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aspenwritesstuff · 2 years ago

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I literally get giddy when I see your name pop up in my notifs. 🥺 you always make me feel so happy with the work I’ve produced - and you have since part one of this series and I am S O F T for you, sweetpea.

PROTECTIVE FELIX HAS ME IN A CHOKEHOLD RN. I debated not leaving this part as a cliffhanger solely because I wanted to write him more.

I was literally going through every emotion in the book as I wrote this, I get way too into my character’s heads sometimes. I may or may not have cried writing a few bits of this part out 🥲 (when neither of the boys could go with MC I was like “I’m so sorry you poor baby, but it’s going to get worse” and started to bawl.)

I never used to write slow burns because I always got so impatient with my own stories!! Now that I do, I feel like I get so much more emotionally invested in their individual personalities and quirks. Slow burns truly do bring out the sappy, emotional side of me.

Thank you for always having a kind word and showing love for this story. 😭❤️

Part Five - Bitter

🌹 prev 🌹 masterlist 🌹 next (coming soon)

🌹taglist: open! @drhsthl @propertyoftoru

🌹 permanent taglist: @svintsandghosts

"To Felix, seeing you like this rather than how you usually present yourself was like being offered two slices of cake made up with the same ingredients, simply decorated differently." "He simply couldn’t pick one over the other."

🌹warnings: borderline cheating mention, embarrassing interactions between friends, alcohol (casual mention, though hinted at as a potential coping mechanism), intimidation as abuse (merits is grabbed), verbal abuse/name calling, general angst, unprocessed rage and unresolved trauma, general anxiety

🌹w/c: 7.5k

🌹a/n: Not only have I returned with an update on Prove Me Wrong (and our beloved Sunshine boy), but wowee I was NOT skimping on the heavier topics/angst this go around. I hope that despite it being not as lighthearted of a chapter, that you still enjoy this update. We’ll return to our regularly scheduled sweetness eventually. Promise.

I also couldn’t help but include bestie Jisung more in this chapter because I’ve lowkey been neglecting this lil rascal. xoxo -Aspen

Lee Felix, twenty-three year old bartender with a smile full of sunshine and a heart made of gold, had carried you to bed last night.

And, as expected, your best friend had not shut up about it all morning.

“I was not drooling!” Your squealed, landing a firm smack to Jisung’s arm - though, despite the force with which you’d struck him, his shoulders still shook with laughter.

“You definitely were,” he managed between gasps, his eyes wrinkled shut as he threw his head back, “I can text Felix right now and ask him if his shoulder was wet?”

“Don’t you dare,” you warned, burying your reddened cheeks in your hands.

Jisung hadn’t stopped teasing you about your unexpected slumber - or the subsequent events - from the moment you’d woken up. You groaned as he continued cackling next to you on the couch, tears welling in his eyes from just how funny he’d found the entire situation.

The humor, however, was lost on you as your skin flushed deeper into a concerning shade of crimson.

“Fine, fine,” Jisung said, still grinning from ear to ear as he waved his hands in front of himself, signaling his temporary surrender, “But you were definitely drooling.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, rubbing your heated cheeks in an attempt to urge them back into their former, pre-Jisung fueled embarassment shade.

He chuckled again, winking as he stood up to fill a mug of coffee and leaving you alone on the couch - a frustrated pout on your lips. You sighed as you planted your chin atop your palm, elbow on the armrest, and Felix on your mind.

Had he really carried you up to the apartment as Jisung had claimed? You weren’t sure what all was true of his recollection or how much was simply an exaggeration at your expense. You should probably thank Felix, regardless of how you’d gotten into the apartment, after he’d managed to handle your unconsciousness with a gentleness that never once roused you.

Though you were a bit too ashamed at the prospect of the potentially true, humiliating contents of the latter half of your evening.

It wasn’t too terrible, though - at least, from what you remembered before your little catnap, things had gone well for Felix and Ryujin.

There it was, your opening. The way to reach out without being completely awkward. You pulled out your phone, shooting Felix a quick text to ask if he’d heard from her yet.

As you waited for a response, Jisung returned with a steaming mug of coffee - with an added splash of cream, just as you liked it - holding it out to you carefully with both hands. “Peace offering,” he explained as you took it from him, rolling your eyes as you read the statement on the side.

World’s Okayest Author.

It had been yet another gag gift from Jisung after you’d initially discovered your love for cringey, cheesy statements on ceramic cups.

“You’re lucky I love you, you know that right?” you murmured, raising the slightly-bitter drink to your lips before sipping it slowly.

Jisung beamed, obviously doubting that you’d ever stop loving him at this point, “Yes, I’m so unbelievably lucky my beautiful, smart, clever, best friend who definitely drooled on Felix’s shoulder loves me.”

Coffee got caught in your throat, sending you into a coughing fit as you held the mug out for Jisung to grab. He did quickly, shifting from poking fun to fussing over you in an instant.

“Breathe!” he commanded, his brows shooting up high enough to be obscured by his bangs. He set the mug down on the table in a rush, patting your back as though you were a baby that needed burped.

“Jesus, Ji,” you sputtered, residual throat-clearing interrupting your words as you slammed your fist against your sternum, “Peace offering, my ass.”

“I’m sorry!” he whined, firm taps shifting into gentle circles being rubbed between your shoulders, “It was just right there, I had to!”

“Had to?” you croaked, swallowing hard to soothe the sudden scratchiness your choking episode has caused.

“C’mon, sweets,” he pleaded, “If I were the butt of these jokes you’d still be laughing.”

You hated just how true, and just how fair his statement was.

With a disapproving shake of your head, you let out a long sigh in lieu of an answer. Jisung simply grinned before singsonging out a satisfied, “I knew it,” placing the mug back into your hands and ignoring the daggers you shot his way.

You shook your head, saved from admitting defeat by the chime of your phone. You picked it up with one hand, the other holding your mug to your lips as you took a long sip and relished in the way it soothed the irritation from your near-suffocation.

Felix☀️: yeah, she messaged me to ask if i’d gotten home alright!

Felix☀️: i told her i did and then we said goodnight.

Felix☀️: wait…should i have done that? did i mess that up?

You couldn’t help the affectionate laugh that escaped your lips, Felix’s doe-eyed expression of panic materializing so vividly in your mind that you barely even noticed Jisung announcing he’d be right back.

You shot him a small wave, still smiling as you replied quickly to the messages, hoping to avert the crisis that was a spiraling Lee Felix.

You: Felix, deep breath. It’s fine, goodnight is definitely not dealbreaker.

The three dots appearing and disappearing as the spirited boy second, third, and fourth guessed himself had become something of a signature in your conversations - evoking a certain fondness - completely certain he was chewing his lip and running his hand repeatedly through his fluffy, blonde locks. You: Whatever it is, you can just say it Felix.

The dots disappeared one final time, before waving along for a solid thirty seconds. You felt your shoulders sink as you read his words, feeling every shred of your dignity evacuate your being.

Felix☀️: did you sleep alright?

Felix☀️: sounded like a rough dream for a bit there

Felix☀️: I stuck around until I thought you were settled, but i was pretty worried

Your heart dropped in your chest, a surge of guilt mostly to blame, though gratitude was taking the small remainder of that accountability. You: You didn’t have to do that, Felix.

You: But, thank you. I’m okay, sometimes my subconscious just…hurts.

Explaining these recurring dreams to Felix was harder than you’d have imagined. He was so gentle and soft - radiating joy and peace. You didn’t want to dim his shine, especially not as he basked in the glow of Ryujin contacting him.

Felix☀️: you sure?

Felix☀️: you can talk to me if you want to

Felix☀️: but no pressure!!!

The small smile that seemed to accompany conversations with Felix crept back onto your face, pushing the anxiety over explaining yourself far into the background. His messages were so…him. Prone to rambling, yet thoughtful and well-meaning with every tangent he went off on. If only he knew that you were the one feeling nervous about how you were affecting him this time around.

You: I’m really okay, but…noted, thank you.

Not even in the furthest recesses of your imagination would you have figured Felix for the intuitive type, his bumbling nature giving off much more of a clueless vibe than one capable of such inferences.

Yet, here you were, so shell-shocked you nearly dropped your phone - and your coffee - before you’d gathered yourself enough to even attempt to formulate a reply.

Felix☀️: does it involve how you feel about love?

Attempt had been the key word in your mental monologue, seeing as your fingers flew across the keys in the most avoidant, juvenile way imaginable.

You: I don’t wanna talk about it.

Less than a second later, Felix had responded. You could picture him staring at his phone, overthinking the fact that he sent a message so personal. Realizing the troubled thoughts he must’ve been having made you feel a bit ashamed of your own terseness.

Felix☀️: that feels like an answer

Felix☀️: but i won’t push, okay?

Felix☀️: just know i AM here for you, if you ever change your mind

The fact that he still managed to be so understanding, so comforting so…Felix about it all, only served to make the way you’d answered him feel even more shameful.

You: Thank you.

It was all you could think of to reply with, setting your phone beside you before leaning your head back against the couch - staring up at the ceiling blankly. You couldn’t stop cursing yourself internally, wishing you’d met Felix’s softness with something a bit less abrasive.

At least he didn’t seem too terribly torn up over it - you seemed to have that covered on your own at this point, anyways.

Right on cue, with true chaotic-best-friend energy, Jisung barged back into the apartment, his face pale as he held a bright-blue flier in his hand. “Ji?” you asked, sitting upright on the couch to search his eyes for anything that could explain his offputting silence.

He stepped forward, blinking rapidly before handing you the innocuous paper, barely managing to whisper, “Honey, I’m so sorry, I completely forgot…”

“What are you talking about, Ji?” you asked, keeping a nervous smile plastered on your face as if it would change whatever he was going on about into something unworthy of his atypical quietness.

You flipped it over, bold black text sending an immediate chill down your spine.

Bi-Annual Author’s Gala.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as you looked up at Jisung with genuine fear in your eyes, his own expression softening into worry - it was probably best that only one of you were in crisis at a time, and you definitely took precedence when it came to this particular event.

As the name stated, the Bi-Annual Author’s Gala was a party hosted by popular publishers all around the region once every two years - serving both as a social mixer and an award ceremony for authors from all different publishing houses.

And it was tonight.

This, on its own, wasn’t much cause for concern. You were, in fact, an author and it would be far from your first time in attendance of the Gala. The biggest concern each year was typically finding a dress that suited the occasion in time, or making sure that your makeup wouldn’t photograph poorly should you be given an award.

This year, however, the hurdle you needed to overcome was something you’d never had to face before; attending alone.

You’d attended last year’s event with San.

You’d purchased a plus-one ticket in advance, because you certainly hadn’t predicted San leaving you before the next Gala.

There were going to be two seats saved under your name, and one body to fill them.

“Ji, fuck, you gotta go with me!” you whipped your head up from the flier, ignoring the painful sting that always came along with remembering anything at all about San.

Jisung couldn’t look you in the eye - the surefire tell that he was about to tell you something you really didn’t want to hear.

“Honey, Minho and I are leaving for Jeju in like…two hours, remember?” he spoke in a startlingly soft and serious voice, still unable to meet your eyes, “It’s our first vacation as a couple, I can’t cancel on him…” he chewed his lip, finally sparing you a fleeting moment of eye contact.

You understood, of course, but that didn’t stop your veins from running cold at the prospect of explaining to everyone there why you had two seats, and no plus one.

Understanding did nothing for the fact that you had less than eight hours to find not only an appropriate dress for such an event, but a date who could also dress accordingly. You must have been wearing your dread in every facet of your being, because Jisung was quick to start spouting suggestions.

“Would your publisher let you skip out? Claim any award on your behalf?”

You shook your head, recalling how she’d reacted when you’d tried to call out of a book signing, let alone an actual award ceremony.

“I highly doubt it, Ji. You know how she is…” you trailed off, your lower lip trembling as you took a shaky inhale.

“Oh! Ask Felix, maybe?” he chirped, tilting his head to the side with the first shadow of a smile he’d worn since reappearing with that cursed, blue paper.

That…wasn’t a terrible idea.

You pulled your phone out, typing and retyping your message until your shaky fingers spared you any typos.

You: Hey, what are you doing tonight?

You wondered if Felix would find amusement in knowing you were nervous on the other end of the phone, just as his through-text stammering tickled your funny bone. Such thoughts were quickly cut short as your heart leapt into your throat.

You finally understood what people meant when they’d complain about how nervous appearing and disappearing typing cues made them.

Felix☀️: was gonna go out for some drinks with ryujin

Felix☀️: why? is everything okay?

You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to convince yourself that encroaching on his first actual outing with - as he oftentimes called her - the love of his life was acceptable. That your personal emergency outweighed the potential of his happiness.

The thought itself felt like poison, making you nauseated at the fact you’d even considered it. It felt almost as wrong to lie to Felix, but it was for the future of the relationship you’d promised to help him secure.

You were sure that, should he ever find out the truth, he’d forgive you. Felix was certainly the type to brush something like this off if he knew your heart was in the right place.

You: Yeah, all good. Have fun, be yourself. Tell me all about it later?

You sighed as you tucked your phone back into your pocket, looking up at Jisung’s expectant eyes before shaking your head. His expression fell instantly back into one of guilt and concern. The way his jaw clenched showed you that he was wracking his brain for any other possibility.

You didn’t need him to say a word to know that he was likely out of ideas.

There was no ill will towards Jisung, just as there was none towards Felix. Plans with someone you loved were important to those who still believed in it’s magic, after all. The only bitterness your heart held was towards San, and towards love itself.

None of this would be a problem if you simply had never loved San in the first place.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Jisung asked, reaching out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder.

Your best attempt at a smile likely appeared more tight-lipped and forced than reassuring, though you did your best to come across as much more composed than you felt.

“Yeah, I’ll survive, Ji,” you nearly whispered, nodding your head before lightheartedly pushing him away, “Now, go pack. I don’t want Minho to blame me if you’re late for your departure, yeah?”

Jisung nodded, giving a half-hearted grin at your attempt to diffuse the tension, “Okay, sweets. Send me outfit photos? I can at least help with that.”

With that, Jisung leaned forward and pecked the top of your head affectionately, casting a melancholy glance over his shoulder before leaving you alone in the apartment.

All there was to do now was tear apart your closet, put on your makeup, and try not to cry.

You were only confident in the first two.

Time was of the essence, so exhausting your wardrobe was the only option in order to find suitable attire for the Gala. It would be so much easier to head to one of the boutiques uptown, allowing one of the overly helpful employees there to play dress-up-author-Barbie with you.

But you only had two hours, and couldn’t risk being late and alone.

