#listen i KNOW we're gonna get a lot of angst in season 2. I know i will physically break multiple times when i watch it. BUT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hhjs · 3 years

Text

love or lack thereof.

pairing — felix x reader

genre / trope — angst, fluff / exes with benefits.

word count — 7.7k

warnings — suggestive, heavy implications, swearing, some making out but no actual r rated stuff but i will say this is suitable for 18 and up audiences.

note — this is unedited, subject to change. spare me lol

There are two sides to every person. The side that you want people to see and the side that you keep to yourself.

You think you've come to discover all those aspects of Lee Felix. Given that he's sweet, unassuming and inexplicably kind to the naked eye but you know, the rising anger in you knows he's only ever been cruel to you.

"Move," you seethe, he moves to let you in but you unintentionally knock your shoulder against his. There's people on the subway, and you hate the way Felix's innocent gaze finds yours for a second and it makes you look like the bad guy.

You feel the disapproving glare of a grandma who has a crumpled catalogue about seasonal pie recipes on her lap, as if she can't believe how much of a cunt you were being to an absolute stranger.

A roll of eyes follows, fishing for your ear phones, if only they knew.

Seeing your ex boyfriend outside of your casual deal hits you with the force of a punch to the gut. But you hid it exceptionally well. Arrogantly jutting your chin upwards. Whilst he cowers beside you, having supposedly caught your sour mood.

To think you had spent an hour with him in a bedroom just formerly...is rather strange. You've been sleeping with him for the past few months now and where it had begun is slightly mysterious to you — was it Chan's birthday party or a clubbing gone wrong one night stand just after Felix had come back to town....? You aren't entirely sure.

Albeit the arrangement is ingrained in your head — what you have with him is a secret strictly kept from your friends who otherwise if even caught air of a mere conversation between you two would invite an influx of queries. This is simple, physical, you don't have time for a relationship, let alone one with him and to mend how utterly lonely you are with someone who hasn't already seen you naked, someone who you couldn't blindly trust, is too much work.

Even though Felix is indubitably affected by your unwavering indifference, something he wasn't used to when you were together because of how giving you were to sate his utterly needy tendencies. Now he feels himself clawing at your hardened exterior in search of just those affections to no actual avail —hurt crossing his eyes when you sneak out of bed without saying goodbye, when days pass and you don't call or text and most importantly, when you're in public and you can't be bothered to spare him as much as a glance. To you, it's nothing more and nothing less. You make it a necessity to keep reminding him.

See you liked to pretend you're a resilient person. That in your heart you really do forgive people and move on.

But he is an exception.

"Did you eat?" He perks up, his voice is small. Careful.

You keep your stoic expression, looking ahead. "No."

Then he blinks, like he usually does when he doesn't understand why you act the way you do. Impolite, communicating only in monosyllables.

Do you really hate him that much?

There's a hoodie pulled over his black hair, longer along the neck,headphones dangling from his neck and his backpack in his hand, he hopes when he holds onto the same railing as you are, that your fingers should brush just a little.

Despite the way you adamantly ignore him, Felix opens his mouth to utter a passing inquiry. Your jaw clenches. And you desperately begin to scan the city map plastered inside to navigate passengers to their destinations.

"Can we...do you want to get something to eat..." He swallows, "together?"

As if he's crazy for even making such a proposition, you look at him once but from the corner of your eye and he thinks that's a lot considering how often you look past him, through him, never at him. You shake your head, giving him a warning stare.

Across from you, his reflection is frowning at your negative response. Still staring at you with a marveling gleam in his eyes, how much you've changed over the past two years just as he has....still takes him by surprise. Suddenly and unexpectedly, his eyes flicker to yours and he finds you staring at his image against the glassed doors. And like a deer caught in headlights, your heart drops to the depths of your stomach.

The announcement above falls deaf to your ears as you exit in a blind rush of sheer panic. Ignoring the biting cold and unfamiliar station. Your stop is still quite far. Maybe you'd have to take the taxi... or walk.

But in the face of all those hassles you sense yourself feeling incredibly relieved...because frankly, you think, you could go to hell and back if gets you away from him.

—

"So you came to tell me you're just gonna give up? Is that it?"

Felix carefully glances at you through his lashes, silently pursing his lips as to convey the answer.

You stare at the speckles of light kissing up his freckled cheeks, his big beaming eyes, a slightly low bridge but rounded tip of his nose paired with a small upturned mouth.

You can't believe you won't see him again.

Whenever he'd catch a break, he'd take the 2 hour bus to town and come see you, meet you and those once in six months meetings alone, to you, compensated for his lengthy absence.

