Chapter Text
The atmosphere in the conference room was wrong.
Felix felt it the moment he stepped inside. The air was too still, too cold, as though someone had opened a window to winter and forgotten to close it again. Even the walls seemed to be holding their breath, the clean white panels reflecting the rigid posture of the executives lined up opposite them. Everything gleamed: the glass table, the metal edges of the chairs, the brass fixtures near the door. Everything except the members of Stray Kids, who looked suddenly small in the heavy silence.
Felix sat down slowly between Chan and Changbin, his heartbeat already thundering in his ears. A faint tremor ran through his fingers, and he immediately hid his hands under the table, squeezing them together until his knuckles whitened.
He felt Chan’s presence beside him before Chan even moved. Warmth. Soft breaths. A subtle sweet scent from his lotion. Felix swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure if that comforting closeness made the tension better or infinitely worse.
Across the table, J.Y. Park cleared his throat—not loudly, but with enough weight to make every member’s back straighten. He didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he looked at each of them in turn, as though committing their faces to memory. That alone made Felix’s stomach drop.
Park finally lifted his folder, but didn’t open it.
“Before we begin,” he said, tone uncharacteristically soft, “I want you to know something. We’ve been incredibly proud of all the work you’ve done this past year. You’ve exceeded expectations, pushed boundaries, strengthened bonds with fans all over the world. You’ve carried yourselves with grace and strength. And you deserve to hear that.”
The members blinked, uncertain. Compliments were not usually the prelude to good news in meetings like this.
Han whispered, “Uh oh,” under his breath. Lee Know elbowed him sharply.
Park continued, “Today’s discussion is important. Serious. And… emotionally heavy. But we’ll get through it step by step.”
Changbin exhaled slowly. “That sounds... scary.”
“It’s not meant to frighten you,” Park said. “But honesty is necessary.”
He paused again. Too long. Too loaded. Felix’s chest tightened until it felt difficult to breathe. Finally, Park opened the folder.
“The military enlistment office has finalized their recommendations,” he said. “We’ve been reviewing the timelines, and after meeting with the executives, the management teams, and legal advisors… we’ve reached a decision.”
The silence turned brittle.
Hyunjin leaned slightly forward. “A decision?”
Park nodded. “Regarding when and how the enlistments should proceed.”
Felix felt Chan stiffen beside him. Just barely, but enough that Felix noticed because he always noticed everything about Chan.
“We’ve considered multiple scenarios,” Park continued. “Staggering enlistment, delaying some members, separating timelines, but all of them posed long-term risks for the group.”
Another executive added, “If the group were split, even partially, over several years, the absence of different members at different times could weaken long-term momentum and public identity.”
Park inhaled deeply.
“And so… the conclusion is that the six members should enlist together.”
The words seemed to echo—bounce—distort in the room.
“Together?” Seungmin asked quietly. “All six of us?”
“Yes,” Park said. “You, Hyunjin, Changbin, Lee Know, Han, and I.N… in one month.”
I.N. blinked rapidly. “All at once?”
Changbin sat back, arms folding over his chest. “That’s… fast.”
“It’s sudden,” Hyunjin muttered. “Too sudden.... shit”
Han stared at the table, lips parted in disbelief. “Almost two years away…”
Lee Know sighed through his nose, controlled but tense. “At least we won’t be separated. There’s that.”
Seungmin forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “A synchronized disappearance. Efficient.”
“And terrifying,” I.N. added with a crooked grin that wobbled.
Felix’s throat closed. He had always known this was coming. Of course he had. Every idol knew. But hearing it—hearing it laid out like a schedule—was different. It felt real. Too real. Only Chan and him weren’t being drafted. Only the two Australians were exempt. His gaze drifted to the six soon-to-be-enlisted members, his family, his brothers. He imagined their empty beds in the dorm, the quiet practice rooms, the missing voices during rehearsals. His chest burned.
He didn’t even register Chan shifting beside him until Chan’s arm brushed his. Felix jolted slightly.
