, he did exactly as Sha said—kept his head down, stayed in line, and worked hard. He pretended the enchantment was working on him.

And the thing was, once Sha had mentioned it, Chan could feel the magic pressing in on all sides. At times, he caught himself slipping, admiring the beauty of the grounds of the palace, of the woods beyond. The first time he actually saw the horses, he had been too overwhelmed to speak. They were like the Pegasi he’d heard of in myths, but instead their wings were like those of a butterfly, delicate and veined, shining under the sunlight. Things here were undoubtedly more beautiful than those in the human world. But he wrenched himself from it every time. It wasn’t beauty he would ever be allowed to fully enjoy, so it did not serve him. He repeated this to himself as he fell asleep, hoping he believed it. 

He was moved into a larger room. This one was above ground, and had a small window through which bright sunlight would shine every afternoon. Vines padded the walls, making it seem less like a cave and more like a little shelter. The bathroom was nicer, too, with a larger pool and controls for the temperature of the water. Instead of a cot, he was given a bed, with soft pillows and a comfortable blanket. 

His shackles were taken off. Prince Jin did it himself with a wave of his hand, collecting them before they even hit the floor. “I’m glad you’ve come around,” he said, and his voice no longer carried the malice it once did. He seemed pleased. “Our Aiyen has done good work with you. I will mention it to His Majesty. Perhaps you may even be allowed to attend the next feast.” Chan felt fingers under his chin; he was forced to look up into the prince’s eyes. “Isn’t this much better than fighting us?” he asked softly. “You could do great things here. It’s your rightful place, after all, a human at the feet of the fae.”

Chan only blinked serenely, waiting for the prince to release him. He imagined stealing his sword and running him through with it. First him, then Sir Aiyen, then the Sage for good measure. And finally, the king. Chan imagined it often, catching him on his throne, his pretty eyelashes fluttering as he gasped in shock, as Chan drove the blade clean through his stomach, with so much force that it cracked the glass of the throne behind him as his blood soaked the white fabric of his robes, turned it dark, dark red.

These violent fantasies were the other thing that kept him from lashing out. He was biding his time, that was all. He was making them trust him.

It seemed to be working. They were to be having a summer festival of sorts in a few days, and Chan would be permitted to attend. He was given special robes. Sha said it was because the fae prized beauty above all else, except maybe power, and that all in attendance would be expected to look their best. 

Chan looked over his reflection. The robes were a deep green, like the colors of the trees in the woods beyond. They were layered, patterns intricate. He was given jewelry, too, which he put on. He didn’t want to risk Prince Jin’s wrath today, not when he might have the chance to lay eyes on the king. 

They were processed into the throne room after all the fae were settled. Tables had been moved to fill the empty spaces, and the room was alive with movement. Chan felt the eyes on his back as he walked; he was the new one, of course, that was exciting to them. The prince corralled them into a line in front of the dais, where they all bowed to the king. 

“Bring me the new one,” he said simply, dismissing the rest of them with a flick of his bejeweled hand. 

Prince Jin brought him up the steps of the dais, forcing him in a chair to the left of the king and taking the chair on Chan’s other side. Chan looked down the table warily. To the king’s right sat the Sage, who was watching Chan with narrowed eyes, calculating. On Prince Jin’s left, down the table on the other side, was Sir Aiyen. As Chan watched, he broke a roll in half and placed a piece on Prince Jin’s plate. Somehow, this simple gesture made Chan’s world tilt a couple of degrees 

Just because they showed no care towards their human prisoners did not mean there was no care here at all. The king raised a glass, and the rest of the fae did as well. Only once the king had taken a sip did anyone else drink, and then the feast began. Prince Jin picked up the bread, reaching his other hand out to touch the point of Sir Aiyen’s cheekbone. Fond, grateful, tender. Chan’s head swirled. 

“Chan.” He snapped his head up at the sound of his name. The king had his mesmerizing golden gaze fixed on him. “That is what they’re calling you, isn’t it? Now that your real name is ours?”

A reminder of the power they had over him. A warning, maybe. Chan nodded. King Felix smiled, and Chan couldn’t tear his eyes away. He was so beautiful; how had Chan thought of killing him for so many nights? How could he think of spoiling such rare beauty? How could he hurt him when he looked like that? Now Chan could see clearly how a creature like the delicate king sitting before him could have come from a flower. Of course he had; what other part of nature could create something so perfect, so elegant, so lovely?

“I hear you’ve become a very efficient worker,” the king continued. “You can do the work of three men in the same amount of time. You’re strong.” He didn’t seem to expect Chan to reply. “I’d like you to start working with our horses, I think. That kind of strength shouldn’t be wasted. The young ones, they need a firm hand and someone who they can’t drag through the mud the instant they feel like running.” He handed Chan a platter; on it were small, golden cakes. “It’s honey cake,” the king explained when Chan only stared. “Eat.”

Chan took one and passed the plate along, then took a tentative bite. His eyes widened. It was rich and sweet and moist. Though the pastry seemed plain, it was one of the best things Chan had ever eaten. “It’s good,” he said softly, without thinking 

But King Felix only smiled. “You can have as many as you like,” he offered. “You’ve worked hard.” He leaned forward. “Prince Jin,” he called. 

Now that his gaze was no longer locked on him, the dizzy spell Chan had fallen under seemed to break somewhat. Of course he wanted to kill him; he needed to, if he was going to make his escape. He couldn’t stay here, no matter how delicious the food and beautiful the company. Chan caught Sha’s eye from across the room; she was watching him intently. He gave her a sort of helpless look; she only gave a nearly imperceptible shake of her head in response before turning away.

Stay focused, he scolded himself, tuning back into his table.

“Yourself?” Prince Jin was saying, sounding incredulous. “Your Majesty, I wouldn’t even waste my own time, or that of Aiyen, on something so trivial. If he succeeds, then he succeeds. If not, we find someone to replace him.”

“The horses are always so skittish around humans,” King Felix replied evenly. “It will be easier if I teach him myself. They will not refuse him if they know he has my approval.”

“Is that wise?” Prince Jin asked, but he already sounded resigned to the idea.

“Yes,” King Felix said simply. “I have made up my mind.”

“You’re twice as stubborn as any human I have ever met,” Prince Jin grumbled, and the king laughed. This laugh was not the same as the way he had laughed when Chan made his threats all those weeks ago. This laugh was pure delight, rich with mischief, alive with his amusement. It was bright and low and sweet, and Chan found himself wishing to hear it again. 

“Then it’s settled.” King Felix turned back to Chan. “Tomorrow, Prince Jin will fetch you in the afternoon. You won’t be cleaning stalls any longer. I will be teaching you how to handle our horses.”

“It seems our king has taken a liking to you.” The Sage leaned in, smiling at Chan. He could see how sharp his teeth were like this; Chan tried not to flinch. “He’s spending his own time to teach you personally. You should say thank you. It wouldn’t be wise to fall out of his favor.”

Chan ducked his head. “Thank you,” he murmured, setting his jaw when he heard Prince Jin and Sir Aiyen laughing. 

But King Felix didn’t laugh. He just kept smiling—prettily, not the way Lino had. Just smiling. “That’s all,” he said. “Go join the others. Take a honey cake.”

Chan had never been so conflicted in his life. He took a honey cake, stood, bowed hesitantly, and then fled down the dais and to the table of humans in the corner. He hadn’t wanted to go, somehow, hadn’t wanted to leave the warm glow of the king’s attention, despite the fear and embarrassment. He would’ve stayed, if the king hadn’t given him such explicit orders to leave, he thought. 

When he looked back, though, King Felix’s eyes were still on him.

“Hello? Sit down, would you?” It was Sha, tugging on his sleeve. 

“Sorry,” Chan said, even though he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, sitting down next to her at the table. 

“What was that about? What did he say?” she asked, handing him a plate with a cut of meat on it. “Eat it,” she said. “It’s human food, it’ll help.” 

Chan took a bite and found his head was clearer. “He’s moving me to work with the horses,” he explained.

“That’s so dangerous,” Sha gasped.

“He’s training me himself,” Chan replied. “I think to make it not so dangerous.”

Sha blinked. “Really? He’s never done that before.”

Chan shrugged. “What did you mean, human food?”

“Honey cakes and nectar are for faeries,” she replied, taking the honey cake out of his hand. “Much too rich for us humans. You eat too much and you’ll never want human food again, and you’ll starve to death.”

“But they wouldn’t let us starve,” Chan pointed out. 

Sha looked around, then lowered her voice to something almost inaudible. “What about after? Aren’t you still hopeful to kill them all and get out?”

Chan started. Yes, of course he was. Of course he wanted to leave, of course that was still an option. Of course he should be careful not to grow too attached. “Right,” he said.

Sha gave him a weary look. “Be careful,” she said. “The king is far more powerful than he looks.”

Chan shook himself. “I know,” he said, steeling himself against the magic and the temptation to eat the honey cake, taking another bite of meat instead. “I know.”

* * *

No one banged on his door to wake him at the usual time, but Chan woke anyway. For a moment he panicked, thinking he had overslept, but then he remembered—he wouldn’t be going down to clean out the stables today. Instead, he’d be working with the king. 

He spent the morning pacing. He wasn’t locked in his room, but he didn’t know where he would go if he left, so he paced, sneaking peeks out the window to see if he could see the others, or maybe catch a glimpse of the king. He saw nothing.

When the sun was high in the sky, Prince Jin came knocking. He seemed to know Chan hadn’t left his room; he passed him a folded napkin. Inside was a roll of bread. “You’ll eat on the way,” he said, leading him out. “I forgot about arranging meals for you. Come on.” He turned and started walking. Chan followed him silently, working on the bread as they headed out to the main hall and then exited towards the pastures. 

The horses were all crowded around something when they arrived. They seemed calm, tails and wings still, and after a moment they parted, revealing the king. He was feeding them treats, and he smiled when he spotted Chan and Prince Jin.

“Hello,” he greeted them. “Prince Jin has courteously offered some of his time to oversee, as he has your name, and he doesn’t trust you yet not to try to hurt me.” King Felix smiles. “But I think we’ll be alright, don’t you, Chan?” Chan nodded without thinking. “Perfect,” King Felix said, turning to the horses. “These ones have already been well broken in,” he said. “This is just as much for you as it is for them. You must grow accustomed to each other. Have you ever ridden a horse before? The kind you have?”

Chan nodded. “Only once or twice, when I was a child,” he said.

“Good,” King Felix said. “Forget everything. We don’t use saddles here, only reins. Mounting and dismounting is different, too, because of the wings.”

“Do they fly?” Chan asked.

The king laughed brightly. “Of course they do,” he said. “So do we. It’s easy for us. You’ll have to learn how to get onto their backs some other way.”

“You fly?” Chan stared at him. “But you don’t have wings.”

More laughter. “Of course I do,” he said. “We keep them hidden around humans, and when we’re not using them. It tends to scare your kind, anyway.”

Chan couldn’t help it. “Can I see your wings?” he asked, then flushed. Maybe he’d overstepped.

But King Felix just gave him one of his smiles, and stood very still. For a second, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, Chan could see delicate, pearlescent wings unfolding behind him. They were longer than the king was tall, stretching high above his head. They weren’t opaque, but the light warped through them, almost dizzying. 

“You’re not frightened?” King Felix asked.

Frightened, how could Chan be frightened? Now the king looked like the perfect image of a faerie. The way his wings caught the light, he seemed to be glowing. “They’re beautiful,” Chan breathed, lifting a hand.

Pain lashed across his palm and he stumbled back, curling over himself. “Stop fooling around, Your Majesty,” Prince Jin said. “And you said I didn’t need to be here.”

“I could have stopped him without doing that,” King Felix argued. He sounded genuinely angry. “Honestly. How will he be able to hold the reins now, when you’ve split open his hand?”

“I didn’t hit him that hard,” Prince Jin replied. 

Chan felt a hand on his arm. He looked up; it was the king, eyes apologetic. His wings were gone again, hidden from view, and probably folded against his back. “Let me see,” he said, reaching for Chan’s hand. Chan flinched back. “Now he’s scared of me!” King Felix complained. “I’m trying to help, Chan, please. Your hand.”

Reluctantly, Chan gave him his hand. Felix took it in both of his own, and Chan forgot his fear looking at his fingers. His hands were so little, palms lily soft as he raised Chan’s hand to his eyes—no, his lips. He kissed the center of his palm where it was burning, and the pain dissipated instantly.

“Better?” the king asked softly. Chan nodded mutely, withdrawing his hand. The king straightened, turning to Prince Jin. “He doesn’t know anything about us, how could he know it was rude?”

“Not just rude,” the prince argued. “Indecent. Wildly inappropriate. Presumptuous.”

“He didn’t know. Apologize,” King Felix demanded. 

“You want me to apologize to this human?” Prince Jin said. “No, I refuse.”

“It’s alright,” Chan said quickly. “I should’ve asked first, the prince is right.”

The king huffed softly. “Well, I’m sorry, even if he’s not. Come, let’s get you acquainted with the horses.”

The horses were indeed a bit skittish around Chan, but the king was there to calm them before they got frantic, and eventually they warmed to him, letting him feed them out of his palm. King Felix showed him their bridles, how to make them take a bit, how to fit the straps around their ears and throats. 

 They ended up getting a stool for Chan to use to clamber on. He pushed himself up, careful not to pinch the wings, and swung one of his legs to the other side. He must have sat down too hard, or else done something to spook the horse, though, because he’d barely gotten settled when the horse gave a nervous snort and started running across the meadow.

Chan leaned forward on instinct, holding on to the horse’s neck and praying he didn’t fall. Somehow, he managed to stay, but tugging on the reins did nothing. The horse continued to trot, giving little kicks that Chan had a feeling were going to turn into him actually getting bucked off if he didn’t figure something out fast. 

