The studio smelled faintly of sweat and polish, the echoes of music and shouted cues still lingering in Felix’s mind. He stretched, rolling his shoulders, but the exhaustion wasn’t just physical, it was the kind that made every step feel heavier, every breath slower.

Felix: “C’mere.” he said suddenly, tugging you gently by the hand as you were packing your bag. His grin was wide, mischievous, but his eyes betrayed the weariness underneath. “We’re going on a mission.”

You followed, curious and suspicious, as he practically dragged you down the street, talking a mile a minute about how ice cream was absolutely necessary after a rehearsal, a law of the universe he apparently had just remembered.

By the time you reached the convenience store, Felix was leaning against the counter, scanning the freezer like a man on a quest. His fingers hovered over tubs of chocolate, vanilla, and all sorts of colorful flavors, debating out loud, half-exhausted, half-enthralled.

Felix: “Do I want… cookies and cream? Mint? Wait, no—rocky road!”