I made a master list so it would be easier to read 🫶
summary: felix is your best friend morgan’s boyfriend: soft-spoken, warm, hers. he’s supposed to be off-limits, but he’s the one in your bed at 3am, whispering “stay” like you’re the mistake he’ll make twice.
Hi! Just a quick question. Your "after everything: part 3" is written in all big text. Is that a stylistic choice or just a little error? Because I noticed your other works are in a smaller font than before.
Just curious lol
It’s an error. if you don’t like it, don’t read. I’ll fix it when i have a chance. I’m currently running an other imagines tumblr blog so I haven’t had the chance to fix it.
they survived the rumors. they survived the heartbreak. they survived each other.
now they have to survive real life.
after everything, loving each other should be the easy part... right?
spring semester had stopped being cute.
at first, it was kind of funny.
everyone complained about being busy, but it was still manageable. you could still joke about it. still roll your eyes when a professor assigned another reading. still text felix during class and complain about how tired you were.
but then the assignments started stacking up.
one after another.
a quiz on monday.
an essay due wednesday.
a discussion post by midnight.
a group project meeting that nobody showed up to prepared.
chapter notes.
flash cards.
a presentation.
another quiz.
another reminder.
another email that started with, just a friendly reminder…
nothing about it felt friendly.
spring semester didn’t hit all at once.
it crept up slowly, quietly, until you looked around and realized you were drowning in things you were supposed to already have done.
and the worst part was that everyone else looked tired too, so you felt stupid for struggling.
because if everyone was overwhelmed, then maybe you were supposed to just deal with it.
maybe this was normal.
maybe college was just constantly feeling like you were ten steps behind and pretending you weren’t.
that week had been rough from the start.
you barely had time to breathe between classes. you ate most of your meals too fast or not at all. your backpack felt heavier every day, like it was carrying your stress instead of your books.
you still saw felix, but only in pieces.
a quick wave across the quad.
a forehead kiss outside class.
a text that said:
felix:
good luck today, baby
i love you
and your reply:
you:
i love you too
don’t forget to eat
it was sweet.
but it wasn’t enough.
not in the way you missed him.
not in the way your chest ached when you realized you hadn’t actually sat down and talked to your boyfriend in days.
you weren’t fighting.
that almost made it worse.
there was no problem to fix.
no apology to give.
no dramatic conversation that would make everything better.
you were just busy.
both of you.
too busy.
⸻
by thursday afternoon, your brain felt like it had been running nonstop for a week.
you went to class with a half-finished essay sitting heavy in the back of your mind.
you took notes.
or tried to.
mostly, you stared at the board while your professor talked and your thoughts wandered back to the blank document waiting on your laptop.
the essay was due the next morning.
you had known about it for two weeks.
that was the part that made you feel worse.
you had written it in your planner.
highlighted it.
circled it.
told yourself every day that you would start it early.
then other things happened.
a quiz.
another assignment.
group project problems.
laundry.
emails.
life.
and now it was thursday, and you had two weak paragraphs that sounded like you had written them half-asleep.
which, to be fair, you had.
after class, you went straight to the library.
it was only a little after five, but already the day felt old.
the library closed at eight, which gave you less than three hours to make something out of nothing.
you found a corner table by the window, dropped your bag beside your chair, and opened your laptop.
the document stared back at you.
two paragraphs.
a title you hated.
a blinking cursor that felt judgmental.
you pulled out your notebook, your textbook, your highlighters, and a half-empty water bottle.
you were going to do this.
you had to.
for the first thirty minutes, you tried.
you really tried.
you reread your notes.
you typed a sentence.
deleted it.
typed another one.
deleted half of it.
checked the rubric.
panicked.
opened the textbook.
couldn’t find the page you needed.
checked the time.
5:46.
your stomach tightened.
you put your fingers back on the keyboard and forced yourself to write something.
anything.
the sentence came out wrong.
you deleted it.
again.
your eyes burned.
you leaned back in your chair and pressed the heels of your hands against them.
don’t cry.
not here.
not over an essay.
people were around you. not many, but enough. a few students at tables nearby. someone printing something at the front.
you took a deep breath.
then another.
it didn’t help.
your chest felt tight.
not like a panic attack exactly.
more like your body had been holding everything in place for too long and was finally tired of pretending it could.
you looked at your planner.
the week was covered in ink.
due dates.
arrows.
checkmarks.
things crossed out.
things not crossed out.
friday quiz.
essay due.
group slides.
reading response.
study for exam.
email professor.
text felix back.
that last one made your throat hurt.
text felix back.
you had written it like another assignment.
like loving him was something you were starting to manage instead of feel.
your eyes filled before you could stop them.
you blinked fast, looking up at the ceiling.
no.
not here.
but the tears came anyway.
quietly at first.
one sliding down your cheek.
then another.
you wiped them quickly with your sleeve, embarrassed even though no one was looking.
you stared at your laptop, the words blurring together.
“come on,” you whispered to yourself. “just write it.”
nothing.
your hands hovered over the keyboard.
you couldn’t make them move.
that was what broke you.
not the essay.
not the due date.
not even the exhaustion.
it was sitting there, knowing exactly what you needed to do, and still not being able to do it.
you dropped your head into your hands.
your shoulders shook once.
then again.
you tried to keep it quiet.
you really did.
but a tiny sound escaped anyway, soft and broken, and you hated yourself for it.
⸻
“hey.”
the voice was gentle.
familiar.
you froze.
for a second, you didn’t move.
then you slowly looked up.
felix stood beside your table.
backpack over one shoulder.
hair messy from the wind.
hoodie sleeves pushed up like he had left somewhere in a hurry.
his expression changed the second he saw your face.
whatever smile he’d walked in with disappeared.
“baby,” he said softly.
that one word nearly made you cry harder.
you quickly wiped your cheeks.
“i’m fine.”
he didn’t believe you.
not even a little.
he pulled out the chair beside you and sat down, careful and quiet, like if he moved too fast, you might shatter.
“no, you’re not.”
you let out a weak laugh.
“thanks.”
“i didn’t mean it like that.”
“i know.”
you looked down at your hands.
your fingers were shaking a little.
felix noticed.
of course he noticed.
he always noticed.
“what happened?” he asked.
you shook your head.
“nothing.”
“y/n.”
you swallowed.
his voice wasn’t pushy.
just soft.
patient.
the kind of voice that made pretending harder.
you looked at the laptop, then the planner, then the sad two paragraphs on the screen.
“i can’t do it,” you whispered.
his eyes flicked to the document.
“the essay?”
you nodded.
“the essay. the quiz. the project. all of it.”
your voice cracked.
“i keep trying to catch up and i can’t. every time i finish something, there’s more. and i’m tired. i’m so tired, felix.”
the tears came again.
this time, you didn’t have the energy to hide them fast enough.
“and i miss you,” you added, the words slipping out before you could stop them.
his face softened.
that hurt worse.
“i know we see each other,” you said quickly, like you had to explain it before he misunderstood. “i know we text. i know we’re not fighting. but i miss you. like actually miss you. i miss talking to you without checking the time. i miss sitting with you and not feeling guilty because i should be working on something else.”
you wiped your face, frustrated.
“i feel guilty all the time.”
felix was quiet.
listening.
so you kept going.
“when i’m doing homework, i feel guilty because i’m not answering people. when i’m with you, i feel guilty because i’m not studying. when i’m sleeping, i feel guilty because i could be finishing something. when i take a break, i feel guilty because i don’t think i earned one.”
your chest shook with a breath.
“i don’t know how to keep up.”
for a moment, he didn’t say anything.
then he reached across the table and gently covered your hand with his.
warm.
steady.
real.
“come here,” he whispered.
you looked around quickly.
“felix, we’re in the library.”
“i know.”
“people can see.”
“let them. i don’t care.”
your lip trembled.
he opened his arms just a little.
not dramatic.
not making a scene.
just offering.
and you were too tired to act like you didn’t need it.
you stood and moved into him.
he pulled you gently against his chest, one arm around your waist, the other hand cupping the back of your head.
you buried your face in his hoodie.
and cried.
quietly.
not ugly loud.
not dramatic.
just tired.
completely tired.
felix held you close.
his hand moved slowly up and down your back.
“breathe babe,” he murmured.
you tried.
“again.”
you breathed in.
shaky.
out.
less shaky.
“good,” he whispered. “just like that.”
you stayed there longer than you meant to.
long enough for your breathing to settle.
long enough for the panic in your chest to loosen a little.
long enough that the library didn’t feel so big anymore.
eventually you pulled back, wiping your face with both hands.
