comfortable with you
➤ it’s hard finding the love of your life on dating apps, which is why recruiting your roommate to help you get out of bad dates seems like a good idea. felix is the perfect candidate—his voice alone causes your dates to run in the opposite direction. with his help, you don’t even have to go through the awkward rejection phase. your plan seems to be working—until you kiss him
➤ lee felix x reader, roommates-to-lovers, fluff; cursing, food & eating, alcohol consumption
➤ 10k words
➤ a/n: this is my fic for the summer 2 lovers collab hosted by @feliix ! everyone please be sure to show the other writers a lot of love for their fics <3
“You’re really neat, but… I don’t know if this is going to go anywhere.” You grimace at your own words, pulling the phone away from your ear to smack your forehead lightly. Neat? Really? That’s how you were going to console a guy after rejecting him?
“Oh, okay.” Changbin sounds confused. He probably had people asking him out on dates left and right, and yet he’d asked you out on a date. Someone who is now rejecting him post-date. Over the phone. “Was it… I mean, is there anything I can change for next time, or—”
“No, I think you’re a great person,” you assure him. “I just… I’m not sure I feel the same way about you right now. It would be unfair of me to pretend, y’know? I don’t want to lead you on.”
“Ah. I see.” A long silence, and then Changbin exhales. “Well, I appreciate the honesty.”
“Thanks for understanding, and… I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for being honest. I respect that, even if it hurts to hear.” Changin chuckles lightly. “I hope you take care of yourself, Y/N.”
“Thanks,” you say softly. “You too. Bye.”
You hang up and stare at the ceiling for a bit, exhaling slowly. Then you roll yourself off your bed and make your way out of your room and across the hall. Felix’s door is closed, but you can hear him clicking away at his keyboard and mouse. You knock hesitantly before pushing the door open. “Felix? Are you busy?”
“Nah, c’mon in.” As you enter Felix’s room, he hits a key and pauses his game before turning around in his gaming chair. He raises an eyebrow. “How’d he take it?”
“Not badly, actually.” You lean up against the doorway and sigh. “I just… feel so bad, you know? Like, why am I not into him?”
“Maybe he’s not your type.”
“Changbin is supposed to be everyone’s type,” you lament, letting your eyes wander over the expanse of Felix’s bedroom. You purposefully avoid lingering on the Final Fantasy posters on the wall beside his bed; how he slept with those hanging over him was a mystery to you. “Except he scolded me for not eating vegetables at the restaurant last night and… I don’t know. I just can’t see myself dating a guy who’s that worried about my vegetable consumption.”
“I’m glad you never nag me about eating my vegetables,” you tell him. “I’d probably move out if you did.”
“Even if you did, you wouldn’t be able to afford rent anywhere else without me. I’m your saving grace.”
“I’m your saving grace. I was the one who found this place first, remember?”
Felix gives you a small smile. “Yep, that’s you. My angel.” He coughs and turns back towards his game. “My guardian angel, I mean.”
You laugh. “If anything, you’re my guardian angel. You’ve stopped me from doing so much stupid shit in the past couple months.” You stare absently at the white paint, finding the line where the wall and the ceiling meet and squinting at the tiny cracks and chips in the paint. “And you put up with my failed dating escapades too. My old roommates would have just made fun of me.” Your phone lights up with a notification, prompting you to check the screen. The notification is from Tinder. “Huh. Speaking of dating escapades.”
“Who messaged you this time?” Felix abandons his game and crosses his room to stand beside you.
You angle your phone so he can see the screen as you open the app. “His name is… Jisung,” you read. “I guess we matched a while back, but I didn’t really think about it.”
The two of you stare at the message from Jisung for a bit. It’s not really noteworthy in any sense—just a simple “hey, i like your photos”. Even though some might think of it as dry, it’s better than most of the other opening lines you’d received on the app, so you type out a compliment to him in return and send it.
“I guess his opening line isn’t Tinder Nightmares-worthy,” Felix muses. “It’s plain, though. You could do better.”
“You always say that.”
“And I always mean it. Guys who use Tinder usually only are looking for one-night-stands.”
“Hey, I can have a one-night-stand if I want.”
“You totally can! But like,” Felix runs a hand through his hair exasperatedly, “you deserve so much more than that, you know? Someone who will—”
“—treat me right, I know,” you sigh.
It was true that your track record with Tinder was… not the greatest. But how else were people supposed to meet the love of their life these days? Tinder, unfortunately, seemed like your most practical option given everything else you had going on. Your social circle hadn’t gotten any bigger in the past couple of years, and you had enough on your plate with classes and being an independent adult. App-based dating was convenient, and popular enough that you had figured it would work. You’d seen Tinder hookups turn into genuine, meaningful relationships, so you knew it was possible, but it never seemed to happen with you.
There were times, of course—like when Felix comforted you after a breakup and told you he would bake you his secret chocolate chip cookie recipe—where you thought that dating him would just be… easier. Less work than the cycle of dates and dumping that you put yourself through. You supposed that domesticity with him was both a charm and a curse. You shared a living space, peacefully coexisting and consequently developing a relationship that wasn’t too dissimilar from a friendship—but you also had to put up with his gaming late at night when you were trying to study, and how he would leave greasy Cheeto dust fingerprints on the TV remote.
Maybe if your introduction to him hadn’t been in the context of living with him, you would have considered dating him; he’s attractive and clever, sweet and caring. But you’d skipped the fluttery, growing stages of love and gone straight to the married couple dynamic, where the feeling of young love had died out and the two of you only shared a house and the same bills to pay. It was ironic really, because you considered living together to potentially be one of the most intimate acts you can do with another person. But since the two of you were roommates and nothing more, you were destined to part when the lease ended.
There was an invisible contract to behave as something like a couple for a year, but with an implicit clause that stipulated to never actually feel anything for each other. Roommates weren’t always couples, just like couples weren’t always roommates. And so, you left your feelings at that, never allowing yourself to explore the possibility of dating Felix.
Your phone lights up again—Jisung had replied. “Huh. A decent texter?” Felix peers at your phone. “That’s a surprise.”