So, you’d spent ten minutes pulling every article of clothing resembling formalwear from the closet, spreading them out on your bed before snapping photos to send to Jisung for approval.

You sat at your vanity, pulling your hair back from your face to apply a thin layer of foundation and a generous layer of bronzer to your cheekbones, a necessary effort to combat the washout due to cameras flashing. A bit of a dusty-rose blush, simple flicked eyeliner, and a shock of red lipstick topped off the entire look.

You had to admit, you looked at least ten times more put together than you felt.

The chiming of your phone brought you to your feet, nearly jumping across the room to check what you had rightfully assumed was Jisung’s verdict.

Dumb Squirrel: honey, are you serious?

Dumb Squirrel: that pretty black dress and you considered other options?

Dumb Squirrel: I taught you better than that???

You rolled your eyes, not quite appreciating his humor as much as you would whilst under such immense levels of stress.

You: Unprovoked???

Dumb Squirrel: Minho wants to see your makeup before he agrees with me.

You snapped a quick photo, trying your best to put on a pleasant expression despite how pointless it felt to waste time with selfies, but you knew better than to argue with Jisung after asking him for advice.

Dumb Squirrel: first of all, i am offended

Dumb Squirrel: you hide this bad bitch in pajamas every time we hangout

Dumb Squrrel: rude

You groaned, brows furrowing as you replied to him quickly. You: Help me now, compliment me later.

Dumb Squirrel: yeesh, grouchy.

Dumb Squirrel: i get it though, so i forgive you

Dumb Squirrel: Minho said, quote, “black dress, match some heels. sleek, sexy and professional”

Dumb Squirrel: he also insists that i apologize because “this isn’t a time to joke” and to inform you he called me an idiot on your behalf

For the first time since your seemingly endless panic, the ghost of a true smile appeared on your face. You had always known there was a reason you approved of Minho outside of Jisung’s happiness. You: Thanks, both of you. Gotta finish up now, message you when I arrive?

Dumb Squirrel: you got it sweets. good luck!

You set your phone down on the vanity, picking up the elegant black number from your bed. It was a simple dress, enough to look dressed up without overdoing it. The sleeves were full length, clinging tightly to your arms despite exposing both of your shoulders. The neckline was modest, resting in a slight curve against your sternum, the skirt floor length - flaring out just enough to flow - with a slit up to your mid thigh.

After slipping it on and struggling with the zipper alone, your reflection told you that Ji and Minho had been absolutely correct in their recommendation - your resolve only solidifying as you took Minho’s advice about a pair of black pumps. A few pieces of dainty silver jewelry, and an understated black clutch were all that was required to give you an air of poise that - until now - you weren’t sure you were actually capable of.

You’d have no idea this was a last-minute effort if you weren’t, well, you.

Sitting down once more at the vanity, slipping your phone into the clutch, you twirled a piece of hair around your fingertip. You didn’t have the time to do anything fancy, but knew that your unstyled hair would definitely not blend in with the aura of sophistication you’d managed to exude with everything else adorning your body.

The time restriction may have turned out to be a good thing, you thought to yourself. Straightened hair pulled back into a high, tight ponytail tied the whole look together in a way that you were sure Jisung would gush about for weeks after seeing the photos from the event.

Date or not, you looked absolutely fantastic - and you knew it. That confidence exuded from your features, even when you’d simply gaze blankly into the mirror. It was that same overwhelming aura one would get watching perfume commercials; despite how disinterested the actress may appear, your attention was always pulled for at least a moment.

You gave yourself one last glance, spritzing on a light perfume before making your way to the door. You’d had the sense to call a cab in advance, thanking whatever deity may have been watching over you as you spotted it pulling up from halfway down the stairs.

Another quick prayer of gratitude as the interior of the cab didn’t smell horrible, though this was likely due to the extra fee you’d paid to have a nicer, newer model pick you up.

The driver politely greeted you, nodding as you prattled off the address quickly. He seemed to be a man of few words, yet another thing you could only accredit to a guardian angel or impossible luck.

The ride was rather uneventful, save for the occasional bit of traffic at stoplights, and you’d managed to arrive at the venue with five minutes to spare. You snapped a quick photo outside of the venue, sending it to Jisung so he’d know you’d made it safely.

You: Made it to the Gala safe and sound. Now to make it through the evening without needing to explain the lack of date…pray for me. Talk later?

You shut your phone off then, not wanting to risk it going off during any announcements for the awards, slipping it back into your clutch to avoid the temptation to distract yourself with messages or social media.

Your publicist spotted you from the entrance, waving her arm above her head to draw your attention. You stepped towards her, plastering on your best smile as you greeted her warmly. “Nari, good to see you,” you spoke softly, ghosting your lips above her cheeks rather than actually greeting her properly - the alternative being to stain her makeup red.

“Am I ever glad to see you,” she sighed, audibly relieved as she returned the gesture, “I hadn’t heard from you all day and had honestly begun to worry you’d forgotten.”

“I would never,” you lied, turning your head as your name was called by one of the photographers.

You let the corners of your lips raise as you parted your lips, the look Nari had taught you under the name pleasantly surprised to be photographed. It sounded dumb when she’d first told you about it - though the shots, and how gentle and candid you ended up looking in them, quickly won you over to her side.

“You came alone?” Nari asked quietly, speaking through her teeth behind her own gentle smile. “Mhm,” you hummed softly, turning towards a different photographer to allow them all the shots they wanted. It wasn’t as it would be as an actress or musician - there weren’t really paparazzi to speak of. This was more…documentation for online profiles, potential headshots for book covers, and coverage for the sake of equal representation amongst the arts.

Despite your hopes that Nari would leave the topic alone, it seemed you’d used up your luck reserves for the day.

“Didn’t you book a plus one?” she mumbled haphazardly, trying to keep her expression calm as she wondered how, as your publicist, she’d explain away the empty seat.

“Two years ago, yes,” you reminded her, hoping your discomfort wouldn’t be apparent in any of the photos.

“You couldn’t have canceled?” she asked, sounding more and more urgent despite speaking through a closed jaw.

“Didn’t cross my mind,” you dodged, allowing your face to shift from pleasant to neutral as the photographers gathered around the next author to arrive, “Is it really that big of a deal?”

Nari sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose as she shook her head, “In general, no. As your publicist, yes.”

You frowned, turning your body to face her. You did your best to hide your displeasure - it was embarrassing enough for you without Nari reminding you that she’d have to field questions about your dateless award show from fans of your books.

“Nari, I really don’t see what the problem is, people show up to events without an escort all the –”

You were cut off by a blossoming smile on Nari’s face, visible relief in her eyes as she stared behind you.

“That wasn’t funny, you really had me going,” she scolded, glancing at you only momentarily before allowing her focus to return somewhere behind your shoulder. “Nari, what are you talking about? I meant it when I said I came –” you were cut off by an all too familiar throat clearing behind you.

“-- alone…” you trailed off, the hair on the back of your neck slowly rising as a heavy feeling of dread made itself at home from head to toe - though it seemed to constrict your heart in your chest. “Hey,” a familiar set of sharply angled lips spoke quietly. His jaw - one that you could vaguely recall pressing your lips against once upon a time - clenched awkwardly, the man attached shuffling in place. His sheepish eyes landed upon yours, holding a strong uncertainty that only seemed to increase the contrast with the blatant shock you wore.

You swallowed hard - fight and flight playing the highest-stakes game of chicken you’d ever considered in your mind.

Both of these options felt like a nightmare.

Punching him in front of cameras? Tempting, and Jisung would probably ask you to sign a copy - probably even treat you to a fancy and expensive dinner after bailing you out on an assault charge. Though, as far as PR went, it was a horrible decision - having an angry publicist was never a smart choice.

Running off was just as enticing, the desire to head home without looking back - finishing a bottle of wine alone in a pretty dress - sounded absolutely cathartic. Though, Nari would have to explain your sudden disappearance - which also translated to having an angry publicist. You asked the only question you truly felt like you needed answered in that moment, though you couldn't quite recognize your voice's newfound hollowness as your own.

“San, what the fuck are you doing here?”

Lee Felix was not the type to check his phone on a date. If anything, he was the type to leave it in his truck, devoting the entirety of his attention to the person sitting before him.

That had been his intent this evening - to sit across from Ryujin and finally engage in meaningful conversation. To smile and laugh with her as he filled in the blanks he’d so desperately craved the answer to as he’d crushed from afar. To lose himself in her eyes as she spoke about her passions.

Yet, completely out of character, Felix had forgotten to take his phone out of the pocket of his tight slacks. He, of course, had apologized when it interrupted their small talk, quickly silencing the ringer before returning to his previously enraptured state.

Even further from his typical behaviors, Felix’s curiosity about what awaited him beyond his lockscreen had stuck in his mind. So much, in fact, that he couldn’t stop himself from taking a peek at the screen whilst Ryujin was in the restroom.

Confused only slightly covered Felix’s reaction when he opened your text, swallowing hard to prevent his jaw from dropping at the sight of the photo attached;

#1 Love Hater💔: Made it to the Gala safe and sound. Now to make it through the evening without needing to explain the lack of date…pray for me. Talk later?

He was at least 99 percent certain that he wasn’t the intended recipient, yet everything about your message sparked question after question in his mind. What Gala were you referring to? If he were to glean anything from your attire and more-glamorous-than-usual makeup, it was some sort of formal event. Was this why you’d asked him about his plans for tonight? He felt his stomach lurch with guilt at the thought of you alone at something so…so utterly not like the you he knew. So formal and gaudy.

Felix had grown accustomed to seeing you dressed comfortably in oversized sweaters, a messy bun or completely unstyled hair framing your barely-made-up face.

Felix had only ever seen you in casual settings; your apartment, his truck, the food court, and the art studio. You looked beautiful, and Felix could acknowledge and appreciate the effort you’d put into your appearance for whatever this “Gala” was.

He’d always found your features to be pretty, though, even with your face smooshed against the window of his truck as you slept soundly.

To Felix, seeing you like this rather than how you usually present yourself was like being offered two slices of cake made up with the same ingredients, simply decorated differently. He simply couldn’t pick one over the other.

Ryujin still hadn’t returned, allowing his mind to continue questioning every aspect of the message you’d sent. He could only put so many pieces together on his own, though, and found himself increasingly antsy as he wondered how you were holding up - out of your element, and alone.

He’d shot you a quick text, trying to see how you were doing. He couldn’t help but frown as the checkmark stayed faded, not even registering as delivered. Was your phone dead? If it was, how could you call anyone if you needed something? He quickly scrolled his contacts, finding Jisung and typing out a message before he could even consider other options. Felix: what’s the gala?

Ryujin came back out then, giving Felix a brilliant smile that instantly made him wish he’d never seen your message. He was truly happy to have this time with her, finally getting the chance to become more than the guy who makes her drinks, yet here he was - worrying about you.

“Sorry I took so long, there was a line,” she explained before sliding back into her chair, lifting her wine glass to take a small sip.

“No worries,” Felix assured, his typically shining grin dimmed significantly as he tapped his foot subconsciously beneath the table.

If Ryujin noticed a change in his behavior, she didn’t let on, launching right back into where she’d left the discussion.

Though once enamored by every word that left her lips, Felix barely registered Ryujin’s recollection of her previous job as a secretary before moving on to her current position as an executive assistant. He felt his phone buzz against his thigh. Felix was doing his best to nod and smile attentively, despite the way his fingertips were twitching with the desire to pull up his phone and get the answers he craved.

Ryujin finished her story, looking at Felix expectantly as she took another sip of her wine. Shit, did she ask me something?

His palms began to sweat, another buzz against his thigh only serving to worsen the clamminess. He gave his best attempt at a remorseful smile, standing from his seat to give her a slight bow of apology.

“I’m really sorry, I’ll be right back, okay?” His eyes were wide, and it seemed to suddenly register with Ryujin that something was going on with him - that his attention had been elsewhere for the last several minutes. “Oh, yeah,” she said, her kind expression barely faltering as she read the look in his eyes as concern, “Is everything alright?”

“I hope so,” Felix replied with uncertainty, half of his mouth upturning into a crooked smile. Ryujin nodded, seeming to understand fully that this was something important to him - why else would his mood have shifted so suddenly?

Felix bowed again, though this time from gratitude, before hastily walking off in the direction of the outdoor patio. He pulled his phone out so quickly that he’d nearly dropped it, his level of worry causing him to mess up his own lock code not once - but twice.

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): howd you know about the gala?

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): its some fancy writing award thing i think tho?

Felix’s brow furrowed so deeply into his head that there would likely be residual wrinkles for a few minutes after he finally relaxed, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he chewed on the inside of his cheek.

Felix: and she went alone? 🙁 what if she wins?

Felix: accept an award alone? 😭

Felix’s guilt from earlier was on the fast track to evolve into unadulterated shame. He wondered why she’d have kept this from him…sure, he was busy, but her secrecy almost gave him further cause for concern.

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): yeah…i’m on jeju with Minho rn

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): she said you were busy but if you arent?

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): she’d appreciate someone there, i think

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): at least to save her from her publicist’s wrath

Felix sighed hard enough that it could’ve easily been mistaken as a frustrated groan. He was far from being irritated though - uneasy due to his lack of understanding, maybe, but not frustrated.

Felix: why would her publicist hound her?

Felix: was she not supposed to be alone?

Felix’s confusion only grew stronger, every answer to his questions revealing at least two more things he didn’t understand.

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): its not really my place

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): all i can say comfortably is that she’d planned on a plus one

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): and some shit happened

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): emphasis on shit

Felix’s heart sank. On one hand, you hadn’t shared this information with him yourself. If he acted on it, would you be upset with him for prying? Upset with Jisung for sharing? On the other, from what he gathered, tonight might be painful for you - especially if you’d planned on someone special being by your side for it.

Felix: you really think she’d want me there?

Felix decided to double check, despite Jisung’s earlier statement that you’d likely appreciate a friendly face. If anyone would be able to predict your reactions closest to complete accuracy, it would be your best friend.

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): i know she would.

That’s when Felix made arguably the toughest decision of his adult life, stuffing his phone back into his pocket as he reapproached the table - Ryujin’s momentary happiness fading as she recognized the look on his face.

“What’s up?” she asked, trying to remain casual despite the sudden intensity in Felix’s gaze.

“Please forgive me,” he started, though his voice sounded much more resolute than a plea for forgiveness should, “There’s an emergency with one of my friends, I really have to go.”

Ryujin blinked a few times, nodding her head before giving him a sweet smile - disappointment barely visible as she responded calmly, “I understand completely.”

“Rain check?” Felix asked hopefully, pulling his blazer from the back of his chair with a raised brow before slinging it over his arms.