“i’m sorry,” you whispered.
felix frowned.
“don’t apologize.”
“i’m crying in public.”
“barely.”
you gave him a look.
he shrugged gently.
“okay, maybe a little. but i’ve seen changbin cry over a broken vending machine, so you’re still doing better than him.”
a watery laugh escaped you.
felix smiled, relieved to hear it.
“there she is,” he said softly.
you looked away, embarrassed.
he didn’t let go of your hand.
“listen to me,” he said.
you looked back at him.
“you are not failing.”
you almost argued, but he shook his head.
“no. let me say it.”
you closed your mouth.
he squeezed your hand.
“you’re overwhelmed. there’s a difference.”
your eyes burned again, but softer this time.
“you care about everything,” he said. “school. your grades. our friends. me. the future. you care so much that you’re trying to give one hundred percent to every single thing, every single day.”
his thumb brushed over your knuckles.
“nobody can do that forever.”
you swallowed.
“it feels like everyone else can.”
“they can’t,” he said. “they’re just hiding it better.”
you stared at him.
he gave you a small smile.
“i’m serious. you think i’m doing great? baby, i almost cried over a flash card yesterday.”
you laughed again, more real this time.
“you did?”
“no,” he said. then paused. “almost.”
you shook your head.
he leaned closer, voice quieter.
“you don’t have to earn rest.”
that sentence hit you right in the chest.
you looked down.
“i feel like i do.”
“i know,” he said. “but you don’t.”
he looked at your laptop.
then back at you.
“how much of this essay do you actually have?”
you made a face.
“don’t ask.”
“that bad?”
“two paragraphs.”
“okay.”
“not okay.”
“it is okay,” he said. “not ideal, but okay.”
you let out a tired sound.
he turned your laptop toward himself and skimmed the screen.
“first of all,” he said, “this isn’t as bad as you think.”
“you’re lying because you love me.”
“i do love you,” he said without missing a beat. “but i’m not lying.”
your face warmed, even through the tears.
he smiled a little.
“second, the library closes soon.”
you glanced at the clock.
7:26.
your stomach dropped.
“oh my god.”
“hey.” he gently tapped your hand. “no spiraling. we have about thirty minutes.”
he said. “and then we can move somewhere else if we need to. your dorm, my dorm, the student lounge, wherever. but we’re not going to sit here and panic at the screen. we’re going to make a plan.”
your eyes burned again.
“i don’t even know what i’m trying to say anymore.”
“then tell me like you’re just talking.”
you blinked.
“what?”
he pulled your notebook closer and clicked your pen.
“forget sounding smart for a second,” he said. “what is the essay actually about?”
you stared at him.
“felix- ”
“no academic voice. no fancy words. just tell me.”
you looked at the prompt on your laptop, then down at your lap.
slowly, you started talking.
at first, it came out messy.
half thoughts.
frustrated sentences.
you kept stopping and saying, “that doesn’t make sense,” but felix shook his head every time.
“keep going,” he said.
so you did.
you told him what you thought the main point was. then what confused you. then what your professor probably wanted. then the example from the reading that you kind of understood but didn’t know how to explain.
felix listened like every word mattered.
he didn’t interrupt.
didn’t rush you.
didn’t make you feel stupid for not having it figured out.
he just nodded, wrote little notes in your notebook, and asked questions that somehow made your own thoughts clearer.
“okay,” he said finally, turning the notebook toward you. “there. that’s your essay.”
you looked down.
on the page, he had written:
intro — what you’re arguing
point one — explain the main idea
point two — use the reading example
point three — why it matters
conclusion — bring it back to your argument
under each section, he had written little pieces of what you said.
your own words.
just organized.
you stared at the page.
“oh.”
felix smiled softly. “yeah. oh.”
your chest loosened a little.
“i sounded smarter than i thought.”
“you are smarter than you think.”
you looked at him.
he said it so simply.
like it wasn’t even something up for debate.
your throat tightened.
“thank you,” you whispered.
he squeezed your hand once.
“we’re not done yet. thank me when the essay is submitted.”
you laughed weakly.
“bossy.”
“supportive,” he corrected.
“annoying.”
“supportively annoying.”
you smiled despite yourself.
“fine.”
he glanced at the clock again.
7:34.
“okay,” he said. “we have twenty-six minutes before they kick us out. let’s get your intro fixed and at least one body paragraph cleaned up before we leave.”
“yes professor .” you said.
“don’t call me that. that’s weird.” felix said while laughing.
you laughed again, and this time it felt a little more like you.
then you both got to work.
not in a cute movie montage way.
in a real way.
you typed.
he read over your shoulder.
you frowned at sentences.
he helped you cut the ones that didn’t make sense.
you explained your idea out loud, and he repeated it back in simpler words until you could turn it into something that sounded like an actual essay.
every few minutes, you would start spiraling again.
“this sounds bad.”
“it doesn’t.”
“it does.”
“it sounds like a rough draft.”
“rough drafts are bad.”
“rough drafts are supposed to be bad. that’s why they’re rough.”
you glared at him.
he smiled.
“keep typing.”
so you did.
by 7:50, the announcement came over the speakers.
“the library will be closing in ten minutes.”
you froze.
felix immediately said, “don’t panic.”
“i’m panicking.”
“i can see that. stop.”
“very helpful.”
he started packing your things while you saved the document twice, then emailed it to yourself because you trusted nothing.
you shoved your laptop into your bag, heart still beating fast.
“we didn’t finish,” you said.
“not yet,” he said. “but we got a lot done.”
“felix, i still have two body paragraphs and a conclusion.”
“then we finish them.”
you looked at him.
“tonight?”
“tonight.”
your face softened before you could stop it.
“you don’t have to do that.”
he slung his backpack over one shoulder and picked up yours before you could reach for it.
“i know.”
“you probably have your own stuff to do.”
“i do but that doesn’t matter, what matters is you right now y/n.”
“then-”
“and i’m still helping you.”
you stared at him.
he looked back at you like it was the easiest decision in the world.
“you’re not doing this alone,” he said.
the words went straight through you.
for a second, you couldn’t answer.
so you just nodded.
⸻
after the library closed, the two of you ended up in the student lounge.
it wasn’t perfect.
the lights were too bright.
the vending machine hummed loudly in the corner.
someone had left crumbs on the table.
but it was open, quiet enough, and warm.
felix bought you a bottle of water and a bag of chips from the vending machine.
“brain food,” he said, setting them beside your laptop.
“chips are not brain food.”
“they are if you believe.”
you shook your head, but opened them anyway.
then you worked.
really worked.
felix sat beside you, close enough that your knees touched under the table. he didn’t write the essay for you. he made sure it still sounded like you.
when you got stuck, he asked questions.
“what are you trying to say here?”
“why does that matter?”
“where does the reading support that?”
“okay, say that again, but slower.”
sometimes he read sentences out loud and made a face.
“too many commas.”
“i like commas.”
“you are abusing them.”
“wow.”
“lovingly.”
sometimes you snapped a little because you were tired and stressed out. but you didn’t mean it.
“felix, i don’t know.”
and he never snapped back.
he just softened his voice and said, “okay. then take a breath. tell me what you do know.”
that helped every time.
slowly, paragraph by paragraph, the essay started becoming real.
not perfect.
not amazing.
but finished.
your ideas finally had shape.
your argument made sense.
your sources were in there.
your conclusion wasn’t the best thing you had ever written, but it existed, and honestly, by that point, existence felt like a miracle.
they survived the rumors. they survived the heartbreak. they survived each other.
now they have to survive real life.
after everything, loving each other should be the easy part... right?
spring semester had a funny way of making you feel like you had everything under control right before it knocked the air out of you.
at first, it was easy to pretend it wasn’t that bad.
you and felix still walked to the cafeteria together. you still held hands between classes. you still texted each other stupid things during lectures when you were supposed to be paying attention.
and for a while, it worked.
monday started soft.
you were in the library with felix, bang chan, seungmin, han, changbin, hyunjin, lee know, and jeongin all sitting around one long table that was definitely not big enough for all of you.
there were laptops everywhere. notebooks open. pens scattered. coffee cups half empty.
it looked like a productive study group.
it was not.
han kept showing changbin memes under the table. changbin laughed too loud every single time, which made seungmin glare over his laptop.
“some of us are trying to graduate,” seungmin said flatly.