Felix glanced at him. “You okay?”
He nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Just… processing.”
Felix gave him a tiny, reassuring smile. “We’ll get through this.”
Chan smiled back and Felix’s pulse stuttered.
Because whenever Chan smiled at him, Felix felt it everywhere. His cheeks warmed, his chest tightened, and his entire body felt caught in a gravitational pull he had never escaped—not from the first day they met. Park cleared his throat again, bringing them all back to the present.
“And here’s another matter to discuss,” he said. “Something involving Felix and Chan specifically.”
Felix’s body went rigid.
Chan’s head snapped toward Park. “Us?”
“Yes,” Park said, looking directly at them. “We’ve been analyzing Stray Kids’ position in the industry. Right now, you’re at your highest peak. The global connection with Stays is extraordinary. It would be unwise to let that connection vanish for nearly two years while the group is inactive. Park said, eyes brightening slightly. “And that is why we want to offer the two of you a sub-unit.”
A shocked silence rippled through the room. Felix’s breath hitched—too loud, too sharp.
Han’s jaw fell open. “A sub-unit? Like 3RACHA?”
“Or like danceracha?” Hyunjin added, brows raised.
The executives nodded.
“Yes,” Park said. “Just like those. But more official. More structured. This would not be a casual one-time project. This would be a formally recognized sub-unit representing Stray Kids while the others fulfill their service.”
Felix stared blankly. His ears rang.
Chan, however, sat up straighter, eyes widening with excitement and disbelief. “Wait!! are you serious? A full sub-unit? Promotions? Albums? Can I continue composing? Creating? Writing music?”
“We’re thinking multiple comebacks in these 2 years,” an executive confirmed. “Concerts. Fan meetings. Music content. Perhaps even a short tour.”
Park nodded. “You two would hold Stray Kids’ presence in the industry—keep the group alive in the public eye.”
Felix’s head spun. He should have felt honored. He should have felt proud. He did, somewhere deep inside that was still functioning. But the overwhelming emotion hitting him was something else entirely. Joy. Real, bright joy.
He would get nearly two years alone with Chan. Working with him. Performing with him. Sharing rooms, schedules, hours and hours of creation and conversation and laughter. The thought made warmth explode through Felix’s chest.
But right behind that warmth came terror—sharp, suffocating terror that swallowed the joy whole. How was he supposed to survive two years like that? How was he supposed to be around Chan every single day, just the two of them, while carrying the impossible love he’d hidden for nearly a decade? He already struggled daily. Every time Chan hugged him from behind without warning—Felix melted. Every time Chan cupped his face while checking if he’d eaten—Felix forgot how breathing worked. Every time Chan called him “sunshine”—Felix’s entire world tilted, because Chan said it with so much affection it made Felix’s heart race and ache and bloom all at once.
Two years of that? Two years of being near the person he loved more than anyone in the world, with no escape, no distractions, no other members to balance the gravity between them? Joy and terror crashed violently inside him, leaving him breathless.
Chan squeezed his shoulder suddenly. “Felix. Hey.” His voice softened. “You’re shaking.”
Felix swallowed. “N-No. Just cold.”
Chan frowned slightly, not angry, not suspicious, just concerned. “You don’t have to be nervous, Lix. We can do this together. I know it’s scary without the full team…. But I know we are prepared.”
There it was again...we. Together. Always together. Felix’s heart throbbed painfully.
Park continued speaking, but his words felt distant, blurred by the whirlwind inside Felix’s head.
“This sub-unit will need planning,” Park said. “Image, music direction, scheduling. But we wouldn’t propose it if we didn’t believe in you two.”
Changbin leaned forward. “They’ll be great. Everyone knows that.”
Hyunjin nodded. “Felix as main performance, rapper and deep voice and Chan as producer-leader with melodic voice? That’s strong.”
Han smirked. “Plus their dynamic is already ridiculous.”
Lee Know snorted. “Please. That ship is going to sink… in the ocean of cuteness.”
