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stayxlix · 4 months

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off the deep end. (07)

~(part seven) the last nail in a shared coffin~

pairing: rebel!felix x reader (f)

genre: non-idol au, post-apocalypse/dystopian au. wc: 20.6k

series rating: 18+ **minors do not interact**

chapter warnings: violent mature themes, explicit sexual content (consensual, unprotected sex, oral sex), nightmares, mentions of murder/death, mentions of parent death, mentions of hunger, oppressive government, fighting, weaponry (knife use, gun use), panic, injury, blood, language, a whole lot lot of angst, please lmk if i missed any!!

a/n: thank you all so much for your patience and continued support, it really does mean the world to mee.<3 any feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are more appreciated than you know. im so excited to share the next part of this journey with you!! as always, i hope you enjoy.♡♡

series masterlist

"fear and love are like interwoven threads—immutable and bound together by celestial forces. the sun and moon navigate the intricate dance of light and darkness for eternity, echoing the delicate balance between the two emotions that every heart must learn."

Felix had always been able to divide fear into two distinct entities.

The first was immediate, tangible. The kind of fear he’d grown accustomed to like an old, unwelcome acquaintance. The kind that crept beneath his skin when he could no longer ignore hunger’s gnawing ache. When he observed the hollow eyes of his companions after scouring the barren landscape, only to return empty-handed. It was the frigid air that seeped into his bones during long winter nights, the kind that set his pulse racing when footsteps echoed too closely in the darkness.

The second was deeper, a phantom kind of fear that stained the recesses of his soul. It was a desperate gasp for air in the suffocating grip of hands that devoured the weak. The cool touch of a steel barrel against skin that bore the marks of a merciless world. It was fear in the phantom weight of invisible chains that had once coiled around his neck—chains wielded by demons from a past that clawed relentlessly at the barriers of his sanity.

It was the dread that he would wake up one morning to discover a void where seven—no, eight souls had once stood beside him. To find his humanity stripped away again, replaced by the savage instincts he had fought so hard to overcome.

The kind of fear that crept into his dreams belonged to the second category.

Nearly six hours had slipped away since the first glimmer of morning light, when you had woken Felix from the nightmare.

"Felix,” your voice—your real voice—not the distorted echo from his nightmare, had called out. Clear and reassuring, summoning him from the depths of his own subconscious.

“Felix, wake up. You’re dreaming.”

His eyelids shot open, pupils dilating wildly as they struggled to adjust. A sharp gasp pierced the stillness as his body surged forward. Disoriented, his hands instinctively sought you out as he struggled to untangle the threads of the nightmare from reality.

"It's okay,” you whispered, fingers gently gripping his shoulder, "you're safe."

You’re safe, you'd said. And those words, while meant to comfort him, had almost caused Felix to laugh, at the absurdity of the idea that he could ever be tormented by a nightmare involving his own harm.

His head lifted, glossy eyes still clouded with the remnants of fear. Yet, relief began to glimmer within their depths. Because your lips were not stained red, there was no blood-soaked knife clutched in his hand, no imaginary blade pierced through your chest.

Felix drew in a shuddering breath, reality slowly stitching itself back together. Piece by piece, thread by thread.

You watched him closely, concern dancing in your eyes as you tried to grasp the torment of whatever horrors he had witnessed in his sleep. And then you’d sighed, heavy with affection and a touch of sadness, before shifting closer.

Your arms enveloped his shoulders and, to his own surprise, Felix didn't resist your touch—though maybe he should have, given what his subconscious had just inflicted upon you. But he couldn’t find the strength to keep his arms from making their way around you in return.

His head dropped to your shoulder, the tension in his muscles easing. Warm touch met cold, trembling skin. The physical contact was grounding—you were grounding. A lifeline anchoring Felix to the reality he so desperately needed to return to.

He strained to listen until the steady rhythm of your heart found his ear. In the stillness, the sound grew and grew until it was the only thing he heard. Every beat was proof that you were real, breathing and alive. But as the moments stretched Felix began to fear that it might slow, that every beat might be the last before an eternity of silence, that he would look up to find a dagger buried in it once again and—

The air in his lungs became thin, his grip tightened, fingers digging into your back. “I couldn’t do anything," his voice rumbled low, muffled by the fabric of your shoulder. And he didn't even know what he was saying but the words had come out trembling. As if the nightmare had lodged itself in his throat, constricting his vocal cords.

“It’s okay,” you hushed, your lips grazing his ear in a soft caress. “It’s just a dream, it can't hurt you."

But it's not about me, he thought. It's not about me, it's never been about me. But it remained a silent confession. Because he could not bring himself to tell you the real reason the nightmare had left him so shaken. A quiet truth that hung heavily in the air, tethered to the gruesome image of you that still clung to his mind.

With a gentle tug, you encouraged him to join you in lying back down. Felix hesitated, his gaze falling toward the cave’s entrance—a reminder of the harsh reality waiting outside. But you cupped his cheek and, with a tender smile and the quiet utterance of his name, convinced him to stay.

Your bodies melded together against the uneven contours of the cave floor. Your fingers threaded through his disheveled hair, tracing the curve of his scalp with each gentle stroke. Another hour might have unfolded as you clung to each other in silence, but it never would have been enough. Time slipped away, ignoring Felix's silent plea for it to slow.

When the rest of the boys began to stir, you shared a hesitant glance. Despite his obvious reluctance for you to withdraw, slowly, gradually, you did. Your fingers left Felix’s hair and his hands slid away from your back. He let you go, eyes following your retreat, and the ache in his chest returned at full force.

As you reclaimed your original spot a few feet away, you stretched, covering a yawn. Your casual expression revealed nothing of the profound moment—the profound night—you had shared with Felix. A night of stolen intimacy, waiting to resurface again in the quiet moments when the world turned its back.

As he drove the motorcycle, squinting against the pale brightness, Felix used the sun’s position in the sky to track the passage of time.

Early afternoon, he figured. Maybe eight hours now since the group had abandoned the safety of the cave. And despite the solace he’d found in your touch that morning, a growing shadow of guilt threatened to consume his mind.

With every hour, the weight of the nightmare's horrors slowly eased, though they never fully vanished. Every time he dared to close his eyes, that agonizing image of you returned—a cruel reminder of the violence he had once been capable of.

The violence that he was still capable of.

Felix had always recognized his nightmares as a manifestation of his deepest guilt. They had always been sinister—disturbing, and yet, this particular nightmare was unlike any he had faced before. Because he wasn't afraid for himself, he'd never been. But he was terrified for you. Of what he might be capable of doing to you.

Even if Felix knew deep down that he could never intentionally hurt you, there was that persistent voice in his head reminding him of every mistake he'd made, every violent impulse he'd ever had.

His fingers flexed on the motorcycle, feeling as though the handlebars would slip through his grasp at any moment. He squeezed until his knuckled turned white, trying to hold on to some semblance of control. Because Felix was acutely aware of his capacity to lose control. Giving in to that dormant beast lingering just below the surface.

As the nightmare replayed in his mind, Felix couldn’t help but wonder if it had also been a consequence of what he’d said to you that night in the tavern—that you would already be dead if he'd had things his way. Such a careless thing to say considering that, even if he hadn’t known it then, his affection for you had existed in those early moments too.

With every jolt of the motorcycle, Felix fought the nausea that settled in his empty stomach. Caught somewhere between the past and the present, the sensation of your arms around his waist served as a physical reminder of how far he'd come since that conversation. How he'd transformed from someone potentially willing to end your life, to someone committed to protecting it at all costs.

Felix killed the engine and dismounted the bike, muscles rigid from hours of tension. Late afternoon now. Half a day had gone by when the group unanimously agreed that it was time for a break.

As he refueled the bike, its exhaust pipes still crackling with heat, he wondered how long he and Chan were going to ignore the diminishing weight of the fuel containers. But the thought was quickly drowned out by Minho and Changbin—bickering over the now unfolded map.

Felix tuned them out, making note of the way you lingered by his side. He sensed the silent inquiry in your eyes, seeking reassurance about his well-being after this morning’s ordeal. But now wasn’t the place or the time to talk about the nightmare. It was still too heavy, too raw, and to be honest Felix wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to find the words to articulate it all.

He didn’t even know where to start.

So, despite the solace he found in the quiet strength you exuded, Felix distanced himself from your side. He sought out a flat rock, its cool surface soothing against the back of his neck as he reclined. The setting sun caressed his face, and if he had summoned the courage to close his eyes completely, he thought he might have been able to envision himself back on the rooftop. To the moment Chan had first revealed the plan for the raid—a memory bathed in similar sunlight, when the breeze had carried the scent of a world that felt unrecognizable now.

Felix allowed himself to wonder, only briefly, if he should long for the simplicity of that memory. At a time when he hadn’t felt much of anything at all aside from his love for the seven boys around him. But even that, he had done his best to dull. The numbness had been a shield, but it was a defense he no longer seemed to possess. Because now, every gust of wind seemed to carry the whisper of your name. The moon, a constant observer of his fondest memories and reflections, couldn't even come close to the comfort he found in your embrace. Even the warmth of the sun on his skin could never compare to your touch. Feelings he couldn’t begin to comprehend had taken place of that numbness, battling the darkness that had lingered for far too long.

With a slight tilt of his head, Felix cast a subtle glance in your direction. He found you seated next to Seungmin a short distance away, and he wondered whether you were truly managing the way you’d claimed you were last night. Maybe it was the weariness displayed in the lines of your face, the slight downturn of your lips, the way your shoulders always seemed to carry an invisible weight—things that didn't escape his notice because he understood them all too well.

Because Felix was beginning to understand you too well, maybe.

After discovering your identity the night of the raid, Felix had done everything he could to convince himself that you were just the daughter of a monster—a pawn in a cruel game. But despite his best efforts, he could never bring himself to see you that way. He'd failed miserably at hating you, he couldn’t even dislike you, and what terrified him most was not just the acknowledgment of his potential to love you, but the possibility that maybe he always had. From the very beginning. From that fateful moment in the alley when your paths had crossed, and your lips had met, and you’d saved his life for the first time.

Of course, he hadn’t known who you were then, he’d had no clue what you might be running from, but he saw the desire to escape it in your eyes. Almost leading Felix to believe that if he'd extended his hand and whispered for you to come with him that night, you would have said yes.

Somewhere nearby, the argument between Minho and Changbin dissipated, fizzling out under the weight of exhaustion or hunger, or the recent encounter with your father's guards—undoubtedly still on everyone's minds.

Felix couldn't help the way his ears perked up when Seungmin filled the silence by engaging you in a conversation about archery, debating the finer points of how to hold a bow. Seungmin—who’d always had a very particular knack for reading the group's dynamics. Whose trust in you was something that hadn't gone unnoticed by Felix, either.

As he immersed himself in the melody of your voice and the subtle accent woven into your speech—how you pronounced words like Minho once had in those first few months after he'd joined the group—Felix allowed his heavy eyes to drift shut.

Even if he'd always been skeptical of it, Felix suddenly found himself clinging to the hope that Chan so fervently believed in—the fragile hope for a better world. And if it really did exist, then he would do anything in his power to make sure you would be there to see it.

He couldn't pinpoint exactly when it had happened—maybe he would try to figure it out some day if he lived long enough—but all he knew for certain was that somewhere along the way, the mere thought of you experiencing harm had become more terrifying to Felix than any of the horrors that had marred his own existence.

And so, he resolved to protect you from the brutality of your world, from the looming threat of the war against your father, and, most importantly, from the darkness that still dwelled within himself.

With a grin, you held the bow aloft. “See? It's all about the grip. If you don't hold it just right, your aim will be completely off."

Seungmin—who you'd quickly come to realize was never one to back down from a challenge—shook his head, streaks of chestnut in his hair catching the sunlight. Rising to his feet, he extended an arm.

“I get that you’ve had official lessons, but you’re missing the point. It's all about intuition and feeling the shot,” he continued as you handed him the bow. “You can have the perfect hold on it any day but if you don't connect with it on a deeper level, you'll never hit the mark.” He mimicked drawing an invisible arrow from the string to emphasize his point.