“Of course,” she replied softly, watching as he tossed enough cash for their meal and tips onto the table before handing her a few bills to pay cab fare to get her home.

She blinked at the money in her hand before looking back up at him, her brows creased together. Sure, she hadn’t known Felix long…but his entire demeanor looked different somehow. Gone was the awkward, shy, fumbling man she’d arrived with - in his place stood a man completely sure of himself, confident in his choice to cut their date short in the name of a friend in need.

As she watched Felix race back to his truck, turning the keys in the ignition before he’d even buckled his seatbelt, Ryujin wasn’t quite sure if she was more puzzled or besotted by this brand new side of Lee Felix.

As you stood face to face with San you became certain of two things.

Firstly, he was exactly the same. From the way he parted his hair, to the slight lean to the right in his posture, San had not changed - even a tiny bit. No sign of new fine lines or wrinkles. No difference in the offhanded way he’d addressed you. The only difference, in fact, was a glittering gold band on his left ring finger.

That had led you to your second revelation; any love you had for him was - in fact - gone. The tentative smile he offered you that used effortlessly placate even your largest irritations only served to give you an uncomfortable case of the goosebumps, chilling you to the very core. The way he tilted his head, once something you’d found precious now only infuriated you.

How dare he look at you so calmly after what he’d done? How dare he show up at an event that wasn’t even for him in the first place? How dare he show up with the audacity to escort you wearing a wedding ring after breaking off your engagement to marry the woman who’d likely slid that onto his finger?

How dare he do this in front of your publicist, who now wore a relieved and excited grin on her face at the notion of having the seat next to you filled.

How dare he waltz up to you with absolutely no warning, uttering a casual hey as if you were somehow friends?

How fucking dare he?

Your teeth were clenched following your less-than-amicable question, jaw set in a tensed position as you crossed your arms against your chest.

“Don’t act this way,” he started, his brows knitting together before he pursed his lips.

“I said what the fuck are you doing here?” you hissed, eyes widened with a rage that, until just now, you believed had been abandoned in favor of grief.

“I –” he cut himself off, leaning his head back and closing his eyes as he took a sharp breath in through his nose - the telltale flaring of his nostrils showing just how hard he was working to keep himself gentle, “I was supposed to be your plus one. I’m not so shitty that I’d let you sit alone at the Gala.”

“I beg to differ,” you deadpanned, “You’re exactly that shitty, and nothing would make me happier than if you’d never shown up here.”

San’s jaw clenched as he took in your quiet anger. He’d experienced different sides of you before, but this was new.

You’d had jealous anger before, resulting in tears and long monologues of your insecurities - coating everything you did like a cold drizzle, sinking you into yourself as you’d seek warmth in any way possible.

You’d had explosive anger, too. Raising your voice and refusing to listen to reason, certain that exactly what you believed to be happening was strictly fact - down to every last detail. Like an earthquake, threatening destruction on anything not secured tightly in place.

Now, though? Your face was blank, save for the slightly widened state of your eyes and the hard line your lips had formed. Your words were clear and concise, as if you had been waiting to say these very words to him for your entire life. You sounded sure. You sounded calm.

You were the eye of a hurricane, a single spot of calm amidst the raging sea. Moving in any direction too quickly could plunge him into the chaotic, swirling depths.

“Unfortunately,” you continued on, not once shifting your steely gaze away from his, “It seems that in order to be rid of you, I’d need to do something my publisher will absolutely disapprove of.”

San swallowed hard, “I didn’t come here with the intention to upset you –” his eyes bulged as you laughed - as though his attempt at reassurance was actually the funniest thing you’d ever heard in your life.

“That’s fucking rich, Choi San, considering you’re planning to walk at my side as though you’ve done nothing wrong,” you took a step closer, despite how sick the proximity made you feel, just to ensure that no prying eyes or gossip-hungry ears could pick up on a thing you said.

“You want to come here, to an award ceremony for my profession, wearing the ring given to you by the woman you swore to me I didn’t need to worry about?” you scoffed under your breath, every bit of your body language screaming discomfort and volatility.

You whispered the last sentence, the audacity he had to appear shocked, requiring you to push back against the urge to spit in his face, “But, I guess since you didn’t come here to upset me, it’s all fine I suppose.”

If it hadn’t been for Nari, you’d have definitely caused a bigger scene.

If you didn’t know for a fact that she’d have several choice words, if not threats on your career should you turn San away, you’d have simply called him a cab and told him to get fucking lost.

You had to be escorted by the man who ruined your entire concept of love for the night. There was no other option. You suddenly found yourself wishing you’d simply not been reminded by Jisung about the event earlier, simply missing it and facing Nari’s wrath.

That was better than forcing yourself to pretend to be fine next to San.

If you had to be escorted by the largest reminder of your heartache, you refused to do it with an agreeable demeanor - so you turned away from him suddenly, making a beeline for the outdoor bar, hoping to get a couple of drinks to coax you into spending the evening next to the devil.

You’d expected him to perhaps follow you, at least having the decency to be as close to invisible as he could be in the seat next to you for the evening.

You’d expected him to let you get a drink, maybe to even understand why you wanted to dull your senses around him.

What you hadn’t expected was his sudden, tight grip around your wrist - stopping you in your tracks.

“I showed up for you,” he whispered with accentuated sibilance, a noise more closely associated with a feral cat than a man. His grip tightened on your wrist as his eyes grew wide, “I left my wife home to escort you at this stupid fucking gala,” he spat that bit bitterly, his nose wrinkling with anger, “that I’ve never actually liked attending, just so you don’t feel fucking embarassed, all alone.” San’s voice had morphed into one filled with venom, it’s sole intent to mock you and make you feel small.

“I didn’t fucking ask you to,” you hissed back, ignoring the stinging in your eyes at his words. You didn’t love him anymore, this was true. You didn’t care about his opinion, and that was true, too.

It was also true that he knew you well enough to know exactly where to prod, exactly how to hurt you.

You barely noticed whispers of a few passerby as the two of you exchanged your hushed, turbulent stabs.

You barely noticed the familiar sound of an engine thrumming beneath the hood of a red pickup truck.

His grip grew tighter, making you wince slightly, “You’re so fucking ungrateful,” San continued, running his free hand through his hair - as he’d always done when he’d grown frustrated with you - before shooting his darkened eyes back towards you, “All you’ve ever done is complain about everything I do for you, no matter how fucking much I hated doing it.”

“I didn’t want you here,” you insisted, trying with futility to pull your wrist from the constraint of his fist, “This isn’t for me,” you swallowed the thickness growing in your throat, ignoring the way your voice quivered as you spoke - determined not to break where he could see you, “If this were for me, you’d be gone. In fact, you’d never have shown up here in the first place, San.”

San grew red in the face as he pulled you closer by your wrist, hissing whatever the opposite of sweet nothings were directly into your face, “You stupid, selfish, spoiled little –” he suddenly stopped, his gaze focusing behind you reminding you eerily of the way Nari had spotted him before.

The smell of a summer’s rain and wildflowers flooded your senses, prefacing a warm hand resting against your bare shoulder.

San’s jaw clenched as he glanced at the hand, his eyes slowly making their way up to the face attached.

It was then that a familiar, comforting bass voice met your ears - soothing you despite the intimidating closeness San maintained with you.

You turned your head to confirm your suspicions, relief overpowering the bewilderment you felt seeing the last person you’d expected to show up this evening.

“So sorry I’m late,” he whispered just loud enough for San to hear as well, stepping close enough that he hovered directly over your back.

Felix.

“I’d appreciate if you’d unhand my date." He nearly growled, the look on his face completely foreign to the gentle, fluffy haired boy you'd grown so accustomed to. "Now.”

#propertyoftoru #truly one of the OGs when it comes to PMW #precious reader #you are literally so sweet #prove me wrong feedback

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aspenwritesstuff · 2 years ago

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PSA:

IF YOU LIKE SOMEONE’S WORK, PLEASE REBLOG. PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK. PLEASE DON’T JUST LIKE IT. LIKING DOES NOTHING ON THIS HELLSITE’S ALGORITHM.

I’ve noticed at least three people in the last two days like ALL FIVE PARTS of PMW and not leave a single shred of feedback. If you liked it enough to read the over 20k words it consists of thus far, then I’d like to assume you like it enough to share your thoughts and help it make its way to more readers.

Even if you don’t take the algorithm into account, it’s honestly one of the best feelings as a writer to receive feedback from someone who enjoyed reading something you’ve created. I quite literally have cried happy tears reading people’s reactions to my work.

We, as writers, are providing you with our work FOR FREE. Hours upon hours of writing, plotting out storylines, building the world and characters. When the likes outweigh the reblogs and comments so exponentially, it definitely (at least for me) makes me feel pretty shitty. It makes it seem like people would be embarrassed to have my work seen on their blog.

To those who actively engage with my content and give me feedback: Thank you, so fucking much. You are quite literally the driving force behind me continuing to write. You are doing so much more than just sharing my work, you are motivating me to not give up. You make it worth it, and I adore you.

TLDR: IF YOU ENJOYED SOMEONE’S WORK, DON’T JUST LIKE IT. IT DOES NOTHING FOR THE ALGORITHM AND DISCOURAGES WRITERS.

#aspen’s ramblings #fanfiction #fanfic #please reblog content if you enjoyed it

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aspenwritesstuff · 2 years ago

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Part Three : Clueless

🌹prev🌹masterlist🌹next

🌹taglist: @drhsthl @propertyoftoru

You found yourself wishing you could understand how anyone with even half of a heart could look at Lee Felix and describe the sweeter-than-sugar man as anything close to offputting. Even in your jaded, pessimistic state of being, his smile was an instant surge of serotonin. This woman would be so, so lucky to be the recipient of such pure, selfless love.

🌹warnings: alcohol consumption/drinking, mention of creepy male behavior,

🌹w/c: a lil over 2k, my laptop broke and mobile won’t let me copy and paste the whole thing in one go and I do NOT wanna go paragraph by paragraph. (Translation: author is lazy.)

🌹a/n: hello, lovelies. 🌹 I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too terribly long. Thank you for sticking around and reading the newest part of Prove Me Wrong! It means a lot to have you here.

I’ve made a separate post about my intentions with writing this particular piece, but wanted to include here that I am 100% NOT abandoning this work. I love it dearly, I promise! I will, however, be working on a few of my WIPs that have been heavy in my thoughts lately, so please be patient as I work on multiple fics at a time.

I hope that as I publish more of my stories that they receive just as warm of a welcome as PMW has so far. Every time I get feedback it makes my lil author heart go BA-DUMP so hard, I nearly cry.

You’d held many titles throughout your lifetime; daughter, friend, and author to name a few. Today, however, a new skillset was going to be put to the test.

Matchmaker.

As per your agreement, Felix was to be gently guided through sparking a conversation with the object of his affections - preferably one that took place on the same side of the bar that would consist of more than a refill request.

Felix had seemed skeptical of the plan you’d sent to him after he’d gotten home from the previous night’s pottery painting. It seemed pretty straightforward to you, though you weren’t the one with the crush-induced anxiety surrounding the situation.

Step one was getting Felix to be in the same area, off the clock, in clothes other than his uniform. You figured that would exponentially up the chances that she’d actually take notice of the man desperate for a single crumb of her attention. To get her to stop seeing Lee Felix, twenty-three year old bartender rather than Lee Felix, the man with a contagious smile with a heart - one that he wanted to give to her, at that - full of the warmest sunshine.

It wasn’t that you thought Ryujin was shallow, though. It was admittedly easy, as an intoxicated bar-goer out with friends, to not even register the features of the one preparing your liquor. You of all people could relate to the hazy way they’d be remembered after the night ended. At least this gave you an advantage in knowing how to change the perception.

Thanks, post-breakup alcoholism.

Step two was coaching the well-meaning but admittedly hopeless Felix through a conversation with his crush - preferably a coherent and confident one, but you weren’t going to hold your breath. The poor guy did blush simply from saying her name, after all. You’d told Felix the three keys to a great introduction, pulling directly from the way love interests would often meet in your novels; brevity, humor, and mystery.

He shouldn’t overdo it, no matter how receptive she seems. Felix had tried to argue that he should jump on the opportunity to speak with her, especially after how long he’d waited, but you’d quickly countered. Interest is a fickle beast, easily deterred by a conversation that dragged on for a few minutes too long.

You’d rather her wish you’d said more than wish you’d stopped talking.

After your blunt explanation, he was quick to change his tune - even going as far as earnestly calling himself your humble student. Which then brought you to the second rule of introductions - humor.

You wanna be funny, not creepy. No pickup lines, no matter how clever or cute you think they are.

He’d replied quickly with near instantaneous contradiction of his self imposed title.

None? 😢 Not even if it’s really cute?

You’d smiled then, picturing the pout on his gentle face as he mourned the loss of what you assumed he’d considered treasured flirtations.

Absolutely not.

The telltale dots of what likely was an argument appeared for only a second, vanishing as soon as they’d arrived - almost like a signal of Felix’s acceptance of the rule.

You are a man whose name she doesn’t know approaching her in a bar. Save the cheesy lines until she’s comfortable.

He understood then, shamelessly admitting that you had a fantastic point that he - of course - hadn’t considered. It wasn’t anything to be criticized for. It was simply just his innate privilege as a man to not have that incessant fight-or-flight response when approached by someone of the opposite sex.

After a far-too-complicated discussion, Felix had agreed to give exchanging his cheesy, over the top humor for subtlety a shot. It was bordering on adorable, the way that he clung to each word of advice you offered. He’d thanked you at least twenty times for your wisdom, and you hadn’t even gotten to the final rule yet.

When it came to mystery, you had made it abundantly clear that there was a vast difference between dishonesty and leaving someone guessing.

Do: Be genuine and honest. Don’t: Give every single detail. Timing is everything.

A vivid image of a puppy-esque tilt of his fluffy head projected into your mind’s eye as you read his reply.

What timing? How much is too much detail?

His near-palpable panic was enough to encourage you to explain meticulously, if only just to ease his obvious nerves.

Let’s use me as an example, okay? If you asked what I did for a living, I would just say that I’m an author. Not the genre, not how many books I’ve published, not what I’m currently working on. Just that I’m an author.

As for the timing? Once the conversation is easily flowing and you can tell that she’s into it, you need to excuse yourself.

You giggled at the row of horrified-looking emojis you’d earned from your explanation, shaking your head as you read the incredulous words Felix had sent.

Isn’t that rude? Getting her invested in conversation just to leave her hanging???

You cut off the ellipses denoting he wasn’t done questioning your methods, shaking your head as your thumbs darted across the keys.

No, Felix.

Not if you give her a means to continue the conversation.