So it couldn't be the distance, you thought, if that were the case he'd have dumped you when he moved to the capital for university.

Felix just doesn't want to be with you anymore.

"You don't get it...." He closes his eyes, as if he doesn't want to see himself saying what he is about to say, you almost don't get the resistance in his tone. The subtle drop of his Adam's apple. "I don't want to hurt you." He starts, "Just think about this rationally... we're so young, what if I find someone else there?"

Someone...else?

Is it that easy to dispose of you? Aren't you enough?

How foolish of you to only ever think of him.

It felt like Felix was kicking you where knew would hurt the most.

Your sardonic laugh is cracked, garbled and it's so fucking embarrassing that you're crying in the middle of a fast food joint, your fries have gone cold. Had you known seeing him this time would be vastly different from usual, you wouldn't have ordered at all. Why didn't he tell you before? Why had he insisted on catching you unawares?

But then again...this isn't about you at all. This is about Lee Felix. This is about him reducing your worth to make room for himself.

Ultimately, you understand, what is worse than not being loved back is being loved by someone who doesn't love you as much as you do them.

"Well I won't stand in your way then,"

You clear your throat,

"Fuck..." you rub your temple, the sadist in you coughing up hysterical laughs. The ache inside your heart at this point has turned into physical pain, cracks fissuring out against its surface and gnawing at the flesh like its being torn apart at the seams.

You should've seen this coming.

Everyone told you and told you you could only drag on an opposites attract sort of relationship for so long before you start to realise how incompatible you are.

Felix has the audacity to reach over and place his fingertips on your knuckles,his eyes are sad, overflowing with pity. It makes you feel small, the way he looks at you, small, sad and abandoned.

What tips you over the edge, however, is how calm he seems, as if he had been precisely planning to dump you for days and months and years while you continue to make a fool out of yourself never have forseen his decision.

There are tears running down your cheeks, abusing your vision with a vicious sting. You bring your sleeve to collect the needless moisture in a sudden rise of temper that is oh so typical of you.

You snatch your hand away from his touch.

"Don't touch me." You say, the simple comment transfers pain to Felix's eyes, mouth parting in silent words. You want to scream at him, you want to shake him by the collar and tell say something, just say anything at all and I will forgive you. Goddamnit.

In a perfect world, you think, a world where things happened exactly the way they should, you wouldn't have said, instead,

"And don't you fucking dare come back here...ever again."

And...in that very perfect world, he would've listened.

—

Felix thinks he could, dare he say, love everything about you. Even though you most certainly deserve someone who hasn't hurt you the way he has.

Now it's funny actually, how the tables have turned...back then, he wasn't sure about you and now you aren't about him.

Felix doesn't really blame you though...because he knows he asked for it.

Your presence in his life has somehow become an absolute necessity to say the least. And ironically enough, while he had so confidently pushed you to let go of him, he realises he had been holding onto you all along.

Now what was he saying...again?

Right. Felix loves everything about you.

But what he loves most...is the way your hand instinctively finds his heart when you're kissing. It's just a simple movement of your fingers splaying against his chest, the warmth of them seeping through the fabric of his shirt. He doesn't even know why it means so much to him.

His hand drops from your ass to the back of your thighs to situate you closer to his chest. He moans into the kiss when your teeth comes to scrape against his bottom lip, your ministrations are typically rough and speedy but he is seemingly far too absorbed by the exhilarating feeling coursing throughout his entire form — it's not just blatant lust, he knows, but a much deeper understanding that he is inexplicably gladdened by the fact that he's touching you and you're touching him.

A shaky breath leaves Felix's parted lips as he cranes his neck to allow your lingering kisses to shift along his angular jaw.

Then without quite meaning to, his vision focuses on the table clock that reads it's well past midnight...you had run late tonight for reasons you neglected to disclose. Now that he really focuses, a strong musky fragrance akin to unfamiliar men's cologne wafts up his nostrils.

It couldn't be....

As Felix's suspicions run deeper, he restlessly begins to search up every aspect of his surroundings as best as he can in the limited provision of light. There is a large coat discarded on his bed, one he hasn't seen you wear before...then again it might not be yours at all...

You notice how he's stopped responding to you, so you pause, leaning back, still on his lap. "Is something the matter?"

Felix swallows, blinking up innocently at you. This deal is simple, isn't it? He knew what he was getting into the first time you got together and the second and the third and so on, so why had the possibility of you getting involved with someone else even bother him then?

Both of you knew why.

