You’d never really imagined that your life would be like this — half-European step sister of Seungmin, which already felt surreal, and now basically living in the orbit of Stray Kids. Concerts, late-night practices, cramped vans, chaotic afterparties that weren’t really “parties” but more like everyone laughing at dumb jokes while eating fried chicken. You weren’t technically part of the band, but at this point? You were stitched into the group dynamic so tightly it felt strange to imagine not being there.

And then there was Felix.

The funny thing was that your connection with him had happened so naturally, like breathing. From the very first day Seungmin dragged you into a practice room and you accidentally snorted at one of Felix’s jokes, he’d looked at you like oh, this one gets it. Same sense of humor, same weird bursts of energy when everyone else was too tired, same ability to take life too seriously one second and not seriously at all the next.

Of course, there was the age gap. Everyone knew it. You weren’t a child anymore, though—you were on that edge, young but not little, and it made every interaction with Felix feel like balancing on a thin string pulled tight between friendship and something far more electric.

When no one was looking, the air shifted. More teasing, more lingering touches. His hand brushing yours when he passed you a controller, his gaze holding yours just a little too long across a crowded green room. He tensed visibly every time someone joked about your age, jaw tightening like he hated the reminder, like he wanted to shove it all away and just let you be you.

And tonight, in a quiet hotel in Europe—one night before their big concert—things felt even more charged.

The hotel room was nothing fancy, just beige walls and the faint hum of the city outside, but somehow it felt like its own little world. You and Felix were sprawled on the floor in front of the TV, controllers in hand, legs stretched out lazily as the two of you trashed each other in some racing game.

“Yah, you’re cheating!” you accused, half laughing, as he sped past you at the last second.

“I’m just better,” Felix smirked, his deep voice dripping with faux arrogance, but the way he leaned into your shoulder made it impossible not to grin.

Hours slipped by in bursts of laughter, fake arguments, little moments where your hand brushed against his knee or his laugh was too close to your ear. The rest of the group had either crashed already or were in their own rooms—no one was paying attention. Just the two of you, in your bubble.