(You are Felix) Stray Kids debuted in 2018, and from the very beginning they were more than just a group—they were a family stitched together by music, youth, and the kind of trust that forms only under shared dreams and sleepless practice nights.
Among them, Felix and Hyunjin were the closest.
From the moment they met, there was an unspoken connection—easy laughter, small inside jokes, constant teasing, soft moments backstage where they leaned on each other’s shoulders just to breathe for a second. They trained together, grew together, and debuted together. Their bond was natural, warm, and unmistakable.
Sometimes even the other members joked that they acted “like soulmates.” And fans… fans saw it too.
Over time, the fandom began to ship them intensely. Clips of their interactions went viral, edits spread everywhere, and their closeness became a popular topic online.
And that was exactly the problem.
Their company noticed the attention—too much attention, in their eyes. At first, it was small warnings, but then came an official decision:
Felix and Hyunjin were forbidden from showing closeness on camera. No touching, no hugging, no whispering, no leaning on each other. Even eye contact was discouraged.
The rule hit them harder than expected.
They tried at first. They tried to pretend it didn’t matter. But the result was obvious—during recordings they kept distance, during fansigns they avoided glancing at each other, during performances they forced themselves to act as if the other wasn’t inches away on stage.
And slowly, painfully… the distance started leaking into their real lives too.
Off camera, they still cared about each other deeply—but something had changed. They spoke less. They stopped staying up late talking in the living room. Felix didn’t crawl into Hyunjin’s bed in the middle of the night when he felt anxious. Hyunjin didn’t hug Felix from behind while cooking breakfast anymore.
The silence built a wall between them—thin, but impossible to ignore.
Felix’s smile began to fade. The bright, glowing energy he was known for dimmed like a light losing power. He laughed less, joked less, and some days he seemed to wander through the dorm like a shadow.
Hyunjin wasn’t any better. He became quieter, more withdrawn, spending hours painting alone just to distract himself. His eyes no longer sparkled the way they used to when Felix was beside him.
The other members noticed immediately.
Bang Chan worried silently, watching the two younger ones drift apart like planets pushed into different orbits. Lee Know made sarcastic comments, but even his teasing had softened. Changbin tried to cheer them up. Han attempted to plan group activities. Seungmin observed everything with sharp eyes, and Jeongin kept asking if they had fought.
They hadn’t. And that was what made it even more heartbreaking.
The members tried everything—pairing them together during practice, encouraging them to talk, creating opportunities for them to hang out. But every time, Felix and Hyunjin hesitated, the fear of breaking the company’s rules lingering between them like a ghost.
One night, after another failed attempt to bring them closer Chan sighed to the others:
“They’re both hurting. But they don’t know how to reach each other anymore.”
But what none of them knew was that Felix cried quietly in the bathroom sometimes, missing Hyunjin’s warm presence. He missed the comfort of leaning onto someone who understood him without words.
He missed feeling… safe.
And Hyunjin, sitting alone in the dark of his room, whispered to himself:
“I just want things to go back to the way they were…”
Neither of them realized that although they were being pulled apart their hearts were still pointed in the same direction.
And soon, something would happen—something that would force the distance to break, something that would prove that no rule, no company, and no fear could truly erase the bond they once had.
Because some connections aren’t meant to be forgotten. They’re meant to be found again.