“You never know.” You unlock your phone. “It could be his bait; be reliable with texting for a week or two, and then bam, he ghosts me. Not everyone is as good at texting as you.”
“I’m only good at texting you back,” Felix mutters. He stands on his tip-toes, locking his elbows up and out in a stretch. “Want snacks?”
You contemplate. “Sure. Got any of those cookies left?”
“Nah, but I made brownies the other day while you were in class.”
Your jaw drops. “And you didn’t tell me? Wow. I thought I was your official taste-tester.”
Felix rolls his eyes and smirks. “Oh yeah, sure. That’s all you are to me.” You frown, and he giggles. “I’m just kidding. Come on, I’ve only had one or two.”
Talking with Jisung is nice, but that’s… all it is.
You kind of feel bad for not feeling anything more for the guy. He’s polite and respectful when he asks you out, and really, his manners are primarily what cause you to agree. Maybe meeting him would be different, and you’d find that there was a certain in-person charm that dating apps couldn’t convey.
But now, as you sit across from him in the restaurant, you realize that that’s not the case.
Jisung is so… shy. Nothing wrong with being shy, of course, but you weren’t the best at breaking the ice and getting the conversation going on a first date. Especially when you’re not as interested in him as he is in you. It’s a paradoxical thing to witness, really—he doesn’t hold eye contact with you, doesn’t really initiate conversations. But when you ask him a question, about what he does in school or if he has a job, he responds eagerly. Granted, his answers are short and simple, but he does brighten up for a couple of seconds. And then… the conversation fizzles out. He doesn’t ask anything in return. You don’t want the date to feel like an interrogation, so you give up on asking him question after question and just wait for him to feel comfortable enough to talk to you.
Except he never does. It’s awkward; you feel badly for him. Maybe the pity is what prompts you to agree when he offers to walk with you for a bit after the meal. And so, the two of you walk down towards the river that runs through town, in a quiet that teeters on being uncomfortable. As you walk along the banks, you catch sight of someone a couple of meters away that makes your heart lift a bit. “Felix!”
Felix turns, bewildered. When he sees you and Jisung, he smiles and waves his hand in greeting, and jogs over to you. “Y/N, hi!” He turns. “You must be…”
“Jisung,” he supplies, sticking out his hand for Felix to shake.
“Hi, Jisung!” Felix smiles. “I’m Felix. Y/N’s roommate.”
“Oh…” Jisung glances between the two of you, his eyes widening very slightly. “Cool. That’s… nice.” He scratches the nape of his neck. “I, um. I just remembered I have an assignment due at midnight that I need to start. Are you—I mean, is it okay if I—”
“No worries.” You smile gently at him. “Thanks for the date. I hope you get your assignment done.”
Jisung offers you a hesitant smile, and you can see him come to the conclusion that he’s not getting a second date. Nevertheless, he offers Felix a smile as well before bidding the two of you goodbye and heading back down the riverbank the way you came.
You watch him to make sure he’s out of earshot before turning to Felix. “I’m so glad you’re here—that date was so awkward.”
“Really?” The surprise is evident in Felix’s voice. “But he was so good at texting.”
“He’s just… so shy in person,” you sigh. “He didn’t ask me any questions at all. He’s cute, and I’m sure he’s a good person, but it felt like I was talking to a wall.”
“Hmm.” Felix begins walking back towards your place, and you fall in stride with him. “I almost felt kinda bad. I mean, I thought you introducing him to me scared him off.”
“Nah, I was wondering how I was going to let him down gently.” You sigh, then stop in your tracks as your mind replays the last two seconds of his sentence. “Wait.”
Felix stops with you. “What?”
“Felix, you’re a genius!” You beam at him.
“What?” Felix is staring at you like you’ve sprouted a limb from your stomach. “What did I do?”
“You—you scared him off! Maybe not intentionally, but you might have done it anyway. So,” you wave off your roommate’s befuddled look, “how about when I feel a date isn't going well, I let you know, and you can scare the guy off?”
Felix’s brow knits. “You think I can scare off any guy I want?”
“Well, some might have you beat in terms of height,” you muse, “but if I call you… very few men can get their voice as low as yours. That’s gotta instill some fear in them, right?”
“Great!” You put on your best puppy-dog eyes and grip his arm. “Please, Felix. I would really appreciate the help. You don’t even have to pretend to date me or anything; I just need your voice.”
Felix sighs. “Fine.”
“Yay!” You release his arm and clap excitedly. “Perfect. Okay, good.”
“You’re welcome.” Felix rolls his eyes, but you know there’s no malice behind them. “Aren’t you lucky I’m agreeing to this?”
“I sure am,” you confirm eagerly. “You’re the best.”
Felix rolls his eyes again. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
The next week or so passes, and the schoolwork seems to come in waves, as it always does. You swore you were on top of assignments, but walking into your first class on Monday you realize you had several readings to catch up on and papers to write, for both that class and others. Granted, the assignments are relatively short, but there’s so many of them that you effectively lock yourself in your room over the weekend to focus.
On Sunday afternoon, there’s a knock at your bedroom door. “Y/N?”
You pull yourself out of your screen-induced stupor and blink slowly. “Huh?”
When you look at your door, Felix is peeking around it. “You good? I haven’t seen you all weekend.”
You look back towards your desk; overlapping papers, sticky notes, pens, textbooks, and your laptop balancing on top of the mess. “Yeah. Just… assignments.”
“Okay.” Felix takes in your nest of academia for a couple of seconds. “I… made too much spaghetti, so if you want some—”
You straighten up in your seat at the mention of food, and the sudden motion causes your stomach to growl. It’s embarrassingly loud and you can feel yourself heat up as you purse your lips sheepishly. “You didn’t hear that.”
Felix lets out a breath of shocked laughter. “Wow. Right.” Then his forehead creases. “When was the last time you left your room?”
Now it’s your turn for your forehead to crease. “Um. I… can’t remember?”
Felix gestures towards you. “Come to the kitchen.”