And what's worse is that Felix is sensitive by nature, never truly succeeding to hide his emotions, especially intense ones when faced with them. So he is hyper aware of the fact that what he is feeling in the moment is not jealousy, it's neither anger nor resentment but a deep seated insecurity that he will lose you.

Again.

"Were you...with someone?"

As expected, your hands resign from cupping his face, you avoid looking at him.

"What?"

Felix clears his throat, his accent thicker, voice heavy from disuse. He thinks about something being with you in the same way only he has...and it causes a dull ache inside his chest.

He rests his head back against the sofa and shrugs lazily. As if to prove a point, as if to say did he touch you here? his fingers ride up your t shirt, gently cupping your ribs, he tries not to look too satisfied when you quiver under the touch.

Still you lift yourself up and the sudden lack of contact almost makes him whine.

You stand before him. A hand at your hip.

"Why are you acting like this?" You say and he notes you sound more... curious than annoyed. Though what frustrates him is that you hadn't answered his question. "I thought I made myself clear...there are rules we agreed upon."

Oh he knows — no staying over, no personal questions, no jealousy.

Felix purses his lips. The downside of your forwardness, the same utterly admirable trait he finds really fucking hot, the one that conditions you to tell Minho off when he hogs all of Felix's brownies though the latter himself is too much of a pushover to say anything, the same one which had in times of recurring doubtfulness assured him of your strong feelings towards him, is that you say whatever comes to mind without sparing anyone's feelings.

"I'm just asking, [........]," he lies, trying to control the pain from projecting itself onto his voice. It hurts to see the way you jump to defend yourself around him, as though you're scared he'll hurt you again. The lack of faith you have him, after all this time, causes him hurt. "Why are you getting so upset...."

Felix is gentle. Communicating his feelings through his actions rather than words, cooly, slowly. And you are the exact opposite — there is an immediacy in your conveyance, a roughness. You mean what you say and you say what you mean so you think everyone does too. Which is why, he concludes, his present actions are insufficient to remove the seeds of resentment he'd left in the wake of his bitter utterances when you broke up.

But Felix was only 18 then, a kid completely unaware of his overwhelming need to have you in his life....what matters is, he's trying...he really is, to recover from his mistakes......shouldn't that least matter?

Thinking the slight inhibition in his tone is just a figment of your imagination and that he is simply and indifferently inquiring you, you feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you. Then you drop down on the bed, feeling for his remote.

You sniff through your nose and against your better judgement say, "I went out with an acquaintance,"

On weekends Chan usually wasn't home, you could come over. This is the routine, it has been for some time now...so, you've come to know Felix's room more intimately than your own, the walls are a deep blue, like the kind of blue out of a Holly Warburton painting. There's an old Coldplay poster on the back of his door and X-Men action figures from eons ago lined on the edges of his bookshelf.

You know where everything goes when though it's dark. But that doesn't mean anything.

It shouldn't.

"A acquaintance who gave you their coat midwinter...you must be close,"

You ignore his pointed comment, he ignores the way your eyes light up when you talk about this acquaintance.

"He's nice." You say, "He walked me to the station and everything."

A happy hum comes in response.

Because when was the last time you talked to him as freely as you are?

Felix plops down on his stomach beside you, elevating his form on his elbows. His fingers come to brush loose strands out of your eyes. Your gaze meets his for the second time that week. Slower. As if you hadn't minded looking him this time. He feels his heart being tugged at all possible angles.

Then, because he can't stop himself — he leans down and kisses you, tentative and indolent, like he has all the time in the world, like all he wants to do is kiss. Don't get him wrong...you've done downright unspeakable things with him, to him...but nothing mediates his adoration for you without the employment of speech like these little chaste...purposeless movements. His fingers coming to splay against your neck, thumbing along your throat when you gulp, the tip of your nose brushing against his cheekbone, eyes fluttering shut. They're...they're intimate. Utterly special. He knows you feel it too, from the way you look slightly surprised, searching his face, eyes skimming up any fragment of emotion conveyed in his features. But you don't encourage it, slowly shifting to turn your back as you lay quietly against his chest.

"Let me stay here tonight," you say, "I'm tired."

"Okay,"

Felix thinks you've broken not one, but two rules now. He hadn't expected you to answer. He hadn't expected you to get into bed with no intention of departing either.

Though he doesn't hold it against you, this is what he wants, for you to open up to him again...after all. These changes can't be bad changes, even if they are little, it's still progress...right?