“Hey,” he said nervously, running a hand down the horse’s neck. “It’s just me. I gave you a sugar cube earlier, remember?” It was stupid, but he didn’t really know what else to do. The horse’s ears pricked up, no longer pinned to its head. “That’s it, um…” He hesitated, then started humming the tune to a lullaby his mother used to sing to him and his siblings when they were children. With one hand patting the horse’s neck and the other on the reins, he managed to slow it to a walk, and then a stop.

He kept singing until the king caught up to them. “Are you alright?” he asked, taking a hold of the horse’s bridle. 

“Fine,” Chan said shakily. “How do I get off?”

King Felix instructed him, and Chan managed to slide off the horse’s back and down onto the ground.

“You sang to her?” the king laughed. “I didn’t know she liked music.”

Chan shrugged, embarrassed. “Music usually calms me down, so… I don’t know, I kind of panicked.”

“Well, has this little experiment run its course?” Prince Jin had sauntered up. “Shall I take him back to the stables?”

“No,” King Felix said. “He handled himself well. We’ll leave it for today, though, I think.”

They left Prince Jin to tend to the horses. The king walked Chan back inside.

“We’ll try again tomorrow,” he said once they reached the stairs that led up to Chan’s room. A pause. “You said you like music?” Chan nodded. “Do you play any instruments?”

“Ah, a few,” Chan said, baffled.

The king didn’t explain himself, only nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Chan.” 

* * *

A knock came to Chan’s door much earlier than the day before. He answered it, expecting to see the prince, or else Sir Aiyen, but instead it was King Felix in simple white robes. He offered Chan a honey cake, who had no choice but to accept it. 

“Your Majesty?” he asked, not sure how to phrase his question.

“I want to show you something,” the king replied. “Come.”

Chan followed him along a maze of corridors. Though he had been here for nearly two months now, most of the building was still unfamiliar to him. He had no reason to go anywhere but where he was instructed, so the path they took was not one he recognized. But eventually, the king slowed to a stop, opening the door to a large room.

Inside were hundreds of instruments. “We mostly bring them out for festivals and other events,” King Felix explained. “But they are unused otherwise. Here,” he continued, leading Chan further into the room, closing the door with a flick of his hand. “This should be familiar to you.”

It was a piano, with sleek dark wood and rich ivory keys. The keys that were usually black, however, were a deep gold. Chan sat at the bench, running his fingers over the instrument. “It’s beautiful,” he said. 

“You’re welcome to come any time and play,” King Felix said, “as long as you agree to play for me from time to time.”

“Certainly,” Chan agreed. 

“Play something,” the king said, sitting down beside him on the bench and watching him expectantly.

Chan hesitated, then dragged an old classical piece from his memory and began to play. He made mistakes, but if the king noticed, he said nothing. He watched him with rapt attention, eyes following Chan’s fingers on the keys. When Chan was done, he applauded. 

“I never picked up many instruments,” he admitted. “I knew I would be king from the moment I was born. Music isn’t a necessary skill.”

“You could learn, still, if you wanted,” Chan pointed out.

“Yes,” the king agreed, “but it always feels like I have something more important to be doing.” 

“I can teach you a little now,” Chan offered without even thinking, too caught up in wanting to please him to worry about what it might mean.

“You will?” King Felix’s eyes were enormous. “I always wanted to try the piano.”

“Here.” Chan scooted to the side so the king was centered in front of the keys. He pressed a note. “That’s middle C.” He stretched his arm a little so he could reach, playing a quick scale. “And now we’re one octave up.”

The king touched the first key. “Middle C,” he said. “And the gold keys?”

“Flats and sharps,” Chan said. “So—C-sharp, right next to the C, right?” The king nodded, watching. “Here’s C-sharp major.” He played the ascending scale, all gold keys. “If you know how to read music, it’s pretty easy to catch on. You just have to let your hands get used to it. Though,” he added, “you’re at a bit of a disadvantage because your hands are small.”

Chan realized only after the words were out of his mouth that the king might take offense, but he only giggled. “That’s true,” he said, holding his hand up. “Let me see.”

Chan matched the heels of their palms, then slowly laid his hand flat against the king’s. He bent his fingers at the first knuckle, curling them over King Felix’s, who giggled again. Chan found himself smiling, too.

And, god, what was he supposed to do? It wasn’t his fault the honey cakes lulled him, wasn’t his fault the king was so pretty, so sweet, so charming. Now that Chan was on his good side, the person he had been just a couple of months ago seemed impossible. How could someone so pure-hearted and kind be the same as the person who laughed in his face when he said he wanted to leave? And yet, he was still keeping him here now.

But what would leaving do? Chan would leave this realm, go home to his job, to his friends, his family—and tell them what? They wouldn’t believe him. It would be a secret Chan would have to carry with him for the rest of his life, or else be institutionalized, probably. He would be lonely until he died, with no one to share it with and no one who could understand him. If he left, he would never be able to return, and he would never have this—palm to palm with the beautiful faerie king, laughter floating in the air between them.

Chan stared at him, tracing over the delicate wisps of hair that framed his face, the freckles dotting his skin, the sweet curve of his lips. Even his teeth, sharp as they were, didn’t scare Chan anymore. He thought of the top of the king’s head, bent over his palm, kissing the pain of Prince Jin’s lash away. He thought of his wings, beautiful and golden in the afternoon light. 

He took a breath, began to say something—what, even he wasn’t sure. But then the door opened and they jumped apart.

“There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere. We need to eat and then fetch the… human.” Prince Jin’s eyes landed on Chan. “Oh. 

“He can play piano,” King Felix said, pointing. “I asked him to play for me.”

Prince Jin narrowed his eyes, but then he just sighed. “Well, I suppose he’ll eat with us today. Come, you promised Aiyen we would dine together. He’s waiting for us.”

Chan followed the two faeries out of the room and back towards the kitchens. “I can go,” he offered weakly. “I can meet you—”

“It’s too much of a bother,” Prince Jin interrupted.

“I want you to join us, anyway,” the king said. Both Chan and Prince Jin cast him strange looks, but he didn’t elaborate.

Sir Aiyen was waiting in a small dining room off the throne room, standing behind his chair. He reached out for Prince Jin when he appeared, resting his hand somewhere on his low back. Chan tried to watch them without staring. There was something there; he didn’t know what it was or how to interpret it. 

“Our Lino isn’t joining us today?” King Felix asked as he took his seat, gesturing for the rest of them to sit as well.

Sir Aiyen shook his head. “Busy with work, he said.” He nodded at Chan. “Why the human?”

“He was already with His Majesty when I went to find him,” Prince Jin explained, sounding annoyed. “By the time we got him back to his room with something to eat, it would be time to go down to the pastures anyway.”

“I would like you to eat your second meal with me every day,” King Felix said rather pointedly, looking at Chan.

Chan dipped his head, unsure. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He tried to ignore the prince’s glare.

And so Chan found a new routine. In the mornings, he explored the grounds tentatively, mostly going back to the room with the instruments. There were no guitars, but they had an abundance of lyres, so Chan took this on as a project, slowly learning to play. He would meet the king for lunch—sometimes with other members of his court, but more often not, and after their meal, they would go out to the pastures to tend to the horses.

It came easily enough; once Chan got used to them, and got better at mounting and dismounting, things were smooth. Prince Jin tagged along most days, still untrusting, but eventually he stopped coming unless they were going for a ride through the woods. But even then, it was mostly for the king’s protection than for fear of Chan’s disobedience. 

Chan ate with the other humans for his evening meal, and this was the only time he got to see Sha. 

“I’ve tried to bring you up,” Chan told her. “To get you out of the stables. But His Majesty tends to steer away from the topic of the other humans altogether. It’s almost like he forgets sometimes, that I’m here as his prisoner and not as his companion, and when I bring it up, it makes him uncomfortable. But I’ll keep trying.”

Sha snorted. “I doubt it’s discomfort,” she replied. “He’s never seemed to have a problem with it before. Why start now?”

“You said he’s never done this before,” Chan pointed out. “Maybe… having one of us so close has changed something for him.”

“Maybe,” Sha said, but she seemed to be humoring him.

“I do have… another question,” Chan said, thinking of the prince and Sir Aiyen.

“Yes?”

Chan flicked his gaze around, then back to Sha. “The fae, they don’t… procreate, right? They’re all born from flowers.”

“Right,” Sha said, giving him a weird look.

“But they do, um—I mean, you said some other kingdoms will take humans for—for that purpose, so I—”

“Yes, they fuck, Chan,” Sha said impatiently. “Why?”

Chan tried to hide his embarrassment. “I’ve just, you know, been spending a lot of time around the king’s inner circle, and the prince and Sir Aiyen just seem—close, I don’t know.”

Sha rolled her eyes. “Yeah, they’re very handsy, aren’t they?” she said. “Listen, Chan, faeries aren’t like us. They don’t have the same motivations. They have much lower capacities for empathy. And this means that they’re much, much more hedonistic than most humans are. I’ve watched those two. I wouldn’t call it love, but it’s a partnership of some kind, that’s for sure.” She gave Chan a look. “Yes, they’re fucking.” 

“And—” Chan wasn’t sure he should ask his next question, but it had been eating at him. “What about the king? Does he—I mean, is there anyone—?”

Luckily, Sha didn’t seem to think twice. “Oh, I’m sure he’s joined them on occasion,” she said, which Chan immediately tried very desperately not to think about. It didn’t work. “But he seems far too busy to have time for dalliances. Or, I guess he keeps himself busy and seems to prefer that. Unless,” she added with a note of amusement, “that’s what he and the Sage spend all their time on, locked away in that study.”

Chan lay awake that night, thinking. Of course, even if that were something the king did in his free time, he wouldn’t want to do it with Chan. The fae were all beautiful, breathtaking, perfect. Chan was just a human, clumsily made and clumsily maintained. Of course the king would rather spend that time with his knights, or his advisor. They were all stunning. 

And if nothing else, Chan shouldn’t want it. The faeries had stolen his life. He was their prisoner here; they stood between Chan and his freedom. But his fiery resentment towards them had dimmed to nothing but embers. And the king—Chan thought of his laughter, the way he smiled at him, his strange, gentle kindness. How foreign Chan’s past hatred seemed now! He had once wanted to kill him, to kill all of them. Now… he didn’t think he wanted to leave at all. It might bring him some joy to see the prince humiliated, maybe, but it was a petty sort of vengeance. He wouldn’t want to harm them. He wanted…

Chan wrenched himself out of bed, all but jogging to his bathroom and throwing his robe and underclothes on the floor somewhere. He sank into the pool of spring water until he was up to his chin. He didn’t want anything. He couldn’t. 

A few more weeks passed. Chan learned about breaking in horses; he practiced on some of the younger, wilder ones, though the real work wouldn’t come until spring. King Felix brought him to more places within the castle, showing off a library, a greenhouse, a secret back entrance to the kitchen he said he always used to sneak more nectar and wine. Chan played music for him some days. He even managed to bring up the issue of Sha’s placement; the king agreed to move her to a noble’s team of servingwomen instead. Chan knew she would be happy there, where she could collect gossip and begin her climb up the political ladder.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he said, bowing. “Sha is very smart, I know you won’t regret it.”

He felt a small hand on his head, and looked up. “It feels silly, having you call me that,” the king said. “You don’t have to, when we’re alone. You can just call me Felix. The others do; the titles are just for when we’re in public.”

“But I’m not—like the others,” Chan stuttered.

“No, you’re not,” Felix agreed. “But I don’t want you to address me that way when it’s just the two of us. It’s too distant.”

Chan decided it wouldn’t be wise to bring up his imprisonment. “Alright,” he said instead, dipping his head once more. “Felix.”

“Chan,” the faerie king giggled back, sweeter than the honey cakes they were eating.

* * *

A knock came at Chan’s door late one evening, after the lights had dimmed.

It was the prince. “His Majesty has requested your presence,” he said tightly, then turned on his heel and began walking.

Chan struggled to catch up. “Wait—is something wrong?”

Prince Jin didn’t turn to look at him, just kept walking. “He says he cannot sleep. He’s hoping you’ll play something for him to soothe his mind and help him rest.”

“Oh,” Chan said. “Does he have an instrument in mind?”

“He didn’t say.” Prince Jin led them down a few flights of stairs. “We’re going to the storage room now for you to pick one, so start thinking.”

“What instruments does he like?” Chan asked.

“I don’t know,” the prince said, almost dismissively. “He’s not really one for music, usually.”

That’s not true, Chan thought, watching the prince’s back. He’s just never had time for it .

They arrived at the storage room. Chan decided a lyre would be easiest to carry, and picked the one he’d been using to practice. Its wood was familiar under his fingers now, and besides, he didn’t have to play anything complicated. A simple lullaby would probably do just fine.

Prince Jin brought him into a wing of the palace Chan had never been before. It was strange, he realized; after all this time, he still didn’t know where Felix slept. They climbed a tower, stairs ascending in a tight spiral, then down another hall. The prince stopped outside a door. “He’s inside,” he said.

Chan hesitated, then pushed the door open, and immediately gasped. 

Felix’s room was, just like the rest of the palace, beautiful. The floor and walls were white marble, with flowering vines running up the columns and dripping down from the ceiling. Candles flickered in different corners of the room, casting a warm glow. There was a huge bed against the back wall made of rich, polished wood, mattress covered in pristine white sheets, soft pillows, and a large blanket that seemed to be the petal of some giant flower.

Sitting up at the headboard was the king. He looked up when Chan entered, and smiled. “Did the prince wake you?” he asked, beckoning Chan closer.

Chan shut the doors behind him, shaking his head. “No, I wasn’t sleeping yet.”

“I’m glad,” Felix said. “Come sit.”

Chan sat on the edge of his bed, balancing the lyre in his lap. “What would you like me to play?” he asked.

“Is there a lullaby your parents used to sing for you?” Felix leaned forward.

“Ah, yeah,” Chan said. “Okay.” He settled on the bed, picking at the lyre for a minute to find the right notes, and then began to play. He could feel Felix watching him as intensely as he could feel the prince’s presence just outside the door. He wanted to look up, to see what Felix’s face looked like, but he still wasn’t very good on the lyre, and had to keep his head bent over the strings, focused on his music. 