You sigh and push back your chair, only becoming aware of how tight your muscles are after you’re standing. You try to subtly flex them to shake off the stiffness as you follow Felix out the door, through the hallway and into the kitchen. It’s only then that you register the smell of the tomato sauce—garlic, onion, basil, oregano filling your senses. There’s vegetables in the sauce too, softened from being sautéed in a pan before the tomato paste and sauce came into play. You locate the bowl of noodles on the counter and ladle just the right amount of sauce over them, then find a fork and twist it into the noodles to get some into your mouth.
“You like it?” Felix asks from his spot by the stove.
You nod enthusiastically, too preoccupied with eating to verbally communicate.
“Would’ve been better if I had an immersion blender,” Felix muses. “Or even a food processor. Then the sauce wouldn’t be so chunky because of the vegetables—”
“I love it,” you announce, grinning at him. “It’s good.”
He brightens instantly at your declaration. “Really? You really like it?”
You nod again. “Of course. I’m glad at least one of us knows how to cook.”
Felix giggles, a soft, clear sound that makes your heart lift. “I’m glad you like it.” He scratches the nape of his neck, and you notice his ears are flushed pink. “Maybe I can teach you how to make it. Spaghetti is pretty easy to make, and really hard to mess up.”
“Maybe.” You glance around the kitchen. “I’m going to get back to studying. See you later.”
“Remember to take breaks!” Felix calls as you leave the kitchen. You wave at him as you enter your room to tackle your remaining schoolwork with the rest of the spaghetti.
You think that maybe you’re just cursed with plain old bad luck when it comes to romantic relationships. Maybe you never learn your lesson. Whatever the source of your misfortune, you find yourself in a café with a guy who you’re really just trying to scare off at this point. You can’t even remember his name. You’d given up on being polite when you saw him being rude to the waitstaff, but somehow this date was too self-centered to notice your change in mood.
When the two of you finish your drinks, you stand, hoping he’ll get the hint. “Well, I think I should head out.”
“Oh, okay.” The guy stands with you, and then he says, “I’ll walk you back, then.”
You frown inwardly. “You really don’t have to.” You don’t have it in you to say I don’t want you to.
“Nah, I should.” Your date heads towards the door.
You trail after him, your hand gripping your phone in your pocket.
Wait. Your phone.
You quickly unlock your phone and open your messages.
[4:10pm] hey remember how you said you would scare off dates?
[4:10pm] i need you to call me
You’ve just stepped out onto the street when your phone lights up with Felix’s contact name and photo. You hold your phone up to show your date. “Sorry, just one second.” You swipe to accept the call and immediately press speakerphone. “Hello?”
Holy hell. You knew Felix’s voice was deep, but you’ve never heard it go this low. You gulp and try to not let your voice crack. “What’s up?”
“I need you to come back to our place. There’s water running from the dishwasher, and I can’t get a hold of our landlord.”
As Felix speaks, you watch your date. He’s frozen in place on the sidewalk, staring at your phone like it contained a demon that was threatening to break out from your screen any second. You laugh inwardly. “Oh, shit. So—it’s an emergency, then?”
“‘Kay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Great. See you soon.”
You end the call and turn to your date. “Sorry, I might just have to leave you here.”
“No, that’s—that’s fine,” the guy stammers. He actually begins backing away from you as he speaks. “I hope your dishwasher gets fixed soon.”
Without waiting for a response, your date turns and walks quickly down the road, opposite the way you needed to go. You smile to yourself and begin walking him, texting Felix a quick thank you.
When you arrive home, Felix is on the couch in your living room. “You’re a lifesaver,” you tell him as you kick off your shoes.
He grins at you. “I’m glad it worked. But ah—” he rubs the back of his neck as he stands “—there actually is water running from the dishwasher.”
“What? Like right now?” You drop your things in the front entranceway and run towards the kitchen, panic rising in your chest.
The dishwasher comes into view, and the floor—and in the middle of the floor are Felix’s sneakers, with a bottle of water balanced in each of them. You exhale and turn back to Felix, who is smiling brightly. “I hate you, oh my gosh.” He giggles again, and you shake your head. “I’m gonna see what we have, want anything?”
“Do we have food?” Felix inquires as you open the fridge.
You stare, a frown creasing your forehead. The fridge is decidedly empty. “Huh. Looks like we both need to do some shopping.”
“Do you want to—uh, go together?”
You glance up at him, and you swear there’s a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks. “Like, to get groceries?”
“Yeah.” Felix rubs the back of his rapidly flushing neck. He can’t look at your face. Weird.
You shrug. “Sure. And hey, we haven’t had a movie night in a while. Want to stock up on stuff for that too?”
He smiles. “Sure. Should we leave in ten minutes or so?”
You agree and pull out your phone to make a list of things you need to buy, and Felix retreats to his room.
Felix stares at his closet for about thirty seconds before shaking his head and pressing his palms flat against his cheeks. He’s stupid. He’s so, so stupid, because he contemplated dressing up to go to the grocery store.
He tries to remind himself that it’s not a date. It’s just… a task. An outing.
With his roommate-slash-crush. Fuck.
Don’t make it weird, he chides himself as he stares in the mirror. Roommates do joint grocery runs all the time. And grocery shopping isn’t something that was exclusively considered a capital-D Date. Not even close. What’s romantic about browsing produce aisles and comparing prices on loaves of bread? Absolutely nothing, but also everything.
Just a task he needed to get done. Not a date. But man, he wishes it could be considered one.
He thinks he’s calmed himself down enough to go back out to the kitchen, but before he leaves, he spots a bottle of perfume sitting on his dresser. Before he can think twice, he spritzes himself with the scent and fans it against his skin before leaving his room and heading to the front hall. Liquid confidence is how he justifies it in his head.
You’re leaning up against the wall and watching something on your phone, your lanyard with the keys to the place wrapped around your hand. You’d thrown on a hoodie as well, and Felix allows his eyes to dip just the smallest amount over your figure to take you in. It was your favourite hoodie, one you’d worn around the house a bunch. You always looked so cute in it. It might be Felix’s favourite article of clothing of yours.
You look up. “Ready to go?”