“and some of us are trying to survive emotionally,” han whispered back.
lee know didn’t even look up from his notes. “fail quietly.”
you covered your mouth to hide your laugh.
felix sat beside you, one knee pressed lightly against yours under the table. he had his flash cards in front of him, but he kept stealing your highlighter every five minutes.
“felix,” you said, holding your hand out without looking at him.
“what?”
“my highlighter.”
he looked down at the pink highlighter in his hand like it had magically appeared there.
“oh.”
“you have your own.”
“yours works better.”
“it’s the same brand.”
“emotionally, it’s different.”
bang chan laughed from across the table. “can you two flirt after we finish studying?”
you looked up. “we are studying.”
seungmin snorted. “you’re sharing one brain cell and a highlighter.”
felix smiled and leaned closer to your ear. “they’re jealous.”
you rolled your eyes with a smile , but your face warmed anyway.
even with the teasing, even with the homework spread everywhere, you felt happy.
tired, but happy.
safe in that little bubble of books, laughter, and felix’s shoulder brushing yours.
⸻
tuesday was sweeter.
you were rushing across campus with your backpack half-zipped, trying to get to class before your professor started, when felix appeared beside the humanities building holding two coffees.
“you forgot breakfast,” he said.
you stopped walking.
“how do you know that?”
“because you texted me ‘i’m running late’ and when you run late, you don’t eat.”
you blinked at him, touched in a way that made your chest go soft.
“you remembered that?”
he handed you the coffee and shrugged like it was nothing.
“i remember things about you.”
your heart did that stupid fluttering thing it always did around him.
“you’re annoying,” you said smiling softly.
he smiled. “you mean perfect.”
“no. annoying.”
“perfectly annoying?”
you took the coffee and tried not to smile too hard.
“fine. maybe.”
he grinned, leaning in to kiss your forehead.
“good luck today.”
“you too,” you said.
then you both ran in opposite directions, late to different classes, still smiling like idiots.
⸻
by wednesday, things started piling up.
not badly.
not yet.
just enough that you felt it.
your planner was full of little boxes and due dates:
essay draft due thursday.
quiz friday.
discussion post by midnight.
group project meeting.
reading response.
chapter notes.
you stared at the page until the words blurred.
college had a way of making one assignment feel manageable until five more showed up behind it.
that night, everyone ended up back in the library again.
this time, the energy was different.
less joking.
more stress.
changbin had his head down on the table, one arm stretched dramatically over his notebook.
“i’m not built for this,” he mumbled.
hyunjin tapped his pen against his laptop. “you said that last week.”
“and i meant it last week too.”
han was supposed to be outlining a paper, but he kept rereading the same sentence and sighing like he’d been personally betrayed by english.
jeongin had earbuds in and looked more focused than all of you combined.
seungmin was actually studying, which made everyone else look worse.
felix sat beside you, quieter than usual, one hand in his hair as he stared at his laptop screen.
“you okay?” you whispered.
he nodded, but not very convincingly.
“yeah. just tired.”
you wanted to ask more, but your own laptop blinked with three unfinished tabs and a blank document that was due the next day.
so you just squeezed his hand under the table.
he squeezed back.
that was enough.
for the moment.
⸻
thursday was the first day you barely talked.
not because anything was wrong.
that was the scary part.
nothing was wrong.
you were just busy.
felix had a group project meeting after class. you had an essay to finish. he texted you around lunch.
felix:
good luck with your paper, baby
you got this 💛
you smiled down at your phone in the hallway.
you:
thank you
good luck with your project
don’t let changbin distract everyone
felix:
too late
you laughed once, then put your phone away because your professor walked in.
after that, the day swallowed you whole.
classes. notes. editing. citations. a rushed sandwich you barely tasted.
by the time you got back to your dorm, your eyes burned from staring at your laptop.
you texted felix around midnight.
you:
goodnight 💕
i love you
you waited a few minutes.
nothing.
you told yourself he was busy.
you brushed your teeth.
still nothing.
you changed into pajamas.
nothing.
you finally crawled into bed, phone beside your pillow, checking it one more time before your eyes closed.
no reply.
it shouldn’t have bothered you.
he was probably asleep.
he was allowed to be asleep.
still, your chest felt a little weird as you turned your phone face down.
⸻
friday morning, he texted you at 7:42.
felix:
baby i’m so sorry
i passed out studying
i love you too 💛
you stared at the message while sitting on the edge of your bed, hair messy, hoodie half on.
you weren’t mad.
not really.
but there was this tiny ache sitting in your chest.
the kind that didn’t have a reason big enough to explain itself.
you typed back:
you:
it’s okay
i figured
good luck today ❤️
he replied with a heart.
and that was basically the whole conversation.
you had an essay due. he had a project presentation. both of you were running on coffee and panic.
you saw him once across campus, walking with bang chan and seungmin. he looked exhausted. he saw you too and lifted his hand in a small wave.
you waved back.
for some reason, that almost made you sadder.
because he was right there.
and still too far away to touch.
⸻
by the time friday night came, you were completely drained.
you sat on the edge of your bed, backpack dumped beside you, shoes still on, staring at the wall like it had personally assigned you homework.
your phone buzzed.
felix:
i miss you
can i see you tomorrow?
your heart softened immediately.
you typed back:
you:
i miss you too
yes please
then you stared at the words for a long time.
you hadn’t fought.
you hadn’t broken up.
nothing dramatic had happened.
just due dates.
projects.
essays.
quizzes.
studying.
sleep deprivation.
all the boring, normal things that somehow managed to take up so much space that love had to squeeze itself into whatever was left.
you leaned back on your bed and let out a tired breath.
both of you have been so busy trying to survive the semester that you forgot how to just be together.
your phone buzzed again.
felix:
tomorrow, no homework for at least one hour
just us
you smiled, but it came out small.
you:
deal
you set your phone down and stared at the ceiling.
spring semester had only just started getting heavy.
to be continue…
authors note: I hope you guys are enjoying the new sequel so far 🫶 let me know what you think 💭 should I make the series shorter? or should I make it longer?
after everything, loving each other should be the easy part...
right?
spring semester
by the middle of spring semester, you and felix had been together for months.
sometimes that still felt unbelievable.
because if someone had told you last fall semester that you and felix would end up here, you would've laughed in their face.
too much had happened.
too many fights.
too many tears.
too many nights where everything felt impossible.
but somehow, despite all of it, you had made it.
you and felix officially started dating a week before christmas break.
there wasn't some huge dramatic confession.
there wasn't a grand gesture.
just two people who had spent months finding their way to each other finally deciding to stop pretending.
but honestly?
it had been the best christmas break of your life.
you spent hours on facetime together.
fell asleep on calls.
texting each other from the moment you woke up until one of you passed out from exhaustion.
you learned all the little things about him.
how he always forgot where he put his phone.
how he got excited over the smallest things.
how he sent voice messages instead of typing whenever he missed you too much.
and felix learned your habits too.
the way you got emotional during movies.
the way you overthought everything.
the way you always said you were "fine" when you definitely weren't.
somehow the relationship never felt forced.
it felt easy.
safe.
like coming home after a really long day.
and the best part?
you were completely, hopelessly in love with him.
the kind of love that made your heart flutter when his name lit up your phone.
the kind of love that made you smile like an idiot when he wasn't even around.
the kind of love that made you look at him and think:
how did i get so lucky?
and judging by the way felix looked at you?
he felt exactly the same.
the morning air was cool as you and felix walked across campus together.
your hand was tucked comfortably into his.
his thumb absentmindedly brushed over your knuckles as you walked.
a habit he'd developed months ago.
one he probably didn't even realize he was doing anymore.
you smiled.
"what?" he asked immediately.
you laughed.
"nothing."
"suspicious."
"i literally didn't say anything."
"yeah, but you're smiling."
you rolled your eyes.
"maybe i'm just happy."
his expression softened instantly.
the kind of smile that always made your stomach flip.
"good."
your heart melted.
this guy.
the closer you got to the university cafeteria, the louder everything became.
students everywhere.
backpacks.
laughter.
someone nearly running into a trash can while staring at their phone.
normal college chaos.
felix squeezed your hand before pulling the cafeteria door open for you.
the smell of food immediately hit you.
"i'm starving," you announced.
"that's all you've talked about for twenty minutes."
"because i'm starving."
"you said that already."
"and i'll say it again."
he laughed.
the second you reached the table, seungmin looked up from his tray.
his eyes immediately landed on your intertwined hands.
he groaned dramatically as a joke.
"seriously?"
you already knew what was coming.
"what now?" felix asked.
seungmin pointed.
"the hand holding."
you blinked.
"what about it?"