—

You wet your fingers, dipping the moistened muscle against the clay mold. All around you is not as eerily quite as it is in your apartment, footsteps thrumming against hardwood floor, kiddish humming from the kitchen, the smell of sugar in the air, you've never worked outside of your home station and well...in class. You thought of yourself as a self sufficient individualist, you liked to believe that you didn't enjoy other people's company like you did your own, with the exception of your roommate. But that's only since you aren't close enough for her to disturb you.

Yet with Soomi moved out for good, the place felt...odd to stay by yourself.

So you found yourself spending more and more time at Felix's. It's nice to have a place to crash in every now and then, the sex is great and when you get hungry after, you don't have to think twice about scouring the fridge.

You don't know why you put off spending time aside from sleeping together at all, more time spent didn't necessarily add to your deal or subtract from it....because the action itself doesn't really mean anything. Everyone gets tired of being alone at some point. That's a universal fact.

Initially, you told yourself your presence was a consequence of Chan catching you two in the shower one night...so now that the cat's out of the bag, you two figured his place could become the only premise you didn't have to play pretend in. You both knew the elder would be more than willing to keep the younger's secret even if he didn't exactly approve of it.

With the increased frequency of your visits, bits and pieces of you remain dispersed all throughout the apartment, your body wash in his bathroom, your underwear in his laundry, the smell of you in his sheets, on his clothes. You had relaxed yourself through the periphery of his life and he had small glimpses of yours, habits and flaws, unknowingly...or knowingly....whatever. — Felix could only thank God that Chan had found out, in spite of the revelation itself putting you both in a compromising position.

With time, he starts to keep a few secrets from you too, here and there, knowing that if you knew you will stop doing it altogether. He can't have that...

You throw a leg around his hip when you're fast asleep, flinging an arm not a second later to cage him in your warm embrace. Felix likes the way your chest rises and falls against his back, how your breath tickles his skin and your mouth parts against his shoulder blade. Sometimes he stays awake and waits for you to do it, then when you do, he grins so hard his face hurts a little. Felix likes being the little spoon.

"Are you listening?"

His vision narrows down to the sight of you holding out your palms in the air, there's wet clay on them, as well on your cheek and legs, between them your pottery wheel is halted to desuetude, there's old newspapers layering the floorboard to prevent staining.

"Sorry...," he smiles sheepishly, "What did you say?"

It's your turn to shift your gaze to your feet. Felix thinks it's highly uncharacteristic, the way you seem almost...shy?

"Can you..." You eye the mug mounted on his study desk, he catches onto your request easily, "I'm thirsty—"

"Yeah yeah hold on... careful," Felix chirps, carefully guiding the rim to your lips to make sure it doesn't spill. He uses the tip of his thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth, you flinch first but then whilst the mild shock subsides, simply stare up at him as the pad of his thumb brushes against your skin. "There you go..." he trails, eyes bright with care.

You feel like a child being doted on, the mere emotion plunging you back to when you were 5 and had crushes on boys who shared skittles with you.

"Thanks."

Felix's ears perk up at the courtesy, you were never one to express yourself easily and when you did, every time, he felt inexplicably delighted.

The apples of your cheeks feel hot for some reason, by putting yourselves in in these small situations, you keep confusing him, you know, because you keep confusing yourself too.

You come out again that night but this time Bang Chan is shifting around in the kitchen. He hardly sleeps, you observe, but probably refusing to come out because he wanted to avoid bumping into you.

Chan doesn't seem to like you very much. Probably. You don't blame him. Before you came along, Felix and he spent more time together, now you had become a constant in his life without will.

You have to listen twice to realise he's speaking with you. Not an invisible being behind you.

"What?"

"I said..." His tone dropped dangerously low, he looks annoyed at something. "Listen I don't care what you're doing but don't hurt him." He's wearing a black t shirt and a pair of pajama shorts with cartoon wolves littered all across the baby blue fabric. He's trying to appear intimidating. It's not really working.

You stifle a laugh.

Frankly had you not known how deeply he cared for Felix, you'd not have cared about his advice. Or warning....?

"Fine," you respond, watching as the tension visibly left his body with one bating breath. "I hope this isn't about me stealing your yoghurt though."

"It's a little about stealing my yoghurt," he jokes, you think he's one of those people who'd apologise if you punched them in the face and spat in their drink. It's interesting...

Chan laughs a little. His eyes sparking with amusement for the first time of all the times he's looked at you. Did he trust your word that much?

—

"He talks about you a lot you know,"

You nearly spit out your drink. Seungmin isn't exactly the densest guy you know. Far from it exactly and he isn't discreet either. So your first instinct is to think he knows something.