Intrigued by your banter, Changbin strolled over with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I don't know, I think it’s more about the stance," with a nudge, he disrupted Seungmin's balance, causing him to stumble. Changbin reached for the bow, and a smile tugged at your lips as the two began to fight over it.

A gentle breeze swept over you, carrying with it the faintest hint of distant pine, and your attention was immediately drawn away.

A few strides to your left, Felix lay reclined with his hands resting comfortably behind his head. His eyes were closed, raven-dark locks absorbing the sunlight. To anyone who didn't know the circumstances, he would have appeared content. To anyone who didn’t know Felix, he might have appeared relaxed, even.

Yet, you wondered what might be taking place beneath that calm exterior.

Felix had felt unusually distant since that morning. His glazed-over eyes seemed to wander endlessly, in every direction but to you. Something had claimed his thoughts, and you could only hope that whatever it was had nothing to do with the torture that had unfolded in his past.

You watched as he ran a hand through his hair—a habitual gesture for the boy with the freckles and the stars in his eyes. The boy with a narrative of scars on his back and a tapestry of secrets in his soul. Secrets you feared you wouldn't have enough time with him to uncover.

The muscles in his forearms flexed as he sat up, fingertips trailing across the stone beneath them. The memory of those fingers on your skin from the night before sent a tingle down your spine, igniting that familiar heat between your legs..

A small pebble came tumbling down the hillside behind you, landing gently on your outstretched hand. Startled, you glanced over your shoulder to find Minho and Jisung making their way back down the rocky incline. "Nothing as far as we can see," Minho reported.

The absence of your father's guards on the other side offered a momentary respite, but it was a fleeting moment of safety that you were well aware wouldn't last forever.

“Nothing for now," Jisung added, meeting your eyes as if he had tuned into your thoughts.

"We should keep moving," Chan appeared at your side, taking in the surroundings. "The longer we stay in one place, the more vulnerable we become."

Sure..unless the path ahead leads to an even greater danger.

Unless your father was paranoid enough to figure out where you were headed.

If he'd sent guards after you on a more direct route, you wondered if they might make it to Miroh before you. The thought of them lying in wait in anticipation of your arrival stirred up a new, particularly unsettling, concern. But when Chan turned his focus to you, you responded with a firm nod, tucking away your fears to discuss with him later.

The days were waning, leaving you to realize that summer had quietly begun to slip away. It didn’t take long for the sun to complete its descent below the jagged horizon, plunging the world into shadows once more.

The scattered rock formations took on menacing shapes—their outlines frequently obscured by passing clouds above. Under the veil of darkness, each turn of the wheels became a gamble, increasing the chances of veering off course or stumbling upon unforeseen obstacles.

Amidst the growing danger, Chan's voice cut through the rhythmic hum of the motorcycle as he called for Felix to slow down.

Felix, however, seemed determined to press forward. His muscles tensed, ignoring Chan's plea as the engine roared defiantly. And you had a feeling it wasn't just the desire to reach your destination that drove him, but a reluctance to stop and rest.

To sleep, perhaps.

"Felix,” you urged, leaning in, "it isn’t safe.”

A sudden acceleration of the bike was his only response. It surged forward as if he were trying to outpace not just your words, but the night itself.

You squeezed his waist, a silent plea for him to listen. "Lix—"

In a single, decisive motion, Felix abruptly yanked the motorcycle to the side of the rugged path. With wide eyes, you watched as he stepped down, his movements reflecting restless energy. As the dust settled, he deliberately avoided meeting your eyes, turning his focus to the rover as it pulled up beside you.

"I'll take first watch," he declared, boots crunching on loose rocks as he left your side.

You’d intended to follow him but Hyunjin was quicker. He leaped down from the rover before it’d even slowed to a stop, darting ahead to catch up with Felix.

You watched as they approached the edge of a cliff that lie straight ahead from where you stood. A frown tugged at your lips as your mind went to the twin rings they wore.

I've known Felix a lot longer than you.

As you considered the unspoken dynamic between them, whatever the hell it might be, a shadow fell over the periphery of your vision.

Jisung slipped beside you, his eyes flitting from you to the two figures now seated at the edge of the cliff.

"I spoke with him earlier," you said, eyes tethered to the outline of Hyunjin’s back. "It didn't exactly go well."

"Sometimes Felix gets like this—"

"Not Felix."

"Oh.." Jisung sighed with understanding, following your gaze to Hyunjin. "Hyunjin is protective, especially when it comes to Felix. It's been a long time since someone new joined our group, and considering your.."

"My background.."

"Yeah..that," Jisung mumbled, raking a hand through his hair. “There's history between those two, but it's mostly things that happened before I found my place in the group."

"When did you join the group, Ji?" you turned to face him, dragging your eyes away from whatever was unfolding at the cliff.

Jisung shrugged. "That is a story for another time," he said, flashing his signature grin. "Promise."

You surveyed him for a moment, sensing layers and layers of depth behind his carefree demeanor. His eyes held a narrative waiting to be told, but it was a chapter he wasn't yet ready to reveal. "I'm holding you to it," you replied, and Jisung's smile grew a little wider.

Devoid of any trees or significant cover, the wind howled through the surrounding space, sweeping up from below the cliff where Hyunjin and Felix remained. An exposed campsite meant that, to avoid the risk of drawing unwanted attention, there would be no warmth from a fire tonight. And so, the blankets were spread in a circle on the cold, uneven ground. Pulled close together for warmth.

You settled in, rummaging through your nearly empty backpack, picking at your nails, brushing the dust from your pants over and over again—anything you could to keep your eyes from straying back to the cliff.

Chan claimed the space to your right, handing over a portion of stale bread that was noticeably smaller than usual—a clear indication of your dwindling supplies. But you accepted with a grateful smile nonetheless, pushing down another concern to discuss with him later.

Too much later though, and you may need to start a list.

Unlike the night before, when adrenaline after the chase from your father's guards had fueled the sharing of memories, tonight carried something different. Animated exchanges had been replaced by contemplative silence as the boys seemed lost in their own thoughts behind heavy-lidded eyes. The exhaustion that had been building throughout the day had finally caught up with them, it seemed. And you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel it too.

Your head lifted a bit too eagerly to be discreet when the sound of approaching footsteps reached your ears. A spark of anticipation flickered within you, only to be extinguished as your eyes landed on Hyunjin.

Hyunjin settled down on Chan's other side, their words too hushed for you to catch the details. Slowly, their whispers melted away, a seamless transition from hushed dialogue to the ambiance of rustling blankets and the occasional creaking of the rover.

Your gaze wandered skyward where the stars blinked in and out of view. You watched them for a while, chewing on your bottom lip as you tried to pick out constellations Jisoo had once taught you the names of. Names you had long forgotten, not that it mattered now. Tears pricked at your eyes at the thought of your former best friend, but you didn’t let them fall.

Shifting on your side, you cast a glance at the solitary figure that remained unmoving at the cliff's edge. Moonlight painted his frame in pale shades of silver as he overlooked the expanse below.

The rational part of your mind whispered that you should let him be.

Chan’s body heat would keep you comfortable enough to fall asleep, no doubt about that. And to your other side, Jisung's familiar presence offered an added measure of comfort.

But it was your name Felix had called in his sleep that morning.

And your heart that had a tendency to rebel against the logic in your mind.

You sat up, mindful not to disturb the sleeping figures around you. The water canteen felt light in your hand as you retrieved it from your bag, quietly making your way to where Felix sat. His head turned in acknowledgment as you approached, and although his expression remained guarded, he shifted to make room for you on the beside him on the rocky outcrop.

It gets easier with time.

If this was easier than you didn’t want to know what it had been like for him before.

“You should rest. We're safe tonight,” you said through chattering teeth as the frigid earth seeped through the fabric of your clothes.

Daring a cautious glance over the edge of the cliff, the world seemed to disappear. Swallowed by a pitch-black void, the perilous drop was only discernible thanks to scattered dots of flickering light below—tiny beacons of firelight.

Felix shifted, dangling his legs over the edge. “Any one of those fires down there could belong to them."

Them.

The mention of your father's guards stirred up that uneasy feeling in your stomach. Their pursuit would be relentless, safety tonight would never guarantee safety tomorrow. But as you looked to Felix, you knew there was more to it than that. Something had changed since that morning. The distance he'd kept, the guarded look in his eyes—it mirrored the same intensity that gripped him when he'd faced down the man from his past at Yellow Wood.

And it dawned on you that maybe he wasn't referring to your father's guards at all.

You extended a hand, offering him the canteen. "At least drink something if you're going to stay awake all night.”

Felix pressed the cool metal to his lips and took a long, necessary drink before handing it back. “Thanks,” he said, fingers brushing across your own.

As the minutes stretched, the cadence of his breathing created a soothing backdrop. The heat from his body called out to you, a magnetic pull that made sleep even more inviting.

And the next time you opened your eyes, the world had shifted. Your head had found a resting place on his shoulder, your eyes having closed long before the conscious decision to sleep was made.

"You don't have to stay," Felix murmured, a subtle indication that he'd sensed you stir from the drowsy embrace of sleep. His fingers tugged at your jacket, pulling it snug around your neck to fend off the biting cold. "I'm fine, princess,” he added, making your heart flutter at the nickname. “I just don't want to close my eyes right now."

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked quietly, lifting your head from his shoulder.

"Not really. It was just a dream," he said. But his voice carried a defensive edge, leaving no doubt that it was in fact not just a dream.

“We don't have to..But I can tell its bothering you,” your brows raised in gentle invitation, urging him to share the burden.

Felix stilled before letting out a breath, a hint of frustration taking over the exhaustion in his eyes. "Why do you care?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question.

You thought of everything you'd been through—the stolen moments entangled within the danger and chaos, the intimacy you'd shared up to that point.

“I thought it was clear.." you replied, looking away. But as your words hung in the air, doubt crept in. Maybe it hadn't been clear to him that it wasn't only physical for you.

Had you even allowed yourself the chance to fully accept that?

"It's not that simple," he muttered, shifting his gaze back to the distant firelight below. He toyed with the rings adorning his hands, and you tried to ignore which one his fingers gravitated to first.

Vulnerability danced in his expression, and for a heartbeat, the desperate wish that life could indeed be that simple was palpable between you.

Felix reached up to claw through his hair, tugging at the strands. When his eyes finally returned to yours, you realized it wasn't frustration you had seen in them moments ago, but something akin to fear.

"Felix.."

And Felix winced—he winced at the sound of his name falling from your lips. A subtle movement that might have been imperceptible to most, but painfully evident to you.

“You should go get some sleep,” he stated, jaw tensing with the effort of holding back words begging to be said. The quiet command held a touch of finality, causing a knot to form in your chest.

You took a steadying breath, the crisp night air stinging your lungs.

And maybe you shouldn’t have, but you said, "I care because I see more than the darkness in you, Felix. Those moments from the past that you think define you, they don't. I know you don't see anything good in yourself, but I do."

You set the canteen down beside him with a resounding clang before rising to your feet. "I care because I see someone worth caring for," you sighed. And then, with a slow shake of your head, you cast a final glance over the vast expanse below before turning to walk away.

Had Felix not been broken a very long time ago, your words that night might have shattered him completely. He fought hard to keep his eyes open, determined to avoid the return of the nightmare, but he fought harder against the overwhelming urge to chase after you.

Too many silent hours stretched before him until the sun would rise. Too much time for Felix to wrestle with the echoes of your words—for him to question exactly when he had begun to fall in love with you, and if it really was going to get you killed some day. Leaving him restless and tormented, alone beneath the sprawling canvas of a starlit sky.

The morning unfolded in a haze, draping the landscape in layers of fog that hung low and thick. Changbin had the map spread out on the hood of the rover, tracing the faded lines that marked the outskirts of District 5. "According to this,” he said, “we should be nearing the border of District 4 soon.”

Beside you, Seungmin leaned forward to catch a glimpse for himself. "What do we know about District 4?" he asked.

