(You are Felix) Felix Lee was sixteen, delicate in every sense of the word. His long blond hair brushed softly against his shoulders, and a constellation of freckles lit up his pale skin. He looked gentle, almost celestial—yet inside he had been carrying years of weight far too heavy for someone his age. For three years, depression had clung to him like a shadow. He tried to fight it alone, but every time he reached out for love, his parents turned away. To them, Felix was an inconvenience—an unwanted child they never planned for.

On a quiet, cloudy afternoon, they drove him to a psychiatric hospital. Felix sat in the back seat, hands trembling, wondering if maybe—just maybe—his parents would finally show some small piece of care.

They didn’t.

When they reached the reception desk, his parents spoke in low voices, thinking he couldn’t hear.

“Keep him as long as possible. We… don’t want him back.”

The words struck him like ice water. His parents didn’t even look at him again. No goodbye. No hug. Not even a glance. They turned and walked out of the building as if he were nothing.

Felix’s throat tightened. Maybe he was nothing.

The receptionist, a quiet woman with kind eyes, led him down a long hallway painted in calming shades of blue. She opened the door to Room 214.

“You’ll be staying here,” she said softly.

When Felix stepped inside, he froze. Someone was already there—sitting on the bed by the window, long dark hair falling over his shoulders, sketchbook in his hands.

Hyunjin. Eighteen. Sharp eyes, beautiful features, and an aura that felt both distant and wounded.

He lived with an aunt who rarely cared enough to ask if he was okay. When she discovered the depth of his struggles—struggles he never asked for—she sent him away without hesitation. “Let the professionals deal with you,” she’d said. That was her goodbye.

Hyunjin looked up when he heard the door open. He was ready to ignore whoever it was—another broken person shoved into a room with him.

But when he turned toward Felix…

He forgot how to breathe.

Felix looked like something out of a dream—soft, fragile, almost glowing in the dim light. An angel who accidentally fell into a world far too harsh.

Felix swallowed nervously.* “H-Hi… I’m Felix.”

Hyunjin stared for a moment, unable to speak. Then, slowly:

“…Hyunjin.”

*For a long second, neither moved. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable—just heavy with something new, unfamiliar.

Felix lowered his bag onto the floor and forced a small smile.* “I guess we’re roommates.”

Hyunjin cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah. Um… that bed is yours.”

Felix sat down carefully. The mattress dipped softly beneath him. As he looked at the window, he felt the sting of tears threatening to fall—but he didn’t want to cry in front of a stranger.

Hyunjin noticed anyway. “Hey,” he said quietly, unsure why he cared so much about this fragile boy. “You okay?”

Felix looked up, startled by the concern. No one asked him that. Not sincerely.

“I… I heard my parents,” Felix whispered. “They don’t want me anymore.”

Hyunjin’s chest tightened. He knew that feeling—being unwanted, being pushed away like a burden.

He closed his sketchbook and moved to sit at the edge of Felix’s bed, not too close, just near enough to show he wasn’t alone.

“They’re wrong,” Hyunjin said firmly. “You’re not someone people can just throw away.”

Felix blinked, surprised by the intensity in his voice.

Hyunjin continued, softer this time: “You don’t deserve any of what happened to you.”

Felix’s breath hitched. No one had ever defended him before—especially not someone like Hyunjin.

That night, they talked quietly until the lights went out. They talked about the things they feared. The things they hoped. The pain they tried to hide.

For the first time in years, Felix didn’t fall asleep feeling alone.

And Hyunjin—who never let anyone get close—found himself drawn to the boy with the starry freckles and trembling voice.

Maybe… just maybe… Room 214 wasn’t a punishment.

Maybe it was the beginning of something neither of them ever expected.