Felix nods and jams his feet into his shoes as you open the door, and then he follows you out onto the street. He was lucky that this place was within walking distance of a grocery store—neither he nor you owned a car, so your location was much preferred over somewhere that would cause you to take public transit to get food.
When you arrive at the grocery store, Felix grabs two baskets—one for you, one for him. The downside of living within walking distance of a store meant that you could only buy as much as you could carry; he’d made the mistake of using a cart the first time he went shopping, and had to struggle back home carrying seven bags of food by himself. It was not easy.
You begin searching through the store for what you need, with Felix following you. He realizes he should have made a list like you before leaving the house—he’s just grabbing things off the shelf by memory alone. He knew the basics of what he needed to get, of course, but what if there was something that had slipped his mind?
Oh well. He supposes that’s what he got for hiding in his room and avoiding you. He could always come back later in the week if he realized something crucial was missing.
“Hey Felix! Catch!”
Felix snaps to attention just in time to register the bag of espresso midair, and thankfully, he catches it. Then he looks at you, a little further down the aisle.
You’re grinning at him. Gosh, he loves your smile. “Nice reflexes.”
“Yeah, you know me,” he drops the espresso in his basket, “always alert.”
You scoff. “I’ve seen you after you’ve been gaming for the whole night. You’re not always alert.”
The tips of Felix’s ears burn red at the memory. “Yeah… got me there.”
You grin at him and wander through the aisles, continuing to grab more items that you needed while periodically checking your phone. Felix trails after you until you get to a section with alcoholic drinks, where you stop and turn to him again. “Want to get some?”
Felix looks from the refrigerated section to you. “Like… wine?”
You smile. “Well, it doesn’t have to be wine. I’m not gonna tell you what you should or shouldn’t drink, but if you want some… I feel like celebrating for some reason. Why not, you know? We’ve never really… bought wine if it wasn’t for a party.”
Felix feels his chest flutter at the mention of a we, and he reaches to open the refrigerated doors. “Sure. Like you said, why not? What do you want?”
You hum as you look at the wine, then reach out and take a bottle of something that Felix doesn’t recognize. But it’s wine, so how foreign can it be? “Is this okay?”
“Sure,” he agrees easily.
You smile and put the wine in your basket before continuing down the aisle, and Felix catches himself smiling at you fondly.
When the two of you get back home, dinner isn’t too complicated—Felix makes pasta again, but this time you hover behind him, watching as he chops ingredients and stirs the sauce in the pot. He hopes you don’t notice the way his hands tremble and how his voice is just a tiny bit unsteady when you step closer to him. The warmth of your body behind him makes him feel like his heart is going to leap out of his chest.
He needs to calm down. This was showing his roommate how to cook, not some soft domestic thing that happens between established couples. He hasn’t known you for long enough for that.
But there was something about being in the kitchen together, a kind of automatic intimacy that makes Felix’s heart feel like it’s about to creep out of his mouth and tumble into your hands. The pasta recipe wasn’t his; his mom had taught him how to make it as a final going-away favour before he moved in with you. Now, months later, he’s showing you how to make it.
Somehow, sharing something as personal as a family recipe makes him feel vulnerable, exposed in the most tender of ways. When you say you love his pasta, Felix doesn’t think of that as you liking just the food—it’s a declaration in his mind that you love a part of him, something personal and intimate that he doesn’t need words to share. A facet of him that you accept and love, through something as ubiquitous as food.
You settle on the couch as Felix scrolls through the movie options. You’d opted to use his account instead of yours, due to the fact that he was subscribed to just about every video streaming service created.
“How about this one?” Felix hovers over a rom-com letting the preview play.
You haven’t seen it before, despite your hours of having movies playing in the background while you study. “Sure.” He clicks to start it, and just as you shift to get comfortable, you remember. “Wait! Wait, wait, wait! Our wine!”
You leap up from the couch and beeline for the kitchen. The bottle of wine waits for you on the counter, and you search the cupboards for glasses or cups—something. The only things you can find are a clear plastic tumbler and a blue mug; you make a mental note that dishes need to be done at some point as well.
After you fill each glass halfway, you tuck the bottle of wine into the crook of your arm and return to the couch, carefully passing the mug to Felix. “Ta-da. Now we can have a fancy movie night.”
He grins as he leans over to press play on the movie again, then settles back on the couch next to you. You take a sip of the wine. It’s room temperature, but you don’t mind.
About halfway through the movie, after you’ve refilled both your cup and Felix’s, you feel a light pressure on your shoulder, and carefully turn your head. Felix is slumped over so that the side of his head is resting on your shoulder, his eyes half-closed as he watches the movie. “Comfy?”
“Hm?” Felix blinks, then seems to notice his position in relation to you and sits up slowly. Even though the room is illuminated by only the television and his laptop, you can see a lovely pink flush to his skin—probably from the alcohol. “Oh sorry, I—get kind of… sleepy. When I drink.”
“Oh, okay.” You take a closer look at him. “If you don’t want to keep drinking, you don’t have to—”
“No no, I’m good, really!” He flashes you a toothy smile and waves the hand that’s not curled around his mug. “I want to. It’s nice, y’know? It relaxes me a bit.”
You nod and shift so you’re settled more into the cushions. “You can… put your head on my shoulder again, if you want. If it relaxes you. I kind of like it.”
Felix doesn’t say anything, but you can feel the couch cushions move as he shifts his weight closer to you. Slowly, you feel the weight of his head being dropped onto your shoulder, the side of his body pressing up against your arm. You grin, and let your head relax to the side against the top of his.
The movie continues, but you have to admit that you’re not fully paying attention to the screen. You’re instead focused on the way you can almost feel Felix’s chest rising and falling as he breathes, the way his arm is pressed up in between your body and his, the way his hair feels against your cheek. His cologne envelops him in a nice, calming scent, making you relax as well. It’s nice being close to someone like this. You can’t remember the last time you’d gotten to hold someone or be held.