He finished the song and looked up to find Felix not watching his face, but instead his hands. Chan swallowed nervously.

“Was it… not to your liking, Your Majesty?” he asked.

“I told you not to call me that,” Felix said, “and no, I liked it very much.” He hesitated. “That song, did your mother sing for you?”

Chan nodded. “She would sing it for me and my siblings when we couldn’t sleep. She sang us lullabies every night, but that one was always my favorite.”

“What’s having siblings like?”

“Ah,” Chan said, not sure what to make of all of Felix’s questions. “It’s like, there are people who are living in your house who are related to you, and you love them, but they also make you want to kill them every day?” He laughs quietly when Felix gives him a rather startled look. “Not like that. Just… sometimes I think the point of having siblings is to give you thick skin. If you have someone in your life telling you no from day one, and saying all kinds of mean things to you just for fun, soon most things don’t bother you anymore.”

“And… parents?” Felix asked. “What’s that like?”

“I had good parents,” Chan said. “I mean, have, they’re still alive. Just—you know. Anyway,” he continues, before they can get into awkward territory, “It’s great, usually. They took care of me, and they helped me when I was sad, and celebrated with me when I was happy. I could always rely on them if things were hard. Yeah, they punished me when I was bad, but that’s part of growing up, I think.”

“It sounds nice,” Felix says. “Faeries don’t have parents.”

“I know,” Chan said. He paused, then added, “It sounds lonely. Being a faerie.”

Felix shrugged. “It is, sometimes. But we get to be connected to nature in ways humans will never understand. You, with your big machines that cut down the trees and soil the ocean and—” His face had twisted into something sour and stormy and dark. But then he shook himself, and it disappeared. “I’m not that lonely,” he continued. “The forest is full of my friends. But…” He trailed off, looking up at Chan. “I don’t know,” he said. “Hearing about your life made me think maybe I’m missing something. I have friends, but I don’t have a family.”

Chan blinked. “What about the prince? And the others?”

Felix shrugged. “They’re close to me, but they’re each other’s family. Prince Jin and Aiyen are each other’s family. And Lino is far too concerned with his files and his cats. I’ve been intimate with all of them before, but I know it’s not the same.” 

Chan tried not to balk at this information. “Maybe you need to look elsewhere. Sometimes you find your family instead of just being born into it.”

Felix nodded. “That’s what I was thinking, too.” He was quiet for a minute. “Have you ever had someone like that? Someone you found who became family?”

“I have a lot of close friends I consider my family,” Chan replied slowly. “And a couple of—partners. Some more serious than others.”

“I see.” Felix nodded, looking thoughtful. He raised his voice, calling, “Prince Jin, there’s no need to loiter outside my door. Chan will sleep here tonight.” Chan blinked in surprise, waiting for Felix to explain, waiting for the prince to argue.

But neither came. “Understood, Your Majesty,” Prince Jin said from outside the door. “Goodnight.”

They both listened for his footsteps retreating down the hall.

“I’m sleeping here tonight?” Chan asked quietly.

“I have questions for you,” Felix said. Chan didn’t know how to take that, so he stayed silent. Felix was quiet for a bit as well. “My kingdom isn’t the only fae kingdom, you know,” he said eventually. “There are a lot of us. Not everyone does things the way we do. Some don’t interact with the humans at all. Some disguise themselves and try to work with humans. Some…” Felix hesitated. “Some will keep humans as pets—not for labor, but—but for pleasure. And,” he added quickly, as if he was worried Chan would misinterpret. “That’s never sat right with me. I don’t think it would be fun unless both people wanted it, right?”

He seemed to be looking for some kind of response. “R-right,” Chan stuttered, floundering for something to say and finding nothing.

Felix paused again, looking down at his lap. “I’ve never—" He hesitated, peeking up at Chan through his eyelashes. "I’ve never even kissed a human before. I didn’t really consider it when I was younger. And anyway, I don’t think the prince or the others would approve.”

It almost sounded like he was trying to talk himself out of something. It sounded a lot like the conversations Chan had been having with himself in his head every night for the past couple weeks. “What does it matter, if they approve?” Chan ventured almost timidly. “You’re the king. You can do what you want.”

Felix looked up, silent again. He was searching Chan’s face for something; Chan tried to keep his expression earnest but impassive. And then—“Can I kiss you, Chan?”

Yes, Chan wanted to say. He wanted to drop the lyre on the floor and take Felix’s beautiful face in his hands and kiss him. And kiss him again. He wanted everything. 

How could he admit that? Even now, when Felix was asking? How could he presume to take that? “You’re the king,” Chan repeated softly. “You can do what you want.”

Felix leaned in; suddenly they were only inches apart. “Yes, that’s true,” he whispered. “But I want you to want it."

Chan could hardly bear to look him in the eye. He was so close. Chan could count his freckles, his eyelashes. He could smell him—sweet like a flower, with something steadier underneath, like the ground after rain. 

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, you can kiss me, Felix.”

Felix tipped forward and pressed his lips to Chan’s. He kissed him softly, like he was worried he might scare him. Chan scrambled to set the lyre aside on the mattress, kissing back clumsily. He reached out instinctively, finding Felix’s waist, pulling him close. Felix gasped into his mouth, but he didn’t try to pull away. Instead, he climbed into Chan’s lap, hands coming up to his cheeks. He never stopped kissing him.

Chan felt dizzy, heart pounding as he let himself get bolder and bolder. He tugged at the sash of Felix’s robes; the fabric fell away easily. Chan lay his palm flat against the base of Felix’s spine. Felix was so warm, so soft, so eager. 

“Chan,” Felix murmured.

“Felix,” Chan replied, breathless, looking up at him. He was so beautiful, so perfect. It was only now that Chan realized he did not have his usual jewels under his eyes—of course, he would take them off when he slept. Somehow, Chan had become convinced they were simply part of them. After all, if anyone could do it, it would be Felix. 

He looked softer this way, sweeter, more real. Chan ran a hand up Felix’s back and brushed up against something that wasn’t skin.

“My wings,” Felix said softly.

Chan pulled his hand back as fast as he could. “Sorry,” he said, still remembering the way his hand had burned where the prince hit him. “I didn’t realize—I didn’t think—I know it’s rude.”

Felix laughed. “It was only rude when we didn’t know each other,” he said quietly. “Friends will groom each other’s wings sometimes. Partners especially. But it is a very delicate part of us—and so vital. What are faeries if we can’t fly? That’s why the prince lashed out at you that day.” He leaned in, pressed a kiss to Chan’s jaw. “But you don’t need to worry about that now.” He parted his lips, letting the sharp points of his teeth dig into Chan’s skin. 

Chan whined, bringing his hand up the back of Felix’s neck, cradling his skull and holding him close. He thought he heard a soft huff of laughter, and then Felix was grinding down on his lap.

“Fuck,” he whispered. 

“You want me,” Felix said, teasing. “You’ve wanted me for a while, I think. Am I right?”

Chan squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips together. “Mm-hm,” he hummed tightly. 

“Then you’ve thought of me?” Felix is moving down his neck, movements calculated and precise, still rolling his hips. Chan wanted to tear away his undergarments, but he could hardly think to move. “You thought of this?”

“Yes,” Chan managed, suddenly afraid. Maybe Felix had simply been curious. Maybe he had misread all of it. 

“I’m glad you want me,” Felix said, and Chan felt like he could sink into the stone floor beneath them for all his relief. “I want you, too.” He came up for another kiss, and then crawled off Chan’s lap, picking up the lyre on the way and leaning over the end of his bed to set it on the floor. His movements were so controlled, his body so lithe; Chan felt clumsier than usual as he tried to rearrange himself on the bed. “Go up by the pillows,” Felix said, pointing without looking. He slipped off the bed onto the floor and went digging through his dresser. Chan did as he was told. 

And Chan knew he shouldn’t want it. He knew his past self was watching through the cage of time and screaming at him to stop. But so much had changed. Chan was making a decision to let the change keep happening. Regardless of whether he let this happen—whether he slept with Felix or not—he would still be a person who wanted it. He would have to live with that. Why live with it, but deny himself that which he wanted? At least this way, he would get something good out of it. 

Felix returned with a small vial. He let his robe slip from his shoulders as he flitted back onto the bed—Chan saw now that he was hovering, just barely using his wings to give himself a push, landing lightly on the bed. “Get undressed,” he said impatiently. “I’ve been waiting so long to see you.”

Chan fumbled with his belt, finally untying it and wrestling it off his body. He pushed his robe off his chest, struggling a little to free his arms. Felix’s hands were on him in an instant, small fingers tracing over his ribs, his stomach.

“Beautiful,” Felix murmured, bending over him to kiss the hollow of his throat, the sturdy surface of his sternum. “Chan, you’re so beautiful.”

Chan flushed. How could Felix call him beautiful? Chan could hardly look at him, he was so stunning. His body was slim and lean, grace giving way to strength and then back again, muscles and bones moving so smoothly under his skin. “Me?” Chan whispered. “What about you?”

“Just because you aren’t pretty the way I’m pretty doesn’t mean you aren’t beautiful,” Felix said softly, running his fingers down Chan’s arms.

Felix pulled off his own underclothes first, hovering for a moment to make it easier for him to step out of them before discarding them somewhere over the edge of the bed. Chan drank in the sight of his soft thighs, the points of his hip bones, his cock, pretty like the rest of him. He was like an angel, Chan thought. He handed Chan the vial; Chan tipped it from side to side, confused.

“What is this?”

“Lubricant?” Felix gave him a quizzical look. “You use that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Chan said quickly. “It just usually doesn’t come in such pretty packaging.”

Felix grinned. “Then you know what to do,” he said. “Your fingers are bigger than mine, anyway.”

Somehow, it had only just occurred to Chan that he would get to touch Felix—touch him like that . He had rarely let himself think that far at all because he’d been ashamed and hopeless, but now, Felix turned around, dropped to his hands and knees, and craned his head around to watch Chan. 

Blinking, Chan unstoppered the vial and let a bit of the liquid inside drip out onto his fingers. It was thick and smooth and smelled faintly of something bright and earthy, almost like a citrus fruit. He didn’t have time to ask questions; he recapped the vial and set it aside, sitting forward and trying to keep his hands steady, trying to hide his nerves.

“You won’t hurt me,” Felix said softly. “It’s okay.”

Chan took a short breath, circling Felix’s entrance with a slick finger just to make it easier, and then pushed in. 

The effect was instant and made heat rise throughout Chan’s whole body. Felix moaned softly and arched back to meet Chan’s hand. It took everything to go slow—Chan wanted to see what he’d do with two fingers, three—but he knew to get there, they would have to work their way up to it. Felix reached down, rolling his fingertips over the head of his cock, cheek pressed to his sheets.

Chan worked his finger in and out; Felix seemed to open up easily. Maybe it was a faerie thing, or maybe it was just Felix, sweet and pliant and ready. Chan didn’t have room around his gratitude to care; he was far too impatient now that he knew how well Felix could take it. He added a second finger, and Felix adjusted with ease, low moans muffled by the sheets. 

Chan wondered faintly if faerie anatomy was wholly similar to humans, and began searching around with each thrust of his hand. He barely felt it when he finally found it, but Felix convulsed, shaking. “There?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Felix hissed, “fuck, Chan, again.”

Chan stroked over his prostate, purposefully missing every now and again to make sure Felix didn’t get too overwhelmed. Felix dropped both his hands to the mattress, abandoning his cock, which was now glistening with precome. Chan added a third finger, slowing to let Felix adjust, and then resumed fingering him, watching the little tremors run through Felix’s whole body every time he brushed past the spot.

“I’m gonna come,” Felix warned weakly, and then added through gritted teeth, “don’t stop.” Chan watched, breathless, as his cock twitched and pearly come dripped out, slow and sticky. There was a sheen to it that humans didn’t have, Chan realized, almost hypnotized by it. 

Felix’s little body was trembling with exertion. He came long and slow, release dribbling out at a steady pace as Chan milked his prostate, gathering in a pool on the sheets beneath him. At last, Felix pushed him away, turning on shaking arms to face him. 

He crawled up the bed, onto Chan’s lap. Chan used his clean hand to help support him, letting him collapse against his chest. Felix pressed soft, wet kisses to his jaw. Chan waited for his breath to slow, running his thumb back and forth over his arm. He didn’t even care that he hadn’t come yet. He could be happy, just holding Felix like this. 

But eventually, Felix pushed himself back up. He leaned in for a real kiss, licking into Chan’s mouth, running his tongue along the backs of Chan’s teeth. Chan moaned softly, grip on his arm tightening. 

Felix broke the kiss; Chan could swear he was glowing. “Lift your hips,” he said softly. “Not done with you yet.”

Chan felt hands on his waist; he lifted his hips and let Felix undress him. Felix found the vial of lube where Chan had abandoned it, and sat back so he could reach Chan’s cock. He ran practiced fingers up its length, spreading the lube evenly. Chan could only moan softly. Felix positioned himself over Chan, reaching one hand behind him to guide Chan’s cock in. He sank down slowly, bracing himself against Chan’s chest, eyes closed and head tipped back, pretty pink lips parted slightly. 

He bottomed out, and Chan swore for a second he saw stars . It was so good ; Felix was so warm and wet and tight. They both took shaking breath after shaking breath, staring at each other in the golden light of Felix’s bedroom. Chan heard rustling behind him and tried to look back, confused.

“The flowers,” Felix panted softly. “The plants in the palace, they grow when I’m happy.” 

“You’re happy now?” Chan asked softly.

Felix tipped forward, kissing the hollow of Chan’s cheek. “Very,” he murmured. He moved his hands to Chan’s waist, still kissing him, along his jaw, down his neck, everywhere he could reach. “Feel so good, Chan, can feel you everywhere.” Chan brought his hand up to his hair, his beautiful hair, running his fingers through it.