"it's disgusting." seungmin said.
you rolled your eyes with a smile.
"you're just jealous."
"of what?"
"of our happiness."
han immediately started laughing.
"she got you there."
seungmin looked offended.
"i am perfectly happy."
"single," changbin added.
the table exploded with laughter.
"wow," seungmin deadpanned. "thanks."
changbin grinned.
"just calling it how i see it."
then he looked at you and felix.
"meanwhile these two are basically lovebirds."
felix groaned.
"please stop calling us that."
"never."
"please."
"absolutely not."
at the table, bangchan laughed into his drink while han made fake kissing noises until leeknow smacked his arm. jeongin smiled quietly from beside hyunjin, who gave you a warm little wave.
you sat down beside felix, still smiling.
sometimes moments like this caught you off guard.
because there was a time when sitting with this group would've felt impossible.
after everything that happened with morgan.
after the fight.
after the gossip.
after all the drama.
you honestly thought people would hate you.
instead, you somehow gained a group of friends.
real friends.
people who checked on you.
invited you places.
saved you seats.
included you.
people who made you feel welcome.
you were grateful for that.
more grateful than they probably realized.
felix sat beside you and nudged your knee under the table.
a small gesture.
barely noticeable.
but familiar.
comfortable.
his way of checking in.
"you okay?" he asked quietly.
you looked at him.
really looked at him.
the warm brown eyes.
the soft smile.
the boy who somehow became your favorite person.
your chest felt warm.
"yeah," you said.
and for once, there was no hesitation.
"i'm really okay."
he smiled.
and that smile alone made the entire day brighter.
one thing that surprised you the most about dating felix wasn't the relationship itself.
it was his friends.
when you first started dating him a week before christmas break, you expected things to be awkward.
especially after everything that happened.
the rumors.
the drama.
the gossip.
you honestly thought some of his friends might not like you.
instead, they welcomed you with open arms.
somewhere between winter break and spring semester, they stopped feeling like felix's friends.
they became your friends too.
the boys never once made you feel like an outsider.
not even when people around campus whispered.
not even when random students posted things online.
not even when morgan continued blaming you for everything.
they ignored the rumors.
they ignored the gossip.
and they treated you exactly the same.
changbin was constantly calling you and felix lovebirds.
han loved being dramatic and pretending to cry whenever you and felix did something cute.
seungmin acted annoyed by the relationship playfully, but somehow always ended up sitting beside you at lunch anyway.
hyunjin checked on you more than people realized.
bang chan was probably the most protective out of all of them.
and jeongin and lee know always made sure you felt included whenever everyone hung out together.
they never made you feel like "felix's girlfriend."
they made you feel like family.
and somewhere along the way, they started treating you like the sister of the group.
if someone made a rude comment?
one of them would immediately shut it down.
if you looked upset?
they noticed.
if you needed help with something?
someone was always there.
it was a strange feeling.
for so long, you had spent your college years feeling like you were on the outside of everything.
now you had a group of people who genuinely cared about you.
people who wanted you around.
people who texted you memes at one in the morning.
people who invited you places even if felix wasn't coming.
and honestly?
you loved them for it.
because after everything that happened last semester, having friends like them felt like a gift.
sometimes you looked around at all of them laughing together and couldn't believe this was your life now.
a boyfriend who loved you.
friends who supported you.
and people who chose to stay.
unfortunately, morgan still posted things sometimes.
little comments online.
passive-aggressive captions.
posts about betrayal.
posts about fake friends.
posts about girls stealing boyfriends.
sometimes people would send screenshots.
sometimes you'd accidentally see them yourself.
months ago those posts would've ruined your day.
months ago you would've cried over them.
but not anymore.
because you knew the truth.
you didn't steal felix.
he chose you.
and every single day since christmas break, he kept choosing you.
sitting in the cafeteria surrounded by laughter, teasing, and friends, with felix's hand finding yours under the table without even looking...
you realized something.
for the first time in a very long time,
you were happy.
truly happy.
and spring semester was looking a whole lot brighter than you ever thought it would. 🌷💕
hey I was just so wondering if you were planning on a worth the wreckage sequel? If yes then when? I mean i don't want to u rush or anything. Just take ur time but I hope you'll post an update or smth :)
I hope I'm not being impolite or anything I just really liked the series that's all. Hope you have a wonderful day ☺️🩷
I am! I apologize - I haven’t active due to writers block and college homework/project/essays and mental health in general. But I’m back now!
No worries, hun! I do appreciate you reaching out to me! <3
this is my very first skz anniversary and i don’t even know how to put everything i feel into words…
happy 8th anniversary to the boy band who truly saved my life 🤍
i love you 8 so much. i really mean that. i don’t think i would be here today if you guys didn’t exist. you came into my life when i was going through one of the darkest times i’ve ever experienced, dealing with grief and a lot of personal things, and somehow you brought light back into my world.
you made it feel a little less lonely to be here. you make it home for me.
your music, your laughs, your personalities, just you existing… it helped me more than you’ll ever know. on days where i felt like i couldn’t keep going, you gave me something to hold onto. something to smile about again.
i see pieces of myself in each of you, and that makes me feel understood in a way i can’t really explain.
it’s true what they say… stray kids really do come into your life when you need them the most. and that’s exactly what you did for me.
little did you know… you all saved me during one of the hardest times in my life, when i was struggling with depression and didn’t want to live here in this earth anymore 🤍
thank you for being my comfort, my happiness, and my safe place 🤍
happy 8 years with stray kids… and many more to come 🖤
i might write a sequel to worth the wreckage but i’m not 100% sure yet…
i kinda wanted to ask you guys first, like what would you want to see? what would you expect from it?
i was thinking of continuing their story where y/n and felix are actually doing really good at the beginning. like they’re healthy, they’re happy, things finally feel right between them.
but at the same time… relationships aren’t always perfect. they’re not all sunshine and butterflies, and i kinda want to show what happens when their relationship actually gets tested.
not in a way where everything falls apart, but in a real way. like miscommunication, distance, overthinking… things that can happen even when you love someone
i want it to feel realistic but still emotional and meaningful.
idk… what do you guys think? would you want something more messy, more soft, or a mix of both?
i really wanna hear your thoughts 🥹 just comment down below! that will help me if i need to make a sequel or not <3
summary: felix is your best friend morgan's boyfriend: soft-spoken, warm, hers. he's supposed to be off-limits, but he's the one in your bed at 3am, whispering "stay" against your lips like you're the mistake he's willing to make twice. if morgan ever connects the dots, you're both done.
by the time you get back to your dorm, the whispers have already started.
not everywhere.
not loud.
but you feel it.
two girls by the water fountain go quiet the second you walk past.
a guy from your class leans toward his friend, whispering, both of them staring a little too long.
you catch pieces of it.
“is that her?”
“they said she punched morgan”
“no way. she doesn’t look like-”
you keep walking.
head up.
steps steady.
not because it doesn’t hurt.
but because you’re done falling apart in hallways.
you make it to your room, unlock the door, and step inside.
the click of it closing behind you feels louder than it should.
like you’re shutting everything out.
and for a second, you just stand there.
then it all hits at once.
the dean.
the fight.
morgan’s face.
your knuckles, still aching.
your chest tightens again.
your phone buzzes.
felix:
hey… you okay?
you can come over if you want.
no pressure. just… come sit with me.
you stare at the screen.
your throat feels tight, but your fingers move anyway.
you:
okay
⸻
his dorm is quiet when you get there.
too quiet, almost.
no music.
no shouting.
no chaos.
just calm.
like he made it that way on purpose.
he opens the door almost immediately, like he’s been waiting right there.
the second he sees you, his whole expression softens.
“hey…” he says, voice gentle. “come here.”
you don’t even think about it.
you step in, and he closes the door behind you carefully, like he doesn’t want any of the outside noise sneaking in with you.
then he pulls you into him.
slow.
warm.
one arm around your shoulders, the other at your back, holding you close but not too tight. just enough that you feel it.
safe.
your forehead rests against his chest, and for the first time all day, you actually breathe.
really breathe.
his hand moves up and down your back, slow and steady.
“you’re okay,” he murmurs softly. “i’ve got you. nothing’s getting to you in here, alright?”
you nod a little against him.
he doesn’t rush you.
doesn’t ask questions.
just stays there until your breathing starts to even out.
when he feels you shaking, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his brows pulling together slightly.
“hey…” he says quietly. “come sit with me.”
he takes your hand, guiding you over to his bed, sitting down first before gently pulling you with him.
this time, he shifts so you’re sitting between his legs, your back against his chest.
his arms wrap around you again, softer now, more grounding than anything.
his chin rests lightly near your shoulder.