Changbin disguised any tension in his shoulders with a casual shrug, and it struck you then that you might not be the only one unfamiliar with the outer districts.

Chan tossed an empty supply bag into the back of the rover. "As we go further, we don't stop unless absolutely necessary," he said. And maybe you would've asked him why, if your attention hadn't been drawn to Jeongin at his side. His slender fingers grasped at the frame of the vehicle, strained knuckles betraying his effort to conceal the pain as he noticeably favored his injured foot.

You walked around and dropped an armful of folded blankets into the vehicle, making a mental note to keep an eye on Jeongin.

While the group prepared to continue the journey, the silence between you and Felix pulled at your thoughts, too. You’d hesitated for a moment before climbing onto the motorcycle behind him. His stoic expression, like always, did an exceptional job at masking whatever he was feeling.

Summoning a deep breath, you nudged the thoughts surrounding him to the edges of your mind. The urgency of outrunning the guards, reaching Miroh, an inevitable confrontation with your father some day—there were far more pressing concerns that demanded your focus.

And so, when the motorcycle roared to life you shifted your arms around Felix, intentionally loosening your hold.

If the freckled boy sensed the subtle change, he didn't let it show.

The moisture in the air hinted at an impending change.

It wasn't long before thick raindrops began to break free from low-hanging clouds. The motorcycle's wheels fought for traction, skidding on the slick terrain. Puddles formed in the lowest areas as the rain intensified, visibility deteriorating rapidly.

Raindrops pelted Felix's leather jacket as he lifted an arm to shield his eyes from the downpour. Casting a fleeting glance behind, you struggled to discern the faint outline of the rover.

Your head snapped forward again as the bike slipped, threatening to lose balance. With one hand, Felix firmly corrected the course of the motorcycle. His free hand reached out unexpectedly, and you felt the warmth of his touch as he intertwined his fingers with yours. He pulled one of your hands further around his waist, ensuring with subtle pressure that your hold around him was secure.

When he lifted his hand, you maintained the grip, fingers securely entwined.

The rain poured and poured, drenching you both. Yet, steady progress was made. You entered a narrow mountain pass, the landscape unfolding in glimpses as you pressed forward.

Steady progress was made, until the ground beneath you gave way without warning—sending the motorcycle into a sudden descent.

Even with his seasoned reflexes, Felix barely had enough time to react as it plunged downward. The air was stripped from your lungs, a dizzying mix of exhilaration and fear coursing through your veins. Your eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of wind, and you didn't open them again until—with a jarring thud—the motorcycle reached the bottom of the incline.

The impact sent vibrations through your bones, mud spraying in a messy wave as Felix steadied the bike with a foot.

Rain-soaked strands of black hair clung to his forehead when he whipped around to face you, droplets streaming down his face. “Shit are you alright?!” his voice cut through the thunderous pounding of your heart in your ears.

But you hardly registered his words at all.

Your focus was entirely captivated by what lay over his shoulder.

A vast expanse of towering evergreen trees stretched before you. Tall and imposing, they stood like sentinels guarding whatever secrets lie inside from the rest of the world. The branches swayed as if the forest itself was alive, pulsing with energy that seemed to beckon you closer.

You were almost certain that nothing like this had been marked on the map. And it was massive. A beast all its own.

With a scowl, Felix dismounted the bike, boots sinking into the damp soil beneath. As he approached the forest, you turned to survey the steep incline behind you.

The landscape extended high and wide, like a colossal step down in the earth, stretching as far as you could discern through the curtain of rain. As you studied it, the rover appeared at the top. A sudden apparition against the stormy backdrop, the glimmer of its headlights and the silhouettes of the boys appeared as faint outlines.

Blinking against the rain, you took a few steps over to the foot of the incline. As you strained to comprehend Minho and Chan's growing shouts, Felix materialized at your side. His voice joined the chorus in an attempt to shout back however, like them, his words were swallowed by the storm.

Abandoning their efforts to communicate with you and Felix, the boys leaned together to discuss something amongst themselves.

“What are they doing?” you questioned as the rover began to make a cautious retreat from the edge above.

Felix craned his neck, squinting against the rain. "Probably going to find shelter to wait out the storm, I saw a cave entrance not too far back—"

A brilliant streak of lightning slashed across the sky, illuminating the entirety of your surroundings in a bluish-white glow. The accompanying crack of thunder tore through the air, the sheer force of the noise making your heart lurch in your chest.

Felix lowered his eyes, a softness creeping into his expression upon discovering your hand clasped tightly onto his sleeve. “If they’re going to wait it out, we'll do the same,” he said, taking your hand.

He led you across the tree line, to a colossal evergreen. Its base was substantial, the lowest branches forming a natural canopy like the skirt of a dress—large enough for both of you to slip underneath. His grip on your hand tightened briefly before pulling away. “I’ll be right back. I need to get the bike."

Reluctantly, you let go of his hand. "It’s just a little rain, princess,” he said softly before darting back out in the direction of the forest’s edge.

Beneath the the sheltering branches of the evergreen, you huddled closer to its trunk. Rough bark dug into your back as you pulled your knees up. Thunder rumbled overhead, shaking the earth beneath you.

You shut your eyes—counting the seconds, the breaths.

You thought of a refreshing cave spring echoing with deep laughter, a motorcycle ride underneath the stars. You pictured freckles like constellations, dark eyes reflecting the night sky.

Relief flooded your veins when you looked up to find Felix slipping back beneath the branches.

His shoulder brushed against yours as he sat down beside you with a tired sigh. Stretching his legs out, shadows played on his face as he gazed up through the lattice of pine needles above. “You really don't like storms, do you? You had the same look on your face that night in the tavern.”

“I’m fine,” you protested, the words coming out sharper than you'd intended.

“So fucking stubborn,” he grumbled under his breath before shrugging out of his jacket. Every flex of his muscles was accentuated by the wet fabric that clung to him.

Not that you'd been staring.

When he draped the jacket over your shoulders, the urge to protest simmered beneath your skin, a lingering effect of your earlier frustration with him. But it was warm, familiar, and for some reason, his scent was more comforting than you'd ever understand.

So, you said nothing.

Your bent knees found a resting place on his thigh. And beneath the heavy weight of his jacket, the thunder and lightning gradually began to lose their intimidating edge.

When you crossed your arms for added warmth, your fingers brushed against the handle of your mother’s knife. With a subtle flick, you pulled it out and tossed it into the ground. Your eyes traveled from the gleaming blade to the engravings on the hilt, the dried blood in the crevices. And as you watched the rain wash it away, you were reminded that your father's guards weren't the only thing Felix was running from.

There was a different kind of sinister out there—a malevolence engraved into the scars you'd felt along his back. You'd wielded the knife to free him from one of them, but you weren't naive enough to think that there weren't more out there.

The mere thought of how many might be hunting him at that very moment sent a spark of something searing up your spine.

Not fear, or sadness, but anger. A raw, primal hatred that surpassed even the disdain you felt for your own father.

“Keep clenching your jaw like that and your teeth are going to shatter,” his deep voice pulled you back from your thoughts. One of his hands found a resting place on your knee. “What’re you thinking about?” Another ominous rumble echoed from somewhere above, and he added, “Aside from the big scary thunder."

You rolled your eyes, sorting through the myriad of thoughts in your head.

Having to relive what you've been through in nightmares.

What I said to you last night.

What we did the night before.

You took a deliberate breath, the scent of rain and earth filling your lungs, and nudged his shoulder with yours. “You first.”

His head, still resting against the tree, tilted to the side. The way he met your eyes asked, do you really want to know?

When you refused to look away, he sighed. There was a flicker of hesitation in his expression, letting you know he was on the verge of revealing something deeply personal.

“Most of the time," he began, "my memories feel like someone else’s," his throat moved, swallowing down the weight of those memories.

"But there are moments where it all comes back."

Moments.

Moments, as in those nightmares.

Your next thought slipped past your lips, spurred by genuine concern. “Lix, are you okay? Not just after yesterday morning but..I know you've been through a lot, and..”

"I'm fine, princess," Felix managed a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "If you want to know the truth, in a strange way I’m thankful for the nightmares.”

Because I feel like I deserve them.

The unspoken words were written all over his face.

You noticed the subtle tremor in his fingers as they began to tap against your knee. You adjusted your position so that you could look. at him. Really look at him.

His dark eyes, pools of endless regret, met yours. And in them you found a well of profound sadness, a lingering ache from wounds that would probably never fully heal.

A delicate touch trailed from his thumb as he brought it up to caress your bottom lip, gently drawing it back. Your breath hitched in response to the intimate contact. A sigh escaped him as he contemplated..something. And then his thumb retreated, leaving behind a tingling trail of longing in its wake.

"You wouldn't look at me like that, if you knew everything.”

You frowned at his words, at the sudden shift in conversation and the evident self-loathing in his tone.

Before you could come up with a response, his head crashed back against the tree. “When I asked why you care last night, it's because you shouldn’t," he said.

"What do you mean?”

”I mean you shouldn't be worrying about me or my nightmares or any of the shit I carry with me," he answered immediately. "There is so much you don't know about the way I've lived, the things I've done..I am not who you think I am."

“Then help me understand,” you urged.

But there was a flicker of something in his expression that suggested he didn’t believe he was worth your understanding.

“You can’t,” Felix emphasized. A distant look clouded his eyes, a flash of whatever it was that had crossed his features after the nightmare seemed to resurface. “You grew up with servants to meet your needs while the rest of us bled for every scrap of food and warmth. You can’t understand, y/n. And even if you could, it won't change who I am or what I've done. The blood on my hands will never wash away.”

For a moment, the only sound was the relentless percussion of rain on the forest floor. Then, you felt something inside you snap. The princess role, the sheltered naivety that had plagued your entire existence—the pressure from pushing it all down was suddenly released under the weight of his words.

“Is that all you see when you look at me?" your voice was sharp, edged with years of pent-up frustration. "Just a sheltered princess? Do you think that was my choice? You think I’ve never felt pain, Felix? That I haven’t seen things that will haunt me for the rest of my life?”

You shifted, the jacket slipping from your shoulders and dropping to the mud. “And who are you to decide what I can or cannot understand? You of all people should know that there is more to someone than the history they carry.”

Ignoring the bewilderment in his expression, you stood and pushed through the dense branches, pine needles scratching across your face as you stepped into the open forest. Cool droplets splashed across your skin, mingling with the heat that had begun to fill your veins. Your vision blurred with rain and tears that threatened to spill over—the culmination of years spent hidden away, a lifetime of being taught not to care about anything finally starting to unravel.

Footsteps splashed behind you. “Wait—I’m sorry,” Felix pleaded, his hand finding your shoulder with firm, gentle strength. “I didn’t mean to belittle what you’ve been though," he said, stepping in front of you.

He blinked against the falling rain, freckles glistening. "Please, y/n. I see your strength and I see how much we—I need you. And that terrifies me more than anything because—”

He caught himself, choking on the words. The voice in his head told him to let you walk away, just like he had done last night. But Felix was so goddamn tired of acting indifferent to everything around him. Whether it was the lingering tension between him and Hyunjin, the fact that the nightmares had been devouring him for years, or the way he tried to ignore how losing you would obliterate whatever small part of himself he thought might actually be worth something.

He wasn't tired, he was fucking exhausted. And the fatigue of pretending that he wasn't human was killing him.

Maybe it had been for a very, very long time.

And maybe that is why Felix found himself unable to bear it any longer. The accumulation of secrets, and pretense, and hidden emotions, it pushed and it pressed against his chest until it hurt. And it made him want to live—to experience the complete depths of life that he had been depriving himself of for as long as he could remember.

“When I said you were my weakness, princess. I meant it," he confessed, taking a subtle step closer. "There are very bad people chasing me, and they always catch up. They will again, and I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you because of me. The things they will do to you if they find out what you mean to me," he took a steadying breath, "I'm only trying to protect you, because what I feel for you is..”

His throat bobbed, preparing to continue. But before he could, you lifted a finger and gently pressed it against his lips.

