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“Felix…” Chan’s voice was warm and lazy, dipped in the kind of affection he only ever used when they were alone. He smiled as he tugged his boyfriend closer, arms wrapping around Felix’s waist like it was the most natural thing in the world. Felix melted into him without hesitation, his own arms resting comfortably on Chan’s shoulders, fingers absentmindedly playing with the soft hairs at the nape of his neck.
“Baby,” Chan murmured, brushing his nose against Felix’s cheek, “we should get some sleep.”
Felix exhaled softly, nuzzling deeper into the crook of Chan’s neck as though he were trying to fuse their bodies together. He pressed a feather-light kiss just below Chan’s ear before mumbling, voice quiet and tired, “I’m not bothered to walk all the way home…”
Chan huffed out a soft laugh, the kind that shook his chest lightly against Felix’s. He knew that tone—Felix was exhausted, the kind of sleepy where he went from bubbly to clingy in under ten minutes.
They had spent the entire evening at the house Chan shared with Jeongin, their plans originally simple: bake a quick batch of cookies and maybe watch something short. But “quick” had turned into three batches of cookies Felix insisted weren’t perfect yet, and “short” had turned into an impromptu marathon of movies, commentary, cuddling, and Felix periodically feeding Chan warm chocolate-chip cookies like he was determined to spoil him.
By midnight, Felix was practically draped over him, half-conscious.
“Lix,” Chan murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from Felix’s face, “stay over. Jeongin’s with Seungmin tonight anyway.”
Felix lifted his head from Chan’s neck, eyes half-lidded and full of sleep. Slowly, he placed his hand on Chan’s cheek, thumb brushing over his bottom lip tugged upward in a tired smile. His touch was gentle, almost reverent. Then, with a slow movement, Felix replaced his thumb with his lips, giving Chan a soft kiss—warm, unrushed, full of a quiet love that made Chan’s heart swell in his chest.
“Okay, Chris,” Felix whispered.
Chan’s eyes fluttered shut as he pulled Felix even closer, as if holding the moment in place.
✦ ✦ ✦
Chan woke to sunlight.
Not gentle sunlight—no, the aggressive kind that always found the one gap in the curtains and aimed directly at his eyes. He winced, immediately shutting them again and tilting his head downward to escape the brightness. As soon as he moved, he became aware of the warm weight against his chest.
Felix.
The younger boy was sprawled over him, his cheek pressed against Chan’s shirt, hair a soft, messy halo that covered half his face and half of Chan’s chest. He was gripping Chan’s shirt in one hand, holding it like a child would hold a blanket, while his other arm had somehow ended up under Chan’s shirt, palm resting directly on top of Chan’s stomach muscles.
Chan felt his face warm at the intimate, unconscious gesture. Felix slept like he trusted Chan completely, and the thought alone nearly took the air from his lungs.
Smiling softly, Chan brought his arms up to wrap fully around Felix’s waist, pulling him a little closer before burying his nose in Felix’s hair. The faint scent of vanilla—Felix’s shampoo—filled Chan’s senses. He loved that smell, loved how it lingered on his clothes after Felix hugged him.
From the corner of his eye, Chan caught the time on the clock across the room.
6:04 a.m.
He sighed—not annoyed, but relieved. Practice wasn’t until noon. For once, the universe was on his side.
Slowly, he adjusted his position, carefully sitting up with Felix still sleeping on him. He paused every time Felix twitched or shifted, waiting to see if he would wake, but Felix only snuggled closer each time, letting out quiet little noises of contentment.
When Chan finally settled against the pillows, he took a moment to simply look at Felix.
God, he was beautiful.
Morning light washed over Felix’s skin, softening every curve and feature. His ear peeked out from behind his hair, a little flushed from the warmth. His lips were slightly parted, breath steady and soft. The way the sunlight touched his shoulders and collarbone made him look ethereal—almost unreal.
Everything about Felix amazed Chan.
How somehow, even after falling asleep on a couch, his hair still looked perfect.
How his skin seemed to glow no matter the time of day.