“breathe with me,” he says.
you feel his chest rise behind you.
“in…”
you follow.
“hold…”
you do.
“out…”
you exhale slowly, your shoulders dropping just a little.
he keeps going, steady and calm, like he’s anchoring you.
in.
out.
again.
again.
you don’t even realize how much you needed it.
after a while, everything feels a little quieter.
not gone.
just… quieter.
his voice comes again, softer this time.
“i’m really proud of you.”
you blink, a little confused.
“for what?” your voice comes out small. “for fighting someone?”
he shakes his head right away.
“no. not that.” his arms tighten just slightly around you. “for everything after. you didn’t run. you didn’t lie. you stood there and owned it. that’s not easy.”
you stare down at your hands.
they still feel strange.
like they don’t belong to you.
“i feel awful,” you admit. “like i disappointed everyone.”
he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder.
gentle. warm.
“you hit your limit,” he says quietly. “anyone would’ve, with what they were saying. that doesn’t make you a bad person. it just means you’re human.”
you swallow.
a tear slips out before you can stop it.
he notices immediately.
his thumb brushes it away like it’s nothing.
“hey…” he murmurs. “don’t do that to yourself.”
there’s a small pause.
then his voice softens even more.
“i hate that you had to go through that alone out there.”
you lean back into him a little more without thinking.
his arms tighten just slightly, like he’s glad you did.
“you’re not alone now,” he adds. “you don’t have to deal with any of that by yourself. not anymore.”
your chest warms at that.
after a second, he reaches over to his nightstand.
“here,” he says, handing you a water bottle. “drink some. you probably haven’t all day.”
you take it, your fingers brushing his.
he doesn’t pull away right away.
just lets his hand rest there for a second.
grounding.
present.
when you take a sip, he nods softly like that alone matters.
“good,” he says. “we’re taking it easy tonight. no overthinking, no spiraling. just… rest.”
you let out a small breath, almost a laugh.
“you sound like a schedule.”
he smiles against your shoulder.
“yeah. i’m on emotional-support duty,” he says quietly. “strict rules.”
you smile a little.
for real this time.
he kisses your cheek.
“we’ll figure everything else out later,” he murmurs. “you don’t have to fix it all tonight.”
his hand finds yours again, fingers lacing gently.
“right now, you just stay here with me.”
you close your eyes.
lean back into him fully.
and for once, the noise in your head starts to fade.
the whispers outside don’t feel as loud anymore.
the tension in your chest loosens.
and even if everything outside that door is still messy and complicated—
in here,
with him,
you finally feel it.
safe.
held.
like you can breathe again.
—
later that day, you and felix spend the whole day together before you head back to your dorm.
⸻
later that night…
felix is sitting on his bed, back against the wall, one knee pulled up, hoodie sleeves covering his hands.
there’s an open notebook beside him, a pen resting in the middle. a playlist plays softly from his speaker.
he hasn’t written a single word.
his phone lights up next to his thigh.
morgan.
the name cuts straight through whatever calm he was trying to hold onto.
for a second, he just stares at it.
he could ignore it.
he’s done that before. let it buzz, flip it over, wait for it to stop.
but this time… he swipes.
the messages are already coming in.
morgan:
i still have feelings for you.
another one right after.
morgan:
actually… i still love you.
his stomach tightens, but he keeps reading.
morgan:
i hate how things ended.
i hate seeing you with her.
i just want us back.
his thumb scrolls.
morgan:
i don’t care if you and y/n hooked up or whatever.
we were us first.
can we just go back?
please give me another chance.
felix lets the phone rest on his leg.
the room suddenly feels smaller.
quieter, but heavier.
the old version of him knows exactly what he would’ve done.
panic. apologize. soften everything. say “maybe” just to keep the peace.
he looks at the screen again.
not this time.
he thinks about earlier.
morgan yelling at you in front of everyone.
the way she spoke about you like you didn’t matter.
the way she treated you like you were nothing.
his jaw tightens.
then he thinks about you.
the way your hands were shaking outside the dean’s office.
the way you said- i’m not this person.
the way you finally relaxed when you were with him.
his chest aches, but it’s steady.
he exhales and starts typing.
felix:
i’m going to be honest with you.
he pauses for a second, then continues.
felix:
i don’t want to get back together.
he reads it.
doesn’t delete it.
sends it.
a reply comes almost instantly.
morgan:
so that’s it?
after everything we went through?
his fingers hover, then move again.
felix:
that’s exactly why it has to be it.
we didn’t make each other better. we hurt each other more than we helped.
the typing bubble appears, disappears, then comes back.
morgan:
so you’re choosing her.
he closes his eyes for a second.
then types, steady.
felix:
i’m choosing not to go back to something that wasn’t healthy for me.
he adds another message, firm but calm.
felix:
and i need to be clear about something.
the way you spoke to y/n earlier wasn’t okay.
his thumb pauses, then continues.
felix:
she didn’t deserve that.
no one deserves to be talked about like that, especially in front of other people.
a longer pause this time.
morgan:
you’re unbelievable.
you don’t even feel bad.
felix exhales slowly.
felix:
i do feel bad about how things ended between us.
i don’t feel bad for choosing to move forward.
another bubble.
morgan:
you’ll regret this.
it lands differently now.
distant.
familiar.
he reads it once, then types.
felix:
i won’t.
he stares at the screen for a second, then finishes.
felix:
please don’t text me again.
he sends it.
his hands are steady.
for once, he didn’t back down.
for once, he didn’t soften the truth just to make someone else comfortable.
he opens settings.
scrolls.
taps.
block this caller.
a small message pops up:
you will no longer receive calls or messages from this person.
he hits block without hesitating.
then one by one -
instagram. block.
snapchat. block.
facebook. block.
tiktok. block.
twitter. block.
whatsapp.block.
it’s strange how many ways someone can stay in your life until you close every door.
when he’s done, he drops his phone onto his pillow and leans his head back against the wall.
the room is quiet again.
his chest feels… lighter.
not empty.
just relieved.
like something that had been weighing him down is finally gone.
he lets out a quiet breath.
“i’m done.”
and this time, it doesn’t hurt to say it.
after a while, he picks up his phone again.
opens your chat.
his fingers hover for a second.
then he types.
felix:
hey… i just want to tell you something.
he doesn’t wait too long.
felix:
she texted me asking to get back together.
another message right after, so you don’t overthink.
felix:
i told her no. completely.
he pauses, then adds one more.
felix:
and i blocked her on everything.
i’m not going back. i need you to know that.
he reads it once.
twice.
then sends it.
no confusion.
no mixed signals.
just clear.
honest.
final.
like a door that’s finally, fully closed.
-the end -
author's note:
hi everyone ♡
i just wanted to come on here and say thank you so much to everyone who took the time to read this mini series. this is actually my first finished one, and that alone means a lot to me.
i really appreciate all the feedback, the comments, the likes… everything. it genuinely made me want to keep going, sit down, and actually work through the storyline instead of giving up halfway like i usually do with other series. you guys really pushed me more than you probably realize.
i’m not gonna lie, i was afraid at first. i thought no one was going to read it, or like it, or even care enough to comment. but seeing that people did? it meant a lot more to me than i can explain.
i really hope you enjoyed this series as much as i enjoyed writing it.
with that being said… i’ve been thinking about possibly making a sequel. i’m still not 100% sure yet, and i don’t know how you guys would feel about it, so i’d love to hear your thoughts.
i’ll probably make a separate post about it later today so you guys can let me know what you think ♡
summary: felix is your best friend morgan's boyfriend: soft-spoken, warm, hers. he's supposed to be off-limits, but he's the one in your bed at 3am, whispering "stay" against your lips like you're the mistake he's willing to make twice. if morgan ever connects the dots, you're both done.
by the time campus security shows up, the fight is already over but the air still feels torn open.
someone takes names. someone else asks if anyone needs medical help. a small circle forms where it happened, then grows, then fades as people get bored and drift away.
morgan keeps glaring at you from across the walkway.
taylor whispers in her ear.
sydney whispers to anyone who will listen.
felix stays beside you.
like he’s ready to catch you if gravity suddenly stops working.
a security officer clears his throat.
“y/n?”
your stomach sinks.
“the dean would like to speak with you.”
your throat feels thick.
“okay,” you say, even though nothing about this feels okay.
felix takes a small step closer.
“i’ll wait,” he murmurs.
you nod because you don’t trust your voice and follow the officer across campus.