Han snickered loudly enough to draw a glance from an executive.
Felix wished the floor would open beneath him. His cheeks heated, embarrassment flickering through him, but beneath it was deeper fear. A fear he hid so well it felt like second nature. If only they knew. If only they understood how deep his feelings ran. If they ever discovered the truth—that Felix’s heart belonged entirely to Chan—they’d never let him hear the end of it. But the truth wasn’t funny. It was devastating.
Chan looked at Felix again, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Well? What do you think, bro?”
Felix blinked, trapped in those eyes. He remembered it vividly. The exact moment everything had shifted for him. Felix had been seventeen, nervous beyond words the day he first walked into JYP’s academy building. He still struggled with Korean, still felt like his tongue tripped over every syllable. The hallways were huge, filled with unfamiliar faces, trainees chatting in rapid-fire Korean he couldn’t follow.
He’d stood there, lost, clutching his backpack straps, when a boy with soft curls, broad shoulders, and a pair of dimples deeper than the ocean paused in front of him.
“You look a bit lost,” the boy had said, in English.
Felix had blinked.
The boy smiled—sunlight incarnate. “I’m Chris. But everyone calls me Chan. Want me to show you around?… I know the first day is always difficult, but if you need anything, I'm here for you.”
And just like that, something inside Felix had clicked into place. He’d fallen—quietly, instantly, helplessly.
He remembered the day Chan held his hand when Felix cried after a bad evaluation. The day Chan stayed up until 3 a.m. helping him practice pronunciation.
The day Chan hugged him backstage after their first ever performance and whispered, “You’re amazing, sunshine. I’m proud of you.”
And let's not forget about four years ago when, in the middle of a Stray Kids private party, Chan confessed he was bisexual. Felix cried tears of joy that day. Chan was interested in men. All the fantasies Felix had imagined every night in bed were now becoming more vivid.
Felix had fallen in love quietly and hopelessly. He had lived with that love like a shadow—always there, never acknowledged. And now Chan was looking at him with trust, hope, warmth. Felix knew there was only one answer he could give.
He nodded slowly. “Yeah… su…sure…Let’s do it.”
Chan’s smile burst wide, radiant. Dimples deepened. His eyes softened with joy. Then he winked. Felix’s entire body jolted.
He felt his pulse spike, heat flushing through him so intensely he prayed no one noticed. That wink—God, that wink—felt like a secret kiss sent across the table. Dangerous. Sweet. Impossible. Felix forced himself to breathe.
Park clapped his hands together, satisfied. “Good. We’ll meet again in one week to begin formal planning. For now, the six of you should begin preparing mentally and physically for enlistment.”
Hyunjin sighed. “This is really happening.”
Seungmin nodded solemnly. “It’ll be alright.”
Changbin grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “We’ll be the strongest soldiers in the damn country.”
Han snorted. “Speak for yourself. I’m going to die doing push-ups.”
I.N. laughed weakly. “At least we’ll suffer together.”
As the meeting ended, the members rose slowly, chairs scraping softly against the polished floor. Papers were exchanged, bows were offered, and the weight of the future settled fully onto their shoulders.
They walked toward the elevator, voices low, expressions mixed: fear, acceptance, determination. Chan walked beside Felix, shoulder brushing his with every step. Felix felt each faint contact like a spark. When they reached the elevator buttons, Chan leaned slightly closer.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked quietly, so only Felix could hear.
Felix’s breath hitched. “Yeah. I am. Really.”
Chan’s expression softened in relief. “Good. Because we’re gonna make a great team, sunshine.”
The word hit Felix like a tidal wave. Sunshine. His favorite nickname. His weakness. Chan said it with warmth, affection, comfort. But not the way Felix wished he meant it. For Chan, sunshine meant brightness. For Felix, it meant hope he should never hold.
He smiled, even though it hurt. “Yeah. We will.”
Chan bumped their shoulders playfully. “Team Aussie forever.”