At this point, you weren’t certain why his naivety continued to shock you - but, yet, it did. You supposed it just went to show that he truly wasn’t lying when he said he was clueless when it came to love.

I don’t get it…if I walk away we won’t be talking anymore!

A deep breath in, exhaled slowly through your nose helped you maintain the polite, scholarly approach you’d taken thus far.

Your phone number, Felix.

“I really hate to cut this short, but if you’d like to continue this conversation later here’s my number,” then smile, wave, and walk away.

Then what?

You wait.

Just...wait?

Just wait.

The third and final step of the Help-Felix-Get-The-Girl plan was the simplest, but arguably the most important: being in the same place at the same time. Luckily, Felix had let you know that she typically came into the bar around 8 on Fridays. You’d decided to let his eavesdropping slide, knowing his intentions were undoubtedly pure - fueled only by his sweet, schoolboy pining after Ryujin. Besides, you didn’t want to resort to stalking her socials like some kind of love-crazed maniac, so his insight had truthfully saved you some trouble.

All that was left was to hope - even pray, to whatever deity might listen to your plea - that Felix could pull it off.

Friday evening, a quarter past six, a gentle knock came from your front door. You peered through the peephole pointlessly, knowing for close to certain that you’d be met with the nerve-wracked face of Felix on the other side. You had, after all, agreed on 6:15 to meet up before the main event.

Door now opened wide, you offered him your best cheeky smirk before stepping aside for him to enter, “Come on in, Romeo.”

He simply nodded, eyes wider than those of a deer caught in the headlights of an eighteen-wheeler as he anxiously gulped, Adam's apple bobbing noticeably above the neckline of his black v-neck tee.

“Loosen up, Felix,” you coached jokingly, shutting the door and following him to the couch. He’d already taken a seat on the edge of a cushion, elbows resting on his knees with his face in his hands, “Being scared won’t do anything for the outcome.”

“Easy for you to say,” he grumbled, shifting his weight to run both hands through his tousled tresses before looking to the side.

You met his uncertain gaze as you sat next to him, offering a reassuring pat to his shoulder as you realized this wasn’t just petty nerves over speaking to this woman. Blatantly ignoring your realization that it was much more muscular than you’d ever given any thought to, you allowed your palm to land flat on the empty space between the two of you as you sighed, “Felix, look at me.”

He mimicked your exhale, though his was much more defeated than exasperated, before turning to meet your waiting gaze. His bottom lip trembling slightly as he sucked in a deep breath made your heart ache, empathy coming far too easily for the kindhearted man before you. He swallowed hard, as he had upon his entrance, eyes swirling with what you could only describe as fear.

“What are you so worried about?” you nearly whispered. He had been much more rattled than you’d initially noticed, causing you to have to fight against the rising bile of guilt in your gut for your teasing.

He took a shuddering inhale before sighing deeply, shoulders slumping from their prior position - tensed next to his ears - as he responded softly, “I just…God, this is stupid,” he ran a hand through the ever-increasing messiness of blonde atop his head before continuing, “I don’t wanna screw this up,” he admitted, leaning his head back against the couch before continuing.

“I always say something dumb, or come on too strong,” you nodded as he explained the reason for his uncharacteristically cloudy disposition, avoiding interjection - even in the form of a hum - to provide him with your undivided attention, “Even when I’m not trying to, I somehow manage to just…put people off, y’know?” He shook his head as he leaned back into his hands, curtain of flaxen hair hiding what was undoubtedly a dejected expression as he whispered a broken, “I think there’s just something wrong with me.”

“Lix,” the nickname rolled off of your tongue without a second thought, “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

He peered at you with a slow turn of his head, cheek pressed into his palm giving his already full lips a dramatized pout, “You don’t have to say that, I know –”

“I’m not lying,” you cut him off, brows knitting together as you held his gaze firm with your own, “There really isn’t anything wrong with you,” a gentle smile that you hoped was reassuring found its way to your lips as you explained, “I think that the world is just very, very gray - and that you,” you poked his nose with the pad of your index finger, earning a noncommittal grin as you continued, “are very, very bright.”

Felix’s grinning had morphed into beaming as his freckled cheeks turned pink at the compliment. He’d released his face from his palms, turning his body more towards yours with ever-straightening posture as though each word from your mouth was filling an invisible meter of confidence.

“So, yeah…there’s nothing wrong with you. People just aren’t used to a person as unabashedly vibrant as you, Felix.”

“You’re really nice, you know that?” he said simply, prior insecurity in his voice replaced with wonder, his smile not once faltering.

“Don’t get sappy on me now, Lee,” you warned with a playful ruffling of his hair. You stood from your spot, it now being your turn to have reddened cheeks, to pour a cup of coffee in the kitchen. You weren’t even thirsty, you just hoped to hide the way his genuine compliment had affected you.

Cup in hand and cheeks back to their presently scheduled lack-of-crimson, you faced him again with a smirk, “Now, let’s get you ready. You’ve got a lady to woo.”

“Y/N, I’m not so sure about this!” Felix called, voice laced with anxiety, from the bathroom. You’d sent him in with a few outfits you’d borrowed from a less-than-willing, bribed-with-cleaning-his-place Jisung.

“I’m sure you look just fine Lix!” the reassurance you’d tried to convey in your voice was mostly drowned out by the volume at which you had to speak from the kitchen.

The stovetop clock read 7:13, reminding you that you had but a half-hour to get Felix to the bar.

“I dunno, Y/N…” he murmured, almost unheard as you made your way towards the bathroom door.

“Lemme see,” you cooed, hiding your excitement for his mini-makeover as best as you could.

Silence.

“Felix, c’mon, I still have to do your hair. Just show me!” you’d hoped the reminder that there was yet more to do would encourage him.

You were met simply with a deep sigh, and more silence.

“Lee Felix, so help me I will kick this door in!” You wouldn’t, no. But he didn’t know that.

“Fine, fine!” his words came out in a hurried slur, followed soon after by the light ‘click’ of the bathroom lock, “You just…can’t laugh, okay?”

“Why would I laugh?” you asked, suppressing a very inopportune giggle at the request. You understood the nerves, though. Meeting up with your crush? Definitely the right time for them.

“Just…promise?” Despite the depth and rasp of his voice, he sounded so small in that moment. He sounded like a child, afraid of scolding if they were truthful. You found yourself with heartstrings pulled just enough to soften your eyes - and tone.

“I promise, Lix.”

With your assurance, Felix slowly opened the bathroom door and peered his head out. Upon witnessing your genuine expression, he nodded his head and fully appeared in the doorway.

Why he’d thought you would laugh was beyond your comprehension. The fitted black button-up you’d provided him hugged him in the most flattering way, the top two buttons undone to show his unexpectedly toned neck and chest. The sleeves were rolled to just below the elbow, keeping the otherwise business-like look casual enough for a bar.

The deep blue jeans he’d brought himself, uncertain of the way Jisung’s may fit after realizing he had a tiny waist, we’re held up by a simple black belt. They, too, fit in such a way that it brought attention to just how in-shape he was. The shirt was only half tucked on one side, furthering the facade of a casual night out.

You hadn’t realized you were staring until your gaze connected with his concerned expression, “I told you I wasn’t sure…” he started, looking down as he shuffled his feet.

“You look so handsome, Felix.”

His expression morphed into one of shock as his cheeks burned under your earnest stare. He stammered for a moment, seemingly taken aback by the deadpan compliment. Even you were surprised with the ease of which it left your lips, almost before you’d even acknowledged just how good he looked.

“Th-thank you,” he whispered, shaking his head quickly as though to reset his mind.

You swallowed hard, not trusting your words as you simply nodded once and slid past him into the bathroom. He was a quick study, Felix, taking a seat on the closed toilet lid as soon as he saw you grab the comb from the countertop.

You weren’t sure why you felt nervous to reach out and touch his hair, a heavy weight dropping further into your stomach with every inch closer the comb got.

But, eventually you did manage to straighten up his unruly mane, neatening his part and tucking a few strands strategically behind his ears.

You stifled a shiver when the side of your hand grazed his cheek.

He sat silently, not uttering a single complaint while you worked. You were torn, though, between finding comfort or nerves in that silence.

“Done,” you acknowledged before setting the comb down, stepping back from Felix so he could catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

You’d have thought he’d gotten a completely new style by the way his eyes widened upon looking. He gingerly touched his bangs, brows furrowing - likely due to concern of messing it up - before he broke into a signature grin.

“Y/N, you gotta teach me how to do this!” he suddenly shouted, giddiness replacing any lingering doubt he’d felt throughout the preparations, “I didn’t think my hair could lay this nicely without gel! You’re a genius!” he giggled as he leaned in closer to the mirror, turning his head side to side to take in each detail.

“All I did was part it, Lix,” you said through a smirk, laughter hinting at the ends of your words, “But I’ll show you sometime.”

He grinned in reply before checking his phone, back straightening seriously before he squeaked, “We’ve gotta go! It’s time!”

You nodded your agreement, smiling warmly at the excited man before you. His excitement was contagious, warming your heart like the sun on the frostbitten grass of an October morning.

His warmth was undeniable, and everything was going so smoothly.

As you got into the passenger seat of his truck, he started the engine and turned to you - expression looking a bit guilty - before tilting his head, “Are you sure you wanna wait in the truck?”

“Lix, it’ll be fine, just remember what I told you,” you reassured him with a gentle look.

“You’ve helped me so much…” he started, pulling out into the street, “I guess…I guess I just don’t want you to have to just wait alone.”

You resisted the urge to ruffle his hair after all of your hard work, opting instead to smirk and tease him with a reminder, “You’re going there to get the girl, Lix, I don’t think you should be escorting another woman.”

“I s’pose you’re right…” he agreed, though resistantly.

“Of course I am,” you said with a poke to his freckled cheek, just as he pulled into a parking spot, “Now, go! Your love awaits.”

He gave you a grateful smile before getting out, leaving the truck running so you could have music and heat.

As he glanced back from the front entrance, you gave him a thumbs up - which he returned - before watching him disappear into the bar.

Your face fell as soon as he was out of sight. Everything was going exactly as it should, and all you needed to do now was wait.

So why, as you watched the well-dressed silhouette of Lee Felix, twenty-three year old bartender disappear as a patron into his establishment, were you so restless? Why did you sit with the weight of the world in your gut?

“Good luck, Felix,” you whispered to no one, clutching your phone in your hand as though an update from Felix were all that mattered in the world.

And, though you had meant it, the words that left your mouth only felt heavier.

#prove me wrong #lee felix #lee felix x reader #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #skz fic #lee felix romance #lee Felix smut #author has been Mia but is back ok 🥹

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aspenwritesstuff · 2 years ago

Text

I truly appreciate the things you took note of. ❤️ It was important to me to show that Felix was a bit overwhelmed by the grandness of it all, but still cheered loudly in support for MC. He didn’t let his nerves stop him from showing his pride for MC.

He is definitely attentive. I had been waiting so long to bring the mugs back into play. There’s something very precious about someone not only remembering your quirks - but encouraging them.

Thank you so much for your feedback and for sharing how my work makes you feel. PMW is a very heartfelt work for me, so knowing that comes through makes me smile.

Part Six: Accolades

🌹 prev 🌹 masterlist 🌹 next (coming soon)

🌹taglist: open! @drhsthl @propertyoftoru

🌹 permanent taglist: @svintsandghosts

"You weren’t usually the type to accept comfort, denying even Jisung’s offers of solace when you’d been upset in his presence. There was something, though, about the way Felix’s arms held you steady, the way his voice soothed your wounded heart, the gentleness with which he was handling you that - combined together - instinctually made you wrap your arms under his, gripping onto the back of his jacket as if it were the sole thing keeping you afloat."

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, themes of guilt, physical violence (non-deadly), angst, insults/verbal abuse, blood/bruises, unrecognized feelings, some excessively sappy fluff because our protagonists deserve a break

wc: 6.8k

a/n: I did not intend for this chapter to surpass 4k words, but almost 7k happened. I'm sorry/you're welcome. I cried real, ugly tears writing this chapter. Holy heck. I don't have much to say this go around, but I hope you enjoy the developments this chapter brings. Thank you, as always, for reading. If you enjoy my series, please consider reblogging and leaving feedback <3

xoxo

-Aspen

There had been a time during your friendship with Jisung where he’d been obsessed with National Geographic documentaries. A particular scene has always stuck with you, burned into your mind’s eye. Two tigers circling around an injured antelope, teeth bared whilst neither broke eye contact, silently daring the other to make a move.

Jisung had been so excited, finding a thrill in the suspense of which cat would lunge first - which cat would claim the meal for their own. You, however, had been absorbed in the visibly distraught antelope as she froze. It had always confused you that, despite her injury, she hadn’t at least made an attempt to flee.

Now, standing between Felix and San, you understood perfectly. There was a certain intensity that came along with being caught in the midst of a stand-off - an intensity, which despite your better judgment, would be best left uninterrupted.

Your focus remained on Felix. The comfort that his hand against the bareness of your shoulder provided, the quiet anger hidden in the tightness of his jaw, the way his typically joy-brightened gaze had given way to an anomalous darkness as it darted between San’s eyes and the rough fingers entrapping your wrist.

Maturity had replaced the boyish charm you’d grown accustomed to and, for the first time since meeting him, you came to an important realization.

It turns out that Lee Felix, twenty-three year old bartender, was more than the fumbling, awkward boy you’d believed him to be.

Much, much more.

The Felix standing behind you now showed no sign of the uncertainty that had so frequently coated his words and actions as he reiterated his deceptively polite request.

“My date’s hand, please?”

His voice was double-edged and firm. He did not stammer, he did not hesitate. A single arched brow accompanying the tight line his lips were pressed into.

San’s face was contorted into a twisted marriage of incredulousness and rage, lips drawn back into a sneer as he questioned Felix. Feigned innocence in his tone did nothing for the cruelty of his words, however.

“Your date? How funny,” he’d finally broken eye contact with Felix simply to look at you blankly, ensuring maximum damage from his barbed verbiage, “I could’ve sworn her publicist was in the middle of scolding her due to her lack thereof when I’d arrived?”

As your wrist was finally released, you wasted no time in pulling it against your chest. You cradled it limply with the other, a brief numbness ensuing at the sudden rush of blood back into your fingertips.

Felix didn’t miss the way you tensed beneath his palm. He tongued his cheek, glaring at San whilst squeezing your shoulder - reminding you that he was there, assuring you that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“A simple misunderstanding,” Felix didn’t miss a beat with his rebuttal, keeping his words civil despite the obvious way San was trying to crawl under his skin.