⸻
the dean’s office is too bright.
soft chairs. framed diplomas. a plant that looks too alive for this kind of room.
you sink into the chair they gesture to.
your heart thuds loudly in your ears. the adrenaline is gone now. It is replaced with dread and embarrassment and a hollow ache in your chest.
the dean - a calm, middle-aged woman with tired eyes sits across from you.
she folds her hands.
“you’ve never been in here before,” she says gently. “so let’s talk through what happened.”
your mouth feels dry.
you nod.
“i’m going to ask questions,” she continues. “answer honestly. this isn’t about attacking you. it’s about understanding.”
her voice isn’t cruel.
that almost makes it worse.
because it means you have to actually sit here with what you did not hide behind someone else yelling.
she looks at the paper in front of her.
“we have witness statements saying there was a physical altercation. that you struck another student.”
your jaw tightens.
you swallow.
“yes,” you say quietly. “i did.”
she studies you for a second.
“why?”
you stare at your hands.
how do you explain something that happened faster than thought?
your voice feels small when it finally comes.
“i don’t know,” you whisper. “i mean... i do, but… it just - snapped. she… kept saying things. we’ve had history. and i tried to stay calm. and then she said something and it just…” you break off, shaking your head. “i didn’t go there planning to fight. i swear.”
the dean nods slowly.
“did you feel threatened physically?”
you think about it.
about words like knives. about laughter that burns more than slaps.
“not at first,” you admit. “it was… emotional. she kept calling me things. and then i pushed her. and then she pushed me. and then…”
you stop.
the rest is obvious.
a silence stretches.
the dean sighs softly.
“i appreciate your honesty.”
she writes something down, then looks back up.
“what you did was serious,” she says, not harsh but firm. “we don’t tolerate physical violence here. but context matters.”
your chest tightens.
“morgan will also be spoken to. as will the other girls involved. fights don’t start out of nowhere.”
she leans a little forward.
“what i’m more concerned about, y/n, is you.”
you blink.
“me?”
her eyes soften.
“you don’t strike me as someone who goes around punching people. so if you reached that point.. something has been building for a while.”
your throat aches.
you stare at a spot on the carpet.
“it’s been… a lot,” you say quietly. “with her. with her friends sydney and taylor. with everything. and i kept trying to just deal with it. and..”
your voice cracks.
you inhale sharply, trying to swallow it back down.
the dean hands you a tissue without making it dramatic.
“you’re allowed to say you’re overwhelmed,” she says gently. “that’s not weakness. that’s being human.”
a tear slips out anyway.
you wipe it.
humiliation mixes with relief in your chest - ugly, confusing.
“what happens now?” you whisper.
she leans back, folding her hands again.
“likely - disciplinary probation. possibly conflict mediation sessions. and counseling is highly recommended. if there’s another incident, consequences become much more severe.”
you nod slowly.
you deserve that.
you hate that you deserve that.
“and with morgan?” you ask, voice brittle.
“she will face consequences for her part,” the dean says simply. “words can be violent too.”
you stare at your knees.
she pauses then softens again.
“this doesn’t make you a bad person,” she says quietly. “it means something broke. our job is to help you figure out where and how to fix it before it breaks more.”
you nod again, because speaking feels impossible.
she stands, signalling the end.
“we’ll be in touch when everything is processed. you can go for today.”
you stand on shaky legs.
“thank you,” you murmur.
“take care of yourself, y/n.’’
⸻
felix is sitting on the bench outside the admin building.
elbows on his knees. hands clasped. staring at the ground.
he looks up immediately when the door opens.
his eyes search your face.
“hey,” he says softly. “what happened?”
you breathe out slowly.
“probation,” you say. “meetings. no more fighting or i’m screwed.”
his jaw clenches not at you. at the situation.
he stands and steps closer. then he pulls you into a hug.
he wraps his arms around you carefully but not tight, not overwhelming like he knows you’re fragile right now.
you let your forehead rest against his chest.
for the first time since the bathroom since the yelling …since the punch- you let yourself actually feel how scared you are.
you whisper into his hoodie:
“i’m not this person.”
his hand rubs gently up and down your back.
“I know,” he says softly. “that’s why it scared you.”
you swallow hard.
a long breath leaves you.
the world feels quieter, heavier and real.
choices. consequences. fallout.
none of it is simple anymore.
and somewhere else on campus,
morgan is probably sitting in the office right now,
summary: felix is your best friend morgan's boyfriend: soft-spoken, warm, hers. he's supposed to be off-limits, but he's the one in your bed at 3am, whispering
"stay" against your lips like you're the mistake he's willing to make twice. if morgan ever connects the dots, you're both done.
summary: felix is your best friend morgan's boyfriend: soft-spoken, warm, hers. he's supposed to be off-limits, but he's the one in your bed at 3am, whispering
"stay" against your lips like you're the mistake he's willing to make twice. if morgan ever connects the dots, you're both done.
you and felix start moving like the same gravity again.
walking side by side to class, pretending it’s coincidence.
sharing glances across lecture halls.
finding excuses to sit just a little too close in the library.
and when no one is around?
he pulls you in.
like he’s afraid you’ll fade if he doesn’t touch you.
in the hallway between classes, he wraps his arms around you ~ not dramatic and not showy, just warm. gentle.
his chin resting on your head for a second like that’s exactly where it’s supposed to be.
“hi,” he murmurs.
you smile into his hoodie. “hi.”
for a moment, the world shrinks down to:
his heartbeat
your hands on his back
the quiet safety of it.
no yelling.
no secrets being thrown like knives.
just the feeling that maybe, finally, you’re both choosing each other without anyone else standing in the middle.
you pull away first, both of you laughing a little and start walking in opposite directions before anyone can notice.
neither of you notices the two girls near the end of the hall.
taylor.
sydney.
watching.
eyes sharp.
smiles mean.
⸻
you slip into the bathroom between classes.
it’s quiet, echoey ~ fluorescent lights buzzing loud enough that you hear it in your teeth.
you turn on the sink, washing your hands slowly, replaying that hallway hug again in your mind.
the way he held you like you were something fragile he refused to drop.
the way his breath steadied against your shoulder.
the way your chest felt… calm.
it almost scares you how good it feels.
the door opens.
you glance up in the mirror.
taylor.
sydney.
your stomach sinks.
you don’t have to talk to them to know they don’t like you. you learned that the first month you ever hung out with morgan ~ the sideways glances, the whispered jokes, the way conversations clipped clean around you.
the night you told morgan about it, she’d laughed.
“they’re joking. don’t be sensitive.”
you’d decided then that staying quiet was easier than being called dramatic.
now the bathroom feels too small.
you dry your hands, ready to leave.
taylor steps right into your path.
“hey,” she says, voice sugary. “cute hug in the hallway.”
sydney snickers. “yeah. really cute.”
heat creeps up your neck.
“it wasn’t -”
taylor’s smile drops just enough to show the edge underneath.
“what the fuck are you doing with morgan’s ex?”
you blink. “i’m not-”
“like seriously.” sydney leans against the sink, crossing her arms. “you pretend to be her friend, then go behind her back?”
the words hit harder than they should. not because they’re true but because a part of you is still terrified they could be.
you start to speak. “you don’t know what happened-”
sydney cuts you off.
“oh, we know plenty.”
her tone shifts from fake-friend to predator.
“they’re getting back together.”
your heart stumbles mid-beat.
you stare. “what?”
taylor grins like she’s been waiting.
“last night. we were in morgan’s dorm. felix called. they talked forever.” she shrugs. “he said he still loves her. she said she’s thinking about giving him another chance.”
your hands go cold.
FaceTime.
your chest tightens so hard it hurts.
sydney leans in, voice low and pitying.
“he probably felt bad for you. that’s all. you were, like… emotional support.”
taylor laughs.
“honestly? if i were you, i’d stay away from him. you’re embarrassing yourself. and morgan deserves better than a fake friend.”
fake friend.
the words hollow you out.
you grip the sink edge, nails pressing into the porcelain to keep yourself grounded.
“that’s not true,” you whisper. “you’re lying.”
taylor looks at you the way someone looks at a child who doesn’t understand something obvious.