The tips of Felix’s fingers brush over your stomach, and then they rest there. Gentle, like he’s testing how much physical contact you’re okay with. When you don’t react, his hand reaches over across your middle and his fingertips press into your waist. His touch seems to convey an unspoken understanding between the two of you: I’m here, holding you. And you’re here, letting me hold you. That’s trust.
You trust Felix.
The two of you watch the rest of the movie in silence, and when the credits roll, Felix lifts his head off your shoulder, presumably trying to shake off the movie-watching haze that inevitably settles in after two and a half hours. You sight and turn your head to look at him, and it takes him a couple of blinks before he’s able to focus on you and hold eye contact. His chin is just millimeters from your shoulder, his eyes wide, cheeks pink.
“You’re pretty.” His voice is barely above a mumble, the depth of it reverberating against your arm and traveling to your chest.
Your heart swells in your chest. You feel… something. You don’t have the time or the focus to try and sort through the emotions, only the capacity to feel and act.
Felix’s cheek is hot when you reach up and cup it in your hand. Your thumb just barely touches his bottom lip before you lean in and brush your lips against his. The contact is fleeting and short, Felix’s breath mingling with yours before you pull back just a bit.
Then Felix’s hold on your waist tightens and this time it’s him leaning in, finding your lips and letting his fit against them. You fall into a comfortable rhythm of kissing him, tasting the wine on his breath and his lips as your hands move to his shoulders. Felix adjusts his grip on your waist, and you feel his hand press flat against your back, pulling you closer so your legs intertwine with his.
It’s comfortable, kissing Felix. It feels right. You’re relaxed and content, feeling warmth radiate out from your chest and down to the tips of your toes. Felix is just as warm, you realize—his cheeks are definitely flushed, and his heartbeat—oh shit, his heartbeat. You pull back, your lips parting with a quiet smack. “Are you okay?”
Felix takes several seconds to respond—he’s busy catching his breath. “What do you mean?”
“Your heart, it’s”—you run your hand over his chest just to check again—“beating really fast.”
Felix glances down at your hands against his chest and presses his lips together. “I’m—I’m fine, really. Just… nervous I guess?”
“Sorry.” You untangle your legs from his and let your hands drop from his chest. “I didn’t realize I was making you nervous.”
“No no no, it’s okay!” Felix grabs your hand, stopping your movement. “It’s okay, really. I just… haven’t kissed anyone in a long time.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” you smile. “Do you want to… keep going?”
Felix smiles and rubs the back of his neck. “Sure.”
Then he’s leaning back in, and this time you’re there to meet him halfway. Kissing Felix is sweet and soft, and you lose yourself in the feeling of his lips and how his hands curl around yours when he laughs.
When you wake up, you can’t open your eyes all the way. Your neck hurts, and when you reach up to rub it, you hit… hair?
You try to turn your head down to your neck but it doesn’t rotate as far as you need it to, bumping into something warm and solid. Your whole body is numb and feels almost compressed, like you’re underneath a weighted blanket. You pat blindly with the same hand that tried to rub your neck, and feel hair, skin, clothes… on top of you? You open your eyes, and oh fuck.
You slept on the couch—that would explain the pain in your neck. And the weighted blanket is your roommate laying on top of you. He groans a bit, shifting his weight, and you realize you’re going to have to wake him up if you want to get up from the couch. You tap the back of his head. “Felix.”
Felix hums and turns his head. His lips brush against the base of your neck and you flush at how soft his lips feel. “Hey, Felix. Wake up.”
“Hmm?” Felix lifts his head from the crook of your neck, and his eyes open a bit wider. “Oh. Oh.” He rolls off the couch onto the ground, and when he looks up at you, his eyes are wide with panic. “I’m really sorry, was I hurting you? Are you okay?”
You wave him off. “No, you’re fine, really. I just… wanted to get up. Sorry for disturbing your sleep.”
You roll yourself off the couch and grimace at the twinge in your neck as you walk into the kitchen. As you stand blankly by the fridge trying to get your bearings, you remember the feeling of Felix’s lips against your neck.
And against your cheek… and your lips… Your eyes widen. Fuck. No, no, no. Shit.
You and Felix kissed last night. For… a really long time. Why? Was it just because you both wanted to? Could roommates just… do that?
Sure, anyone could kiss anyone they liked. But kissing someone you’re in a platonic domestic relationship with was blurring the lines. People who were just roommates usually didn’t kiss.
You and Felix were just roommates. So why did you kiss?
The icy stream of water down your hand brings you back to reality—your glass is overflowing, and you yank it away from the fridge, spilling more of it on the ground. “Shit.”
“Are you all good?”
You jump again at the sound of Felix’s voice behind you. When did he come into the kitchen? “I—yeah! Yeah, just—not fully awake yet, I guess.”
You’re relieved when he doesn’t notice your stammers, and you think you’re off the hook, but then he says, “So, about last night…”
You stop your quest to clean up the water on the floor completely, frozen in place. Did Felix want to… talk about that? Were you ready to have that conversation? The “hey I know we’re just roommates but kissing you felt more comfortable than any date I’d been on ever” conversation? Now?
You glance up at him. His cheeks are slightly pink, hand holding the back of his neck. He’s watching you carefully, and just as he opens his mouth to say something, panic takes control in your chest and you blurt, “That movie was really lame, wasn’t it?”
Felix blinks, then coughs. “Uh—yeah. Super lame. Totally cliché.” He then moves past you to grab a cloth from the counter, and squats down to wipe at the water. You grab another cloth and work with him, and within seconds the floor is dry.
Relieved, you stand, toss the cloth in the direction of the sink, and exit the kitchen, making a beeline for your room and closing the door.
Your heart’s beating really, really fast. That can’t be good. You groan quietly, smacking your forehead, then flopping on your bed. When you close your eyes, all you can sense is Felix’s lips against your own, his hands holding your body, his giggles, the way he—
Was this really happening? How did this happen? Why did one kiss from your roommate cause your whole body to become jittery? You feel like a preteen, overthinking every single brush of Felix’s lips against your own, how his fingers felt pressed against your body. And with every second that passes, you become more panicked, because how on earth were you not going to make this weird?
