Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It takes three days post his hospital discharge before the detectives arrive at the dorm, asking to speak with Felix. It’s Chan who answers (he’s been hesitant to leave Felix alone for too long, honest about the selfish nature of his desire), and Felix can tell just from the polite tone in his voice: it’s time. 

Felix knew they were coming. It was a given – the alleged crimes of the Bureau and the Hunters constituted crimes against humanity on an enormous scale. Investigations would be well underway, which meant witnesses would be paramount; and witnesses – surviving witnesses – weren’t exactly crawling out of the woodwork. 

All that knowing doesn’t make him feel particularly more at ease, though, to see the detectives standing expectantly in the doorway. 

“Lee Felix?” One asks. As if Felix’s face isn’t plastered on every major media source in the world. 

“That’s me,” Felix says. 

“We’re hoping to talk to you for our case against the Bureau and Jung as well as the Hunters” the detective says. He sounds apologetic, at the very least. “Specifically, we’re hoping to talk to you about what you’ve been through.”

“Is this really necessary?” Hyunjin asks, all but materializing behind Felix like a clingy shadow. He’s been plastered to Felix’s side at every opportunity since Felix’s discharge, but with actual officers there, he openly wraps his arm around Felix’s shoulders, as if daring the detectives to separate them. 

“Technically, we can’t force you to speak to us,” the Detective (Detective Park, Felix reads the name on his badge) says calmly, “but we’re hoping you’ll be willing. Yeong-su-ssi has recently woken up, and he’s agreed to cooperate with us, but your account would be valuable to have as well. We know that you were taken by the Hunters, targeted by Jung himself, and personally found the lists on the JYPE databases that correlated with strings of abducted trainees.” 

“The Sunshine list,” Felix says. “Are you … are you looking for them?” 

Detective Park nods. 

“Yes. And anything you can tell us will help us make sure that monster is put away for good.”

Felix knew, long before Detective Park began to speak, that he’d help however he could. He squeezes Hyunjin’s hand, nods at Chan, and steps to the side. “Okay, come in.” 

“Tea? Coffee?” Chan offers. 

“Water, if you have it,” Detective Park asks. 

“Do you want tea?” Hyunjin asks Felix quietly. Felix nods shyly and Chan smiles. 

“Jasmine coming right up.” 

They settle onto the couch. 

“Sorry for the mess,” Felix says. The Seunglix apartment has turned into a rotating slumber party as of late, and the couch still bears the remnants of last night’s sleepover in the form of too many blankets, pillows, and SKZoo plushies. Detective Park smiles. 

“No apology needed. We’re the ones who showed up without calling.” 

Chan reappears with water and Felix’s tea. He cradles the mug in his hands and leans against Hyunjin’s side, chasing warmth in any form. Detective Park opens his briefcase and takes out a tape recorder and a legal pad. 

“Are you okay if I record this?” He asks. 

“Of course,” Felix nods. The last thing he wants is to have to repeat anything they’re about to discuss. 

“And how much time do you have to speak with us today?” the detective continues. “I won’t lie to you, we’re going to ask you to be thorough, which means we’ll be asking a lot of questions. You can stop us at any time, or if you want we can split up our conversations over several days-” 

“We’re on a break right now,” Felix cuts him off. He glances at the clock – 9:30 AM – and takes a deep breath. “I’d rather get it all over with if that’s okay with you.” 

And Detective Park smiles. “That’s very brave of you. Okay, let’s begin. When did you first meet Jung?” 

Felix speaks. He speaks for hours. He drinks upwards of five mugs of tea, and he just keeps speaking until his voice seems to fill every inch of the apartment, until he’s sick of it. Detective Park is profoundly understanding – when Felix gets choked up the first time (when he recounts the Hunters at the loft), he doesn’t push him to keep talking. He lets Felix collect himself until he can continue speaking. At some point, Minho arrives (and Felix is pretty sure Chan texted him, because the leader doesn’t look the least bit surprised when there’s a knock at their door), and he offers to stay as well, if only to offer his own account of the award show, of their attempted kidnapping and ensuing captivity. 

Still, Detective Park asks questions, and they’re easy questions. He has to, Felix knows that, but the questions hurt almost as much as their answers. 

What do you remember about the inside of the Hunter’s van? 

I know you were in pain, but did anything pop out about the location of their headquarters? 

Do you think you could identify the Bureau agents’ voices if you heard them again? 

Hyunjin is a steady, if not at times somewhat defensive, presence at Felix’s side. He clearly wishes the detectives weren’t drawing out Felix’s memories, but he never interjects (except to describe Felix’s state after his kidnapping). 

The detectives ask him about his meetings with Yeong-su as well. They ask him about everyone he spoke with at the fitting, at the fashion show, at the after party. They ask him about different employees working at JYPE. They ask him about the Sanctus Bell and Dr. Kang and Wooyoung.

“I’ll be honest with you, since you’ve been honest with us,” Detective Park finally says. “The Korean court system is going to be flooded with trials against the Bureau and the Hunters alike. Our taskforce has been working around the clock to search for the missing Angels. We want to bring these monsters to justice, but it’s going to take time.” 

“Okay,” Felix nods; his voice is raspy from overuse. 

“They’re probably going to ask you to testify, Felix,” he says. 

Felix closes his eyes, his chest tight and his skin achy, like he’s been dragged over a rough surface for the past, oh God, seven hours. 

“Will Jung be there?” Hyunjin growls. The first words he’s spoken so far. Detective Park grimaces. 

“Yes. He, specifically, is being tried first. As the face of the Bureau operations, we have the most impetus – both internally and publicly – to put him behind bars for good. We’re also hoping he’ll cooperate, upon realizing that he has no other options, and give us information we might need.” 

Hyunjin turns to face Felix. He braces for protests (Baby, you don’t have to do this; Baby, it’s too dangerous, you’re still too traumatized.) 

So it’s all the more surprising when he says. “Baby, you can do this. I’ll be with you the whole time, if you want.” 

I’ll be with you the whole time. 

Felix nods, looks at Detective Park. “Just tell me when.” 

The trial, a mere week later, is horrible. 

Well, objectively, it goes well. Felix can see the horror in the jury members’ eyes, feel the tension that floods the room as he tells the world about what happened to him. Even Jung’s lawyer is gentle with him. 

But Jung is there. He is there, and he just glares at Felix the whole time. 

Don’t look at him, Hyunjin had said. Look at me. Look at us.

So he does. The whole trial, he speaks to Hyunjin and the other members, all seated in the very front row. It doesn’t make his testimony any easier to get through, but it protects him from risking eye contact with Jung. 

Felix barely remembers leaving the courtroom after his testimony, and when he gets home, the trauma has been fully dredged up, deep from the well to the surface of Felix’s every thought and action. For two days after, doors remain open, silverware is swapped with wooden cutlery, and movements are made obvious once again. 

“It’s like I never got better,” Felix tearfully confesses to Chan when Felix, for the second night in a row, finds himself too frightened to sleep. “I feel like I’m going backwards.” 

Chan pulls him into a hug. “It’s okay, Little One. We’re going to get you some help.” 

Some help is an understatement. 

Mandatory therapy for all eight of them, scheduled for the next day. 