Felix began to move, shallow at first like he was testing things out, then faster and deeper once he was comfortable. His breath was hot against Chan’s neck. Chan ran his hand down the center of Felix’s spine, careful to leave room for his invisible wings. It felt wrong—Felix shouldn’t have to hide them from him. Not here of all places, in his own room, his own kingdom. 

“Show me,” Chan said softly.

Felix knew exactly what he was talking about. He raised his head. “It won’t scare you?” he asked.

“It’s you,” Chan replied. “You don’t scare me.”

Felix blinked, and his wings appeared, shimmering gold and white, folded neatly against his back. “It must seem strange to you, though,” Felix said. He hadn’t once stopped moving; Chan was finding it hard to focus on his words.

He tried anyway. “Everything here has been strange,” he said. “So now nothing is.” He looked Felix over. “They suit you, anyway.”

“I think you’d say that no matter how I looked,” Felix said, but Chan had a feeling it was only to cover up how pleased he was; he could feel Felix clenching around him, could feel the wetness of precome every time he rocked his hips forward and the head of his cock brushed Chan’s stomach.

Chan smiled indulgently anyway. “Maybe,” he replied. “But it would still be true.”

Praise could not possibly be foreign to him. Felix had to know how beautiful he was, must have heard it hundreds of thousands of times throughout his life. But he flushed anyway, gasping sweetly, and picked up the pace. His hands on Chan’s waist pinned him to the bed; he couldn’t even really thrust up to meet Felix’s movements, so instead, Chan reached between their bodies and found Felix’s cock. He thumbed at the slit, watching in delight as Felix’s jaw dropped open and he let out a low, breathy moan. 

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpered softly. “Good, s-so good.”

Chan thought he could’ve come untouched if he could just watch Felix ride something, just listening to Felix’s little noises, watching his face, how his eyebrows pinched so prettily on his forehead, how his lips turned red and glossy from being kissed, how his stomach worked as he tried to breathe. He was like a dream come to life, perfect and delicate and obscene. Chan stroked his cock, long and measured, and Felix’s eyes rolled back in his head. He dug his nails into Chan’s skin but Chan didn’t care, too busy watching, too starved for more of Felix to even really feel it. 

“Felix,” Chan slurred. “I wish you could see , you’re so—you look so good, it’s not fair.” Chan felt precome spurt out over his knuckles as Felix moaned, and almost came on the spot. It really wasn’t fair. Felix was so lost in pleasure, and Chan felt himself slipping into it, too, the heady desire. He held his breath; he didn’t want to come yet, he didn’t want it to be over so soon. 

Felix could feel it, somehow. He fought to focus his eyes, releasing Chan’s waist in favor of taking his face in his hands. He kissed Chan messily, pausing between to breathe. “You’re close, I can tell,” he said. “Just come, Chan. We can do this again. We can do this whenever you want.”

Chan whined through clenched teeth. “Don’t want—to, it feels good, I don’t—”

Felix giggled weakly. “Stop it,” he wheedled. “Just let go, it’ll feel even better, I promise.” Chan strained, panting. “Want your come,” Felix added, almost coaxing.

Chan let out a high noise of frustration, and relaxed. His orgasm seemed to crash over him, and for a second he couldn’t hear anything, his whole body rigid beneath Felix’s as he came, hard, breathing out moans. Felix knocked their foreheads together, murmuring praise.

“Chan,” he mumbled. “Ch-channie, ‘m so full, fuck. Fuck, you came a lot, can feel it— ”

Chan could feel it, too, leaking out of Felix’s hole and dripping back down his cock, but he didn’t care. He closed his eyes, tightened his hold on Felix’s cock and jerked him off faster. There was a small window of time before it would start to hurt him, and he really, really wanted to see Felix come on his cock. 

Then again, there was something that settled into his brain as right about it. What did it matter, if it hurt Chan? He was Felix’s now, he’d been Felix’s since the moment he stepped into the faerie ring all those months ago. There was relief that came with surrender. This was his place now, to be used by a creature so much more powerful than he was, so much more beautiful. There was pleasure there, too—he’d let Felix have whatever he wanted. Wasn’t it his right, after all, since Chan had come to him so willingly?

“So messy,” Chan managed. Felix made a broken sort of sound, shivering against him. “You like it that way, don’t you? Messy?”

“Mm-hm,” Felix agreed, nosing now at Chan’s neck. “Like it messy. Want more, maybe next time. My teeth—are sharp, you know, could make you bleed if you wanted.”

Chan wanted. Of course Chan wanted, wanted something wrong, something fucked up and painful. He nodded. “Next time,” he agreed. He wouldn’t be able to appreciate it now. 

“Chan,” Felix said, voice small, almost like he was begging. “Faster, ‘m close.”

Chan moved his hand faster, the wet noise of it filling the room. Felix was trembling from exhaustion, but he kept riding Chan, even though he’d lost the rhythm of it, even though his thighs shook. Chan shifted his hand, getting a better grip, and it was only seconds before Felix was coming for a second time, spilling his pearlescent release over Chan’s stomach and chest. 

“Chan,” Felix was whispering, even after he stopped coming. “Chan.”

Chan pet down his sides, letting Felix lie on his chest. He was so small, so light. He traced his eyes over the lines of Felix’s body, his soft skin, the folds of his wings. He was so perfect, now and always. So beautiful.

Felix eventually dragged them out of bed. He cleaned his sheets with a flick of his hand, brought Chan to his bathroom for a quick soak. He stayed close, kissing over the bite marks and bruises that were blooming across Chan’s chest. His little hands roamed all over Chan’s body, and Chan let him explore, let him rediscover now-known territory.

They were in the middle of grabbing towels when Felix got on his knees and started mouthing at Chan’s cock. He kissed the head, then curled his tongue along the underside before Chan even realized what he was doing. He was so tired, but Felix looked so pretty at his feet. Chan threaded his fingers through Felix’s hair and leaned back against the wall and prayed his knees wouldn’t collapse.

“It’s only fair,” Felix whispered. “I came twice, and you should too.”

“Compelling argument,” Chan gritted out, and Felix laughed, muscial and sweet. 

Felix managed to deepthroat him—Chan didn’t want to ask how—and it was all he could do to not tighten his grip on Felix’s hair and fuck his throat until he came. Instead, he forced himself to let Felix set the pace. Felix swallowed around him and didn’t let Chan pull him off, even when Chan came, thick and hot down his throat. 

Felix did have to release him then, coughing a little, and the last of Chan’s release ended up splattered on Felix’s cheeks. Felix moaned, and it was only then that Chan realized he had been rocking up into his palm the whole time. Felix curled over himself, hips and shoulders twitching as his orgasm sent shocks though his body.

“You little liar,” Chan accused, laughing. “What happened to fair?”

Felix looked up at him, smiling. “Faeries are never fair,” he said cheekily, but then added, “We can always make that happen, though.” He reached for Chan, but Chan batted his hands away, grabbing his wrists and pulling him to his feet instead.

“No, we have to stop somewhere,” he said firmly. “Or we’ll be up all night. And we just got clean, too!”

“Couldn’t help it,” Felix said primly.

They rinsed off again and then actually got dry, returning to Felix’s bedroom with towels wrapped around their waists. Felix let his drop as he crawled into bed, so Chan did, too. Felix curled up close, blowing the candles out with another lazy wave of his hand once they were both settled. 

They were quiet for a few long moments. The moon had risen outside; Chan could see its gleam through Felix’s thin white curtains. Felix’s breathing slowed; he nestled closer to Chan. He was so warm. But still, Chan felt restless. Something was tugging at him; though he was exhausted, his curiosity won out.

“Felix?” he whispered.

“Mm?”

“You said the plants grow when you’re happy,” Chan said slowly. “What happens when you’re sad?”

Felix was silent for a moment. “They wither and die,” he replied finally.

Oh. Chan supposed he could have guessed that. “I haven’t seen any dead flowers since I’ve been here,” he murmured. “It’s usually that way?”

“My friends do their best to keep me happy,” Felix said. “The knights prune away anything dying as soon as they catch it. It doesn’t happen often. I’m usually happy.”

“What… what would happen if the plants all died? If you were really sad?” Chan asked.

“I don’t know,” Felix said, but Chan had a feeling he wasn’t telling the truth. “It’s never happened to me before.” He leaned closer, placed a kiss on the point of Chan’s shoulder. “Go to sleep.”

It was easy to obey. “Sorry,” Chan murmured, already half under. “Goodnight, Felix.”

“It’s alright,” Felix said. “Goodnight, Chan.”

* * *

When Sha saw Chan the next evening, she pointed at the bruises climbing up Chan’s neck. “What have you been doing?” she asked.

“Uh,” Chan said, not sure how to respond. He had forgotten the marks were visible, had forgotten Sha would care. “The king, he—I mean, we—”

Sha’s eyes widened. “But he’s not like that,” she said. “I mean, they don’t do that here, force humans to—” Understanding dawned. “Unless you wanted it, too. 

“He’s so beautiful,” Chan said weakly. “I couldn’t—we were in his room, I couldn’t help it.”

“What happened to killing them and escaping?” Sha asked, quiet and cold.

Chan looked up at her, shaking his head. “I can’t,” he said. “You were right, there is no escape. And how could we go back, after everything?”

“Chan,” she said. She sounded defeated. “I can’t lose you to the enchantment, too. You can’t leave me alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Chan insisted. “We just—want different things.” He rested his hand on her arm, half-expecting her to pull herself away. She didn’t. “It’s still me, look. My eyes are still clear. It’s just different now, that’s all.”

Sha sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Chan did not know what he was doing. It ate at him. It was all so confusing. And he was ashamed, certainly; how could he sleep with his captor? Willingly, eagerly? How had so much changed in just a few months? Had it been months? Chan was losing track. Did it even matter?

An equal shame, one warring with the first, was that for his attitude when he first arrived. He watched Felix out of the corner of his eye, watched him when they fucked, watched him when he slept. His beauty, so enthralling, so precious. How had he thought of killing him? He couldn’t imagine now any force that would bring him to hurt the king. He had wanted to take that beauty and destroy it, to turn all the white and gold of the palace a dark red.

He had known so little then. The faeries’ blood wasn’t even red, anyway, just another thing so grotesquely wrong with his vision. They bled gold. How could Chan even think of spilling golden blood? 

It felt like a reckoning. Here is the most beautiful creature you have ever seen. You will never be enough but he wants you anyway. You shouldn’t want him, but you do, oh, you do. It felt like he had tried to make a deal with god, only to find out it had been the devil all along. Or maybe that was just how god worked—a high price for a high reward, always something grand, always something life-altering, always something that would bring you to your knees.

And the worst part was that the shame didn’t even take up that much space. Much larger, much more insistent, was his desire. He wanted more. He spent more time in Felix’s room than he did his own, and he still wanted more. He wanted Felix to hold him down and take; it just felt correct, like he’d finally come to know his place. His only saving grace was that it seemed Felix wanted it, too. Whenever they were alone, Felix was touching him, hands flitting across his skin. Chan learned his way around Felix’s body quickly, found what he liked best easily because he was always searching for it. 

The other members of the court seemed confused at first, but then settled into it quickly. They could stomach some kind of pet, as Felix had put it that first night. Chan was happy to let them believe that was all it was—a human, fulfilling the king’s whimsical desires. He had no power except what his proximity to Felix gave him. It was enough to keep him safe and accepted, but not enough for him to be a threat. They had no reason for animosity. Even the prince accepted it, and even began speaking to Chan as though he actually thought he was a tiny bit intelligent.

Chan still did work, of course, but it was only ever with Felix. He liked it—the horses had warmed to him, and he to the horses, so tending to them didn’t really feel like a chore. Chan settled into his new role, and, for the most part, was happy.

Still, the guilt was there. He was afraid to bring it up to Felix, afraid he would never trust him again, would never touch him again, would send him back to the cellars and hate him forever. The thought was unbearable. Though they talked often, almost constantly, Chan never found a place in their conversations to bring it up.

Chan did learn, however, that Felix, in all his power, was still a sort of prisoner himself. “I’ve never left the bounds of my realm before. I rarely go beyond the borders of my kingdom, only to visit neighbors on diplomatic trips.”

“Why not?” Chan asked. “Couldn’t you—change your appearance a little, and go explore the human world?”

Felix tensed beside him. “No,” he said, “no, that would be much too dangerous.”

“Why?” Chan pressed. “You could see the ocean! As long as you didn’t talk too long with anybody, it would be fine, right? No one would know.”

“It’s what people would do if they found out,” Felix replied. “Don’t you know what humans have done to faeries? We don’t hide in our little realms for fun, Chan. We were forced into hiding, decades and decades ago. Now, we’re just stories for your children. To our young, though, tales of humans are warnings.”

Chan hadn’t considered this. “Is that why… so many of you seem to hate humans so much?”

Felix looked at him, golden eyes solemn. “It’s an old grudge,” he said softly. “One very difficult to put aside. My people have suffered, Chan. It’s incomparable to anything you know, even—even—”

“Our enslavement here, and other kingdoms,” Chan provided quietly.

They were silent for a moment. The air was thick and heavy between them, some terrible mixture of grief and guilt. “I’m sorry,” Felix said finally. “Things are just so complicated now. I always despised humans so, I never thought—I mean, your people ruin everything. You ruined our lands, forced us to near extinction, and then abused nature, polluting the planet with your greed. I see it, a dark stain, encroaching on the realm. It makes me so sick, I—” He reached out, touched his fingertips to Chan’s cheek. “But—but then there’s you. And if there’s you, that means that there are more like you, and—and then I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry,” Chan said softly. “You’re not wrong. Humans are… terrible, often. I’m sorry for what we did to you.”

Felix shook his head. “You didn’t do it.” He frowned. “I’m doing it, though.”

Chan struggled with it for a moment. “It’s different here. It’s not—genocide. And you do it because you feel you don’t have a choice,” he said. “Nothing is ever only right or only wrong, you know.”

“I never imagined I would end up here,” Felix said.