You were both tipsy; you could blame it on the alcohol. That would make it easier to play off, in case Felix hadn’t actually wanted to kiss you.
But he had leaned in. After you had kissed him, he was the one to lean in and continue kissing you.
Did he want to kiss you? Did he… have feelings for you?
You feel yourself blush at the thought, then shake your head. If Felix liked you, he could tell you himself. And if he didn’t like you and regretted kissing you… well. You’ll cross that bridge when you get to it.
You can be mature. You can handle this.
You spend the rest of your day in your room, only coming out when absolutely necessary. This is fine. This is your way of handling it. At least that’s what you tell yourself as you get ready for bed, as you feel a twinge of guilt about not interacting with Felix the entire day.
Two, then three hours pass as you toss and turn on your mattress. Every time you change your position on the bed, the feeling of Felix holding you in his arms is still imprinted into your brain. You groan quietly and kick back your covers, finally rolling to sit up on your bed.
The clock on the microwave reads 2:14am when you shuffle into the kitchen, and to your surprise, you’re not alone. “Oh—”
Felix turns around from the counter, his eyes wide. “Oh—hey.”
“Hey,” you mumble awkwardly. You peer at the counter; a mixing bowl is half-full with cookie dough.
“I, uh, couldn’t sleep,” Felix supplies. “So I thought—did I wake you up?”
You shake your head. “I can’t sleep either.”
“Oh.” Felix glances between you and the stove, then asks, “Want to help me make cookies?”
You nod and approach the counter. Felix demonstrates how to shape the cookies, and the two of you fall into a rhythm of making the sweet treats. Once a tray is filled, Felix places it in the oven and sets the timer. “That went a lot faster than I thought.”
You smile, and a yawn slips past your lips. “Man. That actually kind of helped, you know?”
Felix nods. “I definitely feel that it helps me when I can’t sleep. It’s repetitive, relaxing… kind of puts me at ease.”
You glance at the timer. “What other kinds of things put you at ease?”
“Music. I listen to calming songs when I need to relax.”
Felix picks up his phone from the countertop and swipes with his finger a couple of times. A soft piano melody fills the air, and you close your eyes to listen to a couple of bars. There are no words to calm you, but the piano is gentle and soothing. “What’s this song called?”
“This one, uh…” Felix trails off, then crosses the floor of the kitchen to stand next to you, holding his phone at an angle so you can read. “It’s a classical piece. Saying them by their titles always confuses me.”
You smile as you make note of the title, swaying on your feet a bit to the orchestra that’s swelled in the background. “It’s nice. I like it. Makes me think of like… ballroom dancing.”
“No way—that’s what I think of when I listen to this!” Felix smiles brightly at you. “I mean, all classical pieces kind of have that feel, but like… this one, I dunno.”
“I’ve never actually done any ballroom dancing,” you comment idly. “I wonder what it’s like.”
“Do you want to try now?”
You blink at your roommate. “Here?”
“I mean, we could move to the living room for more space,” Felix suggests. The back of his ears and neck look a bit flushed. “But why not?”
You don’t give yourself the chance to think about why you shouldn’t. “Okay.”
Felix beams at you before bounding out of the kitchen and into the living room. When you follow him, he’s already turned around and facing you, one hand outstretched with a goofy smile on his face. “Shall we?”
You decide to match his silliness and take his hand. “We shall.”
Felix steps in close to you, and his free hand rests lightly on your hip. You hesitate for just half a second before placing your free hand on his shoulder. There’s a moment of quiet, and then the two of you step forwards, your legs knocking together.
“Wait, were we—” Felix breaks off to giggle. “Am I stepping forward or are you stepping forward?”
“I don’t know,” you laugh. “I told you, I’ve never done this before!”
“Okay, okay!” Felix laughs a bit more, his face shining with mirth as he lets go of your hip and takes half a step back. “How about… a different kind of dance?”
“Like…” Felix steps in again, closer than he was just seconds ago. His hands reach halfway across the remaining space between you before stopping. “Can I…?” You nod, and his fingertips brush just above your hips, gently holding you in place. “Okay, and then your hands go…”
You reach up with your hands and press your palms flat against his shoulders. “Like that?” Felix nods, and you allow yourself a small smile. “Okay, so you wanted to do a middle school slow dance.”
“In my defense,” Felix counters as he begins to rock from side to side on his feet, “it’s the easiest kind of dance.”
“I guess you’re right,” you smile.
The two of you fall silent as you sway. A different song is playing from Felix’s phone, but it’s still gentle and quiet. You make eye contact with him briefly, but your nerves bubble up and you drop his gaze, choosing instead to look at where your hands are on his chest. As you shuffle back and forth on your feet, you find yourself moving closer to him just by a fraction, your limbs relaxing and becoming less stiff.
Felix seems to be more at ease as well—his grip at your sides is more sure, and he’s relaxed under your touch. Your hands have slid themselves further up the closer you got, now resting at the base of his neck.
“Did you slow dance a lot in middle school?” Felix asks. The question is just barely a whisper, exhaled carefully so as to not startle you.
You shake your head. “You?”
He contemplates for a bit. “Not a lot, no. I guess when you’re in middle school, everything is so new—so awkward. I was really shy about having people see me dance with someone.”
You nod. “I guess if you’re not with the right person, it can be really nerve-wracking. But if you’re with the right person… it just…”
You swallow, and really try to meet Felix’s eyes. He’s staring at you intently, his eyes dark and warm. You think you see his gaze flit down to your lips before coming back up to meet your eyes, and you wonder if he feels the same way you do, though you can’t say it out loud.
It just feels right.
The beeping of a timer shakes you out of your daze, and Felix actually steps back before you do. “I guess the cookies are done,” he comments as he walks towards the kitchen.
It takes you a second before you’re able to follow him into the other room; he’s already got the cookies out to cool.
“I think I’m gonna”—you jut your thumb backwards—“go to bed now. That was… that was nice.”
“Yeah, it was nice.” Felix smiles at you gently. “Good night.”
You back out of the kitchen and make your way to your room. This time, when your head hits the pillow, you fall asleep almost immediately, revelling in the feeling of Felix’s fingertips against your skin.