No one would ever say Chan was one to abandon a promise, after all. 

Still, Felix feels like all he’s done for the past few days is talk about what happened to him. To say he’s dreading his first appointment with Dr. Lim, licensed therapist and trauma specialist, would be an understatement. 

But some of that dread is replaced with shock when he enters her office. 

Because Dr. Lim’s eyes shine with gold when they shake hands. 

More than that – she has her wings. 

“You’re an Angel,” he says simply as he takes a seat on the couch across from her. 

“I am,” she confirms. “Is that okay?” 

“Of course!” Felix exclaims. “I just … it still feels really surreal to meet people like us.” 

“Trust me, I relate,” she laughs. “It’s amazing, but jarring after all this time alone. And, I hope, it’ll be easier to speak to me about how you’re feeling, if only a little; I believe that’s why your leader sought me out specifically. He said you might be in need of some help, which brings me to my first question,” she leans back in her chair and crosses her legs. “What would you like to talk about today?” 

Felix blinks at her. He’s never been to therapy – he had to talk to a psychologist at the hospital after debut, but it was purely to assure him, and the company, that he was going to be okay to return to his schedules. And he’s been to confession, but there were rules at confessions, lines to say, cues to follow, half-truths to unveil while their other halves remained tamped down. 

Bless me, my Father, for I have sinned. It has been far too long since my last confession … But Dr. Lim doesn’t prompt him, she just waits. And she doesn’t want Felix’s sins, she wants his feelings, his thoughts; his truth. 

His stomach churns with discomfort. “Don’t I have to tell you about what happened to me?” he asks. 

Dr. Lim hums thoughtfully. “If you want. Or you can tell me about something else. I know you’re under a lot of mental stress right now having given your testimony and with the final verdict coming up, so I would understand if you’d rather not speak about what you went through again. I also know you have a North American tour soon, right? Maybe you want to talk about that?” 

Felix stares at his palms. There has to be a right answer, a something she wants him to say, a conclusion he’s meant to find. 

“Felix,” she says again. “This is your therapy. You can’t get it wrong.”

“I can’t get it wrong,” he echoes, if only to speak. 

She taps her finger on her leg and then opens her palm, as if offering him an option. “How about you tell me something unrelated to your wings, to everything that’s happened since your maturation. Something before your wings.” 

Felix chews at his lip and stares at the painting above Dr. Lim’s head. It’s a landscape painting, a field with flowers, bright blue sky, sunshine gleaming.  

Before your wings. God, it’s hard to remember what that time was even like. Before the car crash, back when Felix’s stress was still there – just shifted. Back when he was anxious about his physical therapy, about his brand deals, about letting the team down. Back when he watched Hyunjin through studio mirrors and bit back feelings like they were the food he was depriving himself of just to cope.  

“I was stressed before,” he finally says. 

“Okay,” Dr. Lim nods. “What would you say was making you stressed?” 

Everything? Is the instinctive answer; but it’s not a helpful answer, Felix knows that. 

“I think,” Felix finally says, “that I was putting a lot of pressure on myself. Not idol pressure but … but human pressure? I’m supposed to be Stray Kid’s Sunshine, but … I guess it was getting frustrating to have to shine the same way everyday.” 

Dr. Lim leans forward. 

“Tell me about that.” 

And Felix does. For their first three sessions, she lets Felix vent. She lets him talk about the expectation to be happy and cheerful, the disproportionate chasm that would widen when he wasn’t happy. She lets him talk about anger – what if feels like, what it looks like, where it lives in his body, and he, in turn, tells her about the well of rage he’s only recently discovered inside of himself. She lets him talk about his fear of being weak, being vulnerable, being helped, but how that very fear only ever seems to hurt the people around him. 

“You don’t have to ask for help in big ways, Felix,” she reminds him. “Sometimes, just telling someone that you’re feeling scared or uncertain takes a weight off that you didn’t even realize you were carrying. Lying about feeling okay doesn’t help anyone.” 

“It’s scary, though,” he whispers. “It’s scary being that honest. I don’t want to push them away.” 

“But that’s love, Felix. Being honest enough that you let yourself be completely seen.” 

Felix swallows despite the fact that his throat has been dry since he woke up. The tie around his neck isn’t helping in the slightest, but no matter how much he tugs at the knot, the pressure never lessens. 

It’s been three weeks since the award show, and even though Stray Kids has been allotted more rest and relaxation than at any other point in their career, there was no escaping this particular task. 

Because JYP himself might be able to swing Stray Kids a break, and JYPE may be swarming with taskforce authority members as they comb through employments records and computer drives, but there’s not much he can do in the face of the Korean legal system.

Felix takes another deep breath as the car pulls up to the courthouse. The press lines the street in swarms, and even though the sun above is bright, the flashes of their cameras still seem blinding. 

They just want a story, a reaction. Don’t give them one, Chan had said. 

Felix stares at his phone and sends one last text to Hyunjin before he’ll have to shut it off for the next hour or so.  

that’s not very nice

Fairy <3: i’m really scared, hyune

Prince <3: And that makes total sense. It’ll all be okay, baby, I promise. I really wish we’d been allowed to be there with you.

Fairy <3: me too. u have no idea.

Prince <3: Text me when you’re out, okay? 

Fairy <3: i will 

Fairy <3: love you 

Prince <3: Love you too, Lixie

Felix’s manager places a comforting hand on Felix’s knee. 

“You ready?” he asks. “It’s gonna be a lot once we step out there, but I’ve been assured that press inside is under explicit instruction not to ask any questions.” 

“Yeah,” Felix swallows again. His manager passes him another bottle of water. “Let’s get this over with.” 

The driver opens the door for Felix and he focuses on the courtroom entrance alone; anything to avoid looking at the lightning flashes of cameras and the sudden wave of microphones and tape recorders being pointed in his direction. A circle of bodyguards encases Felix within a moment, but the reporters are relentless, and the questions batter against him like stones. 

“Felix, Felix, is it true that you personally worked with authorities to help build the case against the Bureau?”

“Accounts state that Jung is appealing for a plea deal if he provides information about the abducted Angels – how do you feel about that?” 

“Felix, do you plan to weigh in on the ongoing debate regarding Angel rights?” 

Felix remains tight-lipped and neutral as they press forward. He’s dressed in a simple suit, one he’d had altered to allow his wings to pop out from the slits in the back. He holds them tight against his body as his security team pushes through the crowd and into the courthouse. 

The door closes behind them, and Felix relaxes – inwardly, of course; outwardly, he’s cool and unaffected. 

“We have ten minutes until the verdict will be given,” his manager says. “He’s already waiting inside-” 

“Let’s go,” Felix nods. 

The courtroom is packed, but as soon as Felix enters, all eyes are on him and, more noticeably, his wings. He ignores the stares, immediately sliding into the pew at the front of the room and behind the only face he cares to recognize. 

“Are you okay?” Felix asks immediately, and Yeong-su jumps like he’s been shocked. 