“I never imagined it either,” Chan said. “I even—“ The words were caught in his throat, but he pushed on. He had to say it. This might be his only chance. They were talking so candidly, and Felix would understand. He had to. “At the beginning, I tried to plan an escape. I—I wanted to kill you. All of you. I mean I wanted to. It made me happy to think of it. I—I’m telling you now because I regret thinking it. I’m glad I didn’t do it. And I’m sorry.”

Felix knocked his forehead to Chan’s. “It’s only natural that you would,” he said. “There’s nothing to forgive, Chan. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“The prince would kill me if he knew,” Chan said. 

“I wouldn’t let him,” Felix replied fiercely. 

Something shifted between them after that, though. Felix seemed withdrawn, somehow, a tautness to his shoulders that hadn’t been there before. He stopped letting Chan eat their food, saying it wasn’t good for him. He seemed restless. It worried Chan, but he didn’t know what to do.

One day, Chan woke up in his own room to find that some of the vines in one corner had grown brown, shriveled and dry. He asked Sir Aiyen about it, who made him take him to it immediately. He pruned it with a knife of glass, igniting the dead tendrils in the air with a snap of his fingers and letting it all burn to ash 

“What does it mean?” Chan asked. “Is the king alright?”

Sir Aiyen’s eyes flashed. “He’s fine,” he said. “It’s winter; all plants lose something in the winter, no matter how strong their roots.”

Chan didn’t believe him. 

Chan didn’t see Sha as much as he used to; she’d gotten busy serving her noblewoman. Chan took this as a good sign; it meant she was assimilating well, and eventually would enjoy a place of comfort in the faerie court.

One night, though, at a small feast put on for the nobility, Chan did see her. She was dressed in fine robes, finer than Chan had ever seen on her, almost as fine as his own. She sat beside her noblewoman, pouring her drinks, even joining in for conversation. She was at the far end of the table, so Chan couldn’t hear her, but the faeries around her laughed at her comments—not cruelly, but genuinely. She seemed to be doing well.

It happened quickly. One moment, Chan was eating, and the next, everyone had weapons drawn. The prince had his blade to Chan’s throat before he could even look up, and Sir Aiyen had notched an arrow across the room.

“Could you repeat that?” Prince Jin said quickly.

“I said,” a voice replied, and Chan realized with confusion and terror that the voice belonged to Sha. “I think it’s wise of the king to keep one who wants to kill him so close, if a bit dangerous.”

Murmurs rose at the table. “Is it true?” Prince Jin asked.

“Of course it’s true,” Sha replied. “He told me himself. He planned to kill you first, Your Highness, and work his way through the court until he got to the king.”

“His Majesty does not seem frightened,” Lino observed calmly. “Or surprised, for that matter.”

“You knew?” Prince Jin turned to Felix. “Is that why—?”

“Enough.” Felix stood, and the murmurs ceased immediately. “Yes, I knew. I knew because he told me. That plan was one made in fear and panic, before he understood us and his place here. He told me how he had once wanted to kill me, and asked for my forgiveness.” He paused, looking right at Sha. “I forgave him.”

“Your Majesty,” the prince said, uncertain, blade still kissing Chan’s throat.

“Oh, put your fucking sword away,” Felix said. “He’s not going to kill anybody. Least of all me.” Prince Jin looked like he was going to argue, but then he simply withdrew his sword, slipping it back into his sheathe. Felix regarded Sha for a moment. “I appreciate your warning,” he said, “though I doubt it came from an altruistic place. You want more, is that it? I can give you more.” Chan looked up at him, unblinking. He had become the Lord of the Forest Chan had met that day in the throne room, calculating and cold. Chan could see none of his usual warmth in his eyes. Right now he was not Chan’s Felix. He was a king, trying to decide how best to protect his kingdom. “You would make an excellent spy. You want security, is that it? A seat at the table? We can discuss it.” Something in his gaze turned sharper, his tone steely. “But try to drive a blade between Chan and me again, and you will meet a fate worse than death. I will always know your true motives. I have your name. I know you haven’t forgotten that.”

He sat back down, turning to Chan. The warmth flooded back into his eyes; he was once again Chan’s Felix, the little king born of a flower, sweet and unassuming. “You’re not hurt?”

Chan offered him a dry smile. “The prince has threatened me with more than his sword before, Your Majesty,” he replied.

Prince Jin huffed, taking his seat again and tossing a berry at Chan. “You would not be so blithe had I been allowed to follow through on any of my threats,” he said, and Felix laughed. As quickly as it had come, the tension was gone; peace returned to the room, and the meal resumed.

Chan met Sha’s eyes on the way out, and was surprised to find them sad, almost pitying. I’m sorry, she mouthed. 

Chan could have laughed. Pity, why would she pity him? If anything, he should pity her. She would never understand any of it. He couldn’t even feel angry towards her. She was unlucky, and just trying to survive.

Felix usually liked to have Chan underneath him, but that night he asked Chan to fuck him. He sprawled out on his hands and knees, spread his legs, begged Chan to be rougher. He choked himself on Chan’s fingers, trying to take him deeper and deeper, let Chan fuck him into the mattress.

Chan covered Felix’s body with his own, chest pressed to his back, lips against the nape of his neck. He’d never deny Felix anything, loved the way he shook. He reached around Felix’s body, tugging his hand away from his cock and replacing it with his own. 

“You don’t have to do anything,” Chan whispered. “Let me do it.”

Felix came once on Chan’s fingers, twice on his cock, and once more afterwards on Chan’s tongue when he was cleaning him up, and still he seemed like he wanted something else. Chan wiped both of them clean, and Felix clung to his side, pressing kisses to his collarbone.

“What is it?” he whispered to him, tucking a stray wisp of white hair behind his ear, cradling his head in one of his palms. “Felix, I’m right here.”

“I know,” Felix said, and he sounded so sad.

“The prince wouldn’t have hurt me,” Chan said. “No one would have, not without your command.”

“I know,” Felix repeated. 

“You’re not going to lose me,” Chan said, lost.

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Felix said. “It’s fine, Chan, just—stay close.”

“Are you okay?” Chan asked hesitantly. 

“I’m fine,” Felix whispered. Another kiss, to the junction of his neck and shoulder. “I’m fine. 

But on his way back to his room early the next morning, Chan saw the knights pruning away at the walls.  

* * *

He was summoned to the throne room not long after the feast. It was strange, to receive a summons. Normally Felix would just come fetch him, or else send the prince or one of the knights to do it. But he was summoned, so he knew it was important. He dressed in fine robes and walked to the room himself.

Felix was on his throne, though he did not wear his crown. The prince was beside him, looking stormy. Lino and Sir Aiyen were there too; both wore carefully guarded expressions. Chan’s breath started coming too fast; he knelt at the foot of the dais and bowed.

“What is it, Your Majesty?” he asked. He said it quietly, but it echoed around the empty room, distorting in the silence.

Felix opened his mouth, but said nothing. Chan kept his eyes fixed on him, but could see, blurry in the background, that some of the flowers behind the throne had begun to wilt. Something was very wrong. 

“Felix?” Chan whispered.

Felix stood, descended from the dais. He reached for Chan’s hands, pulled him to his feet, searching his face. “Chan,” he said quietly. “I—”

“Your way or my way, Your Majesty,” the prince said.

“Shut up, Hyunjin,” Felix snapped, and the prince went rigid, mouth clamped shut.

“Felix?” Chan tried again. He was shaking. They were both shaking.

“I can’t—I can’t bear it anymore,” Felix said, quiet and miserable. “You—I can’t keep you here, locked away from your world. Locked away from your home, where you belong. It’s not fair. If I am supposed to care for you—and I do, Chan, you have to understand that—then you cannot be my prisoner. I have to let you go.”

Chan faltered. Let him go? And go where? His old life meant nothing to him now. It was not his home anymore. He couldn’t go back. No one would understand him there, and— “But then I wouldn’t be able to see you,” Chan protested. “Felix, what are you talking about? I don’t want to leave, why would I want to leave?”

Chan could see now that Felix’s eyes had filled with tears. He shook his head. “It’s just the magic, Chan, just all our enchantments that make you feel safe here. But you’re a human, you’re not a faerie. You don’t belong here. It’s not right.”

“Nothing is ever only right or only wrong,” Chan whispered, but he knew he was fighting a losing battle.

“You’ll see,” Felix said. His voice was unsteady. “When you go back, and spend enough time there. You’ll be grateful. You’ll be free of the magic and you’ll wonder how you could’ve ever wanted to stay. You’ll hate me.”

“No, I won’t!” Chan argued fiercely.

“Return his name, Hyunjin,” Felix said, and a tear slipped down his cheek.

“Christopher Bang, I release you.” The words seemed to be dragged out of Prince Jin’s chest. 

“Felix, what are you doing?” Chan asked. “Felix, stop!”

Felix raised a shaking hand and snapped his fingers. Instantly, Chan’s limbs felt heavy and weak. He struggled to keep his eyes open; he swayed. “You have to go back, Chan,” Felix said. He was crying now, truly crying. His shoulders shook with it. “I can’t be selfish anymore, not about you.”

“No,” Chan choked out. But everything was so heavy. He stumbled; Felix caught him and they sank to the floor. He looked up at Felix, beautiful, perfect Felix, white eyelashes fluttering in distress, pretty face contorted by grief. “You can’t, you can’t put me back like none of this—like none of it ever happened, you can’t. No one there will be like me, I’ll be alone, please, Felix. Please.”

Felix sobbed. The edges of Chan’s vision blurred, but he could see the green turning brown all around them. The cloying stench of wilting, rotting flowers flooded his nostrils, thick and sickly. “I’m sorry, Chan.” Chan could barely make out the words; Felix heaved a huge breath and then released a terrible cry of grief, curling over Chan. Chan could feel the force of it, Felix’s little body wracked with pain. His sobs echoed through the throne room, the sound rough and horrible, almost like he was about to vomit. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Felix cried. 

Chan struggled to focus on Felix’s face. He thought he was crying, too, but he wasn’t sure. A shadow was encroaching on his mind, on his eyesight. He tried to lift a hand to push Felix away. “I hate you,” he mumbled, “hate you, not fair.”

Felix’s lips were on his forehead. “I’ll come to you,” Chan thought he heard him say. “If you still want me. After.”

Don’t leave me alone! Chan wanted to shout it. But his eyelids were so heavy. He couldn’t fight anymore; he went limp in Felix’s hands against the stone floor. The last thing he heard was Felix’s scream of anguish. It rang in his ears as everything faded to silence.

* * *

When he woke at the hospital, he woke up screaming. He called out for Felix, but only nurses came. They pinned him to the bed, filled him with sedatives. Chan learned quickly that no one was going to listen. So he grew compliant, and eventually the sedatives stopped.

Once he proved himself lucid, he was told only two weeks had passed since he had disappeared in the forest. They said they found him at the bottom of a ravine, limbs miraculously intact, but suffering from dehydration and malnourishment. That had been a week from his disappearance; they were shocked he was still alive.

His vitals stabilized quickly. Once he passed a psych eval, he was discharged to his family’s care. He was able to brush them off quickly. He followed all of his doctor’s instructions, took things slow. His family stopped worrying, and he was left to be miserable in peace.

In the faerie realm, months had passed. It had been the dead of winter; snow was swirling outside the windows of the throne room that day Felix summoned him only to send him away. But in the human world, summer is only just beginning. Chan had lived a new life, only to be wrenched back to his old one to find nothing changed. He feels like a ghost now, haunting his old apartment, hand braced against the unforgiving drywall. He wants the comfort of Felix’s palace again, the cool stone, the beautiful plant life. 

He goes back to the woods every day, searching. He finds nothing. It’s the same forest it’s always been—no hidden paths, no strange circle of mushrooms. There’s no sign of the realm he knows is only steps away. It’s maddening 

“I’m here, Felix,” he calls out to the trees. “You said you would come to me, if I still wanted you. I’m here! Please, I’m looking for you.”

But he gets no reply. 

After a month of this, he starts to believe the doctors. Maybe it was just a vivid hallucination. It would make the most sense. Faeries aren’t real. None of it was real. Perhaps it really had been just a trick of the light; he thought he’d seen something as he fell, and the rest was just a story his brain made up to comfort him while he died. Only he didn’t die, and now he is left to separate reality from fantasy. Difficult, and traumatizing, but doable. He journals a lot, starts writing down what he thinks is true, and what he knows must be true.

It’s hard. He still dreams of the faerie king and his court, of the moments they shared. He dreams of the horses, the honey cakes, Sha. But it’s all a fabrication. When he wakes up, breathless and covered in cold sweat, tears stinging in his eyes, he writes that down, too. He writes DREAM at the top of the page. Goes over it again in darker ink. Underlines it. No, makes a box around it. Because that’s what it is—a dream, not a memory. He needs to keep that clear in his mind.

He tries to get back out in the world. Really, he does. He goes to work and goes out on the weekends and cooks himself meals. He starts working out more, tries to get more sleep, makes sure he’s getting all his vitamins and minerals. Everything that everyone says will make him feel better. He sees his friends, his family, but it feels like there’s nothing to talk about. The familiar comfort they once brought him is gone. In its place, cold emptiness has crept in and taken hold. 

He even goes on dates, but all of them feel wrong. He goes home and stands in the shower and tries to wash away the shame and embarrassment of being in love with a fairytale.  

There’s a horrible loneliness to it. He doubts that in his entire life, no matter how many people he meets, he will be able to find someone who can understand him. All the people that could are back in the faerie realm—in a world that doesn’t exist, that can’t—and they’re lost to him now. Even if he finds someone agreeable, even if he manages to settle down and put it aside and live a normal life, it will always be something he has to carry. Real or not real, it’s something that has changed him and something that no one will be able to begin to grasp, even if they believe him, even if they don’t think he’s out of his mind by the time he’s done trying to explain. It’s a weight that is his and his alone, and Chan knows that will always be true.

He still goes to the woods. He doesn’t go as often, and he never speaks anymore. But he leaves homemade honey cakes when he visits. They’re not the real thing—Chan tasted them and knew something was missing—but they’re close enough. He hopes, if Felix is real and he is out there, that he’ll find them, and know who they’re from. But his hope has grown dim.