You watch Felix from a distance, a solo cup in hand, he's laughing at something Hyunjin said, there's a crinkle along the bridge of his nose and his upper lip curls upwards to reveal his teeth. In reality, in everyone's eyes, your lives are separate. They walk on eggshells around you still...you assure yourself there's no way anyone could've guessed.

So you play dumb, glugging the whiskey into your cup. It spills around the edges, landing on the semi-lit neon counter.

"Who?"

Seungmin blinks at you. An unreadable expression on his face.

"Jisung." He says, "Who else?"

You feel yourself getting less excited, the breath you were unconsciously holding passing your entire form. Jisung is the newest addition to your life, a performing arts student who offered to portrait model for a project you'd been given in class. He's cute, forward, which you like a lot. And you notice whilst using him for inspiration, that he looks at you just as attentively as you had at him.

Only for different reasons.

Jisung asks for your number. You say yes. Half-heartedly. Though at the forefront of your mind you keep comparing everyone to the guy you go home to ever so often, you pick out their flaws and their perfections and you think to yourself he isn't like this, he is like this.

"Yeah?" You pose, sipping and wincing. "What did he say?"

"Just the usual stuff...." Seungmin tilts his head, he's not drinking tonight because he has an exam tomorrow. You think it's a little funny that he's carrying around water in a solo cup. "But I can tell he has the hots for you,"

You laugh this time. That's no surprise to you. "Well he's not so bad himself."

Seungmin narrows his eyes, shooting you a suspicious look.

"Of course you'd say that...." He taunts, "Heard you guys hung out...how was that by the way?"

"It was alright. Sort of just...happened. We bumped into each other and he offered to buy me dinner."

"And you...said yes?"

You give him a blank look, sarcasm dripping from your monotonous sentences, how else would you have spent time together?

"No, I didn't, Seungmin,"

The owner of the name rolls his eyes at your satirical comment, "No need to be mean, I'm just a little surprised is all."

"Surprised?"

You raise an eyebrow, Felix is still in your line of sight, it looks like he's stalling, waiting for your conversation to end so you could leave. He glances at you a few times and you quickly text him a 5 more minutes. "Why's that?"

"Cause every time you start to have feelings for someone, you take one step forward and ten steps back," he points out, "Think about it...you haven't been in like an....actual relationship after...well, you know," he postulates.

You glare at Seungmin, your pride somewhat injured.

"Hey! I've....dated."

"No....you slept around with people, that's not the same as dating." He retorts.

You snort.

Wouldn't you know.

Minho changes an upbeat pop song to something mellow. It's in a foreign language...maybe Spanish, you understand nothing but you don't have to to know it's a sad tune, the lyrics coming together in a melancholic harmony. Your eyes drift away, you feel your attention falter.

It was not unknown for you to have absolute control over your life, be it living your days by strict routine or building such a sturdy pretentious armour around yourself so that your organic self remained unscathed underneath. You had learnt the hard way that being yourself in front of other people would only bring you hurt...but if no one really knew you, no one could hurt you.

This game of hide and seek had become such a long standing practise in your life that it disconnected who you are from who you pretended to be. And every time the extent of your actual desires, monsters much beyond your control rose to the surface, they brought you shame, disgust.

You found those pretences withering away, the shell of protection around you falling apart whenever the thought of Felix crossed your mind. — his heavy noise of content against your neck, his fingers curling into your sheets, his open mouthed kiss against the arch of your hipbone, everything and anything...you had again, despite all your abrasions, become madly consumed by him.

And you must admit to yourself that you are becoming quite ridiculous because of it.

In this strange moment, you realise you almost need Felix to harp on about you even though you specifically asked him to keep all that you have a secret. You want his friends to come scurrying to you to start telling you that he cares so much he can't keep his mouth shut, to be so enamoured with you that his innermost feelings become painfully apparent, that it's utterly stupid of you to not see how he feels about you.

That's not how it goes though. Stuff like that only happens in movies.

Felix responds, texting, "Take all the time you need." Surprised, you steal a glimpse of him, but only when Seungmin isn't looking. You didn't know what you expected, something more crude, that would give away that he was jumping on the balls of his feet to only get into your pants, that would remind you that Felix is nothing but your fuck buddy. You find that you always look for reasons to resent him....because if you did, it meant that you didn't have to acknowledge how you're still in love with him.

You knew what you were in for. And hoping, wanting something more....is no more than wishful thinking.

Felix smiles at you, a genial smile, a simple curve along the corner of his lips which conveys patience, but also something deeper, like...understanding.