“I could’ve sworn,” San chuckled darkly, the spiteful leer he’d been sending your way remaining unbroken. Though he was addressing Felix, he didn’t spare him a single glance, “I heard the beginning of an attempt to explain why nobody would accompany her.”

You felt yourself shrink back at the brutality of his words. Though San had spoken in a deceptively calm tone, there was absolutely no mistaking his intent. He wanted to hurt you.

“As I said,” Felix growled through gritted teeth, his grip on your shoulder tightening protectively, “A misunderstanding, I was just running late.”

San’s smirk was radiating maliciousness, animosity lacing his next words as he finally directed his glower at Felix, “If you were convincing yourself to show I wouldn’t blame you,” San mused, tilting his head at Felix’s increasingly deep scowl, “Having to put up with her isn’t for the faint of heart.”

San, it seemed, was the tiger who lunged first. You were just defenseless - unable to run away despite the way he toyed with you. In that moment, it truly was as though you were his prey.

“Strange,” Felix deadpanned, cold eyes fixated on the man before him, “Nobody else seems to have a problem with her,” he tapped his chin, a semblance of his warm smile finally revealing itself - though it appeared more mocking than genuine.

The casual way Felix delivered his next words - paired with the subsequent reddening of San’s face - nearly made you choke on your breath.

“Must just be narcissistic, insufferable pieces of shit she doesn’t get along with.”

Felix had lunged now, too.

Unlike San, however, he wasn’t playing.

From the ease of which the insult had fallen from his lips to the bemused twinkle in his eye, the confidence in his stance and the sureness of his supportive touch, along with the newfound hostility you could feel coming off of him in waves.

Everything about Felix in this moment screamed sanctuary and wrath. Safety and determination. Refuge and strength.

Lee Felix, twenty-three year old bartender, was not radiating sunshine. Now, he was the glowing coldness of a crescent moon peeking from behind dark clouds, providing just enough visibility in the dark of night to keep you from being afraid.

Lee Felix and his unplanned arrival was your salvation - a clear path providing an escape from what had been an impossible situation. A much needed breath of fresh air when you felt as if you were suffocating.

Lee Felix, in spite of his innate gentleness, was defending you in your brokenness. His claws were out - not for a hunt, not for a meal, but to fight for your honor.

Lee Felix was out for blood.

“What the fuck did you just say?” San’s voice was low, barely a whisper, but that didn’t change the animosity you felt rolling off of him.

“I said,” Felix immediately answered, slowing his words as if worried San wouldn’t understand them, “That it must just be narcissistic, insufferable pieces of shit –”

Felix didn’t get to finish his recantation, San’s fist flying past your face towards him, connecting against his jaw - the sudden crack of knuckles against bone bringing a startled cry up from your throat.

“San, don’t!” you shrieked, jumping to get between the two. A staggering Felix held up his hand, effectively stopping you before swiping a bead of sticky crimson from his lower lip with his opposite thumb. He chuckled breathily, staring down at the blood for a moment before balling it up around his fingers.

Felix looked wild, a snarl adorning his bloodied, bow-shaped lips as he reared back, launching himself forward with impressive speed. His fist landed square against San’s nose with a nauseating crunch, forcing the man to stumble backwards.

Scarlet streaks made their way down San’s face, dripping from his chin and staining the stark-white collar of the dress shirt he’d worn with blurred vermillion splotches. Staring at the ever-growing ink-blot test around his neck, the first word that came to mind would be brutality.

You watched as the shock from the blow wore off, a guttural roar parting San’s lips to reveal red-stained teeth as he stepped towards Felix once again. You shut your eyes tight, covering them with your shaking hands. You didn’t want to see the violence unfold before you any more than you already had. You held your breath, bracing yourself, and waited to hear him make contact.

This time, however, there was no grunt following the sound of skin hitting skin.

This time, the sound seemed muted. Less, somehow.

You parted your fingers, peeking through your lashes as curiosity overpowered your previous desire to block it all out. Your hands dropped to cover your mouth, astonished by the sight before you.

San had definitely swung at Felix, as evidenced by the upraised fist less than a foot from his freckled face. That wasn’t what had you gawking, however.

Around San’s balled-up hand was Felix’s - holding it in place.

Both men’s arms were trembling as they fought silently against the other. You could see Felix’s knuckles turning white as he gripped San’s fist harder, his neutral expression a stark contrast to the feral look San wore.

Despite the intensity of the situation, you couldn’t help but notice the rest of the contrasts between the two. Felix’s delicate, full lips, parted to allow heavy breaths to pass in and out. San’s thinner, sharper ones, drawn up into a crooked grimace.

The lightly wrinkled navy silk beneath Felix’s blazer, versus the ruined purity that San’s white linen shirt bore as it soaked up his blood.

A scrape, no longer oozing red on Felix. A continuous flow dripping from San.

“I’m giving you a chance to walk away,” Felix uttered through gritted teeth, clenching San’s hand hard enough that his fingers straightened down, out of a fist, “I’d suggest taking me up on it.” San’s eyes were alight with fury, darting between you, Felix, and his own hand - still held in place by Felix’s. He jerked his hand away with a grunt, balling both of his fists to his sides. He stepped back, turning his head to spit bloodied saliva dangerously close to Felix’s shoes before locking eyes with you.

“She’s not fucking worth it, anyway,” he hissed, once again addressing Felix despite the obvious way he was targeting your emotions. You swallowed hard, ignoring the stinging of your eyes as San turned away, walking off down the street without so much as a glance back.

As soon as Felix was sure the other man had gone, he rushed over to you - looking you over with a panicked expression on his face. Gone was the brief glimpse of a stoic, intense version of Felix - his kindness back in full force as he searched you for any sign of injury.

“Are you okay?! Oh my God, who was that guy?” He prattled on, finally meeting your watery gaze, voice dropping to a whisper as he recognized the signs of distress, “Oh, God, are you hurt? Should I call Jisung?”

“I’m fine, Felix,” you squeaked, inwardly cringing at just how unconvincing and pathetic you sounded.

“You and I both know that’s not true,” Felix frowned, brows furrowing together as he stared so intensely that he may as well be peeking straight into your soul. His voice softened, caressing your ears and serving to somehow lower your own racing pulse, “You don’t have to pretend for me.”

You stared right back, pulling in a shaky breath. You could see worry swirling in Felix’s warm eyes, tainting what was usually a whimsical shine. Guilt overtook you in waves as you felt the concern radiating from him, despite his own bloodied face. It was that very guilt, not the encounter with San, that finally brought a sob from your lips.

Your name tumbled from Felix’s lips in a soothing and soft lilt, his lips pursing as he watched emotion overtake you.

Just as you felt for his injuries, Felix felt shame for letting you come here alone in the first place. He watched helplessly as your shoulders shook, each breath you took happening as labored gasps. His heart lurched uncomfortably in his chest as he did the only thing he could think to do.

Before you could even register that Felix had moved, you were engulfed in his arms with your face buried against his collarbone - held there by an unexpectedly firm hand against the back of your head.

His voice was thick as he softly murmured reassurances towards you, showing hints of joining you in your sniveling. He shushed you patiently, absolutely zero signs of irritation or inconvenience behind the gesture.

You weren’t usually the type to accept comfort, denying even Jisung’s offers of solace when you’d been upset in his presence. There was something, though, about the way Felix’s arms held you steady, the way his voice soothed your wounded heart, the gentleness with which he was handling you that - combined together - instinctually made you wrap your arms under his, gripping onto the back of his jacket as if it were the sole thing keeping you afloat.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he intoned, barely above a whisper. As you shook your head against his shoulder, a word as simple as ‘no’ proving to be too much in your current state of mind, he simply rested his chin atop your head with a hushed, “Okay.”

Felix didn’t push, didn’t try to pry any information out of you. You were taken aback for a moment, sure that anyone else in his situation would be demanding answers after exchanging blows on your behalf.

In retrospect, you shouldn’t have been surprised that Felix wasn’t insistent. His sweet temperament was the exact opposite of the type that would continue trying to pull forth information. Pressuring you was something you simply couldn’t picture the kindhearted soul who held you close even considering.

Felix didn’t move until you did, allowing your hands to loosen their hold on his back. He released you with the slowest movements he could, as though giving you a chance to return to his hold if you changed your mind.

He didn’t speak, simply taking your hand in his to examine your wrist - reddened from the vice San had put you in. He turned it over delicately between his fingers, doing his best to avoid touching the inflamed areas.

“Does it hurt?” he whispered, a near imperceptible tremble to his voice as he glanced at your face - swollen and flushed from the weeping you’d done moments prior.

You gave him a halfhearted smile, shaking your head with a fond incredulousness, “Felix, you literally got punched in the face,” you wiped the wetness from beneath your eyes, trying not to worry about the smeared mascara that now lingered on your fingers - figuring out how to get cleaned up for the event was an issue for later.

“And?” he raised a brow, tilting his head to the side as though he were genuinely baffled at the relevance.

“And you’re asking me if I’m hurt?” your brows were sky high as you looked at his face for any hint that he wasn’t being serious.

“Yeah, of course I am!” he insisted, lips pursing as he looked back down at the mark San had left, “Look at you! It’s all red, what if it bruises? We should get you some ice,” he tutted, turning your wrist over in his gentle hands once more.

“But, Felix, you got punched in the face. You were bleeding,” you insisted, earning you a mock-offended look from the boy.

He gently released your hand, stuffing his hands in the pockets as he casually replied, “So? I’d do it again if it meant keeping that guy away from you.”

He seemed insistent, brows knitted together as he subconsciously pressed his thumb to the gash on his lip. You could see the questions lingering behind his troubled stare, surprised once more as he didn’t press for a single tidbit about San.

For that, you were more grateful than words could describe.

“May I?” You gestured to his lip, earning a cocked brow in response. His thumb slowly fell as he nodded, still looking a bit puzzled by your request.

You brushed your index finger gently against his swollen, velvety lower lip, thankful that the heels you’d worn had put you at an equal height. He winced as you ran the pad of your finger over the open gash, spurring you to murmur a rushed, “Sorry…”

Felix shook his head, silently telling you not to worry - though, in his effort to stay still, it was really more of a twitch. You pulled your hand back, feeling the beginnings of a frown between your brows as you reached into your small purse - rooting for the small packet containing a couple of makeup wipes.

“Ah,” you sighed, finally feeling the smooth packet against your roaming fingertips, pulling it out and splitting it open quickly. You pulled one of them from the packaging, leaving the other in the foil, “Hold this for me?”

Felix took the half-empty packet from you, wordlessly following your instructions as he watched you wrap the wipe around your fingertip. His head slowly made its way into an inquisitive angle, staring as you raised your now-swathed finger towards him.

“I know it’s not medical grade, but it’ll at least wipe the blood off, yeah?” you hesitated before pressing it against his wound, wanting to be sure he was okay with your makeshift first aid before continuing.

“Oh,” his chest rumbled with his answer, a bright smile that could melt even the coldest exteriors planting itself onto his face, “Thank you.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, pressing the cool wipe to his bloodied lip with as much gentleness as you could. You swiped delicately at the swollen flesh, feeling the warmth of his breath against your careful hand. You took your time to remove every bit of dried crimson that remained, adjusting the wipe as needed so you weren’t simply spreading it around.

Despite your tenderness, however, Felix still hissed sharply through his teeth when you’d press a bit harder to get the stubborn bits. You gave him an apologetic glance before pulling back, staring at his now-clean face.

The flash of red belonging to the wound itself was all that remained, contrasting greatly with his otherwise peony-pink lips. When he graced you with a grin, typical crookedness increased by the swollenness of his lip, your heart ached. Such a violent mark had no business being on the face of such a softhearted person.

You wished it was possible to wipe the entire thing away.

“My turn,” he stated, lifting the metallic packet containing the remaining wipe in front of his face. He nearly went cross-eyed as he stared at it intently, tugging it from its home with an unnecessary level of care. You stifled a laugh as he proudly held it up, stuffing the empty package into his pocket.

“Really?” you questioned, a bemused smirk teasing the corners of your lips as he stepped closer. He tried to mimic the way you’d enfolded your finger, brows furrowing with concentration as he swaddled his finger in the damp cloth.

“Of course,” he answered, again treating the kindnesses he frequently showed you as if they were obvious - the only correct answer.

“Okay, then,” you mused, trying not to laugh at the caution he took bringing it close to your face. He dabbed at your cheek lightly, pulling the wipe back to ensure he’d actually picked up some of the black streak that cut through your once perfectly made-up face.

Content that he was doing it correctly, Felix resumed his work with brows remaining drawn together due to the sheer amount of focus he’d put into cleaning you up. His lips were parted slightly, warm breath fanning your face on occasion as he worked with the lightest of touches.

“Can you look up for me?” Felix whispered, breaking what had been an extremely comfortable silence. You followed his direction, lashes tickling your brow bone as you lifted your irises upwards, keeping your head otherwise still.

You stared at the stars as Felix gently swiped beneath your lash line, distant chatter accompanying the sound of his slow, calming breaths. The sky looked beautiful tonight, littered with what seemed like more pinpricks of light than usual. Living in the city, it was rare to see a sky so clear. Perhaps this was a reward for surviving your encounter with San.

“Done,” Felix announced proudly, pulling your attention back down to Earth. You smiled softly as you brought your gaze back towards him, unable to stop the connection your mind had suddenly formed.

Felix’s freckles were just as bountiful as the stars, it seemed. Just as comforting. Just as mesmerizing.

“I hope I did okay,” his nervous rumble interrupted your intrusive thoughts, your ears feeling hot. Had you been staring? You hoped not.

“I’m sure it’s better than I looked before,” you assured him, feeling your eyes soften at his worried expression.

Felix beamed, obviously proud of his work after your affirmation, and gathered both of the wipes - putting them back into the foil before slipping it back into his pocket, “I think you look gre–”

“There you are! Jesus, I thought you’d left!” Nari’s voice interrupted, irritation filling every syllable.

“Oh, Nari,” you peered over Felix’s shoulder at her reddened face. She was visibly flustered, likely having been searching for a while, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just hurry! They’re seating everyone now,” she sounded like a strict mother scolding her child as she gestured for you to follow her, though her stony expression shifted into one of shock upon realizing your companion was not, in fact, San.

“Who’s this? Where’d San go? Don’t tell me you were serious about attending alone?” Nari rapid-fire questioned you, not allowing you a single second to provide her with answers.

“Um…” you started, palms sweating as you looked over to Felix, your eyes pleading with him to help.

“I’m her date,” he immediately stated, directing his bright smile at Nari. The woman visibly stiffened - bringing you to wonder if it was simply Felix’s contagious grin or the red split in it that gave her pause.

“San –” she began, likely planning to press further about his whereabouts.