With a feather light touch, you traced a path from his lips to his cheek, to his temple and down his jawline. You stopped to caress the sensitive skin on his neck, as if trying to erase the memories burned there beneath your fingertips.

You felt his warmth, the rapid beat of his pulse.

And you weren’t entirely sure your own heart was beating when you leaned forward to connect your lips with his.

His breath caught, as if not quite expecting it. He kissed you back, applying a tender pressure against your lips before abruptly pulling away. “If you knew what I am capable of—"

“I don’t care what you have done, Felix,” you interrupted, "I. Don’t. Care," you drowned his protests in another kiss, and his lips tasted like rain and longing and everything you were afraid to lose. "I want you, I want every part of you. And if you choose to share your past with me, although I might not fully comprehend it, it won’t change that."

You pulled back and held his gaze. "I am not afraid of you. Pushing me away won't protect me, and I'm not asking you to change, Felix, but I need you to see me for who I am now. Not the person I was expected to be in that palace. I was so broken and alone, and I don't think I even realized it until I met you. And I don't know who I am yet, but I am figuring it out because of you—because of all of you. So don't take that away from me by telling me that I shouldn't care."

As your words settled in the space between you, you decided that Felix had never looked more human to you than he did in that moment.

A lone droplet slid down his cheek, and when you leaned in to kiss it away, the taste of salt lingered on your lips. Revealing something far more profound.

Before you could react, his hands slid to your waist, warm and possessive as his lips claimed yours. He guided you until your back collided with the bare trunk of a dying tree. "I'm sorry," he whispered, thick accent sending shivers down your spine. "I'm not good at things like this, but I care about you, too. Too much, sweetheart. More than I should." The sincerity in his voice resonated with you. He meant the words—truly meant them. "There's nothing I wouldn't do to keep you safe. You know that, right?" he added, thumb brushing your cheek.

And you did. You'd felt it in his touch, when he kissed you, the way he looked at you. You nodded, tracing the contours of his face, "I’m yours, Lix."

The words came out quicker than you could register, but you didn't regret them.

Maybe it made you fucking selfish, to crave losing yourself in him when the entire world was perched upon your shoulders, but you didn't regret them.

"You were always mine," Felix breathed, "before we met, before all of this, you were never their princess," he leaned in, pressing his lips to your forehead. "You were always mine.”

And then, Felix kissed you like he was making up for all of the wasted time before you’d met—for all of the time you would lose when fate inevitably ripped you apart. He kissed you like he had been chasing you through every life before this one, and would follow through every one after.

When he ground his hips against yours, the intensity of his desire was evident in the way he murmured your name. A low, rumbling growl escaped his throat, making you acutely aware of the silence around you. The rain had ceased, leaving only the sounds of your heavy breathing and the occasional rustle of branches above.

When you shifted to grant his wandering hands access to your backside, his boot slipped in the mud. Your lips curved into a smile against his as you realized the absurdity of the situation—how ridiculous you must look shivering and drenched in rainwater, wrapped up in each other like this.

"Smooth," you teased.

Felix responded with a subtle shake of his head, a shy smile playing on his lips. Closing his eyes, he groaned softly and pressed his forehead against yours. "I hate this," he said.

You pulled back, your puzzled expression prompting a low chuckle from him.

"I just wish there was somewhere we could go," he clarified, "somewhere warm and dry," he swiped the lingering raindrops from your cheeks.

"Somewhere we could be alone," you added, lifting your arms to wrap around the back of his neck. "Just us."

Felix hummed in agreement. The desire was reflected in his eyes, a shared longing that resonated between you. But the idea of a place where the two of you could exist peacefully, away from the unforgiving grasp of reality, felt like an elusive fantasy that might always be just out of reach.

Suddenly, as if a switch had been flipped, Felix's expression gave way to a surge of profound intensity.

"Some day," he dropped his voice, "When all of this is over, I'm going to carry you back into that palace." His lips found the curve of your jaw, trailing a heated path down. "I'm going to take my time with you, princess," he nipped at the sensitive skin on your neck, causing your core to flutter with anticipation. "And then," he whispered, "I'm going to lay the world at your feet."

You held your breath as he brought one of your hands to his chest, spreading your fingers out over his beating heart. "Its yours," he said, "and I don't care what you do with it."

With your palm still pressed against his heart, a quiet realization rippled through your mind.

You might love him.

You might be a fool to think there was any part of you that didn't love Felix. And maybe you were a coward, too. Too hesitant to say the three little words hovering on your tongue, for fear that you might become addicted to how it would feel to hear them back.

Your eyes widened as another realization crossed your mind—the understanding that, in some way, loving Felix might always have been inevitable.

And you wondered if he had known it long before you.

Don't let me love you.

You hesitated, the weight of the promise casting a shadow.

But when Felix leaned in to capture your lips with his, the pull between you was too strong to resist. Something cosmic, two souls irresistibly entwined. And you only hoped he could decipher the silent declaration of your emotions lingering in the spaces between each breath.

The kiss deepened into something desperate. Heated and sensual as your tongues collided. A soft, needy sound escaped your throat when he slipped his hands underneath your shirt, cold rings making you shudder. Your arms tugged around his neck, urging him to press his body closer.

Curling your fingers in his hair, you pulled firmly, because you knew how much he liked it.

"Are you trying to get me to fuck you in the middle of this forest?" he said, stifling a groan when you repeated the action.

You laughed—a small, lighthearted chuckle against his lips. "A forest? Never. I prefer caves, actually."

He let out an amused scoff. "Is that so? I'd think someone of such high status like yourself would be into more sophisticated places..like closets."

Your mouth fell open in mock astonishment, a smile playing on your lips as you remembered that night at Clé. "What the hell were we thinking?"

"I know what I was thinking," he responded, leaning in to press his lips to your neck. "I was thinking that you're fucking irresistible," his breath against your ear made your entire body heat up. “That every time I look at you, I want you wrapped around my cock. That when we're with the guys and one of them looks at your ass," he moved his hands around to give a firm squeeze to your backside. “Or your tits," he brought his hands up to grope at your breasts, making you moan. “I want to fuck your pretty pussy in front of them until you're leaking with my cum."

A chill traveled throughout your entire body, covering your skin in goosebumps.

"Then why don't you?” you purred, “fill me up with your cum, I mean," you clarified. Although something about the idea of Felix taking you while the rest of the boy watched stirred up something in your core that you’d never felt before.

“You know why,” he groaned. His adam's apple bobbed as your hands traced along his belt, fingers grazing the skin just inside his waistband.

One of your hands slowly slid down, and you weren't surprised at all to find his already hardened cock pulsing through his pants. The hiss he let out turned to a weak groan when you tightened your grip. And god there was nothing you wouldn't have given to be alone with him and a fucking bed. You needed to taste him, to feel his heavy length on your tongue, stuffed inside your aching cunt.

He started rocking his hips into you slowly, pressing your back further into the tree. "Princess," he dragged out the word against your neck, sucking at the skin. You whimpered in response, head falling against the tree."Do something for me?" he asked.

"Anything," you managed to say.

"Jump."

And you did. Without hesitation you jumped into his arms, locking your ankles around his waist. Felix's eyes sparkled as he turned, surveying the distance between the two of you and the tree you'd taken shelter underneath earlier.

He began to step—but not toward the tree. No, toward the motorcycle beside it.

He lowered you down gently in front of the handlebars before putting his hands on them, closing you in. You recognized the glazed over look in his eyes, and you thought it might be your favorite look of his.

You knew what it meant, and you needed him too.

When your lips reconnected it was fervent. Wild, and raw, and vulnerable. His hand found its way to your neck, making your pussy throb when he lightly squeezed. And your moans mixed when his crotch rubbed against yours, pushing your ass against the front of the motorcycle.

Felix groaned deeply, trying to focus on you and not the growing throb in his dick when you grabbed his hand and shoved it to that needy spot between your legs.

"Felix," you whined, bucking your hips into his touch, "fuck me, please. I don't care where we are, just fuck me."

There was nothing Felix wouldn't have given for the chance to take his time with you. To have the luxury of time without interruption, where the whole entire world would simply fuck off for a few blissful hours. Days, maybe.

But time had never been very kind to Felix. So, without wasting any more of it, he helped you shove down your pants and underwear.

And then, his knees buckled.

He hit the ground and immediately began kissing your inner thighs, moving his face closer and closer to your cunt. And it was when he tilted his head to the side, stopping to look up at you, that you knew you were fucked. The pleasure was already building in your lower abdomen and he hadn't even put his mouth on your pussy yet.

Your eyes squeezed shut as you let out a shaky breath when his tongue finally met your folds, licking a long stripe through them. Felix brought one of your hands to his hair, and you were instantly tangling your fingers in the damp locks. He swiped his tongue in a jagged pattern, brushing his nose against your clit because likes the way it makes you squirm.

He mumbled to himself, something about how good you tasted, before his puffy lips latched on to your clit. You were on the verge of tears, hips jerking when he started sucking on the bundle of nerves, flicking at it with his tongue.

You tightened your grip on his hair, shoving his face against your pussy as your other hand reached for the handlebars behind you, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge.

He brought his fingers up and plunged them inside of you with ease, using them to scissor you open as he made out with your cunt.

“C-close,” you stuttered as his tongue dipped into your hole.

He looked up, and the sight of him on his knees with your arousal glistening on his face, was more than enough to send you over the edge.

Your thighs closed around his head, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure ripped through you. You moaned his name, pussy throbbing and clenching around his fingers as you came.

Felix smirked against your core, slowing his pace to help you work through the orgasm.

And then, before you'd even had the chance to open your eyes, you were being flipped around and bent over the handlebars. Felix pressed the palm of his hand on your lower back, forcing your body to lean over it further.

Your eyes widened, mouth watering when you heard the clink of his belt unbuckling.

"Gonna take you like this,” he growled, the words rumbling out from his chest. And you were suddenly very thankful for the bike, because it was the only thing keeping you upright.

Felix shoved his pants down, just enough to reach for his thick cock. "Feel what you do to me baby?" He tapped it against your ass a few times before using the tip to spread your folds, gathering your slick.

"Felix," you gasped, swallowing hard. "Don't be gentle."

"Desperate little slut," he cooed, aligning himself with your dripping entrance. "My desperate little slut. Always so good for me, so wet and ready to take my cock like you were made for it."

Without warning, he slammed into you. The full length of him, so heavy and solid and filling you up so well, had your eyes rolling back in ecstasy.

"Oh," you gasped when he landed a harsh smack to your ass.

"Feels good, huh?" Felix smirked, chuckling lowly when you began to vigorously nod your head in response.

"Move, Lix," you cried, "m-move, please move."

And although he'd like to make you beg just a little bit more, Felix physically couldn't hold back any longer. He grunted as he set a steady rhythm. "Pussy's so good, fucking sucking me in baby," he moaned, pushing you further over the handlebars. He picked up the pace when you told him to, burying his face into your neck and sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin.

You emitted a broken, strangled moan when he tugged your head back by the roots of your hair, brain growing foggy with every drag of his cock along your walls. He drilled into you until his thrusts turned sloppy and irregular. When you started fucking yourself back on his dick, his hips trembled, stuttering into yours.

"Princess," he panted, breath hot against your neck, slowing his pace to try and keep himself from spilling inside of you. And Felix thought it might just be the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, when you start to beg for his cum. Whimpering incoherently about how badly you needed him to fill you up with his seed.

"Felix," you cried, feeling your second orgasm building, "feels so fucking good, keep going, keep going, I'm g-gonna—" you whimpered, inhaling sharply as you cum again, tears pricking at your eyes as you cream on his cock.

Felix bit his lip as your walls fluttered around him. His deep moans turned into pretty high-pitched sounds. And he was cursing, words you’d never even heard before, when his hips suddenly stilled.

"Ah, fuck—" he shuddered when he started to spill inside of you. He hurriedly pulled out, wrapping his hand around his pulsating length as he finished in his palm.

When you were coherent and able to feel your limbs again, you turned to look at him.