“believe what you want.”
she flips her hair, already done.
they push the door open, still laughing, voices echoing down the hallway until they disappear.
you’re left staring at your reflection under harsh bathroom lights.
your face looks different.
not angry.
not even sad.
just… cracked.
the kind of quiet hurt that doesn’t have anywhere to go.
your thoughts spiral fast:
what if they’re telling the truth?
what if he’s saying one thing to you and another to her?
what if you walked straight back into the same fire and called it love?
your heart aches in a way that feels too familiar.
you swallow hard, trying to breathe through the tightness sitting in your chest.
felix’s voice from last night plays in your head:
i’ll never make you feel like a second choice again.
taylor’s voice cuts right through it:
he still loves her.
the two truths collide.
you don’t know which one wins.
you blink away the sting in your eyes, refusing to cry in this bathroom in front of ghosts that would’ve loved to see it.
you press your palms to the cool edge of the sink.
you loved him.
you chose him.
and suddenly you’re terrified you might be wrong again.
slowly, like your body is moving without your permission, you turn away from the mirror and walk out of the bathroom ~ that heavy stone lodged in your stomach.
and somewhere down the hall,
taylor and sydney are already whispering again.
already building a story.
already deciding who gets to be the villain next.
⸻
Meanwhile after you went back to class, you couldn’t focus on the lecture.
the professor’s voice moves across the room -words, dates, definitions but none of it sticks. it floats past your ears like white noise.
your knee bounces under the desk.
your pen spins between your fingers, slips, clatters softly onto your notebook.
a few people look.
you mumble, “sorry,” and stare back down.
all you can see is the bathroom.
taylor’s smirk.
sydney’s voice.
that one sentence that won’t stop rewinding:
they were FaceTiming last night. he still loves her.
your heart won’t calm down.
it sits high in your chest, beating too fast, like it’s trying to warn you.
you glance at the clock.
ten minutes have passed.
it feels like an hour.
your phone is face-down on the desk, silent, but it feels loud anyway like it’s carrying a secret you’re scared to open.
what if they lied?
what if they didn’t?
your fingers twitch.
finally, you slide the phone into your lap, under the desk, screen lighting up against your palm.
you open messages.
his name is still there.
you stare at the blinking cursor for a long, shaky second then start typing.
you:
can we talk?
somewhere quiet
you hesitate.
then add:
you:
please
you hit send and set the phone back down, face up this time. your leg won’t stop shaking.
thirty seconds later, the screen lights.
felix:
yeah
where are you?
you swallow.
you:
the benches behind the music building
a pause.
felix:
give me 5
your chest tightens in relief and dread at the same time.
you raise your hand.
“bathroom?” you whisper.
the professor nods without looking up.
you grab your bag and slip out, trying not to break into a full run down the hallway.
⸻
the benches behind the music building are always quiet.
the hum of distant traffic.
a gust of wind tugging at the trees.
someone practicing piano inside faint, muffled.
you sit.
your hands won’t stay still.
you twist your fingers. pull at your sleeve. press your thumb into your palm to ground yourself.
your breath keeps coming in short, uneven little pulls.
please don’t lie to me.
please don’t make this another thing i have to survive.
footsteps.
you look up.
felix jogs around the corner, slightly out of breath, hair messed from the wind, hoodie half-zipped.
his face softens instantly when he sees you.
“hey,” he says gently, walking over. “you okay?”
the question almost breaks you.
you shake your head before you can stop yourself.
he sits beside you without touching, giving you space. not too close. not far.
“hey,” he says again, softer. “talk to me.”
your throat feels tight.
the words come out before you can soften them.
“did you FaceTime morgan?”
his expression falters.
not guilty.
not angry.
just… surprised.
and then cautious.
he swallows. “yeah. i did.”
something in your chest drops.
your eyes sting.
you nod slowly, jaw clenched. “okay.”
he leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped.
“before you run with that,” he says calmly, “ask the next question.”
your voice shakes. “why?”
he lets out a breath.
“because i needed to end it properly. not with silence. not with me disappearing.” he meets your eyes. “i told her i wasn’t coming back. and i told her i loved someone else.”
your heart jerks -
but your brain is still fighting.
“taylor and sydney said-”
he closes his eyes for a second.
“that explains it.”
you blink. “explains what?”
he laughs under his breath , not amused. exhausted.
“she didn’t take it well. i figured she wouldn’t. but i didn’t realize she’d go tell her little messengers whatever version makes me look like i’m crawling back.”
your chest feels weird-half aching, half loosening.
“so you didn’t say you still loved her?”
he turns fully toward you now, eyes steady.
“no,” he says quietly. “i said i cared about her as someone i hurt. and i said it needed to stay over. for good.”
your heartbeat slows.
just a little.
but the fear is still there.
“why didn’t you tell me you called her?”
he nods like he expected that question.
“because i didn’t want it to sound like, ‘hey, i’m officially free, congrats, we can be together now.’” he grimaces. “that felt gross. i wanted to talk to you about us without morgan bleeding into every sentence.”
you look down at your fingers.
they’ve gone still.
he hesitates then slowly reaches out, resting his hand near yours, not touching unless you move first.
his voice is quiet.
“you’re spiraling, right?”
you let out a shaky laugh. “yeah.”
“okay.” his tone stays gentle. “then i’m going to be really clear, so your brain doesn’t get to fill in blanks it shouldn’t.”
you lift your eyes.
he holds them.
“i didn’t call her to flirt. i didn’t call her to ‘see.’ i called so she’d stop waiting.” a beat. “i don’t want her. i want you.”
the words find every crack in you
and sit there.
warm.
real.
you exhale like you’ve been holding your breath all day.
but before you can respond -
voices.
around the corner. sharp. angry. fast.
you recognize them instantly.
sydney.
taylor.
and-
morgan.
your stomach twists.
“i’m not fucking kidding,” morgan’s voice snaps, closer than you thought. “where is she?”
felix tenses.
your eyes meet his - wide, alert.
another voice:
“just calm down,” taylor rushes. “we told her. she won’t go near him now.”
morgan’s laugh is loud and brittle.
“oh, i’m not worried about him. i want to hear it from her. she wants my leftovers? she can say it to my face.”
your chest tightens painfully.
felix stands up automatically, body between you and the path.
his jaw sets.
“we should go,” he says quietly.
your heart pounds.
your entire body buzzes with adrenaline.
you’re not ready.
not for this.
not with the ground barely steady under your feet.
you gather your bag with your hands.
just as you stand -
morgan rounds the corner.
she stops.
her eyes land on felix.
then on you.
her expression shifts into something ugly -hurt twisted into fury.
there’s a heartbeat of silence.
then:
“wow,” she says. “unbelievable.”
the air feels like it cracks.
and before anyone can breathe,
she steps forward -
ready to explode.
⸻
next part coming soon….
I wrote this part longer for you guys, I hope you enjoy 💛
summary: felix is your best friend morgan's boyfriend: soft-spoken, warm, hers. he's supposed to be off-limits, but he's the one in your bed at 3am, whispering
"stay" against your lips like you're the mistake he's willing to make twice. if morgan ever connects the dots, you're both done.
you’ve been staring at the ceiling for a while, mind refusing to shut off, when the faint vibration on your pillow makes your stomach flip.
you don’t expect it to be him.
but it is.
Felix:
i know it’s late. i won’t blow up your phone again.
i just needed you to know i meant what i said.
you sit up slowly.
your room is dark except for the soft glow of your screen, the little blue bubbles stacked above his new message:
it’s so hard to let you go
i miss you
fuck i love you
come back
your chest tightens.
you stare at them for a long moment, thumb hovering, trying to ignore the way your heart doesn’t feel angry … just tired, scared, and still somehow tangled up in him.
finally, you type:
i read everything.
a pause. three dots appear almost immediately.
he’d been waiting.
felix:
okay.
thank you.
you swallow.
you:
you sound different.
a long pause this time. then:
felix:
i’m trying to be.
another bubble follows before you can reply.
felix:
i’m not asking you to fix anything. i just didn’t want you thinking i said all that by accident.
you stare at the words.
something about the honesty… quiet, not dramatic. It hits harder than all the huge speeches he’s ever thrown at you.
your fingers move.
you:
i didn’t block you, by the way.
there’s a beat.
then:
felix:
…oh my god
another bubble.
felix:
please don’t laugh at me
but i legit thought you did
my phone was off signal at the party
and i had a mental breakdown at a curb in the rain
you snort quietly before you can stop yourself.
you:
that sounds like you
a beat.
then:
felix:
yeah
unfortunately
your heart softens despite itself.
you sit there, thumbs moving slower now.
you:
why did you text me like that?
the typing bubble appears. disappears. comes back.
then:
felix:
because i’m in love with you
and i forgot how to say it without hurting you
you blink.
for once, there’s no shock value in it. no drama. it just reads like… truth.
before you can decide what to say next, a FaceTime request pops up across the screen.
your breath catches.
you stare at his name glowing on the screen.
accept.
the call opens.
felix appears in the dim light of his dorm room , lying on his side, hair messy, hoodie half on, eyes still puffy like he cried earlier.
he gives a small, unsure smile.