“Got a nosebleed,” Felix finished for her, sending you a small, humor laced glance before continuing with false concern in his tone, “All over his shirt, I’m afraid.”

“I see…” Nari mumbled, lips set in a firm line as she crossed her arms.

“Seeing as I was free,” Felix continued, explaining the situation as if it were some sort of heroic tale, “I figured I could escort her just as well.”

Nari hesitated before sighing deeply, “A date’s a date I suppose,” she begrudgingly admitted, “Come on, then, let’s get you seated.”

You shot Felix a grateful smile the second Nari turned around, mouthing a silent ‘thank you.’ He simply waved his hand dismissively, grinning brightly at you as he linked your arms together at the elbow.

You would say he was playing the role of a perfect gentleman, but that would be a lie. There was no acting involved in Felix’s actions.

He was a perfect gentleman.

Despite the comparatively small following the event had, the Gala had always been overwhelmingly lush.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the venue’s ceiling, casting a dim golden glow on everything the light touched. Tables adorned with creamy silk tablecloths and lavish floral arrangements were staggered across the marble floors, even the chairs surrounding them ornately carved with matching velvety cushions.

“I feel underdressed…” Felix murmured, wide eyes reflecting the glittering lights above as he absorbed the surroundings.

You looked him up and down, stifling a giggle at how nervous he looked.

His worries were baseless, seeing as he was dressed well; fitted blazer with matching dress pants, the deep blue sheen of his button down bringing out the warmth in his complexion.

“You look amazing, Felix,” you assured him in earnest, not unaware of the way his arm tightened around yours at the compliment. He shot you a small smile, shaking his head.

“Have you seen yourself? In comparison, I’m a bum,” he insisted, though you could notice the way your encouragement lessened the strain in his tone.

“Hush,” you frowned, bumping into his side lightly. He smiled softly, still visibly unnerved, but didn’t press any further.

Felix unlatched your elbows to step in front of you, taking long strides towards the chair accompanying your nameplate. He shot you a bright grin as he pulled it out, “Milady?” he joked, a grand sweeping gesture of his arm bubbling up a laugh from your throat.

“Why, thank you,” you crooned, another small giggle leaving your lips as he pushed the chair back in.

Felix took his seat next to you and grinned, matching your lighthearted tone in kind, “You are very welcome,” he chimed, scooting in closer to the table just as a waiter came by with champagne. Felix gently took two flutes in both of his hands, extending one towards you.

You smiled, accepting it before sipping at the drink - dense carbonation tickling your tongue. You sat in yet another easy silence with Felix for a while, chatting with a couple of colleagues as they’d pass by your table. Midway through discussing a new storyboarding technique with another author, the dimming of the already faint lighting signaled for your attention to go towards the stage.

Bidding a curt goodbye to your colleague, your attention was pulled towards the stage. The evening’s host began by introducing the event - as if most present weren’t aware of what they’d shown up for - before listing off the categories for this year’s awards. You tuned out most of it, content to sip at your drink.

Felix seemed completely enraptured in this brand-new world, though, with his wide, bright eyes reflecting the spotlight from the stage. You couldn’t help but feel affectionate towards him in that moment, his childlike wonder only serving to cement your opinion of him - light, in human form.

You clapped politely as awards began to be handed out, though you’d have preferred not to be in attendance. The event had lost its magic for you after you’d ceased believing in what you wrote about.

The waiter dropping by after the third announcement, replacing your empty glass with a fresh one, was a welcome reminder that at least the event wasn’t all bad.

Complimentary, expensive champagne was hard to complain about.

Felix’s eyes finally left the stage, staring at you with anticipation in his eyes as your name was called amongst the nominees for Best Romance. You felt the corners of your lips tighten and twitch in an attempt not to laugh amidst the otherwise silent crowd, finding it increasingly precious just how into this Felix was.

You gave him a warm smile as he nearly vibrated in his seat, shaking your head before looking back towards the host.

“The award for Best Romance goes to…”

Felix took an audible, sharp inhale and held it, reaching over the table to grab your hand whilst staring expectantly at the announcer. You weren’t sure if it was because he’d assumed you’d be nervous - or because he was on your behalf - either way, you allowed him to lace his fingers between yours and squeeze - hard.

Felix’s legs were bouncing impatiently beneath the table as the host opened the envelope containing the results with painfully drawn out movements. You could’ve sworn you heard a frustrated, “Come on, already,” leave his lips as the paper was pulled from its sleeve.

It wasn’t until your name came through the speakers that Felix’s brow unwrinkled, his lips parting into potentially the biggest smile you’d seen from him to date. He instantly released your hand to clap furiously, jovial expression not once faltering as his eyes followed your ascent to the stage.

You put on the Nari-approved facial expression once again as cameras flashed, hoping that you appeared genuinely excited. It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful for a victory - sales of your novels would certainly rise following a win - nor was it the fact that you’d won an award before that dampened what should’ve been an ecstatic moment.

It just felt wrong, somehow, to accept an award for a book you’d written about love - seeing as you thought it was complete and utter bullshit.

Regardless, you approached the announcer with a dazzling grin, shaking his hand when prompted as the crowd’s cheers slowly died down. Despite the bright lights blotting out the faces of the crowd, you were sure the single, lingering applause as you took the shining, silver plaque from the host was Felix’s.

You were expected to make a speech which, had it not been for San’s unexpected appearance, would’ve been the most dreadful part of this evening. You had no trouble with words - obviously, being an author - but this wasn’t like the last ceremony.

You didn’t have a lover to thank for inspiring you this time around.

Still, though, you found yourself standing before the microphone, drawing in a deep and steadying breath as you forced your voice to form words.

“Thank you all so much,” you started, remembering Nari’s firm insistence that addressing the crowd was essential.

“I know it may seem odd,” you continued, laughing breathily at yourself, “But I’m at a loss for words right now.” The audience tittered, their good response to your honesty lightening the weight on your chest significantly, “I have a few people I’d like to thank. My publicist, Nari, for always ensuring I write to the best of my abilities,” you figured after the several heart attacks you’d given the woman today, sucking up couldn’t hurt.

“My best friend and rock, Han Jisung, for bringing me coffee during late night writing sessions, and putting up with me while I sulk over writer’s block,” despite Jisung’s absence from the event, both this time and the last, you’d never neglected to acknowledge the role he played in keeping you sane.

You waited for the scattered laughter to dissipate before carrying on. There was one more person, despite not knowing him during the writing process or having prepared any words on his behalf, that you felt was certainly owed some thanks.

“And Lee Felix,” you proudly smiled, looking in the general direction of the table. You couldn’t see his face, yet you were certain he’d straightened his posture and that his cheeks were bright pink.

“For being invested enough in me to challenge my beliefs,” you were, of course, referring to your deal, “For defending my mug collection,” you laughed before you continued, the smile on your face becoming more and more genuine as you proclaimed your gratitude.

“For just defending me in general…” you trailed off for a moment, taking a deep breath so as not to get emotional recalling the events of earlier. You swallowed a lump in your throat, blinking rapidly so as to chase away the prickling warmth behind your eyes.

“And for giving enough of a damn to show up for me tonight. Thank you.”

You bowed your head then, the thunderous applause sounding farther away than it should have as you fought harder and harder against your emotions.

You weren’t sure what it had been about thanking Felix in particular - whether it was the moment you’d shared tonight or an accumulation of the time you’d spent growing closer with him - but as you made your way back to the table, you were very choked up.

At the sight of a watery-eyed Felix waiting for you - still standing from the ovation he’d no doubt given you - with his lips parted into a dumbfounded smile?

It took everything in you not to give in and let your composure shatter.

Felix once again pulled your chair out for you, quickly retaking his spot at your side, his voice cracking as he addressed you, “That was–”

“I don’t have any more wipes, do not speak and stop looking at me like that,” you tried to joke, but the thickness of unshed tears and the resulting breathiness in your voice made it sound much more like a plea.

Felix simply nodded, sniffling only once before giving your shoulder a single squeeze.

Your heart had remained tight in your chest throughout the next award’s announcement, beyond grateful for the arrival of a brief intermission. You rose from your chair, prepared to excuse yourself to the restroom to cry, only to be stopped by Felix’s soft touch on your forearm.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, still sounding quite emotional himself as he stared up at you worriedly, “Do we need to go?”

You caught yourself preparing to tell him you were fine, only to instantly shake the notion off.

What was the point in lying to the man who likely still had your snot and tearstains on his collar?

“Let’s get out of here,” you laughed weakly, wondering how exactly he’d been able to read your mind so easily.

Nari be damned.

Felix grinned, his eyes still glossy with the emotions he’d kept to himself after your speech, before rising to his feet next to you. He offered you his arm again, which you gladly accepted, allowing him to lead the two of you back to the entrance.

Stepping out into the cool, evening air instantly served to lessen the uncomfortable heat that had been lingering beneath your skin. You filled your lungs with the fresh air as Felix guided you carefully through the parking lot, weaving between the rows of cars until his candy-apple truck appeared in your view.

Felix uncurled your arms to jog ahead, pulling open the passenger door for you. You thanked him with a soft smile, climbing in as he walked around to the driver’s side. He turned the key in the ignition, the engine rumbling to life reassuring you with the promise of leaving this place - and, hopefully, the urge to cry - behind.

After ensuring that the two of you were both buckled, Felix didn’t waste another second. He pulled out into the street, casting you a concerned glance here and there as he navigated to your apartment building. He pulled into the parking garage, taking up the spot Jisung typically would have had he not been out of town with Minho.

“I wanna give you something,” Felix blurted, turning to face you, his dark pools containing an excited glimmer.

You tilted your head at him, wondering why he’d waited until now to say anything.

“I picked these up before going out with Ryujin,” he started to explain, beaming from ear to ear as he reached behind his seat to grab two white boxes, “It’s our pottery, from our first not-date.”

Your face soon mirrored his, confusion replaced with giddy anticipation as he handed you the box labeled with his name.

“I was gonna see if you were free tomorrow, so we could open them together, but seeing as we ended up seeing eachother tonight,” Felix drew out the word, setting the box containing his gift from you in his lap, “I figured why wait?”

You nodded excitedly, feeling much lighter than you had all evening, “You wanna open yours first?” you questioned. You weren’t sure what you were looking forward to more- seeing his reaction to the set of shot glasses you’d painted for him or to see what he’d done for you.

“Can I?!” he nearly shouted, his grip tightening on the lid of the box as his smile somehow grew wider.

You laughed, gesturing to the box he was now clutching so tightly that the cardboard was getting dented, “Go ahead, Felix.”

Before you’d even finished your sentence, Felix had torn the lid from his box and carefully stuck his hand inside. He rummaged through the tissue paper, visibly buzzing in his eagerness. You knew the very moment he’d found one of the glasses - an audible gasp leaving his now-purpling lips.

As Felix lifted the tiny cup you’d painted a minty green from the box, his eyes widened. He cautiously tilted it in every direction. You watched him intently, your pulse quickening as you awaited his reaction to your choice. He continued to inspect it, a smile of pure joy crinkling his eyes into glittering crescents as he finally peered inside at the tiny daisy you’d painted in the bottom.

“This is so cute!” he cooed, holding it close to his chest, directing his shimmering stare right at you now.

“There should be two more,” you informed him, resisting the urge to laugh as he scrambled to root through the box for the remainder of the set. He eventually managed to fish out the pale pink and baby blue companions for the first glass, looking back up at you with a pout.

“I love them,” he crooned, hugging the trio to his chest affectionately.

“Really?” you inquired hopefully, “I didn’t know much about you yet, but I knew that you were a bartender,” you started explaining, hoping that Felix wasn’t secretly thinking that shot glasses were too on the nose, “And I guessed on the colors, because of that pink hoodie you wore when we first met.”

“And the daisies?” Felix pressed, eyes round and filled with wonder, “How’d you know I loved daisies?”

“I didn’t,” you admitted, blinking rapidly, actually a bit shocked at the revelation.

“What? Seriously, you just guessed?” Felix’s surprise mirrored yours, his head flopping to the side like a curious cat.

“Well, sort of?” You suddenly felt self conscious of your reasoning at the time, uncertainty over if it would sound strange making your words sound hesitant as they left your lips, “Daisies have the same feeling that you do. I dunno, like, they’re happy and soft, and they mean innocence and new beginnings in the language of flowers, and –”

It was almost funny having Felix be the one to stop your rambling rather than the usual, opposite way around.

“That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me,” he deadpanned, the ghost of a smile remaining on his features, despite the seriousness with which he delivered his statement.

Felix’s words stopped you in your tracks, heat rushing to your cheeks not only from his genuine gratitude, but the realization that you’d been mildly garrulous in your nervousness.

“Thank you,” he continued on, seemingly oblivious to the crisis you were undergoing following your long-winded explanation, “Really…thank you.”

After gently placing the trio of glasses back into their box, Felix gave you an expectant stare - eyes flicking down to the box in your lap.

“My turn?” you asked, earning more of a vibration than a nod from Felix as he bobbed in his seat. You felt the warm smile that always seemed to appear for the mild-mannered boy stick itself onto your face as you looked down at the box, pulling off the lid and setting it aside.

It was easy to find your gift beneath the cushioning of tissue paper, feeling the cold clay against your fingertips in only but a second. You wrapped your fingers around what felt like a handle, pulling it slowly from the packaging obscuring its nature.

As you stared down at the cerulean ceramic, you began to laugh.

“I know it’s not some fancy plaque,” Felix started, lighthearted humor coating every word he uttered as he shot you a playful grin, “But I hope it’s still an honor.”

Against the gemlike blue were yellow letters, written in the same handwriting as the rainbow set of rules on your far-from-professional contract. They read:

#1 Fake Girlfriend.

“And, if not,” Felix’s jovial tone hadn’t shifted in the slightest, his eyes seeming to sparkle with unreleased laughter, “It’s another mug for your collection.”

Your mirthful gaze landed on his, an unencumbered smile stretched upon your lips, “Thank you, Felix,” you hummed, staring back down at the mug affectionately before placing it carefully back in it’s box, keeping it safe until you could get it up to your apartment, “I love it.”

And you did. It was almost unsettling just how much a simple mug could mean to you, but you weren’t going to question it. It was far more pleasant to bask in the glow of the gift that you instantly grew attached to.

You moved to get out of the truck, stacking your award plaque atop the box as you opened the door, only to be stopped by Felix calling your name from the cab.

You looked back at him with a curious expression, waiting for him to continue.