Felix wakes up feeling… fantastic.
The sun shining through his curtains doesn’t irritate him like it normally does. He’s up early, it seems, and when he looks through the cupboards, he finds he has all the ingredients to make pancakes. He decides to make some for you as well, because why not? Just as he’s starting the last pancake, he hears feet shuffling on the floor behind him, and he turns to see you rubbing your face and looking very much asleep.
“Morning,” you mumble softly. Felix’s heart skips a beat at your tone, and all of a sudden, the events from mere hours ago hit him. The feeling of your skin under his fingertips, your hands pressed against his shoulders and neck…
Ah. So that was why he was in a good mood.
“Good morning,” he replies. “I made extra pancakes for you.”
Your face brightens just a fraction as you approach the stove, and when you catch sight of the steaming pile of pancakes on the plate, you smile. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Felix replies.
He finishes off making his final pancake, and then carries the plate of his creations to the table. You’d gotten plates for both you and him, and you each choose a pancake to lift onto your plates. The actual meal is relatively quiet since you’re still waking up and looking at your phone, and Felix is distracted by how he could have added maybe just a couple of more ingredients, like blueberries or maybe cinnamon, to make the pancakes taste—
A notification sound pulls him out of his internal debate. It’s the Tinder message sound from your phone. You sigh, presumably reading the message, but then you swipe up on the screen and turn your phone off, placing it face down on the table. Felix knows that’s not what you’d normally do when you got a message. “Not someone you’re interested in?”
You glance up at him before staring at your pancake. “No, not really.”
Felix nods and takes another bite of his pancake, chewing slowly.
“I think I’m going to stop dating.”
Felix inhales so sharply he nearly chokes on his pancake, coughing and spluttering for several seconds before he registers you staring at him with wide eyes. He waves you off and reaches for his glass of water, washing the offending mouthful of food down and croaking out, “What?”
“Are you okay?” Your brow is knit in worry.
“I’m—fine.” Felix clears his throat. “But you—like you’ll stop dating… entirely?”
“Well, not entirely,” you say slowly. You’re pushing the remaining pancake around your plate, clearly wanting to say something—but maybe you weren’t quite sure how to deliver it? “But like—with dating apps I feel like I’m forcing myself. It doesn’t”—and here you glance up at Felix for a moment, and if he didn’t know better, he’d say you were nervous—“feel right, you know?”
Felix nods slowly. “That makes sense.”
You drop his gaze. “Anyway, you won’t have to bail me out of dates anymore. It’s not fair to you.”
“I didn’t mind it,” Felix mumbles. Then he catches you raising your eyebrow at him and he quickly backpedals. “I mean—helping you out. I didn’t mind it.”
You shrug. “Even so, I wouldn’t want to put you in an awkward position.”
Felix nods, and as you stand to clear your plate, he feels a sinking in his chest. If you stopped dating almost entirely—did that mean you were against dating anyone? Could he still do things that… made the two of you feel like a couple? Would it be awkward if you were living together?
The question he really wants to ask is this: does he still have a chance at getting close to you and dating you?
Your announcement comes as a bit of a double-edged sword to Felix. On one hand, he’s secretly relieved that you won’t be bringing people around the house and talking to him about your dates. But on the other, you getting him to bail you out of dates made him feel… special. Like he was developing some kind of relationship with you, no matter what that relationship was. You were unconsciously putting an end to that aspect of your relationship with Felix, which made him feel a bit sad.
Then again, he could always connect with you in other ways. Him helping you like that wasn’t the extent of your relationship—he could find other things that you liked, other things to bond with you over. It wasn’t the end of the world.
Your decision was one you had probably been debating over; if you had told Felix, your choice obviously held some importance. He decides that since you had told him, and that there was nothing wrong with your decision, he was going to help you celebrate it, and that he was going to do it in the best way he knew how.
You know that you’re making the right decision by not actively trying to date anymore, but the jittery feeling in your stomach when you tell Felix that dating doesn’t feel right doesn’t leave for a good three hours. You’re about halfway through one of your classes when the realization hits you and you sit up straight in your chair, causing other students to glance at you.
You did want to stop trying to date, that was true. But what if the reason you wanted to stop dating was because… you wanted to date Felix instead?
That’s why it felt so odd to tell him—there was a crucial part of your statement that you left unsaid. Dating through apps doesn’t feel right, but the idea of dating him does feel right. You… want to date him. You don’t want to date around when someone good enough for you is right there. Did he understand that part of your unsaid statement, or did he misinterpret what you said entirely? You hadn’t stuck around for long enough after eating to find out, but you hoped he understood in the way you wanted him to.
To calm your nerves, you decide to swing by your favourite takeout place to pick up a meal. You don’t bother texting Felix—the two of you had been to this restaurant enough times that you knew what he liked to order. Once you have your food and his in the steaming paper bag, you make your way back home.
When you open the door, the scent of aromatics cooking in a pan of oil hits your nose, and your brow creases. Maybe you should have texted Felix about—
“Oh, hey,” he calls from the kitchen. You make your way into the house, and when you reach the dining room, your jaw drops.
The table is set with proper matching plates and utensils, and in the center of everything is a beautiful meal that you assumed Felix had prepared himself.
“Do you, uh—” Your gaze snaps to the doorway of the kitchen, where Felix is nervously leaning against the wall. “Do you like it?”
“You—made all this?” you ask, just to confirm.
Felix nods quickly. “Yeah, I figured that since your announcement earlier seemed like a bit of a big deal to you, I’d help you celebrate.” His eyes fall to your hands, where you’re still clutching the brown paper bag of takeout food. “What’s that?”
You can’t help yourself—you start to giggle. “I—I bought this. As a surprise for you.”
Felix’s eyes widen with understanding. “Oh my gosh. And I cooked all this, as a surprise for you.” He laughs lightly. “We must be on the same wavelength or something.”
You smile. “Or something.”
