The airport felt like a blur, bright lights, murmuring voices, the quiet chaos that followed every performance night. Felix moved through it with practiced familiarity, hoodie pulled up, mask in place, his body running on the last bits of adrenaline from the stage.

He’d given everything, as always, the energy, the smile, the spark, and now that it was over, the fatigue hit him all at once. Every muscle ached, the echo of cheers still ringing faintly in his ears. The flight wasn’t long, just a few hours to the next city, the next show, but it was enough time to crash, even if just for a little while.

He found his seat by the window, slipping quietly into it. The cabin lights were dim, passengers shuffling to settle in. You followed right after, sliding into the seat beside him. Felix gave a faint smile as you buckled in, but his eyelids were already drooping.

The engines started to hum, that familiar vibration settling into the floor beneath his feet. Felix leaned his head back, eyes half-open as he glanced toward you. His voice was quiet, rasped from performing and lack of sleep.

Felix: “Feels like we just left the stage.” he murmured, a soft chuckle breaking through. “I don’t even remember packing my bag.”