“After what happened tonight…” he hesitated, watching your face to make sure you weren’t upset with his broaching of the topic, “If you want, I could stick around? Or you could come to mine? Either way, I’ll take the couch!” he quickly inserted that, as if predicting you’d have something to say about sleeping arrangements, “We could test out these neat little shot glasses if you want? We don’t have to talk about it or anything, but if you don’t wanna be alone –”

“Felix,” you cut him off, a breathy laugh on your lips. The bashfulness written in the way his brows simultaneously furrowed and raised nearly caught you off-guard as you interrupted him.

“Yes?”

“I’d appreciate the company,” you smiled at the visible relief, his posture relaxing entirely, “Let me go change, gimme five minutes?”

Felix nodded, getting comfortable in the driver’s seat, “Take your time,” he assured you gently, “I’ll be here.”

Those words were so simple, yet the way Felix had said them made them feel like the most comforting three word phrases you’d ever heard.

You left Felix in the parking garage to switch your glamorous dress out for sweats and a hoodie, and your heels for a comfortable pair of sneakers. You glanced back inside your apartment, beaming at the box containing your new mug sitting atop your counter - almost oblivious to the shiny silver plaque next to it.

You locked the door behind you, quickening your pace so as not to leave Felix waiting. As his face lit up upon spotting you, beaming happily at you as he leaned over in his seat to shove the door open for you, you were certain.

Out of every accolade you’d ever received, #1 Fake Girlfriend was by far your favorite.

#hwangficx #prove me wrong feedback #thank you so much. truly.#it means a lot to me that you took the time to read ❤️

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aspenwritesstuff · 1 year ago

Text

Oh, my dear! Thank you so much for giving this a read, and for telling me that this helped when your brain has been such a bully. ❤️ I’m honored that this fic could help you, even a little. Thank you for always being so kind and supportive, sweets. Truly. It makes my heart warm.

Part Seven: Just You

🌹 prev 🌹 masterlist 🌹 next (coming soon)

🌹taglist: open! @drhsthl, @propertyoftoru, @pumkiinpasties @raehawthorne

🌹 permanent taglist: @svintsandghosts, @notastraykid

"Felix smiling because of you was quickly becoming one of your favorite things, and when he rushed forward without warning to hug you? You realized his hugs may be one of them, too." "Hugging Felix was like being wrapped in a warm blanket after being out in the cold. Comfortable, easy, soothing."

warnings: cheating mention, mentions of blood and snot, self-doubt, swearing, mention of violence, not a whole lot of warnings for this chapter, really, it's a lot of fluff.

wc: 5582

author's note: hi, hello. I am alive! I'm so, so sorry for how long it's taken me to update this fic. Writing has been hard, the last year has been a hell of a time. but I'm back now, and I hope that it was worth the wait. If you're still here, thank you. I appreciate your patience and love for PMW.

xoxo,

Aspen

As Lee Felix, twenty-three year old bartender opened his freezer to pull out a frosty bottle of liquor, you felt at peace. Despite the clutter here and there, his apartment managed to radiate the same comfort and warmth as the man himself.

Following a heartfelt apology for the mess - along with an explanation, despite your insistence that you didn’t mind the few things he’d left out, that he simply wasn’t expecting company - Felix had given you what he referred to as “the grand tour.”

Felix had given a remarkable amount of attention to detail whilst showing you around, as if you were staying longer than just a night, and made sure to show you where every single thing you could possibly need would be located. He’d even shown you how to operate his game consoles with a reasoning of, “Just in case you’re awake after I am,” and a bright smile.

“You could be a realtor, if you ever get bored of tending bar,” you mused, pulling yourself from the memory of your tour before casting Felix a teasing smile. He chuckled before shaking his head and pouring a shot in two of the glasses you’d made for him.

“I don’t know about that,” he said with a comedic level of wariness, drawing out the words as he tucked away the only unused part of your gift away in the cupboard, “But I’ll keep that in mind.”

Your gaze was drawn to the pale blue in the midst of clear glass as your gift to Felix bumped against crystal, a tinge of self-consciousness settling in your thoughts at the absolute contrast to the things he’d already owned. He didn’t seem to mind, though, the corners of his lips remaining curved upwards in a content smile as he shut the cupboard. “Here,” Felix’s voice broke through the train of thought you’d been spiraling down, the squeak of ceramic against granite accompanying the sliding of the minty green cup to you.

“Thanks.” You managed, tearing your eyes from one out-of-place little shot glass to another, taking it into both of your hands despite its size. “What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn’t have a celebratory drink in honor of your victory?” He said with an innocent seriousness, though he couldn’t hold his smirk towards his own joke for long. “Which victory?” You asked in reply, his lightheartedness paired with the way his head cocked to the side like a curious cat while he’d awaited your reply bringing a small smile to your own lips. “Being the number one fake girlfriend, of course!” He said with a blinding smile, holding up his pink shot glass filled with soju as he waited for you to toast with him, “To the best fake girlfriend in the world!” His prideful tone made you laugh quietly as you lifted your own glass to his with a small ‘clink’ that only tiny little ceramic glasses could make, downing your shot before speaking breathlessly through the burn, “You know, you’re not a half bad fake boyfriend either.” Felix absolutely beamed.

“Now you’re just flattering me,” his voice carried his smile, making it unknown whether or not the heat in your chest was the lingering effects of the soju or simply Felix’s warmth.

“You got a split lip for me tonight, I’d say that definitely got you some points,” you corrected him as he filled the glasses once more, sliding yours back over to you. “And you cleaned it up for me, so the score is evened,” he countered, raising a brow as if challenging you to argue. Of course, you did. “You cleaned my mascara up, too.” “Blood is arguably grosser than gray tear tracks,” he said with a tilt of his head, a hint of a smile betraying just how seriously he was trying to convince you he was taking this. “I snotted on your blazer,” you scoffed, “That’s pretty gross.” “I work at a bar, I’ve seen grosser.” “Touche,” you conceded before downing your second shot, pondering for a moment on how the evening had unfolded before speaking, “I’m still sorry, y’know, about–” “Ah-ah!” Felix held up a finger and shook it, his brows shooting up, “No apologizing for something I chose to do.” “But you–” “I said no apologizing!” he repeated firmly, a frown on his normally cheerful face nearly being enough to make you stop.

As powerful as a pouting Lee Felix was, your guilt was stronger. “You wouldn’t have gotten punched if it weren’t for me.” Felix paused at that, his goofy little scowl morphing into a genuine, parted-lips look of surprise and contemplation. “I told you before, and I’ll tell you now. I’d do it again,” he said earnestly, looking right past your eyes and into your soul. He’d been pretending before, but now? Now Felix was actually serious. “Felix…” you began, trailing off as you realized you couldn’t say what you wanted to. Surely Felix would frown for real if you told him that you didn’t think you, yourself, were worth the trouble - and genuinely upsetting Felix sounded like a great way to cry for the third time this evening. “I’m serious!” he insisted, taking his second shot and dutifully pouring you both another, “And, honestly? That guy seemed like a dick. I’d probably have punched him eventually anyway, y’know? So stop blaming yourself for a silly little scrape.” You sputtered out a laugh, having failed to hold it back at the idea of San and Felix somehow meeting without you as a mutual existence in their lives. “You think so?” You asked him, still trying to hold back from simply cackling at the notion. “Oh, for sure. Assholes love going to bars, and I work at one. I’m sure I’d have seen him eventually and he’d have done something that would warrant a punch.” You couldn’t argue that, at least. San did have a penchant for being a dick pretty much anywhere he went. “I don’t see you as the ‘punch-a-random-dude’ kind of person, Felix,” you argued the next best - and valid - thing you could.

“He isn’t a random dude, he’s a prick and he sucks,” Felix said somberly, looking gravely serious as he slid your refilled cup over to you.

The laugh that threatened to escape had now succeeded, making you cover your mouth while it made its way through you and out into the air. Once it had died down, Felix took his shot and sighed, looking a bit conflicted. You wondered what on earth could be so serious in his little sunshine-y head, but you didn’t have to ponder long. “So…who was that guy?” Felix asked quietly, averting his eyes as if afraid the question would be far too much. Normally, he’d be right…but now? You weren’t sure if it was because it was Felix asking, or the way he’d been there for you tonight, or the soju that was now effectively making you relax, but you would tell him. It was weird. Jisung knew about San because he’d been there firsthand, but otherwise you simply opted out of sharing. Of course, there were mutual friends of you and San’s who’d ask you, but you would always abruptly change the subject and then make a point not to see those people again. So, it was weird…

But you wanted to tell him. “That was San,” you answered him in a sigh, lifting your shot to your lips and taking it in one fell swoop - you’d likely need it. “And he is?” Felix prompted you to continue, though not aggressively. He was gentle about it, pulling the information from you like a splinter that might hurt, but needed to come out. He wasn’t being nosy, he wasn’t being impatient. He was being compassionate.

As if just as much as you wanted to tell him, he wanted to know. Not for gossip, not for himself…but to understand. “He’s my ex,” you answered simply, setting your shot glass down as Felix immediately pulled it close to himself again, waiting to pour until he was sure you’d finished a complete - if not short - sentence. “You dated him?” Felix asked in an almost dumbfounded way, like the idea of San having once been someone you cared about was unreal. “I almost married him,” you corrected, watching as Felix’s eyes widened briefly before he regained his composure. “I’m glad you didn’t,” he said quietly, putting the now empty soju bottle next to the sink before moving around the counter to stand next to you rather than across. You appreciated his proximity more than you’d want to admit.

“Dodged a bullet, didn’t I?” you murmured, a dry laugh leaving you as you stared down at the shot of soju, “Or, I guess, the bullet dodged me in favor of a different target.” “No…” Felix whispered, going wide-eyed, “He..?” “Yeah.” Silence ensued for a moment as Felix simply glanced at you, then to the floor, then back to you. “Married her, too, if the ring on his finger was anything to judge by,” you added, figuring if you were going to talk about this? You may as well get it all out. “Only thing that ring is gonna be good for is splitting my lip,” Felix said with a quiet, simmering anger, taking his shot before turning to look at you, “Nothing born of cheating is gonna last. He’ll be alone, and he’ll have no one to blame but himself.” “That’s what I tell myself, too,” you responded in kind, swallowing your soju just as he had moments ago, “But maybe I’m wrong. He’s married, and I don’t even believe in love.” “Because of him?” Felix asked quietly, carefully picking up the shot glasses and setting them near the sink, turning to face you as he leaned back on the counter. “Yeah. Because of him.”

Felix frowned, walking up to you and clapping his hands against your cheeks just hard enough to make you pay attention, though there was no sting. His stare looked intense, though not in the same way it did earlier at the gala. He looked angry then. Now he looked sad. “Don’t you dare give him that power,” Felix said sternly, his voice rumbling in his chest as he continued to hold your face, “He doesn’t deserve to have any influence over you or your life. Ever.” “Felix, it’s not that big of–” you began, wanting to assure him that it wasn’t something that needed tending to - at least not now. “Yes. It is.” He interrupted, lowering his hands and sighing softly, “I hate that he did that to you. I wish I’d punched him harder.” “Felix, really, I’m okay.” “No you’re not.” “I’ll be okay.” “I know.”

There was a long silence, interrupted only by the soft swishing of Felix’s hand through his hair, before he finally spoke. “I’m sorry I got so worked up,” he mumbled, still looking away, “I just…you’re important to me, and he hurt you and messed with your brain and–” “Felix, it’s okay,” it was your turn to interrupt now, and the softness of your own voice surprised you. “Thanks for telling me,” he said quietly, looking over at you with a sheepish little grin, the beginnings of the brightness you knew him for starting to return. “It’d be kind of unfair of me not to,” you conceded rather than accepting his gratitude, doing your best to return what you hoped was a semblance of a smile. “What? Why?” Felix asked, perplexion leading him into that all-too-familiar by now head tilt. “You’re trying to prove me wrong, right?” Felix nodded in response, to which you continued, “Shouldn’t you know why I hold my beliefs?” Felix paused, but then nodded, “I suppose so…but still. You didn’t have to tell me, y’know? But you did.” He was right. You didn’t have to tell Felix about San at all, let alone that you’d almost married him. You didn’t have to tell him that San was now getting to live the life that could’ve been yours if he’d stayed faithful. You didn’t have to, but… “I wanted to,” you said quietly, “I…haven’t really talked about it much.” “Will no one listen?” Felix asked innocently, now intent on understanding as much of you as you’d allow. “It’s not that, plenty of people asked.” “Why me?” That question gave you pause. Why Felix, of all people, to unload - albeit in very little detail - what happened with San to? You knew the answer.

Who else to tell but the man who made you a silly little mug that matters to you more than an award? Who else to tell but the man who left a date with his dream girl just to come find you and make sure you were alright? Who else to tell but the man who carried you to bed when you fell asleep in his truck? Who else to tell but the man who almost punched your best friend, and did punch your ex, simply because he wanted you safe? Felix was warm. He was sunlight, he was joy. He was security, dependable even though he might be a bit goofy at times. Felix was safe.

Who else would you tell if not Lee Felix? That was far too long of an answer to give the eagerly waiting man, however, so you settled for simply saying, “Because you’re you.”

And he smiled.

Felix smiling because of you was quickly becoming one of your favorite things, and when he rushed forward without warning to hug you? You realized his hugs may be one of them, too.

Hugging Felix was like being wrapped in a warm blanket after being out in the cold. Comfortable, easy, soothing.

Felix did not hold you too tightly, just enough to make sure you knew he had you, one of his hands absently rubbing your mid back. He smelled of the peach soju you’d shared earlier and remnants of his cologne, and he was warm. Not in the sense you usually saw him, but genuinely and truly warm.

“You know what you need?” he posed his question with an eager smile as he pulled back from the hug, though you wished he hadn’t.

You don’t voice that, though, so instead you settled on a query of your own, “What’s that?”

“Brownies.”

Of all the things to suggest, making brownies at midnight was not on the list of expectations from Felix.

Though at this point, it seemed, Felix had a habit of defying your expectations.

“Hand me the flour?”

You complied, pulling yourself from that train of thought to hand him the large bag of flour, to which he thanked you with that brilliant smile of his.

As you watched Felix expertly fold the batter into itself, you couldn’t help but wonder what else there was to him that you had yet to discover. As much as being taken aback by Felix wasn’t a problem, it also opened the door to an almost unhealthy level of curiosity to who he was when he wasn’t existing in your presence.

A curiosity you couldn’t quite identify the necessity for.

“How long have you been baking for?” you asked, rather than focusing on finding the root of your newfound interest in his life.

Felix paused in his stirring, setting the rubber spatula down to rest against the edge of the bowl as he hummed, answering after a brief moment of contemplation, “A few years, I think?” he began, sounding just as unsure of the answer as you would’ve been, “I started out trying to learn to impress a girl, but turns out she had a boyfriend.” You stifled the urge to roll your eyes; of course he would’ve learned in an attempt to find love. A so very Felix reason to pick up a hobby.