Again no matter how much you pushed him away he seemed to find his way back to you in some fashion, just to convey that your union is not all as black and white as you told yourself it was.

You down the entire drink in one swig. Seungmin makes a face at you, the kind he makes when you stick your fries in ice cream for shits and giggles,

"Well....we broke up a long time ago," You hiss at the awful taste stinging your throat, sounding slightly angry. You can't believe it matters still, but when you've been clutching onto something for too long, be it a painful emotion or a memory...you start to think it's the locus of your life, an integral part of you. It terrifies you to think who you'd become without it — vulnerable, malleable, sensitive.

You can't do that again.

The last few weeks, regardless of how good they were, didn't change a thing.

It couldn't. You wouldn't let it.

Seungmin is right, you think, you are taking ten steps back. Just not in the context he thought.

"There's no reason I shouldn't start now."

—

Turns out there is a reason.

Jisung asks you out the next day. He's so friendly that you feel overwhelmed. At all times of the day, he dresses like a frat boy out on his morning jog. A nike running shirt and loose fitted trousers, a baseball cap worn the other way around...it's a little silly.

You don't mind it, having the kind of apathy you would have towards someone you don't know very well.

Everything with him feels new, awkward. But also slightly exciting. He talks too much when he's nervous and you notice that he's almost always nervous because of your personality, as though he can't really put a finger on you and doesn't know what to do about it. Besides...he’s not a horrible kisser either, you muse, he just doesn’t know what you want.

Yet whenever you heard yourself thinking those compliments, you couldn't help but feel utterly guilty, a strangely deep seated feeling that you were doing something wrong.

Why did you feel this way....

Felix isn't your boyfriend anymore. You don't owe him any form of loyalty. You knew that. You're someone who sticks to their gut feelings and your gut had decided that something about seeing Jisung didn't feel right and not just because of Felix, but because you're not interested in a relationship just yet. And you're sure he could tell you aren't, he shouldn't quite expect a call back anytime soon.

"I had a nice time," you say, because it's true. He took you out for ice cream and bought you candy floss when you stared at it for too long.

When Jisung doesn't respond for a hot minute, you follow his trail of vision, which instead of focusing on you, has shifted to the semi-lit backdrop of your apartment. He's too obvious.

"Do...you want to come in?"

He flounders a little at your suggestion, embarrassed. "Would that be alright?....if I did...."

"That depends, are you gonna kill me?"

You say with a straight face. No matter much Jisung prodded at your exterior, you wouldn't budge, like you usually hadn't. Unravelling isn't really your thing so....he can't tell if you're kidding or not.

"No...?"

You snort, "Why do you sound so unsure?"

Jisung's face has grown impossibly red, he could feel his ears burning in indescribable shame. You just have this air about you that makes you incredibly hard to read and it's really attractive.

"I....I didn't..."

You keep your voice, steady, calm, "Relax," "I'm just screwing with you," you say, stepping aside for him to enter, "Make yourself at home."

—

You suppose you were born to study the arts.

You never could consider yourself a studious being. When you were in school, you remember falling behind in classes where the arduous process of revising was required, say mathematics or the sciences even.

Though that realisation hadn't come to you naturally.

Your parents wouldn't take kindly to you not taking up a "well paying" profession and you fell victim to the constant barrage of criticisms, of mockery which ultimately conditioned you to think some part of you, a large part just wasn't good enough.

And with Felix gone....

You were at your worst.

The two years you spent without him were the hardest, a set of years that obliged you to protect yourself from all the hurt around you, inside you. And while the security that you provided yourself is undoubtedly necessary for well...anyone, the process itself had its wicked way of rendering you unspeakably lonely.

You agreed to apply as an engineering major to gain your parents' approval and then transferred to the arts department by the time you'd successfully moved out. You haven't spoken to them ever since...and it hurt you more than you would deign to admit.

When your mum drops over for a surprise visit and chances upon your ex-boyfriend loitering about in your kitchen, fixing up midnight munchies, she takes a natural guess that you've gotten back together. (Which you think is far more agreeable than the truth. Knowing your mother, a staunch supporter of your relationship with him, she wouldn't take lightly to your arrangement.) And before you know it, you're all having dinner.

Felix makes an effort to dress up well, discarding his usual hoodies and joggers for a more formal look, you suspect it has something to do with the fact that you haven't attended any casual settings with him since you broke up.