One night, Chan wakes up to complete darkness. It’s one of those nights with no moon, and though he has his air conditioner running, he’s sweating all over, sheets sticking to his skin, hair sticking to his forehead. Blearily, he wonders what could have woken him.

He realizes he’s not alone in his room. He blinks, reaching for the hand that’s just barely ghosting his cheek—a hand he knows so well. Tears spring to his eyes as the face comes into focus—white hair, vivid even in the dark, white eyelashes, beautiful gold eyes. 

Chan drops the hand, almost throwing it back to its owner in his haste, pushing himself up into a sitting position. They stare at each other for a moment in the quiet darkness; human and faerie, reality and fiction. 

“Hello, Your Majesty,” Chan says quietly. It’s a dream, that’s all. Just another dream. He can’t quite convince himself of it, though. All of his dreams have been memories. This—this is new.

Felix is shaking. “You don’t call me that,” he whispers. His voice is so sad. “I told you not to call me that.”

Chan regards him warily. “What does it matter what I call you?” he asks. “You’re a hallucination. I was dreaming then, and I’m dreaming now. You’re not real. None of it was real. It was a dream.”

Felix’s eyes shine with tears. He shakes his head. “No,” he insists. “It wasn’t a dream.” He reaches out, but Chan doesn’t take his hands. “I’m right here, Chan, I’m sorry it took me so long. But I’m right here.”

Chan knits his brows. He wants so badly to believe him—but what if he disappears again? All the work he did to try and readjust to the human world would be undone, and Chan isn’t sure he would have the strength to do it all again. “Do you know how many times I went back?” Chan asks. He doesn’t know how his voice has gotten so venomous. “Calling for you, searching? How many nights I’ve spent, lying awake, wondering if I’m crazy? How can you come to me only now? How do I know you won’t leave me all alone again?”

A tear slips down Felix’s cheek. “I know,” he says. “I know how many times, I watched you and I wanted to go to you, but Lino wouldn’t let me, he said it could still be the enchantment wearing off. Sometimes it takes months. I—I wanted to be sure that you actually—actually wanted me.” He ducks his head. “I’m sorry, Chan, I’m so sorry, but I’m here now, and—”

Chan abandons reason. He leans forward, tilting Felix’s chin up with his hand, and kisses him, cutting him off mid-syllable. Felix’s hands flutter between them before finally settling on Chan’s arms. He’s crying, but still he tries his best to kiss Chan back, like he thinks if he doesn’t, Chan will refuse him again. 

But Chan won’t. If he’s crazy, then let him be crazy. He was miserable these last couple of months, only half-alive. Here, with Felix back in his arms, he’s finally whole again, and nothing else matters. 

“I’m sorry,” Felix is sobbing. “I’m sorry I made you wait.”

Chan wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him up into his lap and cradling him close. Felix hides his face in the crook of Chan’s neck, still crying. “It’s okay,” Chan says softly, running a hand down his back. “It’s okay, you’re here now.”

This only seems to make Felix cry harder. Chan rocks him a little, rubbing his back, pressing kisses to his hair and everywhere else that he can reach. Felix is leaving wet kisses along his neck, his shoulder, fingers digging into Chan’s skin so hard it hurts, but Chan doesn’t care. It means he’s here; if Chan can feel him, it means he’s real 

Slowly, Felix’s crying turns to sniffling. Chan reaches over to his bedside table, clicks on a lamp, and finds a box of tissues. He offers it to Felix, who lets out a small, self-deprecating breath of laughter and takes one. Chan smiles fondly, watching him blow his nose and dry his cheeks. He kisses the crown of his head 

“I’m sorry,” Felix mumbles again. “Really, I am. But I just had to be sure, I needed to know for sure that it wasn’t just all our magic playing with your head.” He reaches up and touches Chan’s cheek. “I almost hoped you would forget us,” he says softly. “I wanted you to wake up healed, I wanted you to barely remember me. I wanted you to believe the doctors and put it from your mind and live the life you were meant to live.” His eyebrows pinch. “It was better than imagining you alone with your grief. Even I hadn’t been dealt such a cruel fate; I still had my court, my friends.”

Chan turns his head to kiss his palm. “I’m glad I didn’t forget you,” he says. “Even if it was hard.”

Felix gives him a melancholy look. “I’m sorry we met, sometimes,” he says. “You could’ve lived a life—you wouldn’t have ever known. And neither would I. And we would’ve been happy.”

“We can still be happy, can’t we?” Chan asks. “Now?”

“Can we?” Felix looks up at him, a mixture of hope and trepidation on his face.

“I think so,” Chan says. He takes one of Felix’s hands. “You’re here. I’m happier now that you’re here. That’s a start, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so,” Felix says, nodding. “I’m happier now, too.”

“So let’s be happy,” Chan says.

Felix offers him his first genuine smile of the night. It’s small, but it’s there. “Okay,” he agrees.

Chan has missed his smile. “You’re sure you’re real?” he asks, poking Felix’s side and making him giggle.

“Yes,” Felix says, giving him a sheepish look. “I promise.”

“I dunno if I should trust the promise of a faerie,” Chan says, and Felix giggles again. “Least of all their king, hm?”

“Are you sure you still want me?” Felix asks. “Even now, even without any of the enchantments of my realm? 

Chan looks him over. There is a tinge of anxiety that he hadn’t felt since the first few days he had spent with the faeries, but it’s only a natural response to seeing something strange. He looks at Felix’s white eyelashes, his golden eyes, the shape of his wings folded against his back underneath his robes. The sharp points of his teeth. Chan nods. “I’m very sure, Felix,” he says. “You don’t need magic for me to want you.”

Felix sighs in relief, and reaches up and pushes Chan’s hair off of his forehead. “I missed you,” he says quietly. “The palace was all brown and cold.” 

“You never told me what happens if all the plants die,” Chan says. “Did they?”

Felix shakes his head. “There was a patch of forget-me-nots in the center of your room,” he says softly. “They refused to die.”

Chan frowns. “What would have happened,” he presses, “if they had died?”

Felix purses his lips in mild distress. “I would have died,” he says, just above a whisper. “It’s a failsafe of sorts. When the king is too weak to rule, his plants dying, the magic takes him with them so that a new king can ascend. Someone who is strong enough to protect the kingdom. But I think a part of me knew—or at least hoped that you were still out there, that you still cared about me. And then when I saw you in the woods—I knew I had to wait. But it helped, to know you were alive and searching for me.” 

Chan knocks their foreheads together. “I missed you, too,” he says. “I’m glad you didn’t die.” 

Felix brings his hands up to Chan’s cheeks, holding his head in his palms. “I think everyone’s glad about that,” he says.

“Even the prince?” Chan asks. “He could’ve been king.”

Felix shakes his head. “Prince Jin doesn’t wish to be king,” he says. “He even told me he’d never forgive me if I died, because then he’d have to do actual work.”

Chan laughs. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

“I’m sure the palace is full of new growth now,” Felix murmurs. “It’ll be green and colorful and bright again by the time we get back. I’m sure they’re all relieved.” 

Chan pulls away, confused. “When we get back?” he asks. “You’ll take me with you?”

Felix looks a little flustered. “I mean—only if you want,” he says quickly. “I won’t force you to come.”

Chan laughs. “Of course I want to go back, Felix. I feel—insane out here, trying to live a normal life when I know your world exists. It’s—it’s been excruciating.” He shrugs. “Besides, I want to be where you are.”

“Even though you know—I mean, the other humans will still be there. That practice will not stop.” Felix sounds fearful.

Maybe Chan is crazy. Maybe something about the faerie realm has broken something in his brain, even though he’s free from the enchantments now. But he doesn’t care. “I know,” he says. “But it’s the same out here, you know. You always have to stand on someone else’s bones if you want to stay standing.”

Felix smiles wryly. “You’re thinking like a faerie now,” he says.

“Maybe because I spent so much time around them,” Chan suggests, smiling back. But then he falters, a new fear entering his mind. “The others, though—the prince and the knights, your court, will they even accept me?”

“They will.” Felix’s voice is firm and regal. “I have their names. They will have to accept you.” He tilts his head. “Besides, they saw how much you meant to me. If something is important for their king, they will set aside any misgivings they have. When I am happy, they live in peace.”

More questions spring to Chan’s mind. “You all know my true name now,” he says slowly. “How can I stop the prince, for example, from taking it back?” 

“Your name was returned to you,” Felix says. “It can only be taken if you give it away.” He looks at Chan very seriously. “If someone asks for your name, just tell them they can call you Chan, and leave it at that, okay?”

Chan nods. “Alright. So—we’re going now?”

Felix shakes his head. “It’s late, and the woods are dangerous at night. I can protect myself just fine, but I’m worried I won’t be able to protect you as well.” He shakes his robe off. “We’ll go in the morning. Or later, even—don’t you want to get your affairs in order?”

Chan supposes he does. He’ll have to leave something for his family, at least. He’ll probably have to stage his own suicide. 

But that will all have to wait for the morning. He finally peers at the clock, and finds that it’s three a.m. He pushes the covers back, reaching again for his bedside table to turn off the light. “Tomorrow, then,” he agrees. 

Felix curls into his side, so easy, so familiar. Chan looks down at him, waiting for his eyes to readjust to the darkness. His beautiful little faerie king, sweet and cruel in equal measure. Where else should Chan be, but by his side? 

Felix looks up at him. “What is it?” he whispers. 

Chan shakes his head. “I’m afraid that if I go to sleep, you’ll be gone when I wake up,” he admits. “I’m afraid it really has all been a dream.”

Felix reaches up, combing his fingers through Chan’s hair. “I’ll be here when you wake up,” he says. “I promise. Go to sleep.”

“I don’t know if I should trust the promise of a faerie,” Chan murmurs, but his eyes are already closing. Felix’s gentle laughter is the last thing he hears before sleep takes hold.

* * * 

Chan wakes to muted sunlight and the warmth of another body next to his. His eyebrows crumple a little as he looks Felix over—the familiar lines of his body, the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He’s really here in Chan’s own bedroom. It wasn’t a dream, after all. 

Felix yawns, blinking his eyes open, and Chan can’t stop smiling. “Morning,” Felix whispers, and Chan bends over him, covering his face with kisses until Felix is giggling so hard he can barely breathe. 

How can it be the wrong choice if it makes Chan so happy? This is how things are supposed to be. Chan and his faerie king, wrapped up in bed together, laughing. Why should Chan care about anything else, anyway? 

“Hi,” Chan says.

Felix says nothing, just pushes himself up. He kisses Chan’s cheek, then his throat, then his chest, swinging one leg over his body so he’s straddling his waist. Then— “I want you,” he says simply. “Now. The rest of the day can wait. We’ve waited long enough.” 

Chan reaches for his bedside table, fumbling around for lube as Felix pulls the rest of their clothes off. Things really can be this simple now, he realizes. He can wake up next to Felix every morning, fuck him before they go to breakfast, and then again in the evening before they go to sleep, if they wanted. 

Felix seems to sense this—he had mentioned once that faeries were good at reading emotions, after all. He kisses Chan, pressing their bodies together, thumb stroking Chan’s cheek. “Yes,” he says softly when they break apart. “It will be like this every day. You will be surrounded by beauty, and I will be with you always. You will want for nothing. It’s only fair, isn’t it? You’ve suffered enough.”

“I thought faeries didn’t care about what is fair,” Chan says. He can hardly hear his own voice; he’s too busy looking at Felix.

“Maybe I care,” Felix says, “when it comes to you.”

Chan sits up, using his legs to push Felix up and onto his back, rolling easily onto his knees. Felix’s legs are still spread open, one on either side of Chan’s body, and he lets his head loll to the side when Chan noses at his neck, nipping at the soft skin there. 

“Felix,” Chan whispers, drawing back so he can look Felix in the eyes. “I have to tell you something.”

A shadow flits across Felix’s face. “What?”

“I love you,” Chan says. It comes out like a plea—please accept me. Please let me love you, despite my flaws, despite everything about me. Despite everything, please.

Felix smiles. “Truly?” he asks, reaching up to brush Chan’s bangs out of his face. “You mean it?” Chan nods. He can’t speak; it’s like his heart has gotten lodged in his throat. Please, he thinks. “I love you, too,” Felix whispers, and Chan kisses him, noses bumping in his haste. Felix laughs into his mouth, though it tapers into a soft sigh of pleasure. 

Felix loves Chan. Chan, in all his plainness, in his strangeness, his weakness. Felix still loves him. He kisses Felix until he can feel him start to squirm a little in impatience, then relents, sitting back to find the lube and slick up a couple of his fingers.

Felix watches him, eyelids heavy. There’s a beam of sunlight creeping across the room, and it strikes his forehead, lighting up his hair and showing off his freckles. It’s almost like the world is saying, look, here. Look at my most wonderful creation. Aren’t you lucky? Isn’t he perfect?

“What,” Felix asks softly. “If you think any louder, I think I’ll actually be able to read your thoughts.”

“You’re radiant,” Chan mumbles, flushing. “And I can’t believe you’re here. That’s all.”

Felix blushes, too, a soft dusting of pink warming his cheeks. “Oh,” he whispers.

“What?” Chan says as he spreads him and pushes his index finger in, smiling when Felix’s eyelashes flutter prettily in response. “I can’t possibly be the first person to say so.”

“Chan,” Felix says. “Nobody sees me like you do.”

Chan huffs quietly, working his finger deeper, bending down to kiss Felix’s inner thigh. “I don’t do it on purpose,” he says.

“I know,” Felix says. 

Chan takes his time, lets himself get reacquainted with Felix’s body. He works his finger in and out, slow and lazy, pressing openmouthed kisses to Felix’s stomach, his chest. He closes his mouth around one of his nipples and listens to Felix whimper, smiling against his skin as he flicks his tongue back and forth. 

“Faster,” Felix demands, “more,” and then distracts Chan with kisses, making it impossible for him to obey. 