The elevator dinged. The doors slid open. The members stepped inside. As Felix followed, he felt it—an ache spreading through his chest, deep and consuming. He was happy. Truly happy. He was terrified. Utterly terrified.
Now he would spend two years alone with the man he could never have. A forbidden love. A love story that could never begin. A love that is utterly impossible because of who they are. Fate is a bitch.
Felix stepped into the elevator, the doors closing behind him, sealing them into a future he wasn’t sure he could survive. But one thing was certain... He would break quietly, silently, hopelessly… while standing right beside the only person he had ever loved.
——⟡°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⟡——
He needed to breathe. He needed to think. He needed to stop thinking. He needed the only place that ever made sense. Felix slipped into the practice hallway, his footsteps echoing just slightly. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above him, but the familiar sound grounded him instead of irritating him.
The studio door clicked softly as he entered. The polished floor. The mirrored wall stretching from one end to the other. The faint smell of resin and sweat and old choreography. Home. This was home. He let himself exhale deeply for the first time in hours.
Felix crossed the room, pulled his phone out of his pocket, and connected it to the speaker system. He scrolled blindly through his playlist, not caring what came up — he just needed noise loud enough to drown out his thoughts. But his thumb froze when a title caught his eye.
FNF. Their song. The first one he and Chan had written together from scratch. He pressed play. The first beat cracked through the room like lightning.
Felix’s body moved before his mind did — muscle memory, instinct, instinct wrapped around emotion. His arms sliced through the air with sharp precision; his feet glided and hit the rhythm perfectly. His hips rolled, and his torso twisted through the choreography he knew better than his own heartbeat.
He let everything pour out of him: the fear, the exhilaration, the heartbreak he hadn’t even had time to process. The idea of being with Chan every day for nearly two years…Felix hit the next beat harder than necessary, chest heaving. How was he supposed to survive that? How was he supposed to act normal when every second around Chan burned him alive and healed him at the same time?
He spun, slid, dropped to the floor with a clean sweep, then pushed back up in one fluid movement. The music took him. Owned him.
The final beat hit. Felix froze in position, breathing hard, sweat sliding down the side of his temple. And then— Slow, steady applause. Felix’s heart stopped. He turned around.
Chan leaned against the doorway, hair messy from running his fingers through it, cheeks flushed from the rush of emotions they’d all been drowning in. His smile, soft, proud, breathtaking, illuminated the entire frame of the door.
Felix felt his ears burn instantly. Chan pushed himself off the door and stepped inside, the echo of his footsteps swallowed by the padded floor.
“That was insane,” Chan said. “Seriously, Lix... You are definitely the best in danceracha… don’t tell Minho or Hyunjin. They’ll murder me.”
Felix huffed out a laugh, wiping sweat from his brow. But he couldn’t stop staring at Chan’s lips. Those stupid, beautiful lips.
“You’re exaggerating,” Felix said, but his voice came out softer than he intended.
“Not even a little,” Chan replied, and his dimple threatened to show. “You kill that routine every time.”
Felix swallowed. Hard. Because Chan smiling at him like that? It felt like sunlight warming the deepest parts of him — beautiful, radiant, and absolutely agonizing.
Chan looked around with fond nostalgia. “Ah, FNF… I love our song.”
Felix grabbed his phone to stop the music. “Yeah… it’s special.”
“It is,” Chan agreed. “It was the first song we wrote together, remember? I still have the original voice memo somewhere… We recorder in the hotel room… We sounded like dying penguins”
Felix snorted. “You did.”
Chan gasped. “Excuse you, sir! I have a beautiful falsetto.”
“I’m sure you believe that.”
Chan nudged him playfully. Felix nearly melted.
“So,” Felix said, trying to keep his heartbeat under control, “what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be… I don’t know… in your studio?”
“I was,” Chan said, dragging a hand through his curls. “But while everyone else was talking about enlistment, I could only think about one thing.”
Felix raised a brow. “Which is…?”
Chan grinned brightly — the kind of grin that made Felix’s insides liquefy.
“A name for our sub-unit.”