How his eyes—especially his eyes—could shine brighter than the sun itself.
Chan could spend the rest of his life staring into those eyes and still find new constellations waiting for him.
Sometimes, he couldn’t believe he got to love him.
Chan pressed a gentle kiss into Felix’s hair before pulling his phone from the nightstand. Opening TikTok, he kept his volume low and lazily scrolled through videos—dances, dogs, random recipes that made him wonder how people had that much time on their hands. Every so often, Felix would shift in his sleep like he was chasing Chan’s heat, and Chan would adjust to hold him more securely.
Nearly an hour passed before Felix finally stirred.
Felix woke slowly, the way he always did. First a small scrunch of his nose, then a quiet inhale, followed by a soft groan as he shifted upward. Warmth surrounded him—the bed, the sunlight, and above all, Chan.
His eyes blinked open sluggishly, adjusting to the bright room. He sat up just enough to realize he was sitting directly in Chan’s lap. The older man smiled warmly down at him.
“Good morning, baby.”
“Morning…” Felix mumbled, voice still raspy with sleep. He rubbed his eyes like a tired kitten before looking back at Chan, who was staring at him like he hung the moon.
“Did you sleep well?” Chan asked.
Felix nodded, leaning forward to give Chan a soft kiss—barely more than a brush of lips, but it lingered with the warmth of morning affection. Chan immediately set his phone aside and wrapped both arms around Felix’s waist, pulling him even closer as Felix tucked himself against Chan’s chest again.
But Felix pulled back after a moment, studying Chan’s face with soft eyes.
“How long do we have left?”
Chan recognized the question instantly. Felix didn’t mean “until practice.” He meant how long until we have to get out of this bed, leave this moment, stop being wrapped in each other’s warmth.
“About two hours,” Chan answered honestly. “We have to get ready and get there.”
Felix’s gaze drifted toward the window. Outside, the sky was a bright, pure blue—no clouds, no haze, just a perfect morning.
“Can we just… stay like this for a bit longer?” Felix asked quietly, as though worried he was asking for too much.
Chan cupped the back of Felix’s head gently.
“Of course, my love.”
Felix melted again, resting his head on Chan’s shoulder. Chan wrapped their legs together under the blanket, pulling it up over Felix’s cold feet. The younger boy hummed softly, content.
Silence filled the room in the most comforting way. Not the awkward kind, not the heavy kind—just a soft, peaceful quiet broken only by their breathing and the occasional distant bird outside the window.
Chan brushed his fingers through Felix’s hair, slow and soothing. Felix’s eyelashes fluttered, his body relaxing with every pass of Chan’s hand.
“You know,” Chan whispered after a moment, “you look really cute in the morning.”
Felix groaned dramatically into his chest. “No, I don’t.”
“Yes,” Chan insisted with a laugh, “you do. All sleepy and cuddly and warm.”
Felix tilted his head just enough to glare weakly at him. “That’s because you’re warm. And comfy. And soft.”
“Soft?!” Chan gasped.
Felix smirked. “Soft.”
Chan retaliated by squeezing his sides, making Felix squeak loudly.
“Christopher Bang, don’t you dare—!”
But Felix’s laughter filled the room before he could finish. Chan watched him with a smile so full, so tender, he swore his heart physically ached.
When Felix finally stopped giggling, he let his forehead fall against Chan’s collarbone.
“I really love mornings with you,” Felix whispered.
Chan froze for a moment—just a moment—because those words always hit him straight in the chest.
“I love every moment with you,” Chan murmured back, kissing the top of Felix’s head. “Morning, night… all of it.”
Felix’s hands slid around Chan’s torso, hugging him tightly.
“I’m glad I stayed,” he whispered.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Chan answered softly.
And in the quiet warmth of that sunlit room, pressed close in each other’s arms, time didn’t feel like an enemy rushing them forward. It felt slow, gentle, generous—like it understood that for now, nothing mattered except the boy in Chan’s arms and the soft rhythm of his breathing.
For now, the world could wait.