Felix was panting, chest heaving, as he came down from his own high. His hand was covered in his own sticky release. And you weren't quite sure if it was leftover rain or beads of sweat rolling down his face, but he was beautiful. Lips parted, dark eyes blown wide with pleasure.

He looked up, meeting your gaze with a tired half smile, and it broke something within you.

In that split second, you recognized that you might love him even more than you'd thought. And it was a feeling tainted with a subtle undercurrent of fear—the metaphorical nail in a shared coffin.

Because you're pretty sure it is going to get both of you killed some day.

Imprinted on your skin, Felix's scent mixed seamlessly with the clean breeze that enveloped you upon stepping out from beneath the trees—his warmth a comforting presence at your back.

Something caught your eye, bringing your attention to the top of the incline where the rover had returned, its metallic exterior gleaming.

As you surveyed the narrow drop, a daunting realization began to take hold. The slope stretched on in either direction, leaving no choice but for the boys to make their own descent if you were to reunite.

While you contemplated whether or not the angle might be gradual enough to allow for a cautious descent, Chan's voice rang out from above. “Stay back! We'll come to you!"

Felix cast a worried glance up and down the slope. "It's too steep," his lips tightened into a thin line as the tires inched closer to the edge above.

Charged, electrifying silence filled the air, heightening every detail of your surroundings—the engine's low hum, the rhythmic drip drip drip of water from the branches at your back.

"Maybe they should.." you hesitated, searching for an alternative that didn't exist. But it wouldn't have mattered anyway, because your voice was drowned out by the screeching protests of metal against rock.

With a sudden lurch, the rover initiated its descent.

The first tentative movements sent a cascade of loose rocks tumbling down the slope. The vehicle jerked and swayed in tandem with Chan's adjustments to the wheel, suspension audibly groaning underneath the strain.

Just when it seemed it might conquer the descent unscathed, the air was shattered by a stark crunch as one of the headlights collided with a protruding rock.

The impact sent shockwaves throughout the vehicle, a collective gasp escaping the group as Chan lost control.

In a frantic sequence of events, Minho leaned over, grappling with the wheel to help Chan regain traction. Changbin shot an arm out to grip the open frame, and Jisung buried his head in his hands.

Felix took a shuffling step forward, propelled by instinct to help the boys. Your fingers wrapped around his arm, yanking him back as the rover slammed against solid ground at the bottom of the incline.

The collision resonated through the air, leaving each of you speechless.

Jisung's wide eyes met yours, peering up from beneath the curtain of hair that had fallen into his face at the impact. A disbelieving smile fell across his lips, as if the absurdity of the situation had struck him in that moment. And you couldn't help but return the smile, shaking your head in relief as you acknowledged the collective insanity that had become your reality.

Chan's shoulders slumped and he bowed his head, taking a moment to collect himself. A mere ten seconds passed before he straightened his posture. Stepping down from the vehicle, he crossed his arms over his chest, muttering a curse as his eyes narrowed to the broken headlight.

The rest of the boys disembarked following Chan. Changbin pulled the map from his jacket, taking note of its condition before handing it over to him, and the group gathered around their leader in anticipation.

Chan's brow furrowed in concentration. A moment of disbelief crossed his features before he began to shake his head. "This entire forest isn't even on the map," his eyes lifted to sweep across the endless expanse of trees.

An exchange of looks rippled through the group as you waited for his next words.

"We can waste fuel trying to get around it,” he finally offered, "Or..." his gaze returned to the map.

“Or,” Minho interjected, catching everyone's attention, "we go through it."

The simplicity of his statement held a sense of something bold—a willingness to face the unknown head-on.

The forest did represent the unknown..But it had to end eventually. The fuel was dwindling, every one of you knew it, and wasting it in an attempt to find a way around the forest could be just as dangerous as navigating straight into its heart.

A decision loomed, demanding a choice that balanced the unknown with the practical constraints you faced.

Chan looked to Felix, seeking guidance in the unspoken language they shared. Felix, in turn, redirected his gaze to Hyunjin. The exchange unfolded like a ritual, a pattern the three of them had followed countless times before.

Silent affirmation in the form of a single nod from Felix was all it took for Chan to make the decision. “We go through," he declared.

Jisung cleared his throat, placing a hand on the back of his neck. “It can’t be any worse than what we’ve been through so far, right?”

His attempt at optimism, although appreciated for its intent, was quickly overshadowed by the ominous presence of the trees that loomed behind you.

Changbin squared his shoulders, cocking the heavy weapon in his arms. "Too late to turn back now," he caught your eye, and you nodded in silent agreement along with the rest, his voice echoing endlessly in your mind.

Too late to turn back now.

The forest held an ancient energy, a guardian of untold history. The growl of the engines harmonized as they wove cautiously between trees with an undercurrent of something otherworldly, something wild.

The further the group pressed on, the more it triggered an unexpected wave of discomfort in Felix. His chest tightened as vast horizon was replaced by the suffocating confinement of dense foliage. It brought to light an aspect of himself that he hadn't consciously acknowledged before—how deeply he had come to rely on the open sky and the sense of freedom it provided.

As the familiar feeling of being hunted settled in his bones, his eyes darted anxiously back and forth, scanning for shadows that danced in patterns at the edges of his vision. The words he'd confessed to you about who was chasing him echoed in his thoughts, and he half-expected their figures to materialize from the shadows at any moment—

No.

They couldn't have followed the nine of you out here.

The journey, the logistical challenges it would've taken to track your path through the districts..Not to mention that your group would’ve been long gone by the time they'd realized the fate of the man they'd sent after him at Yellow Wood—the man you'd killed to protect him.

The man whose name was enough to elicit a visceral response from Felix, the scars on his back tingling with every syllable as it resonated through his mind.

"They couldn't have," he muttered under his breath. They couldn't have followed you. They couldn't have.

But what if—

"Felix!" your shout pierced his thoughts, snapping his focus back to the path in front of the motorcycle.

Shit.

The wheels jerked violently as he veered to avoid a large ditch filled with rainwater and mud. The bike danced on the edge of disaster, narrowly avoiding the hidden hazard.

Felix’s eyes widened in realization as he twisted around. “Chan, watch out!” his voice boomed, echoing through the trees, but the warning was futile.

The rover was following far too closely behind.

It's front end plunged first, followed by a moment of suspense before the back wheels followed suit—the mud greedily swallowing them whole.

Despite the churning tires, the vehicle was forced into an abrupt halt. A chorus of frustrated exclamations filled the air, Chan's curses cutting through the loudest as he slammed his hands on the steering wheel in defeat.

You and Felix quickly abandoned the motorcycle, hands pressing onto the muddied surface of the rover. The rest of the boys, excluding Chan and Jeongin, joined you in a synchronized effort to push it out.

Muscles strained, boots sank into the earth, the wheels budged slightly, but despite your collective strength..

Nothing.

Chan unleashed his building frustration by forcefully slamming his foot on the gas pedal once more. The engine responded with a thunderous roar—thick clumps of mud scattering in every direction from the tires, still locked in a futile struggle.

"Chan, stop!" Minho called out, covering his eyes as he stepped back.

Thick sludge splattered across your clothes, adhering to every fiber. You rubbed your eyes to wipe it from your face, and when your vision cleared you realized that the situation had transcended beyond mere inconvenience.

The fading daylight had begun to cast eerie shadows around you. The gravity of your predicament sank in—how utterly alone you were, and it was the first time you thought that might be a bad thing.

Jeongin, confined to the vehicle due to his injured foot, swiveled around to observe the group. He put a hand over his mouth to conceal the sound that escaped his lips. However, what began as a tentative giggle soon evolved, bubbling up from the depths of his chest into hearty laughter. "You guys look awful,” he mused, dimples on full display.

The group exchanged glances, surveying their disheveled appearances.

Hyunjin, in particular, appeared thoroughly offended by his ruined clothing. His disgusted expression only fueled the laughter that had begun to grow around you.

Seungmin protested as Changbin (forcefully) pulled him into a hug, smearing even more mud onto his clothes.

And beside you, Felix's perfect face was seemingly untouched by the mess that adorned the rest of him. It prompted you to swipe some of the mud from your cheek and transfer it to his. The act elicited a surprised, but amused reaction from the freckled boy as the corners of his mouth twitched, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of appreciation for the unexpected playfulness.

Even Chan couldn't stifle a small chuckle as he stole a glance at the group through the rearview mirror.

Surrounded by the laughter of those you had slowly come to trust, you were reminded of what had brought you there in the first place—why it was so important to dismantle your father's oppressive regime for good.

Despite the encroaching night, darkness had yet to fully envelop the surroundings. There was still daylight left. One more challenge was added to the list of those you faced, but there was something about the boys and their resilience that instilled a small sense of hope in you. Making you feel as if their collective strength might just see you through the uncertainties ahead.

And if not, well it was far too late to turn back now.

With the ground unsuitable for spreading blankets, the process of setting camp mainly involved finding patches of drier ground to rest.

You observed the deliberate effort each of the boys made to avoid peering at the rover, the eyesore that it was. Chan was the only one who hadn't left its side, his mind undoubtedly concocting some kind of plan to free it come morning. “Hopefully”, he said to no one in particular as he kicked one of the tires, “we’ll be able to get it out after the mud dries.”

Your fingers fiddled with the laces of your boots, tying them over and over again to divert them from scratching at the drying mud on your skin. With each of you reluctant to waste your precious water supply on a mere rinse, you held on to the possibility that tomorrow's journey might lead you to a stream.

A yearning for the refreshing waters of the cave spring developed within you, intensifying with each passing moment. But it wasn't just the longing for cleanliness that fueled your desire to be back there.

Your eyes darted to Felix, crouched down beside you. Absorbed in concentration, his tongue habitually poked out the side of his mouth as he worked alongside Changbin to start a fire. His dark hair was up, a few strands escaping the confines of the tie to delicately frame his face.

You shook your head, refocusing your on Jeongin seated against a log at the edge of the clearing.

Felix glanced up when you touched his arm gently. His eyes followed your movement as you stood, the soft crunch of leaves beneath your boots resonating in the quiet surroundings.

The mossy surface of the log pressed against your back as you lowered yourself down next to Jeongin. "How're you holding up?" you asked, eyes trailing back to Felix as he returned to work on the fire.

"Could be worse," Jeongin replied softly. You pursed your lips, a moment of silence passing between you before he spoke again. "Can I be honest?"

"Of course," you said, inviting him to share his thoughts.

His fists clenched, fingers digging into the soggy grass beneath.

"Please don't tell the others," he began, quieting his voice. "But if we can't get it out," he gestured toward the rover, "I'm worried about slowing everyone down. I just don't want to be a burden if we have to continue on foot, you know?"

"Jeongin you are not a burden," you were quick to reply, "and nobody is leaving you behind. Whatever happens, we'll find a way to get to Miroh. All of us."

When he failed to respond, you reached out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. You turned to meet his eyes, and your stomach dropped.

A film of sweat covered his forehead. His complexion had taken on an unsettling pallor, and you guessed that if you were to press your hand to his forehead, it would be burning hot despite the chill in the air.

You fought to maintain a reassuring smile as your gaze swept across the clearing, landing on Minho. He was engrossed in the meticulous task of inspecting and wiping down the remaining firearms with Jisung.

With silent intensity, you begged him to look up.

The air seemed to still as you waited, sounds of the forest fading. When Minho finally raised his eyes to meet your own, the unspoken plea in your expression was clear.

With quick, fluid movement, he excused himself and made his way over where to you and Jeongin sat.

Minho knelt down in front of Jeongin, breaking the tension with small talk as he carefully unlaced his boot. He gently pulled back the bandages to assess the strain on the wound, and despite the stitches holding together well, the surrounding skin displayed signs of inflammation.

Amidst your focus, a sudden grunt of frustration sliced through the air.

Your eyes followed the source of the disturbance to Changbin and Felix. The duo was still locked in a battle with the damp leaves and twigs that refused to ignite—each failed attempt only deepening their shared frustration as the daylight waned.

