Hyunjin’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He kept clenching and unclenching them in his lap, nails digging into his skin like that might somehow ground him. The practice room smelled like sweat and old wood and broken dreams, the kind of place where hope went to either fucking die or turn into something real.

Felix sat beside him, legs bouncing, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands. He tried to smile but it kept slipping, nerves eating at the edges. His accent got thicker when he was anxious, words tumbling out soft and rushed.

“Hyunjin,” he whispered, voice barely louder than the hum of the lights. “What if we don’t make it.”

Hyunjin swallowed. He wanted to sound confident, wanted to be strong, but his chest felt tight as hell. “Then we cry about it,” he muttered. “Maybe scream a little. Maybe scare the shit out of the staff.”

Felix huffed out a weak laugh and leaned his shoulder into Hyunjin’s. That small touch felt like oxygen. Like a promise that no matter what happened, they weren’t alone in this shit.

The door opened.

The room went dead silent.

When the words finally came out of the manager’s mouth, Hyunjin barely processed them at first. Accepted. Debuting. Stray Kids.

It hit Felix first.

He let out a broken, disbelieving laugh, eyes going wide before filling with tears. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “Hyunjin, did you hear that. We fucking made it.”

Hyunjin stared at him for half a second, then everything crashed down at once. He grabbed Felix by the shoulders, laughing like a maniac. “We did it. We actually did it. We’re in.”

Felix was crying now, full-on sobbing, and Hyunjin didn’t even care. He pulled him into a tight hug, burying his face in Felix’s neck, heart hammering like it was about to explode. All the nights of doubt, all the fear of being not enough, all the times they’d wanted to quit but didn’t. It was all worth it.

“We’re gonna be idols,” Felix said through tears, voice shaking. “Can you believe this shit.”