There’s no denying the fact that Yeong-su will be working through his trauma for the foreseeable future. Beyond just the pain he’s undergone, there’s mountains of brainwashing to be reversed. While Yeong-su may hate his father, he confessed to Felix, upon waking, that he was struggling to absorb just how much he’d been put through by the Bureau as a whole. Jung had spoken of rewards and punishments, and it’s clear that those brief moments of kindness – those rewards – registered as genuine care and love to Yeong-su, despite the fact that they were often basic human necessities and nothing. 

It was helping that pulled him out of his head – working with detectives and lawyers and human rights officials to put his father behind bars, to bring the Bureau to justice, to track down legions of Hunters still in hiding. 

The court case has taken a toll on him, but he still looks miles more sure of himself than he did the first day he testified. 

(That day had been rough. Multiple recesses were called simply to allow the room to breathe. Felix remembers watching a jury member dash from the room, her hand pressed over her mouth, nauseated from the details Yeong-su shared). 

“I’m okay,” Yeong-su nods. “Our lawyers seem confident that, even if they offer a plea deal, it won’t affect how long he’s locked up – he just might get a cozier cell for the rest of his life.” 

Yeong-su says it like he’s reminding himself as much as he’s informing Felix – as if he’s been reminding himself that his father is, indeed, detained and can no longer wield his power over his son. 

“Nice wings by the way,” Yeong-su cracks a small grin. Felix blushes. 

“It feels so weird to have them out. I keep forgetting, catching a glimpse of my reflection, and panicking.” 

“It’s a new world for us now,” Yeong-su shrugs; another reminder. “Do you know who called me about a modeling gig?” 

Without his double life as a Bureau mole, Yeong-su has fallen back on the only job he’s known: modeling (‘It was the only way I was able to talk to other people’, he’d explained. ‘And… I like fashion. I like the artistry there.’)

“Who?” Felix grins. 

“Victoria’s Secret,” he snorts. “They want me at their show. They want to put me in a pair of wings and everything.” 

Felix stifles his giggles, but only just – they are in a courtroom after all. “That’s amazing! Oh my God, you must be so excited!” 

Yeong-su blushes, and his eyes flicker gold again. “Yeah. They said they don’t care that I have the scars on my back, or a healed bullet wound on my stomach. Apparently, rugged is sexy.” 

Felix thinks, unbiddingly, of Hyunjin–

“I thought I’d be late!” 

Wooyoung’s sudden arrival at his right cuts off that line of thinking. Wooyoung looks tired, but happy; now that he’s thinking about it, all three of them look tired but happy. 

“Right on time,” Yeong-su says. 

“How is she?” Felix asks. 

Wooyoung’s smile at the question is tired, too, but satisfied. “Better today. It’s gonna take a while until she’s ready to speak with anyone who isn’t family, but her case worker seems optimistic. She made a joke today – apparently humor is a good indication for overcoming trauma – and she doesn’t seem to have any defensiveness for the Bureau. Quite the opposite – she fucking hates them.” 

Wooyoung’s cousin; long thought dead by authorities, prayed to be alive by her family, found half an hour from Seoul the whole time; undoubtedly and undeniably in conditions far more painful and terrifying that even Felix’s wildest nightmares can fathom.

After the award show, getting people out of the venue and tending to the wounded was priority, but as soon as attendees and staff were confirmed safe or stable, searching for the missing trainees immediately became paramount. Felix knows the list is long – far longer than just a document buried in the JYPE database, spanning entertainment companies and agencies across the country – but public outcry was a powerful thing; people demanded justice, and the search began mere hours after the chaos award show was over. 

Yeong-su was the linchpin, the key to unlocking all of the evidence needed; he’d barely been conscious for more than a day before he was insisting that he meet with legal authorities, and despite his doctors’ (and Felix and Wooyoung’s) collective insistence that he rest, Yeong-su was determined. 

If Felix spoke to the detective for hours, Yeong-su spoke for days. It seemed like any time Felix or Wooyoung visited him at the hospital, there was a pair of detectives either waiting to speak with or having just finished talking to Yeong-su. It worked, though; the location of the Bureau’s headquarters was identified, key names gathered, and stings enacted across Korea. All the while, Jung remained in custody, helpless to stop his empire from falling. 

The identity and number of those rescued has been kept under wraps, but at least Felix gets to know that one Angel was found; at least he gets to see the relief in Wooyoung’s eyes. 

The door opens, and any lightheartedness is sapped from the room the moment Jung is led forward by two police officers. He looks smaller in the prison jumpsuit, but his eyes are every bit as angry as they had been when he’d held a gun to Hyunjin’s head, finding Felix and Yeong-su immediately. Felix tightens his hand around Yeong-su’s, wishes he could absorb even some of the tension that floods the other Angel’s body. 

He can’t hurt you, he can’t hurt you, he can’t hurt you, Felix wishes he could scream the words into Yeong-su’s ear. 

The judge introduces the trial as if press and public alike haven’t been following the case since Jung and the other Bureau agents were taken into custody. Intrigue only grew when a legion of Hunters was busted near Incheon mere days after the award show. 

Felix knows that the horrors of the Bureau and Hunters alike probably go far deeper than he will ever know. He knows that the case against Jung is only a public battle of what has to be a much larger, legal war burning beneath the surface of redacted paperwork and red tape. But at the end of the day, it’s out of his hands. All he can do is be there for Yeong-su, for Wooyoung, for Dai, and for the other Angels who reach out. 

“-and now we come the verdict…” 

Felix snaps out of his thoughts at the judge’s words and the bone-crushing grip Yeong-su applies to fingers. The air feels static, and if Felix didn’t know better, he’d think time had once again frozen. 

“The people of the court of Korea find the defendant-” 

Yeong-su, Felix, and Wooyoung lean forward; Felix’s feathers twitch. 

“-guilty on all charges.”

The response is immediate. Cheers. The judge attempts to regain order, but she’s smiling. A knot in Felix’s chest loosens, warmth spreading all the way to the tips of his feathers and he finds himself jumping up and down, Wooyoung’s arms wrapped around his shoulders and tears pricking both of their eyes. 

Yeong-su just smiles; not at Felix, not at Wooyoung, but at Jung – at his father – as the man is dragged to his feet and led out of the court. 

“You did it!” Felix pulls Yeong-su into a hug. Yeong-su spares his father one last glance before he’s joining the embrace.

“We did it,” he grins. “We did it.” 

Two Months Later

The air is warm and sweet with early October heat, sweat, and the screams of thousands of Stays. Felix knows his makeup is likely melted by now, despite the copious amounts of setting spray, and his hair is fluffy and curling at the ends, but he could sweat himself into a puddle for all he cares. He’s too damn happy. 

It’s the final show of their global tour – and it’s Sydney. He’s Aussie-Aussie-Aussie’d at least a dozen times, and every single Oi-Oi-Oi has been music to his ears. He’s not the only one, either. Chan is uninhibited, wild on stage, like the Australian air has recharged him into overdrive. The other members always love the Australia shows – in part because they get to play Australian, flex the knowledge they’ve since picked up from Felix and Chan, but also because they get to see Felix and Chan in their element. 

(The night before the show, Hyunjin confessed that he loved how much thicker Felix’s accent got. So that’s a plus as well.)