“I liked it, though,” he began, “Baking, that is…not that she had a boyfriend. That’d be weird,” he said with a small laugh, shaking his head as he looked back to the bowl of batter and added in some cocoa powder.

“What makes you like it so much?” you asked him, surprised by the interest you heard behind your own inquiry.

“Well,” he began with another smile as he blended the powder in the bowl, reaching for the chocolate chips to add into the sweet-smelling mixture, “It’s kind of cheesy…” he mumbled, setting the bowl aside to get a pan from beneath the stove.

“Hit me with it,” you said with a small laugh, watching as he poured the rich brown batter into the pan carefully.

“Okay…” he spoke hesitantly, opening the oven and sliding the tray in, “I like having a skill that makes people smile.”

That gave you pause.

While you hadn’t necessarily been wrong about the reason for his initial interest in the hobby being very true-to-form, something about knowing he’d continued because it made people happy struck you, as if there were no other reason that would make as much sense as that one did. Why you hadn’t expected it was beyond you, but you felt a warmth settling in your chest at the thought.

“To make people smile?” you inquired, to which he nodded.

“Yeah. Someone has a bad day? Baked goods. Celebrating? Baked goods. Friends coming over? Baked goods. They’re never really out of place, y’know? And they always make things better.”

You nodded, understanding what he meant but likely not as deeply as he felt it. The look on his face spoke leagues, he looked so proud of being able to do something that brought at least a bit of a bright point to someone’s day.

“That makes sense for you,” you answered him eventually, the corners of your lips turning upwards.

“Does it?” he countered, tilting his head as he picked up a towel to wipe any lingering brownie from his fingertips, “How do you figure?”

“Well, yeah,” you started, the words to say coming from your lips in an unplanned series of compliments that made Felix’s cheeks turn progressively darker shades of pink, “You’re selfless, Felix. You left a date to make sure I was okay, you remembered I like dumb novelty mugs, you’re always smiling and ready to help at a moment’s notice…so, yeah, I think it makes perfect sense that, even with a hobby, you want it to bring brightness into someone else’s life.”

Felix cleared his throat, a grin on his lips that he tried to hide by looking away bashfully, “Wow…I mean, thank you, I…” he trailed off, “I’m really not that great, though, y’know? I’m just…me.”

“Just you was the first person I felt safe sharing my past with San to, remember?” you countered immediately, an ache forming in your gut as you felt the self-deprecating nature of Felix’s comment about himself. You wondered if there were maybe something that had happened to him, just as something had happened to you, to plant such a seed of self doubt in his mind.

You wanted to find whatever it was and pluck it from his little blonde head.

“I guess you’re right…” he said quietly, looking up at you with a lopsided smile.

“No guessing about it, Felix. Just you is pretty great, remember that.” The seriousness with which you spoke those words to Felix surprised you, and apparently him as he paused for a moment with his lips slightly parted.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, still looking every part a flustered boy who hadn’t the slightest clue how to accept a compliment.

“Yeah,” you said back, equal sheepishness in your tone now that exactly what you’d said and how you’d said it registered with you.

Time passed quietly, though not awkwardly after that conversation. Felix had busied himself by washing the mixing bowls and measuring cups while you sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone. A sudden ping almost made you jump, the comfortable silence broken by a pop-up denoting a new message.

Dumb Squirrel: hey, minho and i just got back to our hotel!

Dumb Squirrel: how was the gala?

Dumb Squirrel: did you win?

You couldn’t help but smile, the startling dings becoming less jarring and more comforting as they continued to flood through.

You: how’s Jeju?

You: I won, yeah.

You: The gala was…something.

Jisung’s reply came almost the second after you’d hit send, rendering switching back to scrolling socials a bit pointless as you tapped the drop-down.

Dumb Squirrel: “something”???

Dumb Squirrel: explain.

You sighed. Explaining this to Jisung may very well be as exhausting if not more than the actual events that had occurred. You could already guess that he’d react poorly, if not violently - not that Jisung could take a punch, let alone throw one. As tempting as lying was, this was your best friend…and you knew he’d find out eventually.

You: well…San was there.

The absolute flurry of texts you were then bombarded with were nothing short of the literary equivalent of a storm.

Dumb Squirrel: WHAT?!

Dumb Squirrel: what the fuck?

Dumb Squirrel: W H Y the fuck?

Dumb Squirrel: you didn’t call me why?

Dumb Squirrel: are you okay?

Dumb Squirrel: do you need me to come home?

You waited a moment, just to be sure he was done with his rapid-fire questions before responding.

You: I’m okay. He said it was to save me from embarrassment, but I don’t know if I believe that. I didn’t call because I was at the gala and you’re busy. You don’t need to come home.

You: Felix kinda saved me.

Jisung’s next text came in slower, a welcome relief from what was beginning to tempt you to turn off your ringer.

Dumb Squirrel: Felix showed?

Dumb Squirrel: I was hoping he would! thank god he did.That was…puzzling. Why had Jisung assumed Felix would come?

You: Did you have something to do with him showing up?

You: I swear if you gave him a guilt trip…

Dumb Squirrel: No, no, nothing like that. He just asked me what the gala was out of nowhere, so I told him. And he didn’t like that you were alone, and asked me if you’d have liked someone there.

Dumb Squirrel: all I did was tell him that yeah, you probably would.

You frowned, this made no sense…

You: How did he even know to ask about it? I never told him.

Dumb Squirrel: I don’t know, that’s a Felix question.

You: and you had NOTHING to do with it?

Dumb Squirrel: would I lie and pass up on being your knight in shining armor by association?

He had a point. Jisung would never pass up on an opportunity to boast about saving the day for you, even when it was something as simple as bringing you a coffee when you had a deadline coming up…there was no way he’d not admit to sending someone to accompany you at the gala.

“Hey, brownies are coming out!” Felix chimed happily from the kitchen, pink oven mitts on his hands bringing a fond look to your face.

You: Felix made me brownies, gotta go. Have fun with minho!

Dumb Squirrel: You’re still with him???

Dumb Squirrel: 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Dumb Squirrel: details????

Dumb Squirrel: bitch????

You ignored the texts with a small exhale of a laugh before leaving your phone on the arm of the couch, joining Felix in the kitchen.

The smell in the air was heavenly. Cocoa and a hint of coffee filling your lungs, replacing any thought you had other than just how good something with that rich of a smell would taste. Your mouth watered, and it took more effort than you’d care to admit in order to remember what you wanted to ask Felix.

“So, Jisung texted,” you began, hoping to maybe find a smooth way to ask without sounding accusatory. Simply asking straightforwardly how he knew about the gala felt a bit too brash, a bit too harsh for someone like Felix.

Felix was gentle, so you would be gentle.

“Oh! What’d he have to say?” Felix asked happily while slicing the brownies carefully with a knife, taking a spatula and scooping two out of the pan and onto little plates adorned with pastel flowers along the edges.

“He and Minho are back to their hotel room,” you started, pressing your lips together as you wondered how exactly you’d tackle the elephant in the room that only you could see.

“Oh, that’s right, they’re on vacation, right?” he asked innocently, handing you a plate expectantly.

“Mhm, Jeju,” you said quietly, sitting down at the island counter with your brownie. Why was it so hard to just ask?

“Ooh! Pretty this time of year,” he noted, sitting one seat over from you and setting his own plate down, immediately taking a bite of the brownie with a pleased grumble from deep in his chest, “Try it!” he encouraged, covering his mouth with his hand so as not to show off the mouthful he had.

It was impossible not to, when his eyes sparkled while stared at you. The question could wait.

You lifted the still-warm brownie in your hand, taking a bite from the corner. As soon as it hit your tongue, the perfect mixture of crispy and gooey, you felt your eyes widen with an unintentional exclamation of, “Mmm!” leaving your lips, brows now sky high as you chewed, savoring it for everything it was.

It was more than just a brownie. It was a gift from a boy filled with sunshine - a boy who’d saved you tonight, despite your uncertainty as to how he’d known you’d needed saving in the first place. It was made specifically for you, by a boy who’d learned for someone else entirely.

The boy who liked to bake to make people happier baked these for you, to make you happier.

That was more important right now.

“These are amazing, Felix!” you complimented, lips upturned without you having the intention for them to be, to which he grinned right back.

“Really?” he chirped, straightening up as he accepted the praise, his fluffy hair bouncing around his head as he almost vibrated with the happiness that compliment gave him, “They’re my own recipe, I’m glad you like them!”

“I do!” you nodded before taking another bite, the flavor being perfect - not too sweet, hints of the bitter from the instant coffee powder he’d used in them, “You could sell these!”

Felix shook his head, “They lose their meaning then,” he said earnestly, “It’s not special anymore if just anyone can have them.”

That made your heart lurch in your chest.

You were not just anyone to Lee Felix.

“I guess I see your point,” you managed to speak, rather than pondering exactly what his explanation meant to you. The two of you ate in silence for a while, your brownie being nothing but a few crumbs on a plate when you remembered your original question.

“Felix?”

“Hmm?” he asked, picking up both of your plates and carrying them to the sink.

“How did you know where I was?” you asked him, feeling much more settled now that you’d had a moment of peace with him.

“Oh…” Felix trailed off, a breathless chuckle leaving him as he turned to face you, running a hand through his hair - something you’d learned he did often when nervous, “I think you sent me a picture on accident instead of Jisung.”

“Huh?” you asked him, reaching for your phone only to remember you’d left it on the couch. Felix quickly pulled his own out, saving you the effort, and opening your texts to show you the photo and the text that had mistakenly been sent to him.

He was right in the assumption the photo and message had been meant for Jisung, a dry humor to the ‘pray for me’ you’d attached once you’d arrived to the gala sending off pings in your head as you realized that the message hadn’t, in fact, made it to the intended recipient.

It was an accident, albeit a lucky one.

“And you came..?” you asked him, handing the phone back to him in an almost-daze.

“Well, yeah. I asked Jisung what it was, and once I found out you were all alone at such an important thing for you, I couldn’t just leave you by yourself,” he mumbled, looking away shyly as if admitting his own kindness were difficult for him.

“But you were out with Ryujin,” you pointed out, though if anyone knew that it was Felix.

“I know…I told her I had an emergency with a friend, though, and she understood,” he said, waving a hand almost as though trying to shoo away your concerns.

“How did you even know it was an emergency? You didn’t even know about San,” you spoke quietly, sounding every bit as confused as you felt.

“I didn’t need to know about him to know that being there for you was important,” he shrugged, still downplaying just how big it had been to you.

“More important than a date with the girl you’re head over heels for?” you asked him, incredulous that - without knowing about the discomfort of an ex being there - Felix still found being there for you to be urgent.

“Sure, why not?” he asked, his brows furrowing in genuine confusion as to how that was even a question, “I can reschedule a date, you can’t reschedule an award show.”

He…wasn’t wrong, no…but it felt almost foreign to have the show put on such a high pedestal. You had to beg San, back when you’d actually wanted him there, to come. A man you were supposed to marry basically needed to be dragged to it. And here was Felix…a friend who you’d made in the strangest of circumstances, who’d dropped something he’d wanted for months, unprompted, to support you.

It took everything you had not to cry - and Felix could tell.

“Hey, hey, did I say something wrong?” he asked, hurriedly making his way to your side and putting a hand on your shoulder - a warm, safe, comforting hand. The same hand on the same shoulder he’d comforted you with at the gala…

“No, no, it’s not that, it’s just…” you trailed off, cursing the wetness you felt in your eyes as your cheeks grew hot, shaking your head as it felt like your throat grew tighter.

His hand squeezed your shoulder, but he didn’t speak. You didn’t need to look at him to know he held a furrow between his brows, concern written on every facet of his face.

“I just can’t believe you’d show up for me,” you finished your thought, your voice cracking as you managed to keep the tears from spilling down your face.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Felix said softly, moving his hand to your back to rub small, soothing circles there.

“Because I’m…me,” you said with a dry laugh, wiping your eyes on the back of your hands - they still smelled like the brownies, and it was strangely comforting.

“None of that,” Felix said with a frown, reaching behind him to grab a paper towel in case you’d need to wipe your eyes or blow your nose, “Just you is pretty great, too, y’know.”

He echoed the sentiment you’d given him earlier, though it felt almost uncanny to have reversed towards you now. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you looked up at him and nodded with a quiet sniffle.

“Yeah?” you managed to ask, your voice thick with emotion.

“I wouldn’t make you brownies if you weren’t.” His words were like an oath, his face devoid of any hint of humor as he nodded in return.

And you believed him. You believed that somehow, Lee Felix, twenty-three year old bartender, found just you to be enough.

Enough to make his special recipe he saved for making others happy for. Enough to leave the girl he was hopelessly in love with alone at a bar. Enough to punch your ex in the face. Enough to carefully clean your face up. Enough to remember you collected, let alone to make a silly novelty mug for. Enough to carry you up to your apartment when you’d fallen asleep. Enough to care about.

Even after the threat of tears were gone for the time being, that thought would stick with you.

You were enough to be cared for, and that thought would surround you just as much as the scent of brownies and Felix’s shampoo as you fell asleep in his bed that night, his light snoring from the couch being the sweetest lullaby.

It was the best night’s sleep you’d had since San left, and the final thoughts in your head were that you certainly hoped Felix knew that he, too, was enough. More than enough. You hoped he knew that everything he’d done for you had given you a deep sense of peace, quieting those voices in the back of your mind that would whisper things into your ears to make you doubt yourself. You hoped he knew that his brownies made you happy. You hoped he knew that you’d always be grateful for just how much he’d done for you - not only in the last twenty-four hours, but since you’d met him.

You were already grateful, too, for the things he had yet to do, because there was no doubt in your mind that there would, in fact, be more he would do for you.

Not that you’d ever ask him. You wouldn’t have to. That was just Lee Felix.

#svintsandghosts #pmw feedback #thank you so much 🥺

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aspenwritesstuff · 2 years ago

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Thank you so much for still reading my work even when I take forever to update. I feel like I can always count on some feedback and motivation to continue when I see your name pop up 🥹❤️

CLAWS INDEED. I may or may not have been grinning like some sort of lunatic as I wrote Felix’s last couple of lines. I almost didn’t leave it as a cliffhanger because protective Felix makes me so 🥰

Felix hits different lately, not gonna lie 👀 but also SAME. I love San so much and I felt so WEIRD writing him to be awful in this. A good friend of mine also had him as a cheater in a recent fic and now it’s a running joke that he’s in his bad-boy/mean era. 💀💀