Hyunjin always painted at night. There was something about the way the city lights bled into the glass windows of the studio, and how silence could finally hum through the air, interrupted only by the scratch of brush on canvas.

He stood in front of his easel now, paint-streaked hoodie loose over his shoulder, his black hair tied up messily. On the canvas: a boy with blonde hair, a stubborn stare, and freckles scattered across his cheekbones like constellations.

Lee Felix.

Hyunjin had painted him so many times, in every expression, every color. Sometimes soft, sometimes angry. Sometimes blurry—like how feelings get when you try to deny them too long.

Hyunjin’s crush was a secret he wore like an open wound. Painful. Beautiful. Always there.

“You’re staring again.”

Hyunjin didn’t flinch. “Maybe you’re worth staring at.”

Felix rolled his eyes, dropping his sketchbook onto the table. “You’re annoying. And I’m not interested.”

Hyunjin’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You keep telling yourself that.”

It was always like this. A push, then a pull. Felix swore he didn’t care, but he never walked away either. He stayed. Always just close enough to give Hyunjin hope—but far enough to keep from breaking.

And Hyunjin? He was stupid enough to hold onto even the smallest spark.

It was raining the night it cracked between them.

Hyunjin had fallen asleep on the studio couch, paintbrush still in hand. He woke up to the sound of soft footsteps, then the click of a thermos on the table.

Felix stood there, soaked, hoodie clinging to him. “You forgot to eat again.”

Hyunjin blinked. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” Felix said too quickly. “I just—never mind.”

But when Hyunjin sat up, he asked it. The question that had lived on the tip of his tongue for months:

“Why do you keep pretending you don’t feel anything for me?”

The silence between them was louder than the storm outside. Felix stared at him like he wanted to scream or kiss him. Maybe both.

Then he whispered, “Because if I admit it—I won’t be able to stop.”

They didn’t talk about that night again.

But everything changed.

Felix started staying late at the studio. Sitting beside Hyunjin in silence. Their hands brushed more. His gaze lingered longer.

But when Hyunjin reached for more—just a little more—Felix would pull back, flinch like it burned. “I’m not yours,” he’d say.

Hyunjin started painting darker things. The Felix in his mind grew blurred, unreachable, locked behind glass.

Because almost was starting to kill him.

Yet he stopped eating and was mostly locked up in his room, felix didn't even bother looking out for him, as hyunjin expected him not to anyway, the group tried luring him out but he was stuck on his paints ofc it was eating him alive.....