The set ends with a raucous, encore-demanding torrent of cheers. They duck backstage, a tangle of interlocked hands and arms, a chorus of breathless giggles. Chan in particular wraps Felix in a bone crushing hug, smacks a loud kiss on his cheek, and grins. 

“God, I missed this!” He says; his accent is ten times stronger, has been since their plane touched down a week and a half ago. They built in buffer time, time see their families, time to sink their toes into the sand and splash in the water; time to drag the members to their favorite restaurants, to backyard barbecues; time for Felix’s mom to confess, tearfully, that she should have known, that his great aunt had scars on her back and gold in her eyes as well. 

“It’s so good to be back here,” Felix agrees; tears have been ebbing and flowing against his lashline all night – and it’s a given anytime they’re home performing – but he’s managed to bite back any real sobs thus far. The members are doing their best to distract him too; anytime Felix feels himself getting emotional at the choral echo of their own songs sung back to them from Stay, Minho is there dancing with him like a lunatic, or Changbin is making suggestive, fan-service advances on him. 

Hyunjin hip checks him, then pulls him into a back hug despite the fact that Felix’s entire body is certainly coated in sweat. He has a garment bag in hand, familiar at this point in their tour, and he playfully bats it against Felix’s head. 

“You ready to show them what they’ve been waiting for, Angel?”

Felix drops his head back on Hyunjin’s shoulder and grins at him. “Will you help me put it on-?” 

“Nope,” Changbin bursts forward, separating the couple. “The last time Jinnie ‘helped’, you were gone for fifteen minutes and Lix wouldn’t stop glowing until the encore was over.” 

Felix blushes, and Hyunjin tries very valiantly to not look proud. 

“C’mon, oh twin of mine,” Jisung rolls his eyes and drags Felix further backstage so he can change. 

He strips off his white jacket and crop top, leaving him only in the elastic wrappings. 

Felix had been the one to insist that he keep his wings bound for the concerts, much to the protest of both the members and their management team. Of course, management wants to profit on Felix’s wings, just like Felix assumed they would. It’s the members, though, who almost convinced him. 

‘You don’t have to hide anymore, though!’ Jeongin had whined – full blown maknae pout, no holds barred. 

‘Are you worried about hate comments?’ Hyunjin had frowned. 

‘I don’t want to be Angel Felix out there,’ Felix had said simply. ‘I want to be Stray Kid’s Felix. The wings would just be distracting.’ 

And no one could argue with that, even though a part of Felix had yearned to appear on stage as purely himself. Wings at all, but accepted just as that–

‘If you don't want your wings out for the main set, I think I have a compromise,’ Chan had grinned. 

“This thing stinks,” Jisung wrinkles his nose as he unwraps the elastic. 

“Seeing as I’ve been sweating in it for five hours, I’m not surprised,” Felix says, but he is fast to chuck the elastic into his bag as quickly as possible. When he turns, Jisung is holding the tanktop open. “Aw, Sungie, helping me get dressed?” 

“Shh, baby, don’t flirt so loudly, our boyfriends are right there-” 

“And they have very good hearing!” Minho drawls from where he and Hyunjin watch, equal parts amused and intrigued. Jisung and Felix giggle as Jisung helps him into the top. It’s closer to a fitted vest, white fabric with gold embellishments like the rest of their encore outfits; the only distinguishing feature of the garment is the two sturdy slits sewn into the back. Felix slides his wings through them, the feeling of Australian air, as muggy as it is backstage, like liquid heaven on the now-free feathers. 

“Innie?” Felix calls over his shoulder. The maknae is there in a moment, and Felix bats his lashes dramatically. “Can you pretty please make my feathers look less like they’ve been squished for a whole concert?” 

Jeongin smirks, cracks his knuckles, and a moment later, Felix is melting. Jeongin remains the most thorough feather-groomer of all of the members, but as a consequence, Felix fights bonelessness with every straightened and fluffed feather. 

“Don’t put him into a coma, please,” Chan calls. “The last thing we need is a sleepy kitten trying to fly through the air.” 

“Just admit that I’m the superior wing groomer, Hyung,” Jeongin shrugs. He continues to drag his fingers through Felix’s feather’s, eliciting something close to a purr from his chest. “Insecurity isn’t very becoming on a leader-” 

“Guys, places in five,” a manager calls. The timing prevents Chan from getting a dig in, but he manages to pinch Jeongin on the cheek before the younger can duck away. “Felix, you ready?” 

Felix turns to Hyunjin immediately. Despite the fact that they’ve done this literal song and dance dozens of shows in a row, the familiar knot of anxiety worms its way into his throat. 

“How do I look?” he asks. 

It’s code, obvious code for the late night conversations where Felix has confessed his fears: What if it’s still dangerous? What if the fans boo me off the stage? What if my wings aren’t all that special? 

“You look like you,” Hyunjin smiles. 

We have extra security. Everyone is looking out for you. You look beautiful. The fans love you. I love you. 

Felix doesn’t bother climbing to the catwalk. Instead, the members and venue staff alike take several steps back before he extends his wings, then shoots up into the air to land on one of the walkways. 

(The first time he did this, he nearly had a panic attack – immediately thrust back into the memory of the night of the award show. They’d had to send Hyunjin up to comfort him, to talk him down, before the encore could continue.) 

Now, though, Felix creeps across the walkway, mindful of any eagle-eyed fans that might somehow catch a glimpse of his wings, and stops dead center, downstage. He loops one leg over the railing and adjusts his microphone. 

“Ready, Felix?” Someone asks over his in-ear. 

The crowd falls to a hush as the stage lights beneath him dim, and he’s left staring out at an ocean of softly-glowing golden Light Sticks. He peers down and sees the members waiting, crouched, behind the stage platforms, all grinning up at him. 

The opening strums to Cover Me float like petals across the venue. Raucous cheering blooms in their wake, though it quiets quickly. 

The fans know this moment, have likely seen the hundreds of TikToks recorded from the previous shows of the Air Beneath tour. They all know that this song, in particular, was instrumental to Felix’s maturation, to his survival. 

“Good to drop.” 

Felix takes a deep breath, swings his other leg over the rail and falls. 

His wings immediately catch him. He’s long since perfected the micro-flutters that allow him to hover with minimal flapping. As he falls, a single golden spotlight illuminates him, and the crowd loses it. 

He barely gets through the first line without crying. 

He was hoping that by the final performance, he’d have a better hold on the emotions, but like all the shows before, the audience stares back at him – him, flying, wings out and eyes a bit gold – with nothing but awe and acceptance, and there are signs that weren’t there during the rest of the show. Stay <3 Stray Kid’s Angel and Felix – you make my heart sore and little Bbokaris cutouts with angel wings

While he sings the opening lines, he lets himself lower towards the stage, but his feet never touch. The members join him on either side, and both Minho and Hyunjin offer him their hands to pull him fully back to earth – they’d done it at the first encore and it had become a part of the choreography at some point, the gentle heat of their hands pulling him down to earth so achingly reassuring. 

 He doesn’t want his wings out during the full show, but he can’t deny how good it feels to stand on stage in front of thousands exactly as he is – Felix and his feathers in all their golden glory. He doesn’t take to the air much the rest of the encore – occasionally he flits between platforms, or swoops down one of the runways to catch a member off guard. At one point he grabs Minho’s water gun for an aerial attack on the front rows – but for the most part, he just remains with the Kids. 