Chan adds a second finger, and then a third almost immediately afterwards, when it’s clear Felix can take it. Felix moans against Chan’s collarbone, biting fresh hickeys there. It feels so good and so right, to finally be marked up by him again. Chan’s old bruises had faded weeks and weeks ago, before he was even discharged from the hospital, the last piece of solid evidence he had that Felix existed. But he’ll never have to worry about it again.

He finds Felix’s prostate; though it’s been a long time since they’ve seen each other, Chan’s body remembers. It’s easy. He finds a rhythm he knows Felix will like, and keeps to it, kissing him whenever he has the breath to, keeping his hand moving so the only thing Felix will feel is pleasure.

“Stop,” Felix whines at length. “Please, I want—I want to come with you inside me, I want it to be perfect, please.”

Chan pulls his fingers out, grabbing for a tissue to wipe them clean. “You’re ready?”

“Yes,” Felix says, nudging him back. “On your back, I want to be in your lap, c’mon.”

Chan scoots back against the pillows that are bunched at the headboard, opening his arms and letting Felix crawl on top of him. He’s as light as Chan remembers, limbs finding their places with ease, slotted next to Chan’s. Felix takes the lube, rubbing it between his hands to warm it, bending to kiss the head of Chan’s cock while he waits. Chan shivers when Felix touches him, even though he’s not cold. It’s something else, something bigger. 

Felix positions himself carefully and then sinks down on Chan’s cock. He goes slow, but he never stops, head tipped back. Chan places a hand on his hip, rubbing soothing circles against the point of his bone as Felix bottoms out. It’s as good as Chan remembers, and it’s only now that he realizes how close he’s already gotten, just from touching Felix, just from kissing him, just from watching him. He shudders as a heavy wave of desire washes over his body.

“Felix,” he says tightly. “’S embarrassing, but I—I’m close.” 

Felix kisses his forehead, the tip of his nose. “So am I,” he says. “It’s okay. I’ll make you come again, if you let me.”

If Chan lets him. What a silly sentiment, Chan thinks. Of course he’ll let him. He’ll let Felix have whatever he wants. “Please,” he says instead, and Felix kisses him, grinding down in his lap, clenched tight around him. Chan can’t do anything, can’t move, can’t even kiss Felix back, his body melting against the mattress as he comes in the tight heat of Felix’s body, so warm, so sweet. 

“Oh fuck,” he gasps when Felix pulls away. He raises a shaking hand to Felix’s cheek; Felix turns his face and kisses his palm. “Felix, fuck.”

Felix rolls his hips, more for show than anything else, Chan thinks. “Missed you,” he hums softly. “No one makes me f-feel like this, Chan, no one.” His hands curl into fists where they’re resting atop Chan’s shoulders. “Touch me, please,” he whispers.

Chan takes his cock in one hand, trying to ignore the feeling of overstimulation creeping under his skin. He strokes Felix quickly, stretching up so he can kiss his throat. He can feel the vibrations of Felix’s voice against his lips when he moans, coming against Chan’s stomach in wet spurts.

They catch their breath, pressed together. Chan is still mouthing weakly at Felix’s skin. He knows they’re far from done, and he also has a feeling this is the only break he’s going to get, so he tries to make the most of it, willing his head to stop spinning, trying to ground himself before Felix inevitably sends him back into free fall. 

Sure enough, as soon as Felix recovers, he begins moving again—just small circles with his hips at first, then longer, deeper strokes when Chan doesn’t immediately protest.  Chan tips his head back, legs trembling, and tries not to make too much noise, scared that Felix will stop if he seems like he’s complaining. Because he’s not , he wants it, so he sets his jaw and tries to swallow down his little whimpers of pain 

But Felix won’t have it. “Let me hear you,” he coaxes sweetly. “What does it matter if people hear? You’ll be gone tonight anyway, you’ll never have to face them.” He kisses the tight muscle of Chan’s jaw. “Chan,” he whispers.

Chan gasps in a breath, whining on the exhale. “It’s good,” he stutters. “Don’t stop unless I tell you to, okay?”

“I know,” Felix says, smoothing some of his hair back. 

Tears sting in Chan’s eyes, but he tries to will them away. He moans, high-pitched, broken little noises that he can’t even really be embarrassed about. Felix bounces in time with Chan’s weak thrusts, meeting him where he is every time, letting out soft, low huffs of pleasure, breath colored only slightly by the hint of his voice.

Chan feels something hot on his cheek and realizes a tear has spilled over. Felix kisses it away, nearly giggling. “Good?” he teases.

“G-good,” Chan sniffles, a few more tears cresting his waterline. He’s not sure if it’s just about the sex anymore, or if it’s just everything, manifesting all at once as tears. It doesn’t matter. Felix leans forward, thumbs swiping gently at his cheeks as he cups his jaw and kisses him, swallowing Chan’s soft cries. Chan bucks his hips up, erratic and unsteady. If it weren’t for Felix’s hands holding him in place, his body keeping Chan pinned firmly to the bed, Chan thinks he might just break into pieces and float away on a cloud of pleasure.

He comes quietly, grip on Felix’s hips tightening until he’s sure it’s painful. But Felix doesn’t protest, just keeps kissing him, keeps riding him even when Chan stills. It’s worse this time; immediately, as soon as Chan’s orgasm subsides, everything is too much, and a fresh wave of tears blurs Chan’s vision as Felix pulls away.

“One more minute,” Felix promises. “Can you manage one more minute?”

For Felix, Chan thinks he could do anything. He nods. “Hurts,” he says, but he nods.

“Thank you,” Felix says, kissing his sternum, then reaches behind, feeling for his entrance. He works one finger in beside Chan’s cock, opening himself up even more, then slots a second one in beside the first. His other hand finds his cock; he moves quickly, almost efficiently. Chan, even in his post-orgasm haze, has to admire his control, his restraint. 

It feels like more than a minute, but Chan doesn’t care. He’s Felix’s, after all, and if it takes ten minutes, Chan will withstand that, too. He watches Felix through eyes barely open, the beautiful line of his body as he arches back with a moan, the sheen of sweat on his skin that makes him look even more unreal than usual. His throat is working, and it takes Chan a second to realize Felix is saying his name, over and over, “Chan, Chan, oh fuck, Chan.”

His entire body goes taut, like there’s a string running from his toes up to the top of his head and something has just pulled on it, and then Chan feels his release drip down onto his stomach. Felix shakes as he comes, breath harsh from all the exertion. Chan rubs circles on his thigh with his thumb, whispering, “So good, so pretty,” and hoping it’s loud enough that Felix can hear. 

Felix pulls off Chan with a wet pop, bringing his fingers up to his mouth as he tips forward onto Chan’s chest. Chan wraps an arm around him, relaxing back into his pillows, staring up at the ceiling.

Just twenty-four hours ago, he woke up and stared at the same ceiling and wanted to fucking die. And now, all at once, everything is changed. Only one day has passed, and peace has found him, has come sneaking through his window in the form of a beautiful faerie king. He tightens his hold on Felix, who squeaks in surprise. 

They lie there for a while, just breathing. Felix’s hair tickles Chan’s chin, but he doesn’t want to move, too happy now to want to give up the comfort. The only thing that finally convinces him is the thought of his future—their future, his and Felix’s.

“We should get going,” he says. “Don’t want to lose the light.”

“Mmph,” Felix says, which Chan isn’t sure how to interpret.

Nevertheless, he manages to drag both of them up out of bed and to his bathroom. The shower amuses Felix (“It’s so harsh!”), as does his kitchen (“But there’s no fire , how do you cook?”). He manages to get some food for both of them, and leaves Felix to eat at the table while he goes to change his sheets, just in case. 

Chan spends the afternoon putting his things in order. He cancels subscriptions, writes a note, clears perishables out of his fridge so his family won’t have to. He leaves most of his things behind, bringing only a few articles of clothing and some music. 

They find some human clothing for Felix so he doesn’t stand out so acutely, folding his robes carefully and packing them in Chan’s bag as well. And then Chan follows Felix into the woods, taking his hand as they pass the first line of trees.

They walk for a while, watching the light change as the afternoon turns to evening. As golden hour hits, they step through a few trees and come upon a familiar clearing. There’s a ring of mushrooms, red with white dots on the caps.

“Ready?” Felix asks.

Chan smiles at him. “Of course.”

They step through together, and the scene shifts. The mirage melts away, and waiting for them in the center of the circle are Prince Jin and Sir Aiyen. 

Prince Jin lets out a huff of relief and annoyance. “We thought you weren’t coming back.”

“We had to tend to a few things today,” Felix says delicately. “Come, let’s go. I’m sure Lino is just as anxious.”

They follow their king deeper into the woods. The prince falls into step beside Chan. “You nearly killed him, you know.”

“Me?” Chan asks. Somehow, in the dying light, beneath familiar trees, with a pleasant future ahead of him, any animosity or fear Chan had towards the prince has disappeared. “That’s not true. He made the choice to let me go all by himself.” Chan gestures at Felix. “I literally had no say in the matter whatsoever.”

The prince rolls his eyes. “Yes,” he says. “In any case, I have to admit I’m glad you’re back. Things have been strange—and bleak—without you.”

“He’s just annoyed that he’s actually had to do things.” Aiyen has turned around to face them, walking backwards beside Felix. 

“No, I’m actually just genuinely astounded at the profound impact you’ve had on our king,” Prince Jin retorts. “And now I’m curious.”

Felix turns and smacks the prince on the shoulder. “As if Chan would want to have anything to do with you,” he says, but he’s grinning.

Chan glances at the prince. He is pretty, he thinks. Now that he’s not a prisoner here, and the prince no longer has power over him, maybe it would be fun. Aren’t faeries known for being hedonistic, anyway? If Chan is meant to live with them, he should live like them, shouldn’t he?

He’s startled out of his thoughts by Felix striking his chest with an open palm. “I can read your emotions, you know,” he says pointedly, “both of you!” Prince Jin laughs, and Chan laughs too. He realizes he’s never heard Prince Jin laugh genuinely before; it was always cold and empty. There was a lot he didn’t know, a lot he didn’t see, even near the end of his first stay with the fae. 

But he has a second chance now. They’re all still laughing when they come up to the palace gates, where Lino is waiting with a few guards. He gives them an almost exasperated look. 

“You all seem very cheerful,” he says as he ushers them in.

Aiyen giggles. “Maybe we need to find our Sage a human partner, and then he’d loosen up a little, hm? 

“I am going to poison you in your sleep,” Lino deadpans, and the other four burst into laughter again.

Once Chan is settled, he takes some time to refamiliarize himself with the palace. It’s autumn again in this realm; it seems time really does pass differently here. But though the trees outside are all red and orange, the plants inside are still their usual green, lush and full, with flowers blooming. Felix was right—there’s no sign of the death and decay that he had described. Everything is as Chan remembers it.

He wanders down to the kitchens, says his hellos to the staff. He takes a honey cake and keeps going, wandering towards the pastures. The horses still recognize him, and he pets them absently, watching the stars come out overhead.

“I was wondering when I would see you.” Chan turns, and sees Sha standing a few feet away.

“Did everyone know I was coming?” Chan asks, nodding for her to come closer. 

Sha steps up to his side, shaking her head. “No,” she says. “But I knew as soon as the plants began to heal. That he’d found you, asked you to come back with him. That you said yes.” She gave him an indecipherable look. “You really are very strange, Chan.”

“My life is here now, I think,” Chan says, turning back to the horses. “I don’t belong out there anymore. I hated it.”

They’re quiet for a minute. “I’m sorry about trying to sell you out at that feast,” Sha says eventually. “It wasn’t personal, I just—it was the best bargaining chip I had.”

Chan regards her for a second, and then just shrugs. “We were both just trying to survive,” he says. “There are things that have happened to us that are irreversible, and we have just been trying to find ways to deal with them.” He looks out towards the stables. “I betrayed you first. I chose them. I chose Felix.”

“That’s true,” Sha admits. “I suppose it’s all water under the bridge at this point. You’re happy. I’m happy. They’re happy. Mostly, anyway.” She pauses; Chan knows they’re both thinking of the other humans, the far less fortunate. “It’s going to be an open wound for both of us until we die, I think,” she says. “And I will try to soothe mine with power, and you will try to soothe yours with pleasure, and we’ll both try to blind ourselves to the horror around us. And that will be it.”

“Yes,” Chan agrees. “But it’s the same in the human world, you know. It just looks a little different.”

“That’s true, too.” They’re silent again, watching the horses. Then Sha extends her hand for Chan to shake. “Good luck,” she says. “I hope you know that the king is very, very fond of you.”

Chan smiles. “I know,” he says. “I’m very, very fond of him, too. So keep your luck. You’re the one who’s going to need it.”

Sha grins. “Nah,” she says. “I’m smart enough that it’s rarely luck that gets me where I want to be. It’s me.”

They say goodnight, both going their separate ways. Chan looks back, watching her walk down the hall before turning and heading up Felix’s tower. Yeah, he thinks. She’s gonna be just fine.

Felix is waiting for him in his room. Only a few candles are lit. Prince Jin is with him, wearing a thin, golden robe. His hair is unbound; in this light, he looks gentle. Felix stands, goes to meet Chan at the door. 

“Is this okay?” he asks softly.

Chan kisses him, excitement swirling in his chest. “Yes,” he says. “It’s okay.”

Felix leads him to the bed. The prince extends a hand; Chan takes it. It’s just as Felix said. He is surrounded by beauty, and Felix, who loves him, is at his side. He wants for nothing. The world will go on; many humans may pass the entrance point and see a flicker, but assume it’s nothing more than a trick of the light. No one will know what truly happened to Chan, and that’s for the best. Yes, he thinks as the prince presses soft lips to his neck, as Felix’s hands find the sash of his robe, I’m going to be just fine, too. 

[astrosfaerydae]

Love is the Death of Peace of Mind update!

