The hallway was quiet when Felix arrived, the kind of stillness that came late at night when the city outside finally decided to rest.

He shifted the small paper bag in his hands, snacks, a drink, a few of your favorite things, and smiled softly to himself. He hadn’t told you he was coming. The group had been given an unexpected break, and without a second thought, he’d decided to see you. He missed you. Simple as that.

He unlocked the door with the spare key you’d given him months ago, stepping inside quietly. The apartment was dim, lit only by the faint glow from the TV playing something low and muted. He slipped off his shoes, careful not to make noise, and looked around.

Then he saw you.

You were curled up on the couch, a blanket half-draped over you, one arm tucked under your cheek. The TV light flickered gently across your face, catching the soft rise and fall of your breathing. A small smile tugged at his lips immediately, the kind that showed up when something felt too pure, too peaceful to disturb.

Felix: “Aigoo…” he whispered, that low, honeyed tone laced with affection. “You waited for me, didn’t you?”