They close the show with Blindspot, and it’s Felix’s favorite, selfish moment. As the first chorus builds, he sprints towards the front of the stage, wings ready, and launches himself into the crowd. He soars a wide loop, all the way up to the nosebleed seats and down again. The reaction is insane – the entire venue is shaking and as Felix passes overhead, fans call his name. He makes a show of twisting and turning through the air, throwing finger hearts and winks at the faces below him. 

“Yah, Yongbok-ah!” 

“Come back, Angel!” 

Changbin and Hyunjin call to him over the speakers. He rolls his eyes at a group of Stays (ugh, these guys, am I right?) and spirals up until he’s higher than any other structure in the arena. Then, he freefalls down just in time to sing his lines of the second chorus, Changbin’s arm tight around his shoulders. 

The eight of them, as it always should be, despite the wings, or maybe even closer now because of them.

And when the stage lights finally go down, Felix wraps them all beneath his wings, and no one teases him for the tears on his cheeks until much, much later. 

“I can’t wait to get back to Seoul,” Changbin groans once they’re back at the hotel. “I need to sleep for a week.” 

“I can get you three days before it’s back to work,” Chan snorts. “The new album won’t demo itself.” 

“I can’t believe we’re done with the tour,” Jisung says, a little wistfully, a lot exhausted. 

“On one hand, I’ll be more than happy if I never see an airport another day in my life,” Jeongin says. “On the other hand … I’ll miss this tour. I’ll miss being with you idiots all day.” 

“Aw, our sweet little maknae,” Chan coos. Jeongin wrinkles his nose, but he doesn’t make any effort to evade the kiss Chan presses on his forehead. It turns into a bit of a cuddle pile, poor Jeongin in the middle. Felix finds himself pressed between Jeongin and Hyunjin, Jisung half-draped across the three of them and his head in Minho’s lap. Felix snuggles closer against Jeongin’s side and pulls Hyunjin’s arm more tightly around him. 

“Uh-oh, Lix is about to fall asleep,” Changbin chuckles. 

“Let me,” Felix pouts. “My wings are tired.” 

“Oh, poor baby,” Hyunjin coos. “How tired?” 

Felix doesn’t miss the suggestive note in Hyunjin’s voice. His feathers twitch. 

“No!” Minho wails, sitting up and jostling Felix’s head in the process. “No, your room is next to ours, I’m begging you-” 

“Funny, you didn’t give us the same consideration last night,” Hyunjin teases. Felix grins, pitches his voice up despite neither Minho nor Jisung sounding like a minion in the slightest. 

“Oh, Hannie, you feel so goooood-” 

“Aish!” Minho pulls a pillow from behind his head, leans over the cuddle pile, and proceeds to smother Hyunjin. Hyunjin flails dramatically until he can free himself and yank the pillow-slash-attempted murder weapon from Minho’s grip.

“What the fuck! I didn’t even do the impression, Lix did!” 

Seungmin cackles from where he’s squished next to Changbin. “You thought Minho-hyung was gonna hit his little kitten? Congrats, Jinnie, your life as a proxy for Minho’s rage has begun.” 

Hyunjin sits up further (despite Felix’s whine of protest) and grabs a pillow of his own. “You wanna go, Puppy? I’ve been putting in hours at the gym, I’ll show you-” 

“Okay, it’s bed time!” Chan claps his hands. “Everyone get the fuck out and try not to kill each other. Or fuck each other too loudly. Please.” 

Dai makes it a meter into the air before he shrieks, arms windmilling, and crashes back onto the piles of beanbags that have, once again, been pulled to the center of the loft’s floor. Jaesang looks like he’s in physical pain at the sight, but Dai just cackles. 

“Lix did that too,” Jisung snorts. “What goes up must come down, I guess.” 

He, Hyunjin, and Jaesang are at the edge of the beanbag pile for Dai’s first flying lesson. Felix swore, as soon as the tour was done, that he’d give the younger Angel a tutorial, and Dai’s obvious enthusiasm was so strong, even across messenger, that Felix couldn’t stand pushing the lesson off, despite his jet lag. 

“I didn’t scream that high pitched,” Felix protests from where he hovers, wings lazily flapping to keep him airborne. 

“It was high pitched for you,” Hyunjin points out. 

“Et tu, Brute?” Felix scoffs. He does a little back flip in the air, hand pressed to his chest like a scorned Victorian lady. 

“Stop showing off,” Dai whines. “You’re doing tricks and I’m like a baby bird.” 

Felix giggles and swoops low so he’s bobbing mere feet above where Dai lays. “You’re a baby Angel, not a baby bird. Stop beating yourself up.” 

Dai sits up. His hair sticks out at all angles and his feathers are ruffled and irritated. 

In the months past his maturation, Dai’s wings have grown visibly fluffier and now reach to a similar length as Felix’s. From what the younger has told him, controlling his instincts has remained the most significant hurdle (‘One of our instructors told Minsoo he needed to work on his visuals and I basically hissed at him’). Hopefully, putting some of those instincts towards flying will help him find a balance. 

Now, though, Dai looks so adorably frustrated that Felix can’t figure out whether to hum in sympathy or ruffle his hair into further, baby-bird disarray. 

“You’re doing just as well as I did the first time I tried flying,” Felix explains. Hyunjin walks over and tugs at Felix’s ankle until Felix lands, the purpose of the action seemingly only to wrap an arm around Felix’s waist. 

“Lix ate shit, like, fifteen times,” Hyunjin says. Felix scoffs.

“I’d like to see you fly, Hwang!” 

“So how’d you go from falling to doing backflips?” Dai pouts. Felix grimaces, and Jisung cackles. 

“He threw himself off a cliff to save Chan-hyung.” 

Dai’s pout drops open. “Oh.” 

“Maybe we just keep falling for now,” Jaesang raises a brow. 

“Focus on feeling your instincts while you fly,” Felix suggests. “When I fly, I’m not thinking about every little movement, I’m just feeling what needs to happen. Remember, your-” 

“Wings are a part of me, not separate,” Dai finishes for Felix. His wings twitch with more frustration, and Felix drops down onto the bean bags next to him. He runs a hand over the back of Dai’s wings until the feathers lay flat and calm. 

“There’s no rush on this,” Felix tells him. “Every day, you’re getting better and better at connecting with your instincts, and every time you practice flying, you’ll be exercising those instincts even more. Just take it at your own pace. Step by step, like dancing.” 

He can’t help but glance up at Hyunjin, whose small, knowing smile tells Felix that he remembers saying those very things to Felix himself. 

“Now come on, go again. This time, focus on where you feel the heat in your body, okay?” 

Felix holds out his hand and Dai blushes as he’s pulled to standing. 

“Don’t focus on doing better, focus on learning more about how it feels right now, okay?” 

After another hour, Dai is no longer catapulting to the ground, but gently drifting to his feet. He’s certainly several sessions away from any kind of soaring, but Felix can tell Dai is proud of his progress. 

