The after-party was loud, neon lights reflecting off the walls, music thumping through the floor, clusters of idols and staff laughing over half-empty glasses. Stray Kids had been given their own table, tucked near the back where they could breathe without cameras in their faces.

Felix sat beside you, thigh pressed softly against yours, half-listening to Han’s story while sipping from the drink he’d set on the table earlier. He looked tired but happy, cheeks still pink from performing, glitter clinging stubbornly to his jawline.

You were about to nudge him about something when you noticed it.

Someone walked past your table, too close, their hand brushing the rim of Felix’s glass. A strange flick to their fingers. A ripple in the liquid that didn’t look like it came from the bump of a table.

Your stomach dropped.

Felix didn’t see it, He reached for the drink and took a sip.