You stole one more quick glance at Jeongin’s food before rising to your feet. “We need to find dry wood,” you announced.

But you were immediately caught off guard when the deep, resonant timbre of Felix's voice intertwined with Minho's softer tone as they both volunteered to accompany you.

The unexpectedness of Minho's offer left even Hyunjin standing motionless with raised eyebrows across the clearing.

Felix cleared his throat, maintaining his crouched position next to Changbin. A hesitant glance unfolded between him and Minho before he muttered, “Yeah..you two go.”

Minho got to his feet, seemingly unbothered by the reaction he'd caused. Stepping up to your side, he gestured to the forest behind you. "We're losing daylight."

Obviously.

As he strode past you, heading for the trees, you briefly glanced back to the others.

Felix had already returned to the task of trying to coax a spark from the wet kindling. Chan had found his way around the back of the rover—now absorbed in taking inventory of your remaining supplies. Jisung gave you a meaningful look, motioning with his eyes for you to catch up to Minho..

And so, with a determined breath and nothing to lose, you followed the boy from District 9 into the encroaching twilight.

It was as if even the forest held its breath, as if it were sentient and fully aware of the undercurrents of tension between you and Minho.

Silence draped between you, thick and uncomfortable, as Minho guided the way. You glared at the back of his head, making note of the distinctive shade of his hair—gray or perhaps a faded light blue, with grown out roots revealing the natural color underneath.

In District 9, it wasn't uncommon for residents to dye their hair various shades—a symbol of status due to the expense of such indulgences. The gradient of Minho's hair made you wonder just how long he had been away from his home district.

Your home district.

As you considered the shared connection between the two of you, Minho broke the silence. “His foot, its..”

"I know," you replied.

"Infections can spread fast, especially out here.”

“I know.”

Minho sighed in annoyance, as if holding a conversation with you was some sort of burden. “I didn’t want to discuss it with the others,” he snapped.

And it dawned on you that it wasn't the burden of talking with you, but rather the responsibility of his concern for Jeongin that strained his expression. He didn’t want to discuss it with the others because he didn’t want to worry the others. Choosing to confide in you instead.

“What can we do?” you asked softly, although the answer was already clear.

“Not much,” Minho confirmed, “start a fire, boil water to sterilize it with, and..”

"Wait," you breathed, without missing the way he tensed at the word.

Cleaning Jeongin's wound would be a temporary measure. It wouldn't heal the infection, but it might prevent it from worsening too quickly. Which would give you the time you needed until you got to Miroh where there might be medical supplies. Antibiotics, if you were lucky.

And if not..

“Look," your eyes caught on a fallen tree with branches that appeared drier than the rest. Relief, albeit a small thread of it, weaved through your senses. You pointed to it and began to cross the distance, Minho falling into step beside you.

Together, you began to break off the dead branches. The brittle material snapped easily underneath your grip, the silence interrupted only by the sharp cracking of wood as you worked. But your fingers stilled when you caught sight of that thin bracelet adorning Minho’s wrist. The trinket glimmered softly in the fading light. Its delicate beauty contrasted sharply with your surroundings, reminding you you once again of the life you had left behind—the privileges and sorrows intertwined in your past.

You studied the intricate design and elegance of that gold piece..so out of place.

Why wear it out here, where its value could mean a death sentence?

Lost in the depths of your thoughts, you didn't notice the pause in Minho's own movement. His fingers wrapped around a branch while his gaze bore into you, even as yours remained fixed on the bracelet.

In that moment, a daring impulse seized you. Screw it, you thought. The seething hatred you held for District 9 and the memories it carried ran deep, yet a peculiar sense of comfort washed over you in the knowledge that Minho might understand in a way that the others couldn’t.

For the briefest instant, you allowed yourself to wonder if perhaps Minho shared the same longing for someone who understood.

Screw it.

“If I hadn’t already known you were from District 9,” you started, “that would confirm it.” You brought your eyes from the bracelet to meet his gaze as you resumed your work, snapping another branch.

Minho’s own eyes tinged with something darker than nostalgia as he let out a dry chuckle. “There's no sob story to it, if thats what you’re wondering. No lost loved one, no tragic incident. It's just a piece of metal.” His tone suggested a desire to seal off the conversation, end it there. But your intuition sensed the unspoken pain behind his words.

“If it doesn’t have any meaning,” you pressed, “then why wear it? Isn't it dangerous? Valuable things like that..I’m sure people would kill for them out here.”

Minho’s eyes flitted away, as if trying to decide whether or not to continue. “It did belong to my mother,” he admitted, “but I don’t wear it for her. She was a cruel women and she probably still is. I have no love for her memory."

His gaze returned to yours, firm and resolute. “I wear it because it reminds me of why I left.”

Minho’s sudden vulnerability left you wondering what had changed between you, brow furrowing. “Yes, my family is from District 9," he continued, “and they live comfortably while so many struggle to survive. This bracelet is a symbol of that privilege, of the divide."

“Sounds a lot like more than just a piece of metal to me,” you mumbled, eyeing him cautiously.

A brief pause suggested Minho had shared as much as he was willing. His gaze swept over you, scrutinizing the details of your disheveled appearance. He took in the worn edges of your clothing and the mud-streaked lines on your face, before his eyes landed at the spot on your neck where Felix's mark had once been.

You pulled your jacket up, raising your eyebrows at him.

What?

Minho let out a puff of air from his nose, a sort of half-laugh, half-scoff. The tension in his forehead slowly relaxed, the sharp angles of his expression softening. “I spent the majority of my life in District 9, closer to the palace than you might think," he revealed, "and I never once caught a glimpse of you. There were rumors of your existence, but nobody ever saw you."

A resigned sigh escaped his lips. “I hated every moment of my life there—the constant surveillance, the price paid by those who dared to step out of line. And I think I’m finally starting to understand how unbearable it must have been for you to be confined within those walls. Unseen, unheard, without any idea of what was out here," he gestured to the surrounding wilderness.

The stillness following his words was disrupted by the involuntary snap of a branch succumbing to the pressure of your grasp. Your mouth dropped and you attempted to conceal the subtle gasp that followed, praying Minho wouldn't be able to discern the astonishment you felt.

As your eyes lifted, preparing to articulate the thoughts still struggling for coherence in your mind, your attention was captured by movement just beyond his shoulder.

Amidst the foliage, a delicate tendril of smoke curled upward, spiraling into the sky. You followed the trail down to the source, where a barely visible chimney revealed itself through the trees—an apparent sign that you weren't as alone as you had once believed.

You returned to the campsite cradling a bundle of dry branches in your arms. Felix's face lit up at the sight, however his dark eyebrows raised in silent inquiry when he noticed the expression on your face. He accepted the branches as you handed them over, kneeling down beside him.

"Did something happen?" he asked, following the trajectory of your gaze to where Minho was approaching Chan across the clearing.

“We found a small cottage not too far away," you began, helping him arrange the branches. "We didn't get close enough to see if anyone was inside, but there was smoke coming from the chimney.”

A mixture of curiosity and apprehension took hold of his freckled features as you continued. “If someone lives there, there could be medical supplies or something useful for Jeongin's foot."

His eyes drifted toward Jeongin, now dozing off with his head on Seungmin's shoulder.

"He has a fever, Lix," you added with a note of urgency.

Felix swallowed, grappling with your words. "Let's say they do happen to have what we need," sparks flew from the friction of wood meeting wood beneath his hands. He maintained focus, coaxing the flames into existence. "You think they’ll just hand it over to a group of strangers?"

A brief pause followed before he asserted, "They won’t."

"Then we’ll take it,” you answered plainly. Felix’s eyes widened and you emphasized, “Without hurting them.”

His eyes sparkled as the first glimmer of flames emerged, heart-shaped lips curving into a smile. “Well would you look at that, princess," he mused, "you might just be one of us after all.”

The weathered stone cottage stood as an oddity against the wild, untamed forest.

The towering pines devoured the moonlight, plunging the surroundings in velvety darkness. Beside, you, Felix moved as if he were part of the shadows themselves—someone who had adapted to the darkness in ways you could only begin to imagine.

The two of you—along with Minho, Chan, and Hyunjin—had dispersed around the cottage to get a better idea of who might be inside.

Its circular windows were devoid of curtains or cover, as if whoever resided within had nothing to hide from prying eyes. Flickering light spilled out into the darkness as the scent of burning firewood filled the air—an indicator of the warmth within those walls.

Each step Felix took was guided by muscle memory—a hunter’s instinct, as he left no trail of his passage behind. Darkness seemed to seep from his eyes to combat the soft moonlight. The lethal gleam behind them whispered of his past deeds, reminding you that he was the survivor of a world in which he had been forced into the role of predator rather than prey.

Felix pivoted without a sound, hands delicately grasping your arms. His eyes softened upon meeting yours, acknowledging the fleeting startle he'd caused you. "Stay here," he whispered, a soft command. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he turned back toward the cottage.

You watched with bated breath as he approached one of the open windows. His eyes narrowed, catching on something inside, someone, perhaps—

“What the hell is he doing?!” a voice hissed from behind you.

You whirled around, instinctively reaching for your knife.

“Shit, Chan.“

“I said not to get too close,” Chan continued, disregarding the glare you shot him.

Before you could voice your irritation any further, Felix silently returned to your side. His hand made its way to your lower back, a feather-light touch to alert you of his presence. “There’s a man inside. Just one, from what I can tell.”

The sudden crack of a brittle branch underneath a heavy boot had all three of your heads snapping to the left. Minho and Hyunjin emerged from the shadows, their words echoing Felix's earlier revelation about a single man within the confines of the cottage.

"If he's the only one inside, we might be able to explain our situation and ask for help," Chan said.

Felix withdrew his hand from your back, deftly pulling down the bandana that matched each of your own. The fabric slid down the lower half of his face, unveiling tense features. "We don't know who this man is or what he's capable of.”

“What if he seems hostile or refuses to cooperate?” Hyunjin chimed in. As his slender fingers adjusted the strap across his chest, the metallic clink of the firearm secured to his back punctuated the air.

The tension thickened as Chan took a moment to contemplate the options. His hand fell to his own weapon, subtly tracing the familiar contours. "Maybe we should wait until morning,” he suggested. And the words, like always, came out laden with the weight of responsibility. “People can be unpredictable. If we wait until morning it gives us the advantage of daylight and more time to assess the situation.”

Impatience flickered across Minho's features, his eyebrows drawing together. "We can't afford to wait," he stressed, "Jeongin has a fever and it isn’t going to improve on its own. If we wait until morning, even a few hours, it worsens that much more. And it will just keep escalating until—"

"Alright," Chan conceded, features softening at the mention of the youngest. “If we're going to do this we need to be cautious. Charging in blindly could make things worse, not only for Jeongin but for all of us.” He swallowed hard, eyes traveling across each of your faces.

"So, what's our plan?" you spoke up, highlighting your commitment to whatever course of action they chose.

"What if we should just knock," Chan shrugged, "it's a simple gesture, non-threatening..”

Felix scoffed audibly from beside you, the sound startling a bird into flight from somewhere above. “Knock?" he lowered his voice to a whisper, "we might as well hand over our weapons while we’re at it."

"Paint targets on our foreheads too," Hyunjin muttered.

Chan shot each of them a disapproving glare. His hand instinctively rose, fingers tracing the scar along the bridge of his nose.

Although walking up and knocking on a stranger's door in the middle of the night did seem a bit absurd, you understood the rationale behind Chan's strategy—an attempt to approach the unknown with some semblance of diplomacy before considering more aggressive measures.

"I should do it," you offered, aiming to sound as indifferent as possible despite the quickening thud of your heart in your chest. "I might seem less threatening, and he might be more willing to talk if he sees me alone."

All eyes suddenly turned to you. Felix stiffened, but Minho intervened before he could protest.

"She has a point,” Minho looked to Chan, “given the circumstances, if he thinks she’s a woman alone in the middle of the night he might be more inclined to trust her and offer aide.”

Felix's expression twisted into a deep scowl, blatantly directed at Minho. "Or take advantage of her," his voice dropped to a near growl.