“Your feathers are all ruffled,” Jaesang says. He gently straightens the feathers, his fingers combing across his wings so tenderly that Felix is tempted to look away. Dai’s cheeks are bright red, and he’s biting his lip so hard that Felix is surprised he doesn’t draw blood. 

“I’m exhausted,” Dai says breathlessly. 

“I’ll get you some water!” Jaesang straightens immediately, looking at Hyunjin. “Do you have-” 

“Yeah, we’ve got a fridge,” Hyunjin nods. “Come on, I’ll show. Do you want anything, Angel?” 

“Energy drink, please,” Felix beams at him. 

“On it,” Hyunjin winks at him. Jisung rolls his eyes and follows Hyunjin and Jaesang to the mini fridge. 

Dai watches the three meander towards the minifridge, then lays back against the beanback. “We dance for eight hours a day, why am I tired?” 

“New muscles,” Felix says. “The first time I flew, I felt like my back was made of jelly.” 

“I feel like all of me is made of jelly,” Dai snorts. His eyes are still locked on Jaesang. “My brain too. It’s weird – I had no clue I was an Angel, neither did my members, and even though I have two entire wings on my back and freaky glowing eyes, nothing has really changed. I should be … I should be happy about that, right? So much could have gone wrong, it’s good that everything’s basically the same…” 

Dai’s expression is the definitional picture of longing. 

Felix would know. He used to see it on himself. 

“Do you want things to change?” Felix asks. 

“No!” Dai insists. “I still want to debut. I still want to be an idol. And I don't want them to treat me differently even though the whole world is different now. I just…” 

There goes that bambi-eyed gaze again, back to Jaesang. 

“You know,” Felix says slowly. “Just because things ended up better than you expected, doesn’t mean you still can’t want more.”

Dai is quiet for a moment, but his fingers are twisting in his lap, and his feathers are furling with something unsaid.  

“They all love me so much that sometimes I think I’ll burn with it,” Dai confesses with a whisper. Finally, his eyes slide back to Felix. “And sometimes I think … how is it that I deserve them? I didn’t know I could care like this? And I still want more? Am I so selfish?” 

Felix could laugh. What was it Hyunjin had said? I know I’m being selfish. I just can’t lose you again. 

“It’s not selfish,” Felix says to Dai, just like he’d said to Hyunjin. “I think it’s just love. And I think loving someone, letting yourself be loved … being in love – that’s brave. It’s brave to look someone in the eyes, hand them your heart, and ask them to keep it.” 

Thank you, Dr. Lim, Felix thinks to himself. 

“When did you hand him your heart, then?” Dai asks. 

And wow, Dai is braver than Felix ever was. Like he knows he’s obvious in his crush, obvious enough that there’s no use beating around the bush. 

Felix grins. “About seven years after I fell in love with him.” 

Dai chokes. “Oh.” 

“Yeah, it took both of us a little while to be brave,” Felix fiddles with the locket on his neck. “Our members bore the brunt of the suffering.” 

“I think Joonwoo is going to strangle me,” Dai laughs. “He says that if I keep staring at Jae during dance practice, my pupils are going to turn into little hearts.” 

“Could be worse,” Felix snorts. “I used to wake Jisung up to talk about how pretty Hyunjin’s mole was. I don’t know how he let me live this long.” 

Dai cackles. Immediately, Jaesang looks over – at first in shock at the noise, and then with such adoration that Hyunjin visibly stifles a coo and Jisung bites his fist to stifle his laughs. Dai doesn’t notice, and Felix wonders how many signs, how many little glances, he himself may have missed. 

“I guarantee one of your other members is dealing with the exact same crap from Jaesang,” Felix promises. “In the end, I had to bring it up with Jinnie; after I got my wings, all I wanted was for my life to stay the same – in the sense that I wanted to keep performing, to stay in Seoul with my members; I didn’t wanna hide. Hyunjinnie was worried that when I said I didn’t want things to change, that meant our relationship, too.” 

Dai’s wings flutter as he considers Felix’s words. “So maybe … maybe he’s waiting for me.” 

“Maybe,” Felix nods. 

“But how will I know?” Dai pleads. “Hyung, I … I really think I love him.” 

And his eyes flash a little gold. 

Felix smiles. “You won’t know,” he admits, “and it’s terrifying. But that’s love. Terrifying.” 

Dai rolls his eyes. Their wings brush against each other, curling together in something close to linked hands. 

“Hey, hyung?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you think he likes me back?” 

Felix looks over his shoulder. Hyunjin and Jisung are grinning knowingly. Jaesang is still watching Dai like he single-handedly invented music, bunny rabbits, and the concept of joy. 

“Yeah,” Felix laughs. He tightens his wings until their feathers are fully linked. “I think he likes you back.” 

“Thought I’d find you up here.” 

Felix jumps and has to hold onto the branch above him to keep from toppling over. 

Dai and Jaesang have long since left, and Hyunjin had insisted on getting a snack for him and Felix while they wait for the other members to arrive, Jisung departing to help Minho get food for the small end-of-tour party they’re throwing.

The day has been so warm, so bright, and Felix had lingered inside the loft for maybe two minutes before gravitating to the rooftop garden; before he’d settled himself amongst the tree branches and watched the leaves dance across the blue sky. 

Hyunjin places a bag on the small garden table (from Felix’s favorite boba spot, and wow he loves this man) and wanders closer to the tree. 

“It’s too nice out to be inside,” Felix shrugs. 

Hyunjin smiles, his lip catching on his teeth. “Mind staying like that for a moment?” 

Felix’s stomach flips hopefully. “Why, gonna paint me like one of your french girls?” 

And Hyunjin goes positively pink. Felix honestly didn’t expect that to be the case. “I … I have a piece that I’m almost done with, but … well, are you gonna sit pretty for me or not?” 

“Low blow,” Felix mumbles, immediately flustered. Hyunjin grins again. 

“Don’t move, Sweetheart.” 

Felix tries not to squirm an inch as Hyunjin crawls back into the loft. He returns a moment later with a canvas and easel, as well as his set of paints, though Felix notices that he’s keeping the canvas turned resolutely away from Felix’s gaze. Hyunjin is methodical in the easel’s placement, his eyes narrowed as he assesses lighting and arranges his brushes. 

“How do you want me?” Felix asks. And if he makes his voice a little breathy, just to tease back? Well, Hyunjin’s choked cough and raised brow tells him he’s about as transparent as glass. 

“You’re perfect as you are,” Hyunjin answers softly. “Perfect face, perfect wings.”

Felix’s wings flutter just-so at the compliment; Hyunjin laughs. 

It’s so reminiscent of how things were merely a few months ago – Felix perched in a tree, Hyunjin at his canvas, the sky clear and blue and the sun warm and perfect where it hits his skin. Except now, Felix isn’t guiltily stealing a moment with Hyunjin while simultaneously fighting against his own maturation, and Hyunjin isn’t lacing compliments under the guise of color matching and brushstrokes. 

“Do you remember when you brought me here for the first time?” Felix asks. 

“Of course.” Hyunjin doesn’t pause his painting, but his brows furrow a bit. “I honestly didn’t think I’d convince you to come. You’d been giving everyone the slip, I figured I wouldn’t be any different-” 

“Except I had a big stupid crush on you and would have jumped off a cliff if you’d asked,” Felix laughs. Hyunjin’s brushstrokes pause. 