Chanlix gif for attention! Chapter 18 is currently 13.4k total. I have decided to split it but I will post them the same day though. Kind of a double feature and that way regular readers get it all at once as a thank you for waiting and new readers won't have a ridiculously long chapter in the fic. I would've had it finished today but Chan is being incredibly slow in giving Felix what he needs sooooo it's his fault not mine I swear. The fic total is 3k from 100k so I'm very excited about that I can't believe it! Thanks to everyone that's given this fic lots of support 😭

Sneak peak below!

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These are from two vastly different scenes

[bunnypig18]

How to survive living with SKZ - A guide by Bang Chan

Smau - Masterlist

Tags: Humor, Fluff, Romance, No Smut (but talk and mentions of sexual activity) Relationships: Lee Minho/Han Jisung, Bang Chan/Lee Felix (the other two are still developing) Summary: 8 adult men living together isn’t always easy. Things are bound to happen. From items getting lost to cooking disasters to members falling in love. But through all the problems and challenges, they make it work. Aka compilations of chats between the skz members about all kinds of stuff. A/N: Requests are open. This one is heavy on the romance part. @felixtok​​ , @burningupp​​ , @hobi-is-golden​

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7. Ferris Wheels and Confessions

[feelzforfelix]

Accidents (ChanLix drabble)

-chanlix angst, established relationship -word count: 247 -warning: implied self harm, future suicide -summary: just two lovers under the stars

------------- authors note; I was in a bit of a block, but I managed to write this. I’ve never posted on here before so I am a little scared to post. anyways, enjoy. please tell me if i should continue this <3 ... The moonlight danced on the lovers as they looked up at the stars. Nothing too serious was on the freckled boy's mind as he rested his head on the older one's chest. They laid under the stars many times, not many words spoken between the two as they gazed at the endless void outside of the atmosphere. But this time was different. Yes, this time things were spoken without words. The freckled boy's wrists were lined with what he always called an accident, always seeming to bring tears to the older one's eyes. He knew that his lover was hurt. He knew that there wasn’t much he could do to fix the freckled boy’s habits. And it hurt him. He had his own accidents lining his thighs. But he would never tell the younger of these accidents. Chan looked up at the stars, as he held Felix close, feeling him relax. He soon recognized Felix’s sleeping body. Chan sighed and held his limp hand, whispering to Felix.

“One day, I’m going to be gone, Felix. I’ll fail and lose this fight. But just remember, you burn as bright as the stars up there, as beautiful as the moon. And if one day, I’m not here with you anymore, just look up at the night sky. I’ll be there, the brightest one. Just for the brightest boy to see me.”

Chan didn’t realize Felix had woken up upon feeling the vibration of him talking from his chest. Felix looked up at him, eyes big and tear filled. That was when Felix finally spoke for the first time that night. “You make accidents too, don't you?”

[daeristay]

Sudden Desire › Chanlix

04.

Al siguiente día, después del trabajo salió del departamento, aún era un poco temprano, pero suponía que el muchacho ya estaría allí. Sin embargo, cuando se giró para cerrar la puerta, se encontró con una escena completamente inesperada.

Dejó su mano aferrada a la llave, sin colocarle cerrojo. Se quedó tildado por un momento, parpadeando atónito.

Frente a la puerta de al lado, se encontraba el joven de la tienda acompañado de alguien más.

Estaban besándose, con el detalle de que un par de lágrimas se deslizaban por las mejillas del rubio.

Christopher frunció el ceño.

Apenas notaron la presencia del mayor, el muchacho de la tienda apartó al chico más alto de un empujón, claramente avergonzado.

⏤¡Señor! ⏤Éste se enderezó e inclinó la cabeza, saludándolo con torpeza y hablando cada vez más rápido⏤. No tenía idea de que alguien vivía al lado. ¿Cómo está? ¿Está bien? ¿Su mano?

¿Señor?, ¿realmente se veía tan viejo? Chan juraba que sólo le quitaba unos pocos años, quizás era por esa razón que el menor le hablaba con tanta educación.

El otro, se limitó a sonreír de lado y bufar ofendido, como si Christopher estuviera interrumpiendo algo importante.

El rubio se secó las lágrimas.

⏤¿Todo bien? ⏤Se acercó al par de jóvenes, dedicándole un semblante severo al chico que aún no conocía.

El menor observó a su compañero y no supo qué decir, era obvio que algo le inquietaba. Era como si estuviese suplicando por ayuda.

⏤Todo bien, señor. ⏤Contestó el castaño con recelo, dándole un codazo para interponerse entre Chan y el menor⏤. Déjame entrar, Lixie, hablemos.

Chris decidió ignorar el hecho de que un mocoso acababa de faltarle el respeto. Porque el más alto tomó de la muñeca al rubio, quien intentó zafarse sin éxito.

⏤Tengo que trabajar. ⏤Espetó en voz baja, claramente molesto.

Chan, viendo que Felix era capaz de rechazarlo directamente, comenzó a alejarse debido a que no era su problema.

No obstante, cuando escuchó la voz del otro joven, se devolvió. Probablemente se arrepentiría luego, pero hizo caso omiso al sentido común.

⏤¿Por qué estás haciéndote el difícil? ⏤Se acercó hasta que la espalda del rubio impactó contra la puerta⏤. Dije que lo siento, ¿no es así?

El castaño elevó el brazo para intentar tocar la mejilla de Felix, pero Chris procuró detenerlo en seco. Aferró la mano a su muñeca y le dedicó una expresión asesina.

⏤Creo haber escuchado que te dijo que no. ⏤La voz del mayor se oía calmada y seria, más su mirada expresaba perfectamente lo que pensaba.

Por su parte, Felix se quedó sin palabras.

El castaño se alejó de un manotazo.

⏤¿Y tú quien demonios eres? ⏤Preguntó, iracundo. Se asomó por encima de Chan para volver a dirigirse al rubio⏤. ¿Lo conoces?

Christopher apretó la mandíbula y se volvió a interponer entre ellos, ahora observándolo sólo a él. Éste retrocedió, intimidado.

⏤No lo mires a él. ⏤Ordenó, acercándose poco a poco⏤. Estás hablando conmigo.

⏤Sólo estábamos jugando. ⏤Se excusó, quitándole importancia a la situación⏤. ¿Verdad, Lixie? Vamos, entremos.

Chan miró por encima de su hombro y le hizo una señal con el mentón a Felux, indicándole que se fuera. El menor lo entendió de inmediato, retirándose a paso apresurado.

Chris lo siguió poco después, asegurándose de que el susodicho no los siguiera.

⏤¡Oye, Lee Felix! ⏤Se escuchó al bajar las escaleras, grito que el rubio decidió ignorar.

Ambos caminaron en silencio hasta la tienda de la esquina, donde éste se colocó el uniforme y tomó el turno de noche. Chan, en cambio, tomó asiento fuera del local, donde encendió un cigarrillo.

Felix no tardó en unirse, sentándose frente a él, al otro lado de la mesa.

Al principio, hubo un silencio incómodo. A Christopher no le molestaba en lo absoluto, pero el menor parecía ansioso.

⏤Lo siento. ⏤Se disculpó, para después ponerse de pie e inclinarse.

El pelinegro no lo miró, en su lugar le dio otra calada al cigarrillo.

⏤¿Por qué te disculpas? ⏤Sacó un pañuelo de su bolsillo y se lo ofreció al rubio, quien aún soltaba lágrimas de vez en cuando.

Felix permaneció inclinado, estudiando el objeto con confusión. Tardó unos segundos, pero lo tomó entre las manos.

¿Cuántas veces lo había visto llorar?

⏤Lo puse en una situación incómoda. ⏤Mientras se secaba las lágrimas con la tela, suspiró entre hipos⏤. Fue mi error, seré más cuidadoso a partir de ahora.

Chan descansó la barbilla sobre la palma de la mano, acomodando el codo encima de la superficie de la mesa. Procedió a estudiarlo con detenimiento, enseñando un semblante desinteresado.

Aunque, la verdad era, que sí sentía mucho interés.

⏤¿Estarás bien? ⏤Indagó, refiriéndose a la persona de antes.

El rubio se sobresaltó y asintió rápidamente.

⏤¡Sí! ⏤Aseguró⏤. Ahora que está enfadado, probablemente no vuelva más.

El pelinegro arqueó una ceja, sin quitarle los ojos de encima. Sentía tanta curiosidad, pero jamás se permitiría demostrarlo.

⏤¿Él hace esto a menudo?

⏤¿Eh? ⏤Felix procesó la pregunta, exhibiendo un notorio sonrojo⏤. ¡N-no! Le aseguro que no. Lo siento, no volverá a pasar.

⏤No me refiero a eso. ⏤Corrigió, adivinado que el menor estaba pensando en el beso⏤. ¿Suele obligarte a hacer cosas que no quieres?

Chris no tenía idea de lo que estaba haciendo. Hablando con un veinteañero de problemas amorosos que no tenían nada que ver con él.

Se desconocía por completo.

Felix dudó, para después bajar la mirada y volver a llorar en silencio. Una vez más, utilizó el pañuelo para secarse las lágrimas.

El mayor, por su parte, respetó su momento y decidió apartar la mirada, teniendo en cuenta que el rubio podría sentirse avergonzado.

⏤Hyunjae no es mala persona. ⏤Defendió entre sollozos⏤. Sólo... supongo que me enamoré de la persona equivocada.

Chris mantuvo la mirada en el suelo, respetando su espacio. No entendía nada de romance, las pocas novias que tuvo a lo largo de su vida no fueron lo suficientemente importantes como para dejar secuelas emocionales. Por ende, lo único que podía hacer era escuchar.

⏤Estaré bien, señor. ⏤Ahí iba otra vez con el "señor", ¿realmente se veía tan mayor?⏤. Gracias por su preocupación.

Chan suspiró.

⏤¿Te llamas Lee Felix? ⏤Le dio otra calada al cigarrillo, fingiendo no darle importancia a la pregunta.

⏤¿Eh? ⏤Por un momento, pareció que el rubio había olvidado que a Hyunjae se le había escapado su nombre⏤. Ah, sí.

Hubo una pausa larga.

⏤Y... ¿Eres gay?

Se arrepintió de preguntar semejante cosa al instante en el que se escapó de su boca. ¿Qué se supone que estaba haciendo? No era, para nada, de su incumbencia.

Quería darse una bofetada, estaba llegando demasiado lejos.

⏤Sí, lo soy. ⏤Respondió con amabilidad, aparentemente sin sentirse incómodo.

¿Qué debía decir ahora? ¿Qué se dice en situaciones como esa? Aunque fue él el que preguntó en primer lugar, sentía que debía esforzarse más por entender.

Estaba a punto de perder la cabeza, no tenía idea de por qué estaba actuando tan extraño.

⏤No sé que pasa entre ustedes ⏤comenzó a decir, mientras se ponía de pie con el cigarrillo en la boca⏤, pero hoy te valiste por ti mismo, mi presencia no fue realmente necesaria.

⏤¿Ah? ⏤El menor lo siguió con mirada curiosa.

⏤Estoy diciendo que lo hiciste bien. ⏤Dio otra calada y dejó salir el humo lentamente⏤. No seas duro contigo mismo. La próxima vez sabrás manejarlo mejor.

Sus palabras causaron que Felix volviera a soltar un par de lágrimas, cabizbajo debido a que no quería ser visto. Odiaba ser tan sensible.

⏤La próxima vez, será con otra persona. ⏤Aseguró, alzando el puño con determinación⏤. Alguien mejor, más atractivo y con mejor cuerpo.

Chan alzó las cejas y sonrió sin que éste lo viera. El menor era mucho más extrovertido de lo que imaginaba.

⏤Ya lo veremos. ⏤Concluyó el pelinegro, pisando el cigarrillo para después botarlo a la basura⏤. Cuídate.

Se alejó tranquilamente por la acera, colocando las manos en los bolsillos.

⏤¡Gracias por lo de hoy, que tenga buena noche! ⏤Exclamó a su espalda, despidiéndose al inclinarse en dirección al mayor.

Cuando Chan llegó al departamento, se detuvo un momento para estudiar la puerta de al lado. Todo pasó tan rápido que apenas había podido procesar que tenía de vecino a la persona que tanto captó su interés en los últimos días.

Después de entrar y sentarse en la cama, paseó los dedos por su cabello. Se echó para atrás y se dejó caer sobre el colchón.

⏤¿Qué voy a hacer? ⏤Susurró al aire, sintiendo que una tormenta se alzaba sobre su cabeza.

Acababa de descubrir que el chico era gay, pero ¿por qué sintió alivio al enterarse? Aún peor, la rabia que sintió hacía el otro sujeto fue genuina. Si hacía otra tontería, probablemente lo hubiese golpeado.

Chan se rindió ante la confusión.

En su mente sólo se repetía la sonrisa del menor, las pecas adornando sus mejillas, sus facciones tan delicadas y la línea de su nuca, panorama que presenciaba cuando se daba la vuelta para tomar los cigarrillos. La forma en la que su mano podría tomar su cintura sin ningún problema, o ubicarlo de espaldas para observar las curvas de su figura, mientras él...

...

¿Qué?, ¿qué estaba haciendo?

¿Acababa de imaginarse a otro hombre desnudo? No, aún más grave, se imaginó teniendo sexo con él.

Definitivamente, estaba volviéndose loco.

No era propio de Chan entrar en desesperación por desear a otra persona. O, mejor dicho, desear mujeres. Hasta ese momento, tener aventuras era algo que fluía tan ligero como el agua.

Sin embargo, allí estaba una noche más, sintiendo hormigueos bajo el pantalón a causa de pensar en él, entrando en crisis por no saber cómo enfrentarlo.

Aún así, ya tenía luz verde. Al menos, para intentar acercarse a él. Si bien nunca experimentó un rechazo por parte de quienes después se convirtieron en sus amantes, estaba dispuesto a arriesgarse ante esa posibilidad.

Aunque, a decir verdad, estaba nervioso.

Así que, después de decidir dejar de evadir lo que sentía, se fue a dormir con la imagen del chico en mente.

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