"That's why we'll be right here,” Chan offered.

Felix restrained himself from voicing any further objections, yet the discontent on his face remained visible. He was desperate to help Jeongin, too. He acknowledged the necessity of the plan, understood the logic, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Hyunjin shifted restlessly. "What if we wait until he goes to sleep?" he said, turning to you, “approaching his doorstep in the middle of the night might raise suspicions."

“So what, you want to break in instead?” you countered.

"It's not like we haven't done it before," Hyunjin snapped.

Your arms crossed as you locked eyes with him in a challenging stare. He gritted his teeth and ran a hand through his golden locks, a self-assured gesture that—as much as you would rather die than admit it—highlighted the way Hyunjin was objectively quite stunning.

As his gaze held yours, there was a slight falter in the sharpness of his stare. Almost hinting that that he had made the suggestion in a discreet attempt to protect you from approaching the man alone.

Almost.

Feeling the weight of the others' eyes shifting between you and Hyunjin, you drew in a breath. "I'll go," you said, addressing Chan. “There’s no way this ends well if we get caught breaking in. If I talk to him, I might at least be able to find out if he has what we need. And if he refuses to help us then we can do what needs to be done for Jeongin.”

Chan nodded. "Talk to him at the doorstep. If things seem off, call for us. We'll be right here, yeah?"

"Just be careful," Felix added quietly from beside you.

The corners of his eyes creased with worry, but there was trust within them. He reached over to tap on the hilt of your knife, a silent reminder of its presence, and you offered a faint smile in reply.

Aware of the collective gaze fixed on your back, you warily approached the cottage. The sight of Jeongin's fevered state replayed over and over in your mind, propelling every step as you inched closer to the plain, wooden door awaiting your touch.

Lifting a hand, you prepared to rap your knuckles against the weathered surface when an unexpected disruption seized your motion.

Before you could make contact with the door, it began to creak open. The hinges groaned, worn with age, as a sudden brightness flooded out into the night.

Squinting against the intrusion of light, your eyes instinctively dropped to a pair of worn-out leather shoes visible just across the threshold.

“I've been wondering when you lot were finally going to gather the courage to come and talk."

Your head shot up to meet the source of the voice, eyes widening as they settled on the man standing before you. His features were a testament to years spent at the edge of the wilderness. Dark hair, unkempt and graying at the temples, framed a face adorned with a rugged beard. The beard, though not long, carried a battered look, much like the rest of his appearance.

Despite the late hour, there was something peculiar about the way his eyes gleamed, a gaze perpetually attuned to his surroundings. A faint smile played on his lips as he studied your reaction, regarding you with calm curiosity.

Then, in one swift motion, he moved to close the distance between you. You stumbled back, heart drumming a rapid beat in your chest.

“Come on out!” his voice shattered the night, startling you into a breathless pause. He raised an arm and made a sweeping gesture directed at where the boys were hidden, as if he were inviting them over.

Your mouth fell, the astonishment in your own features reflected by each of the boys as they cautiously emerged from the brush.

The man turned, leaving the door open as he retreated back into the dimly lit interior. "You're lucky you found this place when you did," he said, addressing you over his shoulder.

Hesitant to follow, you lingered in the doorway, absorbing the details of the interior.

Stone walls enclosed the space in a large room, a single hallway extending out of view at the other end. The thatched roof was woven meticulously from bundles of dried straw, forming a gentle slope overhead. A narrow opening ushered smoke from the fireplace into the night sky, and an armchair sat facing the flames, a stack of freshly chopped wood at its feet.

Dry wood.

To your left, a small kitchen area was tucked against the wall. The air inside the cottage was rich with the enticing aroma of something savory bubbling above the rustic stove. It was a scent so captivating that it coaxed you to take a step over the threshold.

As the boys cautiously filtered in behind you, the man settled down at a small table adorned with scattered parchment. His relaxed demeanor made it seem as though he were accustomed to welcoming unexpected, armed guests into his home.

Felix took a deliberate step forward to position himself between the man and the rest of you. His eyes drilled into the stranger, scouring for any sign of ill intent. Despite the absence of a weapon, the way Felix stood made it clear that he didn't need one.

Chan hurriedly moved to join him. His hand found its way to Felix's shoulder, settling on the area where the branded mark lay concealed beneath his clothing—a warning touch. A silent caution to tread carefully.

As Chan visibly grappled with the situation, his mouth opened and closed in a struggle to find the words to start some sort of conversation.

The man chuckled, "You're wondering why I've welcomed you into my home."

The boys stood their ground, but not one of them spoke. They just stared, making you wonder if this was the first time they'd been willingly invited into a stranger's home.

The man leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "You’ve been circling my home for the better part of the night. I figure if you'd wanted to kill me you would have gotten to it by now," he said, eyes flicking to the imposing firearm strapped to Hyunjin's back. "But something tells me you didn't come all this way just for a friendly chat, did you?"

“Actually...Uh, sir,” Chan managed to find his voice, but you cringed a bit at the awkwardness it carried. "What we're looking for are medical supplies."

Minho stepped up. "Something to combat infection or fever," he clarified.

The man leaned back in contemplation. He surveyed each of you individually, eyes alight with amusement as if he found the whole situation mildly entertaining.

When his gaze fell upon you, Felix executed a deliberate shift in position. He planted himself directly in front of you, an unmistakable signal that he was fiercely protective of your well-being.

The man's faint smile morphed into a wry, knowing smirk as he looked Felix up and down. "Medical supplies, huh? You all look fine to me," he remarked.

"It's not for any of us," Chan's voice carried a hint of desperation. He paused to gauge the man's reaction before adding, "It’s for our youngest," likely hoping to evoke some sympathy.

The man arched an eyebrow. “There are more of you?"

Minho nodded, "We are a small group, just trying to survive."

"Survival," the man drew out the word, tasting it. “This is not the first time survival has brought strangers to my home in search of help."

"We don't have much to offer in return, but we are willing to trade," Chan offered.

The man's eyes narrowed, probing for sincerity behind his words. "Your friend must be very important to you," he stated, "but trading is not something I require. As you can see, I have everything I need within these walls.”

His fingers began to tap rhythmically against the arm of his chair, an unsettling sound that filled the air as he weighed the value of whatever he was considering.

"Despite that, I will provide you with what you need," he settled on.

A subtle release of tension spread through the room. Minho's stoic facade betrayed a flicker of relief. Chan allowed his posture to ease ever so slightly, Hyunjin withdrew his hand from the weapon strap across his chest.

Yet, amidst the delicate shift in energy, Felix remained an exception. Unmoved by the apparent relief settling in around him, his taut stance, though not overtly aggressive, showed no signs of relenting.

"Go collect your friend," the man waved a hand at the door, "I will shelter you for the night. You're young, exhausted, and it looks like you've been through quite a lot."

Alarm bells should have been ringing in your head.

The whole situation should have been unnerving. And in several ways, it was. But there was an inexplicable aura surrounding the man. Beneath the sly arrogance that colored his expressions, an undercurrent of compassion emerged. As he spoke, you couldn't help but notice the sadness that flitted across his eyes when he took in your group. There was a depth of profound humanity within those eyes—the kind of empathy you had never witnessed in your father—and it resonated with you.

As Chan started to voice his reservations, the man halted him with a raised hand. “I understand the reluctance to trust a stranger. You're cautious, and rightfully so. I see the weapons you carry, I know that you had the means to storm in here and take what you need, perhaps at my expense. Yet, you opted to knock on my door,” he chuckled lightly, shaking his head, "and that tells me something about each of you. Kindness begets kindness. Your group has demonstrated a courage that not many possess. And for that, I offer my aid.”

A stunned silence enveloped the room.

"Thank you," Chan expressed softly, each syllable carrying the weight of collective relief.

While the boys prepared to leave, your focus lingered on the man. A slight limp accompanied his movement as he stood—the permanent mark of an old injury to his left leg.

Felix glided across your path with a gentle brush to your arm, a silent signal to get the hell out of there. He took the lead, aiming to be the first one outside to ensure that there weren't any potential traps or threats awaiting you beyond the door.

Just as you were about to cross the threshold, something prickled at the edges of your senses. A barely perceptible exhale, too close for comfort, brushed against your ear.

The man's raspy voice came as a hushed whisper, intended for your ears alone. “A loyal guard dog you've got there,” he murmured, jerking his chin toward Felix.

You froze.

The blood in your veins threatened to boil at the comparison of Felix to a dog. But there was no malice in his tone, only a recognition of the connection. Almost as if he were measuring your reaction, trying to elicit a response from you.

And so, you willed that surge of heat to simmer.

Suppressing whatever fiery response had been brewing inside of you, you picked up your pace and stepped out into the night.

The decision to regroup and head back to the cottage had been met with skepticism. But, nine against one felt like decent odds, and the weapons your group possessed seemed to tip the scales in favor of the majority.

Upon re-entering the stone walls, you found the atmosphere had shifted. The man—still a mysterious figure with an unnamed identity—was in the midst of preparing something new over the stove.

Shallow breaths escaped Jeongin's lips as he settled into the armchair. The firelight played upon his features, highlighting the film of glistening sweat on his skin.

"I'm making a remedy from the herbs I've gathered,” the man announced from the kitchen. “This will help reduce his fever and fight the infection. Nature provides us with everything we need, if we know how to use it."

He went on to explain the properties of each ingredient he'd carefully measured and crushed. His words suggested a deep connection to the land and its resources. Everything felt genuine enough, and still, your intuition screamed at you to be cautious. A scowl crept across your face as he periodically glanced to you, his earlier comment about Felix ringing in your mind.

The collective watchfulness of the group intensified as the room filled with the soothing aroma of a fragrant tea. "This will help him," the man stated calmly as he poured a cup.

As he approached Jeongin with the steaming amber liquid, Felix's hands clenched into tight fists. The freckled boy focused intently on Chan, as if he were waiting for some kind of signal to release the restrained energy inside of him. The darkness swirling in his eyes hinted that, at the slightest cue from Chan, he would spring into action without a moment's hesitation.

You swallowed. Hard. When the man extended the cup toward Jeongin's lips, a sudden surge of panic gripped you. "Wait—"

Felix flinched sharply beside you, a ripple of tension coursing through his frame. Hyunjin, startled by your interruption, reached for the firearm still strapped to his back. Changbin took an instinctive step forward, ready to shield if need be.

The room held its breath, each of you caught in the precarious balance between conflict and composure.

The man turned, observing each of your faces. A sigh escaped him. A heavy, pitiful sound. And then, he lifted the cup and took a measured sip, his eyes locking onto yours.

“It is safe," he said after swallowing, "I have brewed this remedy countless times for myself." He held the cup out to you, making room for you to take his place beside Jeongin.

Cradling the cup in your hands, the warmth seeped through your fingertips. Jeongin stirred, eyelashes fluttering against the pale flush of his skin as you stepped up beside the armchair.

Feeling the need for guidance, you thought of Chan. Then, Felix. Jisung, an unpredictable force, lingered in your considerations too.

But when your head lifted, it wasn't Chan, Felix, or Jisung you looked to.

Minho nodded in silent reassurance, and it was all you needed to bring the cup to Jeongin's lips.

After he'd taken the last sip of the remedy, you turned and looked the man dead in the eyes as you pushed the cup back into his hands. "If anything happens to him because of this," you asserted, "I won't hesitate to kill you myself."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Felix's lips twitch upward. And in that subtle expression, you could’ve sworn you detected something that looked a lot like pride.

As the night wore on, something incredibly rare began to settle over your group—a blooming sense of trust. The culmination of the day's events, coupled with the comforting atmosphere inside the cottage gradually pulled each of you into a sense of security.

With Jeongin's condition showing signs of stabilizing, Hyunjin and Changbin decided to venture back to the rover to fetch supplies, too wary to leave them out in the open. Leaned against the armchair, Seungmin was first to fall asleep after Jeongin. Minho and Jisung had found solace in each other's presence near the hearth, where the dancing flames bathed their sleeping forms in a subtle glow.