“I think you like jumping off cliffs a little too much,” he grumbles. “Also, had a big stupid crush? I was under the impression you were still very much crushing on me.” 

“Maybe,” Felix tilts his head coyly, “depends on if you keep bringing me boba.” 

“Ah, I knew it,” Hyunjin sighs dramatically. “Here I thought you were into me for my dashing good looks and ability to make you orgasm. I should have known it was just for the boba.” 

Felix can’t help but throw his head back and laugh. At the last second, he catches a glimpse of Hyunjin’s expression, canvas finally forgotten; his smile is achingly fond. 

“Do you know,” Felix says, “that the last time I was up here, I was imagining you confessing to me?” 

“Really?” Hyunjin asks. He sounds legitimately surprised, and Felix feels himself pouting. 

“Well, yeah. Jinnie, I wasn’t just crushing on you at that point, I was over my head in love with you. And it was insane, because I’d just found out that everything I felt when I was with you was the exact thing that would give me my wings, and I was so scared, but I was still thinking about kissing you.” Felix laughs, a bit bitterly, and gently touches his wings. “I was trying to figure out who I was. I still wanted you to want me, wings or not.” 

Hyunjin hums thoughtfully as he dips his brush back into a stark-white dot of paint. Felix can see him thinking as his brush moves across the canvas – not ignoring Felix, but mulling his words thoughtfully. Finally, he puts the brush down and approaches the tree. 

“What did you imagine?” 

“What?” Felix asks, tilting his head. Hyunjin chuckles. 

“When you were here last time – how did you imagine I confessed?”

Felix’s face is on fire. He buries it in his hands. 

“Tell me! Come on, I’m curious – because all I was thinking about was whether or not you were avoiding me.” 

“I …” Felix removes his hands. Hyunjin has walked even closer, leaning just-so against the tree. “I imagined that you’d tell me you felt the same way? That I was all you ever wanted to paint? And …” 

Hyunjin gasps, a small intake of breath, and his eyes twinkle. Felix’s next words are barely audible. 

“And you’d kiss me in the garden. Like in a fairytale.” 

Hyunjin doesn’t answer with words. He lifts his hand to help Felix down, even though his wings get him to the ground with ease. Hyunjin guides him to the center of the rooftop garden. Every Disney movie Felix has ever watched flashes through his mind. 

“I … I want to show you the painting,” he says. 

It’s not what Felix was expecting. He was expecting either a tease (Ah, Lixie, you’re such a sap) or a bruising kiss. 

This is better than both of those things. 

“Is it the same one you started when you brought me here?” 

And Hyunjin is red from the tips of his ears down to his chest, the blush certainly extending beneath the collar of his shirt. Felix bounces on his tip toes when Hyunjin nods, leans to the easel, and grabs the canvas, though he keeps it facing away from Felix. 

“The day I brought you here, I didn’t really expect to draw you,” he confesses. “I just wanted to see you – because at that time, it felt like being away from you was like missing half of the oxygen I needed to breathe. I knew, rationally, that you were okay, but I also knew something was going on that I couldn’t fix. I just wanted to have you around me for a little bit, to see that you were alive and talking with my own eyes. But then … but then you showed up looking like a dream. And you were so obviously happy in the garden, I couldn’t not ask you to pose for me.” 

“Oh,” Felix whispers. Hyunjin shifts anxiously, and Felix can’t help but reach out a wing, to gently brush his longest feather along Hyunjin’s bicep. His shifting stills and he takes a deep breath. 

“I need you to know that I sketched this before I knew you were an Angel. I drew this when you were withdrawing from everyone, when you were scared and sick and terrified. I drew this because this is how I’ve always seen you.” 

And then he turns the canvas, and Felix stops breathing. 

It’s impressionist, so obviously Hyunjin’s style; but it’s also, obviously, that moment months ago on this very rooftop, Felix in the tree – an explosion of deep greens with golden specks of sunlight peaking through. And on that largest branch is a body; if someone didn’t know him, they might not realize it was Felix, especially given that Felix’s face in the painting is half-turned away and up, towards the sun, illuminated in golden light – but Hyunjin has managed to perfectly capture the gentle slope of Felix’s nose, a smattering of freckles that disappear into his blonde hair. 

But beyond all that – Hyunjin has given Felix wings. 

Hyunjin, with no knowledge at the time, had given Felix two, beautiful Angel wings. Wings that are so eerily like the very pair on Felix’s back; an expanse of feathers that Hyunjin has somehow managed to paint in a glowing, sun-drenched white that Felix didn’t know could be replicated in oil and acrylics. 

“This is how I’ve always seen you,” Hyunjin repeats again, and when Felix looks up at him, it's through tear-blurred eyes. “An Angel, my Sunshine, everything. Even when you’re going through a tough time, even when you’re scared, even when you’re still just Felix. Because just Felix is still my Angel.” 

“Hyune,” Felix breathes. “I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful. I … I can’t believe…” 

I can’t believe you see me like this. I can’t believe you’ve always seen me like this. 

Hyunjin rests the canvas back on its easel just in time to catch Felix in his arms, and then Felix is putting every thought, every hope, every ounce of love into a kiss. It’s not bruising, it’s not heated, it’s just love in the silence, in the sunshine, in the gentle breeze. It’s just his fingers in Hyunjin’s hair, just his body pressing against Hyunjin’s own. 

Hyunjin leans into the kiss like a sunflower in the sun, his own hands finding purchase and drawing Felix impossibly closer. Felix knows that his smile probably makes the kiss less pleasurable than normal, but Hyunjin is smiling right back – a soft clacking of teeth, a gentle exchange of giggles passed mouth-to-mouth. 

He feels whole. He feels the sun on his wings and Hyunjin’s hand on his cheek and if he had to paint this, if he played Hyunjin for a moment, he’d do nothing more than slather a canvas in luminescent gold. 

“Yah, stop making out!” 

The voice comes from within the loft, just inside the open window hatch. Hyunjin’s hand – the one on his waist – tightens minutely, and he snorts, dropping his forehead against Felix’s. 

“What part of mine don’t these members get, huh?” he chuckles. 

“You wouldn’t have it any other way,” Felix says. 

“I really wouldn’t,” Hyunjin says.

Jisung clambers through the window with all the grace of a newborn deer, not that Felix is watching beyond from his periphery. He wants to steal just a few more seconds looking at Hyunjin, at the way the sun kisses his skin. 

“Oi, lovebirds, if you don’t stop staring at each other, I’m going to physically insert myself between you.” 

Felix gasps giddily. “Ah, Hannie, are you propositioning us?” 

He purses his lips in Jisung’s direction, and Jisung pulls an (unnecessarily horrified) face. 

“Finally ready to ditch your mean stinky boyfriend?” Hyunjin joins the bit with a loud voice, eyes already seeking Minho’s reaction. Minho slinks through the window like a panther. 

“I may not have tissues, but there are some napkins with the food downstairs,” Minho hisses in Hyunjin’s directions. “Shall we test them out?” 