Cutlery clinks against ceramic, coming down with a semi-loud thump as you try to swallow the enormous lump in your throat. Your mum makes a passing jab at you, saying how you had settled for a much "easier" major than say architecture or philosophy, she bitterly mentioned that everything worked out in the end. After all, your choice is a "much fitting" field of study for someone of your caliber, backhandedly insinuating that you're far too stupid to pursue anything else.

What inspires hilarity is how those insults still affected you. In front of Felix, you act like these few years have brought the fighter out in you and here you are trying to blink away the onslaught of tears prickling your vision. It feels like someone stripped you off your skin, off your flesh and picked out all your shortcomings for him to see.

You expect him to stay quiet, you expect him to think of you as the utterly shameful, selfish being you tell yourself you are,

But Felix's fingers find your shaky knuckles under the table where they rest on your knee, he implants the weight of them in a reassuring squeeze. "Well I think it's great," he says instead, smiling cheerfully at your mum. To which she, for the lack of support, sheepishly beams at him, "Not many people have the drive to do what they want to do. Or know what they want to do...take it from me, Missus [.....]" He laughs nonchalantly, the hairs on the back of your neck standing to attention upon hearing the lovely sound. You always liked his laugh, the sound rippling against your naked skin, thick baritone when he'd just woken up and a kiddish falsetto when he's extremely happy.

You wonder when you started paying so much attention.

Felix glances at you, lingering for a long minute."I bet it took a lot of guts."

You feel your chest constrict with a sudden surge of emotion from the mere look, you can't remember if the Felix you knew in the past, or anyone for that matter, had ever beamed at you with such pride.

You wonder what he'd think if he knew about Jisung, why you had neglected to tell him at all....you knew, because this little moment is precious to you and you had no reason to tarnish it. Not when you had time.

You tilt your head, using your free hand to hastily find the back of his neck, drawing closer to him with little strength. The more he realised what you're doing, the more excited he got. See he found your newly introduced public display of affection immensely attractive, though obviously embarassed by the sudden motion...

You can do crazy things sometimes. Really crazy things. In public and he has never opposed to such exhilarating things, be it in restrooms or even in a similar setting when you were dating, there was a certain thrill to it which drove him to the brink of insanity. Felix would silently implode your attention when you were alone and when you were out in the open, in whichever way he was to receive it, the way which insinuated you were his was the best of them all. All that was fine though...because it was just the two of you.

But now...in this indecent time, he wishes he could hear what you're thinking.

Had... had you gone completely mad?! Your mum is looking!

Your face is stoic, Felix's mouth parts, then you reach over and kiss him shamelessly.

Over the years, all the things that have caused you pain were things you had endured on your own, in his absence. This realisation alone invites a heavy conviction inside you.

Because you know it just as well as he does, no matter how sincere he is to you — you don't need Felix. Not really.

But you want him.

—

You do a stupid thing. A stupid endearing thing and Felix's heart beats like it would jump out of his mouth if he opened it.

It was meant to be a secret, what you two have, a matter of uncomplicated lust which didn't require the attention of anyone because it initially or so you put it, wasn't important enough.

Then you charge to him, he supposes it has a little to do with the person who was blatantly flirting him in the middle of Changbin's Halloween party, he doesn't care though.

You don't like embarrassing yourself, so he doesn't actually expect you to wear a black cat hairband matching his white ears and feline tail. Felix wants to think it means something, how despite the coos and the caas, the giant wave of surprise washing over your friends, you interlace your fingers within his and kiss his cheek.

He doesn't what that makes the two of you now... but he would give you all the time in the world to figure that out if it meant you could be his again.

—

You trace your fingers against outline of his face. Splatters of moist moonlight kissing the high rise of his cheeks, dusting along the long fringe of lashes which cast shadows along his skin, his freckles are like dots of bronze dispersed on his skin. He's beautiful like this.

"You're thinking too much," he says with his eyes closed, smiling a little. "Don't think so much."

You laugh. "Or what, huh?"

Felix cracks an eye open, his grin big, kiddish. "I was hoping you'd say that," he rubs the tip of his nose against your collarbone, he snuggles closer to your chest. What you hadn't expected was how he shifted his entire weight onto you, lying entirely atop you as though he were a starfish.

You couldn't stop laughing at the motion, it's so cheesy and gross...you love it.

—

Here's something you don't know — Jisung tells his friends everything, about making out with you and taking you out...everything. News travels fast. Faster than you anticipated. Despite wanting to divulge the matter, you were too taken by the recent shifts in your feelings to confess to your little interaction. You had told yourself again and again — a little later, just a little later and I’ll tell him.

It could be too late now.