In the midst of it all, Chan had occupied a seat across from the man at the table. They were deep in hushed conversation, discussing matters out of earshot, but the sound of their voices mingling carried an odd sense of security with it.

You found your own sanctuary nestled discreetly in a corner beside Felix. Shielded by miscellaneous objects and shadows, the position rendered you just out of direct eyesight from the two engrossed in conversation at the table.

The firelight played upon the subtle arch of his nose, the gentle curve of his lips, the way his eyelashes cast delicate shadows on his cheeks. Your hand gravitated toward his, and he responded by entwining his fingers with your own.

"I'll stay up with you," you murmured softly, "wasn't planning on falling asleep tonight anyway."

Felix responded with a soft kiss to your temple before guiding you to lie down with him, finding a more comfortable position. He pulled you into his chest and you raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry, glancing to the others. But the freckled boy only grinned as he pulled you closer.

“Sleep,” he murmured softly.

Succumbing to the moment, you laid your head down against his chest, relishing in the comforting beat of his heart.

As his fingers began to trail across your back in soothing circles, you hesitantly draped an arm over his waist, too tired to care about what the others might think—what Hyunjin might think, when he returned to find you like this.

Your mind drifted as you tried to keep the exhaustion at bay.

You imagined waking up to a rooftop bathed in gentle sunlight. You pictured the soft glow of a lantern in a narrow alleyway, reflecting off of sad eyes that carried so much more when they looked to the moon.

The last coherent thing that crossed your mind was the confession you'd been holding back since the moment you'd spent with Felix in the rain.

You might have murmured his name as those three little words resurfaced in your thoughts, but the boundary between wakefulness and dreams blurred.

A sudden jolt snapped you back from the brink of sleep, leaving you momentarily disoriented.

Still wrapped in Felix's arms, you anticipated to find him awake when you lifted your head from his chest. However, the features that met your gaze were softened by the gentle embrace of sleep. As your eyes lingered on him, you hoped that he would be granted solace from the nightmares tonight.

You brushed a few strands of hair from his face before sitting up, settling into a watchful position. It couldn't be too much longer now until Hyunjin and Changbin returned.

The rover wasn't that far.

You blinked, trying to regain a hold on your surroundings. As your tired eyes struggled to focus, they fell upon Chan. He now sat leaning against the wall next to the door, a testament to his determination to wait for Hyunjin and Changbin. His eyes were closed, head resting back, chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm—likely never intending to succumb to sleep.

A subtle noise caught your attention across the room, where man stood at a small basin in the kitchen, washing the pot he'd used to brew Jeongin's tea. His back was turned to you, the slight limp in his step evident as he shifted on his feet.

Glancing around the cottage, you made note of the various items scattered about. An aged book sat on a small table next to the armchair. Beside it lay an ornate silver necklace, its chain interlaced with dried white flowers that you didn't recognize.

Across from you, a glimmer reflected off of a small chest on a bookshelf, as if it had been purposefully tucked away amongst the clutter.

Your heart skipped a beat as you focused on the lock—at the symbol engraved on it.

So hauntingly familiar..

You squinted.

And then, your heart plummeted. Right down to your stomach.

You were standing before you'd even willed your feet to move, fueled by sheer instinct as your hand found its way to the knife securely strapped to your waistband.

The blade gleamed as you pulled it out. Your footsteps fell light as a whisper on the wooden floor as you approached the man, tightening your grip on the knife's handle to give you some semblance of control.

His hands, still glistening with water, hovered in the air as he twisted his head to acknowledge your presence.

"Why,” you growled, “does that chest bear the symbol of—"

You stiffened as he turned around, wiping his hands on a thin towel. "Sit," he urged, nodding to one of the two chairs positioned around the table.

“No," you lifted the blade and pointed it directly at him, surprised at how steady it was given the tremor coursing through your body. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t—”

"You are correct," he cut you off, "that chest indeed bears the mark of your father's army. But it also carries the weight of my own history."

A chill slithered down your spine as you could physically feel the blood drain from your face. The room swayed around you as you staggered, clutching at the edge of the table to steady yourself.

Despite the shock that painted your expression, the man remained impassive. You stood frozen in place, muscles locked with fear, as he navigated the intimate confines of the cottage to retrieve the small chest from the shelf.

He cradled it in his hands before placing it on the table with deliberate care.

"Sit," he repeated, settling into the chair across from you.

“H-how," you stammered. Your eyes darted over your shoulder to Chan, at the heavy weapon across his lap. But before you could muster the words to call for him, the man spoke again.

“I suspected who you were the moment I saw you standing on my doorstep. Initially, I mistook you for a ghost," he shook his head, voice softening, "the resemblance you bear to her is unmistakable. But it wasn't until this very moment, with that knife in your hand, that I knew for sure."

Without a word, you lowered yourself into the chair across from him.

Pleased with your reaction, the man reached beneath his shirt to reveal a necklace with a dangling key. He used the key to unlock the chest, extracting a worn cloth from within.

The cloth was unraveled to reveal a blade. It was identical to your own in size and shape. Yet, despite the apparent resemblance, the engravings told a different story. Crimson red flowers adorned the handle of the knife in his hand, a stark contrast to the white blossoms etched into your mother’s.

“A lifetime ago," the man cleared his throat, drawing your attention away from the twin blades. "I was a commander in your father's army. But in truth, I was more than that. A confidant, an advisor, and dare I say, his friend. Your father was never entirely sound of mind, even in his youth, but power has a way of magnifying the cracks in one's sanity. ”

He swallowed thickly, as if the following words were difficult to articulate. "I cannot absolve myself either," he confessed, "in the pursuit of my own power and blind loyalty, I too committed unspeakable acts. I followed orders without question, turning a blind eye to the suffering we caused. I assisted your father in making the decisions that stain his hands—decisions that haunt me still.”

"Stop," you croaked. Your chest tightened as you grappled with a rising tide of nausea. And you questioned whether your legs would even hold you if you tried to stand. "How is it even possible that we found you.."

The ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "Fate, my dear, works in mysterious ways," he answered, "and it seems to have conspired to bring you here tonight, to hear my truth."

After a brief pause, he redirected the conversation. "Many years ago, there was a woman, a guide of sorts, known for leading those from the outer districts to District 9 in search of a better life.”

Hira.

As best as you could, you veiled the flicker of recognition that sparked within you at her mention.

“Your mother was amongst those brought to District 9, to the palace. The moment your father laid eyes on her, he was consumed by a new kind of obsession. Within a week they were married. And the world, entranced by fear of his power, did not dare question it. He bound her to him—not out of love, but in the twisted grip of an obsession with her determination, her beauty, and her strength. Of course, there was also a dire urgency to ensure that his lineage persisted, rooted in the truth that only his bloodline could unlock the secrets of a hidden sanctum nestled deep within in District 2."

"Miroh," you whispered shakily.

He offered a solemn nod. “Your father saw your mother as a means to an end. He stripped away her dreams, her hopes, and caged her spirit. Yet, in the shadowed corridors of the palace, I came to understand her," a wistful smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "She was resilient, even in the face of cruelty. During the stolen moments we shared, she taught me about the outer districts and those we had oppressed. Through her, I learned not just about the struggles of these people, but about love, kindness, and hope.”

The sigh he let out carried the weight of a lifetime. The pain and the tenderness in his words echoed as you recognized that these were the most intimate details anyone had ever shared with you about your mother.

"Months later," he continued, "your mother entrusted me with a secret that would alter the course of our lives. I saw the fear in her eyes when she told me she that was pregnant—the fear that your father could pose a threat to the life growing within her. The following morning, duty dictated that I embark on a routine scouting mission in the outer districts. While I was there, my heart drove me to make a harrowing decision," he closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. "I slit the throats of the guards who had accompanied me. I burned their bodies beyond recognition, and in doing so I faked my own death. I built this cottage and the plan was simple—return for your mother, liberate her from the clutches of your father so that she may raise her child in peace. However, a year elapsed before the circumstances permitted my return. When I finally slipped back into the heart of District 9, under the cloak of darkness, it was only to learn that she had.."

He trailed off, unable to utter the painful conclusion.

Your stomach churned with the deep, unresolved ache tied to the memories of your mother. At the thought of her existence being shrouded in some kind of tragic narrative, and the the crushing realization that you would never know the full truth of her journey because she was gone.

The man's eyes fell to the blade in front of him, fingers tracing the engravings as if seeking solace in their familiar touch. And you didn't even know if you could believe a single word he'd said, but you wondered if he was the one to have given your mother the counterpart.

“I loved her, your mother,” his voice broke. The words hung in the air—dense, and fractured, and he did not look up as he continued.

“I loved her deeply, but in our time spent together I never summoned the courage to tell her those words. I believe she knew it, I know she did, and yet, it haunts me still. It always will. More than anything.”

The sorrow and regret etched on his face told the story of a lifetime's worth of remorse. It was a familiar expression, the same torment you had seen in Felix's eyes countless times before.

You glanced to the freckled boy, his silhouette barely visible in the dying firelight.

And then, another realization struck you. With a tremor of uncertainty in your voice, you turned back to the man. “You and my mother..Did you ever..Is there any chance that you could be my..” the words faltered with the possibility of a truth too profound to fully grasp.

He brought a hand up, rubbing at his face. "I don't know," he shook his head, "your mother and I were together before I left, once. But there is no way to know for certain until you reach Miroh. If you cannot open the lock, if it is my blood that runs through your veins instead of his, then I have damned us all."

The man fixed you with an intense stare. "If he finds you before you reach Miroh,” he quieted his voice to a gravelly whisper, “if he finds you, if the rebellion fails, he will kill them all—“

"I am not afraid of him," you croaked.

"You should be," he warned, "You should be terrified of him. Because he will save that one," he nodded his chin in Felix's direction, "for last. He will draw it out because of the way you look at him. And he will savor it until the bitter end."

His eyes bore into yours, urging you to understand the gravity of his words. "If you love that boy, tell him. Even if you think you may love him, tell him. Before it is too late.”

It was then that you registered the hot tracks of tears on your cheeks.

You were going to be sick.

As the vivid, gut-wrenching image of Felix suffering at the hands of your father seared through your mind, you were going to be sick.

You pushed the chair back, stumbling to your feet.

Desperate to put physical space between yourself and the cruel fate that had been painted before you, you burst outside, gasping for air.

As you doubled over, clutching at your chest, the rhythmic echoes of footsteps reached your ears. There were tears streaming down your cheeks when you turned around to confront the man, ready to demand answers.

But it wasn't his figure that stepped into the dim light seeping from the door.

As Felix took a cautious step forward, the expression he wore told you he had heard everything. Including the very unsettling possibility that your blood might not be the key to Miroh—that the hope every single one of you had clung to might always have been nothing more than just a fragile, fragile illusion.

"What if my blood doesn’t work?” you choked out through tears as he closed the distance between you, the weight of his gaze holding you in place.

"We don't know for sure yet, okay?”

"Felix," you pleaded his name like there was something he could do. As if he weren't just as helpless as you.

"I will not let anything happen to you," he whispered as his arms enveloped your trembling shoulders. "You're okay. We're okay,"

You shook your head, closing your eyes as Felix gently lifted your chin. "I will not let anyone hurt you," he vowed, traced the path of your tears with his thumbs.

But Felix could sense the panic tightening its grip on you, rendering your breaths shallow and uneven. The ache to alleviate your distress clawed at him. He would've done anything to make it stop. And so, in that vulnerable moment he summoned the courage to articulate the only thing he had left to offer.

“I love you,” he whispered, “I love you, princess. No matter what.”

Felix closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against yours. He reveled in the feeling of his own admission, and it was something even fear could not outweigh.

You breathed him in.

You knew this would not last forever with him. Nothing ever does. And you wondered if you will ever be able to accept that, even when you no longer have a choice.

But in that moment, Felix was there. You extended a hand, and he was warm. He was real, and he felt more like home than anything ever had.

You loved him too, and it was a feeling you did not dare let go.

Part 8 coming soon..

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