“I’m not scared of you, Hyung,” Hyunjin juts his chin forward and stretches to his full height. Minho raises a single brow. 

“Changbin-ah!” He yells through the open window. “Bring the food up here, extra napkins, too!” 

Hyunjin pulls Felix’s body in front of his own and hunches down behind him. “Begone, demon. I’m shielded by the power of one Lee Felix.” 

“Oh no, a tiny angel kitten!” Jeongin crawls onto the rooftop next, waggling his fingers and voice dripping with sarcasm. “What’s he gonna do, pout at Hyung until his heart implodes?” 

Seungmin follows Jeongin. “That might actually work.” 

“Is everyone forgetting that Yongbokkie singlehandedly fought, like, thirty Bureau agents?” Changbin asks. He has two massive bags of takeout in each hand which he barely avoids crushing as he, too, climbs through the window. 

“Thank you, hyung,” Felix makes sure to spread his wings extra wide. “I’m a certified badass.” 

“Hyung, you’re literally a whole kitten,” Jeongin snorts. 

“No, it’s fine, I can carry this all by myself!” Chan calls from inside. “It’s only all of the alcohol in my hands!” 

“Let’s help our leader, kids,” Minho delegates. 

It’s a wordless decision to eat outside, just like it was a wordless choice to forgo any lavish end-of-tour party organized by the company. After everything, the members unanimously agreed that a free night, just the eight of them, with an inappropriate amount of food and alcohol was all they needed. They sit in a circle on the patch of grass, descending upon the food like starved wolves. Wine is poured, beer is drunk, soju materializes in every flavor. They joke about the tour (“-I’ve watched fifteen edits of Chan-hyung’s right nipple. Who has the time to edit those-?”“-why exactly did you watch fifteen edits of my nipple, Binnie?”) and about recent SKZCodes filmed (“I’m just saying, making us all wear fake angel wings feels like somebody’s kink-” “Are you implying that my very real wings are kinky, Min?”). 

And Felix flits from member to member because he can. 

He helps Jeongin sneak extra shots of soju when Chan isn’t looking. He joins Seungmin’s passionate headcannon rants about what Twilight character each member would be, then backs Jisung up when he insists he himself is obviously Bella-coded (“and Minho-hyung is clearly an Edward type-”). He plays a childish sort of game of tag with Changbin, wherein Felix tries to squeeze his hyung’s biceps and Changbin pretends he’s not glowing with pride. He curls himself around Minho just because he can, just because he knows Minho had therapy that morning and more often than not leaves his appointments feeling antsy and tense, and just because the feeling of his hyung relaxing into a hug makes Felix feel strong enough to fight a thousand Bureau agents if he had to. He tells Chan that he wants to write a song together, the two of them, about sunshine and warm beaches and martyr complexes the size of the Pacific, and then goads the elder into doing a shot with him under the guise of Aussie pride and sheer love. 

He shows everyone Hyunjin’s painting; he makes sure all of the members ooh and aah at sufficient levels of appreciation (which, in Felix’s opinion, is a lot), and they do, because Hyunjin oozes talent from every pore. 

The sun is halfway to set, and the garden is lit by twinkling fairy lights and the soft shimmer of Felix’s wings. Felix is a little tipsy, a lot loved, and a vaguely confusing mix of nostalgic and wistful. 

“I can’t believe it’s over already,” Felix says softly. Hyunjin hooks his chin over Felix’s shoulder. 

“What do you mean?” Jisung asks. 

Felix tilts his head up towards the last sliver of the setting sun. 

“Only a few months ago, I was scared about the comeback. I was worried I’d gained too much weight before the LV show. I was anxious about my back. But I think what I was most afraid of was you all finding out that I wasn’t endlessly positive.” 

No one interrupts him, but his words cause a shifting in the group, everyone sitting up a little taller. Hyunjin maneuvers Felix out of his lap to watch him speak with more attentiveness. 

Felix clears his throat. 

“I love being your Sunshine. I love taking care of all of you. I think somewhere along the way, though, I started to believe that, if I got sad or angry or anything other than happy, I’d be letting you all down.” 

“Bbokie, that’s not true, though,” Minho frowns. Felix smiles, a bit sadly. 

“I know. I’ve talked about it a lot in therapy. I’ve talked about it with you guys. But when I think about everything that happened after the car crash, I feel like an idiot. I wasn’t sunshine at all. I was a black hole. But …” 

Felix looks at each one of them. 

“But … but you were all willing to do anything to help keep me safe. No, not even just safe - happy. It feels silly, now, to think about the fact that I was keeping all of those fears locked up so tightly when I could have just talked to you. Any of you. And none of you ever left. You never stopped believing in me. You never let me be alone. Even when I was a nightmare to be around, or when I was closed off, or when I was hissing at you like a feral cat.” 

“See?” Jeongin grins, but it’s so soft that Felix wants to cry. “A baby kitten.” 

“Technically, baby kitten is redundant, kitten already implies baby-”

“Minnie, I’ll kill you-” 

“Of course we’d never leave you behind,” Chan ignores the two youngest. His eyes are definitely misty. “None of us leave anyone behind. That’s our deal.” 

“Well, thank you,” Felix says softly. His cheeks feel warm, his chest achingly full, his wings strong. “You’re just … I mean, all of you, you’re…”

“... the air beneath your wings?” Jisung says with a small smirk. 

Everyone groans. Felix laughs and tosses a soju cap at him. 

“Shut up, I’m trying to be sweet, not cheesy.” 

“Sweet is kind of your only flavor,” Hyunjin points out. He rubs a thumb over Felix’s wings. “Lix, you saw the painting. You don’t stop being our sunshine just because you’re sad. You don’t stop being our Angel just because you’re scared, or having a bad day. Fuck, Lix, you had a lot of really bad days, but it’ll never even come close to touching how much we love you.” 

Minho settles on Felix’s other side. “You did it, Bbokie.” 

“We did it,” Felix whispers. Minho smiles, and a tear slips over his cheek at the motion. 

“We did it. Jung is never seeing the light of day again. The Bureau is toast, and so are the Hunters. Are we going to go through bad days again? Of course. But think of it this way – we made it through this. We can make it through anything.” 

Chan stands next to wrap his arms around Felix’s right. And then they’re all moving, all surrounding him and each other in a hug that is more of a pile; and someone is sniffling, and maybe it’s Felix or Jisung or Changbin; and Hyunjin is pressing a feather-light kiss on the back of his head, and Seungmin is squeezing his hand and Jeongin is trying very hard to look like he’s not on the verge of tears and Minho is giving him that same soft, Minho-hyung smile that’s reserved for Felix alone. 

And Felix’s back doesn’t hurt; his heart isn’t strangled beneath fraying golden threads and his shoulders don’t ache with mountains of self-imposed expectations, of truths unsaid. 

Felix is home, and he’s safe, and even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be alone in that. 

“I love you,” he says softly. 

“We love you too, Angel,” Hyunjin whispers. 

“Hey Lix?” Seungmin whispers loudly. “Can you use your magical angel pout to get Chan-hyung to buy us ice cream?” 

(Chan tackles Seungmin to the ground. He still buys them the ice cream, though. It tastes better than anything Felix has ever had before.)