The entire campus knew of your little rendezvous, shooting you curious looks... it's not until Minho comes up to verify the floating rumours do you all but sprint to Felix's place. You think of Chan's trusting eyes, of don't hurt him, of laughing in the intimacy of your bedroom and swiping your fingers down his spine like you were trying to commit the undulating design to memory.

You're not sure where it all began.

but you don't want it to end.

Felix doesn't answer your calls or your messages. When he buzzes you up, just from his gait, just from the resigned look in his eyes, you know he knows.

You watch as he listlessly leaves you to enter, walking before you without saying as much as a word.

You grab Felix’s elbow, making him stop in his tracks. He looks at your fingers wrapping around the muscle, shrugging you off easily. It’s just a small gesture but its impact is so large...that you feel your heart break into a million pieces.

You had never seen Felix being so quiet, even when he was down, he found a manner to radiate a form of optimistic energy which baffled you. You can’t believe how much you could have possibly hurt him.

“I can explain.” you gulp, “We went out on one date. It wasn’t because I liked him, I know it’s stupid and...I should’ve told you. I’m sorry, that's not an excuse, but you have to trust me when I say it didn’t...it doesn’t mean anything to me—”

“Did you sleep with him?”

With his back turned away, he still isn’t looking at you, speaking to you with a surprisingly stable tone.

“No.”

Felix takes a shuddering breath, one which expresses the small relief of knowing that Jisung hadn’t seen, touched you, felt you in the way that he only had, but there’s still so much more he wants to know.

“Did he make you laugh?”

It’s a silly question, he realises belatedly but he can’t help it. Some part of him, a large part, thinks he’d be more hurt if you made someone happy and they made you happy than if you fucked them.

You shake your head even though he can’t see you. “He didn’t.”

Your fingers again reach for his, wrapping your index into his thumb. You slowly move your hands to his middle, clutching him close to your chest, chin hooking into his shoulder, suddenly...you feel him melt into the embrace. Felix’s voice falters for the first time, small trembles against you. You’re willing to answer all his queries if it could put his mind at ease. You put your heart on hold for too long.

"Do you hate me...?" He sniffles.

You blink....did you?

Felix had changed, like you, he had matured, the past version of him you had so stubbornly ingrained in your endless inner monologue is not the one you grew all too familiar with...

Familiarity does breed contempt, does it not? Well you think the line between love and contempt is untraceable, melded together as a mysterious whole. After all those years, you were still angry, still filled to the brim with contempt for him and more importantly, yourself because you still love him much more than you'd like to admit. After all you've been through. After all this time. The need to love him ultimately encompassed every other emotion which posed itself as a hindrance.

So the opposite of love, the absence of love, you think, isn't hate, it's indifference. An emotion you never felt towards him.

Felix has wedged himself into every aspect of your life, tainted every portion of your routine in his presence and in his absence.

You don't think you'd have it another way.

"You broke my heart," you explain, "I was angry....but I could never hate you for the sake of hating you."

"I can't..." Felix whispers, twisting his body so he could look at you now, “I can’t promise you that it won’t be hard but I'm not—I’m not going anywhere...you know that right?”

You lean your forehead against his, his eyes shifting to your mouth, hands rising to wrap around your neck. You smile.

“I know.” you say, "Me neither."

“I love you...” He says in a small voice, putting his hand against your knuckles. “Do you love me?”

Your eyes soften, cupping his face like this — carefully collecting a lone tear with your thumb before it could touch his cheek. This time there is not a shred of hesitancy, no pause, no pondering before you say,

“I never stopped.”

—

You enter in a blind rush of panic, thinking you might miss your ride, feet knocking together, elbows hitting elbows, bustling all around you and the sudden overwhelming stench of people hit you, it’s not an ideal setting, not at all actually.

But you couldn’t bother to be displeased a second you spent with him. A teenager rolls her eyes at how disgustingly in love you are, elderly couples tutting under their breath...albeit, you don’t fail to notice their subtle smiles, small shake of their heads which attested to the fact that the joy you both radiate is.. absolutely infectious. You stumble with him behind, Felix is laughing breathlessly, bumping into your chest as the train suddenly starts moving, you place a finger on his cheek and he raises his chin to look at you.

“Did you eat?” he repeats, mocking himself, a dialogue from a time which seems an element of the distant past replaced by a love which compensated for every hitch in your relationship. You still argue, still disagree and still make up the same. Felix was right, it isn’t easy.

But when two people love each other as much as you do,

it’s worth trying. With every fibre of your being.

“No.” You laugh, playing along, “But I could, with you.”

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