Felix blinked. “You… already thought of one?”
“Yep.”
“And?”
“Okay, listen.” Chan practically bounced. “Aussiracha is already a thing. But it sounds too… I don’t know, expected. Predictable. But then I thought of something perfect.”
Felix braced himself. Chan enthusiastic was dangerous for Felix’s heart.
“Sooooo…” Chan leaned in, eyes glowing, “how does this sound? Eclipse-racha.”
Felix stared.
Chan continued, gesturing with his hands. “You’re the sun, Lix. The warmth, the energy, the fire. You’re sunshine itself.”
Felix’s chest collapsed. Chan’s words weren’t teasing. They were soft. Warm. Honest.
“And I’m more like… the moon, I guess,” Chan continued shyly. “Quiet. Night vibe. A little… calmer? And together, we’re like—” He lifted his hands dramatically. “—the most beautiful astronomical phenomenon ever.”
Felix couldn’t breathe. Sunshine. He called him sunshine again. If he only knew what that did to him.
“That’s…” Felix whispered, “that’s a really beautiful name.”
“I knew you’d like it.” Chan nudged him again. “Perfect for us, right?”
Felix nodded. Perfect. Too perfect. Perfect in a way that hurt.
“Great!” Chan beamed. “I’ll talk to Park about it, bro…”
But Felix stopped hearing words. Because Chan said us. Because Chan said perfect for us. Because Chan was looking at him like he was proud of him. But then — like a knife through his ribs —
“…about it, bro,” Chan added casually.
Felix’s lungs tightened. Bro. Again. Always bro. He forced a smile as Chan kept talking. Forced himself to nod. Forced himself to stay upright instead of crumbling. He didn’t want to be Chan’s brother. He wanted to be his love. His partner. His honey. His sweetheart. His everything…. But reality wasn’t kind enough for that.
Chan stood behind him, hands resting on Felix’s shoulders for a moment — and then, without thinking, he wrapped his arms fully around Felix from behind. It was gentle. Warm. Familiar.
And it destroyed Felix completely. His breath caught as Chan’s arms encircled him, strong and secure, the way he always hugged when he wanted someone to feel safe. Felix didn’t feel safe. He felt like he was falling. Every muscle in his body went soft. His knees nearly buckled. His pulse hammered in his neck so hard he worried Chan might feel it.
If Chan kissed his neck right now ... Felix would die on the spot. But Chan only squeezed him lightly.
“Eclipse-racha,” Chan said softly. “We’re gonna be awesome.”
Felix nodded, unable to speak.
Chan was still hugging Felix from behind when the studio door swung open. Park stepped in, eyebrows lifting slightly when he saw them. His gaze lingered on the hug for a second before he gave a knowing, amused smile.
“Good, you’re both here,” he said, shutting the door behind him. “I was going to ask Chan to pass along a message, but since you’re here too, Felix, I can just tell you both directly.”
Chan stepped back from Felix reluctantly, but Felix still felt the warmth around him, like a ghost of the embrace.
“What’s up?” Chan asked, spinning a chair around and sitting on it backward.
Park folded his arms. “Since we’re moving forward with the sub-unit, there’s one more thing to discuss.”
Felix’s stomach dipped. Park looked between them.
“I’d like to propose that the two of you share an apartment during the time the others are enlisted.”
Silence. Then—
“Wait, really?!” Chan nearly jumped out of his seat.
Park nodded. “It will make the constant back-and-forth easier. Recording, rehearsals, meetings... Coordination will be smoother.”
Chan turned to Felix with the brightest expression Felix had ever seen.
“Lix-ah! This is gonna be so cool! I’ve always wanted to share a place with you!”
Felix smiled with the fakest smile he could muster. It felt like he was shattering from the inside.
“Yeah,” Felix said softly. “Sounds great.”
Great. Sure. Perfect. Except it wasn’t.
Working with Chan every day would already be torture — living with him would be a slow death. Seeing Chan barefoot and sleepy in the mornings, hearing him hum while brewing coffee, watching him walk around shirtless after showers, towel draped around his hips… Felix swallowed violently.
