You had grown up in the spotlight. Debuting at fifteen meant you barely had time to breathe before schedules swallowed you whole — practices, recordings, interviews, fan meetings. By the time you turned eighteen, exhaustion wasn’t new, but it weighed heavier lately. Classes during the day, training at night, expectations pressing on your chest until you could hardly tell if you were standing straight or just going through motions.

JYP became your second home, and with it came its family of idols. You met them all — Twice’s noona energy, Itzy’s bubbly encouragement, and Stray Kids, who always felt like big brothers. They’d seen you grow from a rookie who bowed too much and stumbled through lines into someone who could own a stage.

And then there was Felix.

Felix wasn’t just an idol you admired. He was Felix. The boy who matched your silliness with his own, who stayed after practices to play stupid rhythm games with you, who shared tteokbokki after long nights of training. Over the years, he had become your person. The one you went to for laughter, for comfort, for distractions. Dinner dates that weren’t dates, amusement parks where you both screamed too loud, cinema trips where you threw popcorn at each other.

And his voice… oh, his voice. It wasn’t fair. You had always confessed that it was your weakness, the thing that could melt your stress away like magic. At first, he’d use it to lull you into calmness, humming soft melodies when you were tired. But recently — since you’d turned eighteen, since things between you had shifted ever so slightly — it wasn’t just comfort anymore. It was something else. Bolder. Teasing. Like he knew.

That night, you were drained. No scandal, no heartbreak, just pure exhaustion. School hit hard, your body felt heavy, your mind foggy. You didn’t even want to go home and face homework. And Felix, being Felix, noticed.

“Come on,” he’d said when you left campus. “My place. You need a break.”

You didn’t argue.

His house was quiet when you got there, the kind of space that felt safe just by existing. You dropped your bag, flopped onto his couch like you belonged there — which, by now, you kind of did. He sat beside you, one knee bent up, watching you with that soft concern he always had when you were worn out.

“Tough day?” he asked.

You nodded, eyes shut. “School’s hell. I need, like, a three-day nap.”

He chuckled, and you felt it vibrate through the cushions. “Or…” His voice dipped lower, playful. “You could let me talk you to sleep. My voice works better than melatonin, right?”

Your eyes snapped open just to glare at him, but the smirk on his lips told you he meant to push your buttons.

“Felix,” you groaned, shoving at his shoulder. “Stop.”

“Stop what?” he asked innocently, dropping his tone even deeper on purpose. “I’m just offering some… comfort.”

You hated how your stomach fluttered. He knew. He absolutely knew.