“hey,” he says softly.
you swallow. “hey.”
for a second, neither of you talks. there’s just the quiet sound of rain hitting his window behind him.
then he exhales, like he’s decided something.
“i wanted you to see my face,” he says. “if i say all this in texts, it feels like i’m hiding again.”
you don’t interrupt.
he shifts, lying on his back so the camera tilts up, framing half his face, the curve of his cheek, the ceiling above him.
his voice is calm. steady. almost gentle.
“i’m sorry for using you,” he says. “not on purpose. not like, ‘oh cool, i’ll drag her into this.’ but it still happened. and you were the one bleeding over it.”
your throat tightens.
he keeps going.
“i don’t want to be that guy anymore. the one who only shows up when he’s drowning and disappears when he can breathe again.”
he glances at the screen, eyes meeting yours through it.
“you deserved something soft. and i kept handing you fires.”
you don’t realize you’re tearing up until he notices.
his face softens instantly.
“hey,” he murmurs. “don’t cry. i’m not trying to break you again.”
you sniff, wiping under your eye with your thumb. “then stop saying things that hurt.”
a tiny smile tugs at his lips.
“okay. let me try this instead.”
he sits up.
the camera shakes as he props it against something, then he moves back, rummages under his pillow. when he comes back, he’s holding that notebook, the one he always carries.
your notebook. the one he writes in but never lets anyone read.
he swallows.
“i wrote something,” he says quietly. “i didn’t plan to show you. like, ever. but… if i’m going to be honest, i should be fully honest.”
your heart starts racing.
he flips it open, runs his thumb along the messy page.
his voice softens when he starts reading.
“you weren’t a weapon. you weren’t a way to win. you were the only part that felt like home, and i was the one who turned it into a battlefield.”
you don’t breathe for a second.
he looks up at the camera.
“every time you walked away, it wasn’t because you didn’t care. it was because you cared and i kept making it hurt. and i’m finally… finally not pretending i didn’t do that.”
your chest aches.
but it isn’t the same ache as before.
it feels… lighter.
smaller. truer.
you whisper, “felix…”
he smiles, shy and soft.
“i don’t want you because i’m lonely. i want you because every time something good happens, you’re the first person i want to tell. and every time something hurts, you make it feel less like it’s going to kill me.”
your heart flutters.
“and i swear,” he says quietly - “i will never make you feel like a second choice again. i’ll choose you on purpose.”
silence.
rain.
your heartbeat in your ears.
he gives a tiny, nervous laugh.
“and if you don’t want that… i’ll still be glad i got to tell you like this. not over some stupid text.”
you bite your lip, smiling despite the tears.
“felix?”
“yeah?”
“you’re really cute.”
his ears go red instantly.
he hides his face with his hand. “oh my god.”
you laugh, soft and real.
for the first time in a long time, talking to him doesn’t feel like walking through a minefield.
it feels like breathing.
you don’t say yes.
you don’t say no.
you just stay on the call with him- talking, listening, letting the night be quiet and honest for once.
summary: felix is your best friend morgan's boyfriend: soft-spoken, warm, hers. he's supposed to be off-limits, but he's the one in your bed at 3am, whispering "stay" against your lips like you're the mistake he's willing to make twice. if morgan ever connects the dots, you're both done.
felix let out a quiet sigh. his phone slipped from his hand and landed softly on the bed beside him. he stared at it for a second, like he was expecting it to light up… maybe a message, maybe your name.
nothing.
he ran a hand through his hair and pushed himself up, walking over to his desk. the room felt too quiet, too still. he pulled his chair out and sat down, leaning forward with his elbows resting on the desk. for once, he didn’t want the noise of his phone. no scrolling, no distractions. just… silence.
his fingers hovered over his notebook for a moment before he finally picked up his pen. he wasn’t even sure what he was about to write. poetry, maybe. something soft. something that hurt a little less once it was out of his chest.
but the moment the first words hit the page, he knew.
this wasn’t just poetry.
this was a song.
a deep breath left his lips as he began writing, the melody slowly forming in his head, each word feeling like it was pulled straight from somewhere raw inside him.
he titled it quietly at the top of the page.
deep end.
and then he kept going, writing everything he couldn’t say out loud… everything he wished you could hear.
he paused for a second, swallowing hard, before continuing… this time knowing exactly who it was for.
you.
his grip on the pen tightened slightly as the lyrics poured out of him, messy but honest, like he’d been holding it in for way too long.
he leaned back just a little, reading over what he had written, his voice barely above a whisper as he sang it to himself, testing how it felt in the air.
How’ve you been?
I guess you’re fine
It’s been pretty long
Since we’ve last seen
Honestly
Throughout my life
Deep inside
I never felt alive
The way you used to touch my soul
Was always so sweet and lovely
No matter how far apart we were
You’d always pick up the phone
But now I’m truly all alone in this world.
I miss the way…
his voice faltered for a second, like the words were getting caught somewhere in his chest, but he didn’t stop. he couldn’t. not now.
felix swallowed, eyes dropping back down to the page as his fingers tightened slightly around the pen. the room felt smaller somehow, like everything around him had faded and it was just him and these words.
just him and you.
he let out a quiet breath and kept going, softer this time, almost like he was afraid of hearing himself say it out loud.
you felt so close to my bones
I’m sinking in the deep end
I’ll just try
To cry myself to sleep
Please stop this pain
If you hadn’t changed
Then I’d still be by your side
If I gave you one more chance
can we go back again?
he paused again, his jaw tightening as he blinked a few times, trying to keep himself together. but the memories didn’t stop. they never did.
felix leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling for a second before dragging his gaze back down to the notebook.
but he kept going anyway.
You made me feel
As if we were complete
But now you’re filled with nothing but conceit
The times we had together were bittersweet.
he looked down at the page again, blinking away the blur in his eyes as he kept going, barely above a whisper.
(bittersweet)
I miss the days we used to laugh and heal
(Laugh and heal)
The way you used to touch my soul
Had always kept..
he stared at the page, eyes still glassy, before continuing… quieter, more fragile now.
me whole
You’d always read my text
And ghost me like you wanted me gone
Now I’m truly all alone in this world
I miss the way you felt so close to my bones
I’m sinking in the deep end
I’ll just try
To cry myself to sleep
Please stop this pain
If you hadn’t changed
Then I’d still be by your side
If I gave you one last chance
Can we go back again?
he let the last word hang in the air, barely even there, like it hurt too much to fully let it exist.
the room went quiet again.
too quiet.
felix didn’t move right away. he just sat there, staring at the notebook like it might say something back to him… like it might fix everything if he read it one more time.
but it didn’t.
his grip on the pen loosened, and it slipped from his fingers, rolling slightly across the desk before stopping. he didn’t bother picking it back up.
his chest felt tight. not sharp, not sudden… just this slow, heavy ache that wouldn’t go away. the kind that sat there and stayed.
his eyes drifted to his phone on the bed.
still nothing.
he looked away quickly, like even that hurt too much.
“why does it still feel like this…” he whispered, more to himself than anything.
he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, hands coming up to cover his face for a second. his breathing wasn’t steady anymore. not fully broken, but close.
he tried to laugh under his breath.
“i wrote a whole song for you…” he murmured, voice barely holding together. “and you’ll probably never even hear it.”
that thought hit harder than anything else.
because this… all of this… was still yours.
every word.
every line.
every piece of him that he couldn’t seem to take back.
he sat there for a long moment, just feeling everything all at once, before slowly lifting his head again. his eyes dropped back down to the notebook, to the last lines he had written.
there was only one thing left.
his hand reached for the pen again, slower this time, like he wasn’t sure if he should… like finishing it would make it real.
but he did anyway.
he swallowed, blinking quickly as he wrote the final lines, his voice barely a whisper as he read them out loud like a confession he could never say to your face.
Honestly
Without you in my life
Deep inside
I’ve never felt alive
his voice broke at the last word.
and that was it.
he stared at the page for a long time after that, unmoving, like if he stayed still enough, the feeling might pass.
it didn’t.
his fingers traced lightly over the title at the top of the page.
deep end.
“…yeah,” he whispered to himself, voice tired, hollow.
“that’s exactly what this feels like.”
he just sat there, in the quiet, letting himself feel it.