Two years of that? Two years pretending he wasn’t in love? Two years hiding every glance, every flinch, every tremble? It was one thing to hide his feelings for about seven hours a day because he could be with the other guys and his feelings could be somewhat controlled. But it was something else entirely to hide his feelings 24 hours a day. How on earth was Felix going to do that? What was he going to do to keep Chan from realizing how he felt about him?
Park kept talking, completely unaware of the quiet implosion happening behind Felix’s composed face.
“We’ll move forward with the arrangements,” Park said, tapping something on his tablet. “You’ll likely be moving into the apartment within the next few weeks.”
Felix nodded, though it felt like his head belonged to someone else. Everything around him sounded distant, softened, like he was underwater. Meanwhile, Chan practically vibrated beside him, overflowing with ideas.
“Oh man, Lix, imagine it!” Chan said, turning toward him with eyes so bright they almost hurt to look at. “We could decorate the place Aussie-style. Like—beach vibes, you know? Blues and greens, ocean colors, maybe some pictures of the beaches back home...”
Felix cut in quietly, trying to calm the storm inside his chest before it swallowed him whole.
“Maybe… a surfboard on the wall,” he offered, voice low but steady. “Like a centerpiece. Something that feels like home.”
Chan froze for half a second. Then he lit up—exploded, really—with that smile that always made Felix’s knees weak.
“Felix! Oh my god, yes! A surfboard on the wall? That’s perfect!” He laughed, delighted. “I love that. It’s so us. I swear you always think of the coolest stuff, little one.”
Little one. Felix felt the word hit him like a warm breeze and a knife at the same time—soft, sweet, devastating. He hoped Chan would never stop calling him that. He hoped he’d survive the ache it caused every time.
Park pushed himself off the wall. “Great. I’ll have the team handle all the logistics.” He gave them both a brief nod. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”
The door clicked shut behind him. Felix stood still, trying to breathe through the tidal wave inside his chest. Chan beside him, practically glowing with excitement about their future apartment. And Felix—breaking quietly, painfully, beautifully—in the shadow of a boy he loved more than he could ever admit. Will he be able to survive almost two years hiding his feelings?
Chan’s grin softened into something warm, something that wrapped around Felix like a blanket he wished he could keep forever.
“Hey,” Chan said, nudging his shoulder. “When we move in… I’ll handle the cooking, okay? All of it. You can just sit on the couch and play your games while I burn the kitchen down.”
Felix huffed a laugh, quiet and trembling. “That’s all you needed to say to convince me.”
Chan lit up exactly the way Felix knew he would — bright, eager, golden. “Knew it,” he said proudly. “I take care of the food, you take care of relaxing. Perfect system.”
Felix swallowed. The affection in Chan’s voice was too easy. Too soft. Too dangerous.
“Well…” Felix murmured, cheeks warming despite himself, “maybe sometimes I can cook. And you take a break. You know… sit there and play Genshin for once.”
Chan froze for half a heartbeat, then practically sparkled. “Really???… Oh god!” Chan reached out, brushing Felix’s bangs out of his eyes — a tiny, casual gesture that set Felix’s entire world tilting. “I love you, Lix,” Chan said with a soft, earnest smile. “Seriously. You’re the best little brother I could ask for.”
The words hit Felix like a blade to the ribs. Love you. Little brother.
He felt his heart fold in on itself, painfully, silently — like paper burning without a flame.
But he still managed to smile. Somehow. “Love you too,” he whispered, even though his throat ached around the lie he wished wasn’t a lie at all.
Chan didn’t notice. He never did.
He just laughed, bright and carefree, and tugged Felix to his feet. “Come on, sunshine. Let’s go get something sweet before the stores close.”
Sunshine. Felix let himself be pulled forward, even as everything inside him threatened to crack. Because being loved wrong by Chan was still the closest he’d ever get to being loved at all by him. And he didn’t know how to stop wanting more.