The two of you stand in silence for a couple of seconds before Felix clears his throat. “So, uh… I think this will keep until tomorrow, if you want to—”
“Oh my gosh, no, this?” You hold up the paper bag in disbelief. “We are not eating takeout when you’ve gone through the effort of making a home-cooked meal. The takeout can be kept until tomorrow for sure.”
“Are you sure?” Felix’s brow creases. “I don’t know if you’re in the mood for—”
“Felix.” You walk past him into the kitchen, fling the fridge door open, and tuck the paper bag inside with a note of finality. “If you’ve made it, I’m eating it. You can get takeout from literally anywhere—your food is special.”
Felix’s smile lights up his entire face, and he clears his throat to stare at the floor. “Okay, if you insist.” Then he meets your eyes and grabs your wrist. “Come on, since the food’s out I want to eat it before it gets cold.”
The two of you sit and start to eat. The food was incredible—Felix must have been in the kitchen for hours. He watches you nervously as you take your first bites, judging your face for your reaction. “Good?”
You hum in satisfaction. “So good,” you manage around the food in your mouth. “Wow. Thank you, seriously.”
“Eh, it’s nothing.” Your housemate takes a bite off of his own plate. “I just… wanted to mark the occasion.”
Felix glances up at you. “Yeah, about… what you said at breakfast today.”
Oh. That. You swallow your food. “Well, I appreciate that. Thanks.”
Felix offers you a warm smile in return. The rest of the meal is quiet, the two of you enjoying your respective plates of food. Once you finish, you stand and grab Felix’s plate before he has the chance to, and he stares up at you quizzically. “What are you—”
“You spent who knows how long in the kitchen, the least I can do is take care of the dishes,” you tell him. “So sit down and let me do it.”
“Are you sure?” Felix’s brow knits. “It really didn’t take that long—”
“You are absolutely not doing the dishes. Sit down, and let me do it. Please.”
Felix exhales with a smile. “Okay, fine.”
You grin at him, then turn your back and head towards the kitchen.
“Wow, I love you.”
You whirl around; Felix is the perfect picture of absolute mortification. His face, ears and neck are bright red, mouth opening and closing like a pufferfish. “I—uh—you heard that?” His voice cracks at the end of his question.
“Did you just say you love me?”
“I—maybe?” Felix cannot look at you. He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m really sorry.”
“No, no, you—” and now it’s your turn to blush “—you don’t have to apologize for it, it’s not a big deal.”
Lies. It was a very big deal.
The two of you stand in silence for a long time before Felix mumbles again. “Sorry.”
You shake your head. “I already told you it’s not a big deal, you don’t have to apologize.”
You huff out a breath in equal parts embarrassment and frustration. “If you say you’re sorry one more time I’ll—I’ll kiss you so you’ll be quiet.”
Now Felix stares up at you, and your eyes widen at what you had just said. “I—wait what?”
“Leave me alone, I didn’t have time to think through that sentence.” You spin around and scurry into the kitchen, leaving what you’ve assumed is a very bewildered Felix behind you.
You scrub the dishes furiously at the sink, and you nearly drop a glass from how your hands are shaking. Felix’s words are ringing in your ears, and you can’t get the image of his flushed cheeks and wide eyes out of your head.
When you turn, Felix is peering cautiously at you from the entrance to the kitchen. His neck is still bright red. “Are you… upset with me?” he asks carefully.
You feel your heart drop, and you frown. “What? No, I’m not upset. I’m just—flustered? Surprised? Both?”
“Okay.” Felix is still hesitant to step into the kitchen, and you decide to move across the space towards him.
“Did you mean it?”
“I—well.” Felix rubs his neck again, refusing to meet your eyes. “I’ve kind of had a crush on you since we moved in, so… yes?”
You can’t help yourself—butterflies come alive in your stomach and you feel a smile grow on your face. “Really?”
“Yeah, and if you’re weirded out by that, I can—” Felix glances up at you and sees your smile “—what?”
“Felix.” You reach out and cup his face with both your hands gently.
He gulps. “Yes?”
“Can I kiss you again?”
Felix’s eyes widen in happy shock as a smile spreads across his face. “I—yeah. Yes, please.”
You’re both smiling when your lips meet. Felix’s hands brush past your hips to slide to the small of your back, and he pulls you half a step closer to him. Your hands trail down from his face to his shoulders, and you can hear a small noise in the back of his throat as he continues to kiss you.
You’re not entirely sure how long the kiss lasts for, but you’re jolted out of the moment when your back presses against the door of the fridge. Felix pulls away first—he had walked you backwards across the kitchen to your current position. “Sorry, are you okay?”
You nod. “I’m gonna have to kiss you again, since you said sorry.”
He giggles. “I’m not complaining.”
You press a short sweet kiss to his lips, then pull away. “My room or your room?”
“Um—whichever?” Felix blushes slightly. “But we also… don’t have to move to a room if you don’t want to.”
You grin. “You have a point.”
“Good morning, babe,” Felix calls as you stumble into the kitchen. You wave, not quite awake enough for words. “I wanted to ask, have you seen—oh.”
You can’t figure out why your boyfriend is staring at your body with such a confused expression on his face. “What?”
“Nothing, nothing.” Felix turns back around to check on the pancakes. “It’s just—have you been stealing my clothes?”
Your eyes widen, and you glance down. You hadn’t even realized you’d grabbed Felix’s hoodie from the wash last night instead of your own. “I… uh… is it stealing if it’s unintentional?” you ask hopefully.
“Hmm, still stealing,” Felix sings back. “However, I’ll let it slide—you look better in my hoodies than I do.”
You smile and approach him from behind, looping your arms around his waist and leaning into his back. “What kind of pancakes do we have today, chef?”
“Your favourite.” Felix shifts over to beside the stove, where he grabs a fork and knife and cuts off a piece of already-cooked pancake. He holds it up beside him. “Ahh.”
You swoop in and bite the pancake off the fork, the fluffy texture nearly melting in your mouth. “Mmm. Excellent as always.” You press a kiss to Felix’s shoulder, and when you glance up, he’s staring at you with soft eyes. “What.”
“Nothing—it’s just…” Felix smiles down at the pan on the stove. “I love mornings with you.”
You smile at him. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
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