Chapter Text
The email sat open on his monitor, its bolded subject line glaring back at him like a curse.
[ Content Collaboration: Exclusive Interview with Stray Kids’ Felix ]
Lee Sanghyeok exhaled through his nose, long and slow. A sigh that had less to do with irritation and more to do with the burden of years.
His fingers hovered over the mouse, scrolling down the sponsor’s message. He didn't care to read every detail. He’d seen it all before, countless times, all variations of the same request. Lending them his name, his fame, the national treasure:
Faker.
He rubbed at the corner of his eye, the sleepless ache still lingering from last night’s scrims. He wasn’t sure how many hours he’d actually managed to close his eyes, but it hadn’t been enough. It was never enough anymore. The season pressed against his shoulders. All the expectations of fans, team, and sponsors combined were a constant hum in the back of his skull.
An interview. With an idol. He skimmed the details again.
Felix. Stray Kids.
He vaguely remembered seeing the name for the UNICEF collaboration. They hadn't met then, and they also didn't get to meet during the filming of their most recent comeback video.
He knew the group was famous, the kind of famous that bent rooms with their presence. And this one, Felix, was apparently a fan of his? Faker almost laughed at the thought. It felt absurd, the idea that someone who stood under blinding stage lights, who commanded arenas with choreography and music, would basically jump in joy like a schoolgirl over a few seconds of his cameo.
But at least he knew that he wouldn't be hostile.
He stared at the email again. He gave a short response, closed the tab, then leaned back in his chair, eyes tracing the ceiling.
Another obligation. Another performance.
Idol interviewing him? What even is that? He dreaded to think what sort of clownery his company's going to subject him to until they've milked every last bit of his fame.
And yet, somewhere beneath the fatigue, a flicker of curiosity settled in his chest. The smallest pull at the prospect of meeting someone from a different industry who also knew what it meant to be watched, to be scrutinised at every turn, carrying the weight of millions, and still have to smile for the camera.
“FAKER! FAKER! FAKER!”
Felix’s deep voice boomed through the dorm, rattling the living room walls as he jumped in place, clutching his phone like it might fly away. His grin was so wide it almost hurt.
Han immediately pointed at him, mouth full of chips. “Look at this guy. He's finally lost it.”
Seungmin leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes narrowing in mock judgment. “No, this is worse. He’s fangirling harder than STAYs. And that's saying something.”
Changbin emerged from the kitchen, holding a water bottle. “What's happening? Are you watching the clip again?”
“No, no—” Felix wheezed, trying to catch his breath between his own shouts. His accent got thicker as excitement tangled with his words. “I’m gonna meet him! MEET. HIM. An interview! I’m hosting it!”
The room fell silent for half a second, then — chaos.
Hyunjin clutched his chest, staggering backwards like he’d been stabbed. “So this is it. Our Felix's finally found true love.”
Lee Know scoffed. “Faker’s gonna be carrying him through the interview. I just know it.”
Seungmin didn’t miss a beat. “Make sure you don’t int in front of him.”
“Oi!” Felix exclaimed, face turning bright red as the laughter doubled around him.
I.N peeked out of his room and joined in on the commotion. “You're actually meeting Faker?”
“Yes! FAKER!” Felix repeated the name like a gospel.
Bang Chan finally poked his head out of the studio, eyebrows furrowed. “What’s happening out here? Why are you screaming Faker’s name again?”
Felix rushed over, practically shoving the phone in his face. “Hyung, look! It’s real. They asked me. I get to interview him!”
Bang Chan blinked at the email, then at Felix, who was practically vibrating out of his skin. Slowly, his mouth curved into a knowing grin. “Ayy…man's finally meeting his hero, huh?” He ruffled Felix’s hair, ignoring the squawk of protest. “Don’t pass out on him, yeah? Cameras will be rolling.”
That only made the others cackle louder. Hyunjin doubled over, clapping like he was at an awards show. Han collapsed onto the couch cushions, tears in his eyes.
“Aww the star-crossed lovers are finally meeting!” Changbin cackled.
“Imagine him getting double booked on the same day.” Lee Know added.
Han shoved another chip in his mouth. “Don’t cause a scandal.”
Felix groaned, but he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. He didn’t care if they teased him forever. Because this time, it was really happening. He wasn’t just excited. It was the kind of joy that made his chest feel too small to hold it all in.
The studio lights were softer than the stages Faker had grown used to, but they still pressed against his skin in that familiar way. Cold, relentless, always reminding him to keep his focus.
Across from him, Felix was all brightness. As if sunshine and rainbows bent to his aura. Like a golden retriever, Faker thought to himself.
His smile came easy, his voice dipping low and then lilting high with excitement as he introduced the segment. His fingers were literally shaking when they greeted him. He couldn't match that energy even if he tried. But he didn't need to.
Some of the other Stray Kids members hovered just out of frame. Not all of them. They offered polite bows and cheerful greetings. Their presence brought liveliness to it all. They were equally excited to meet him, but none of them held a candle to the man in front of him.
Felix was starstruck the whole time. Faker watched the way his hands gripped the cue cards just a little too tightly, how his laugh came half a beat too quick. Whenever their eyes met, Felix seemed to catch himself, blinking as if to confirm he wasn’t dreaming.
Faker returned each smile, each greeting, with the same calm politeness he always did. Reserved, and professional. He didn’t give the cameras much more than they needed. That was who he was, and he’d long since made peace with it.
The interview itself blurred past. Questions about gaming discipline, thoughts about past matches, about shared experiences under pressure, about the crossover between music and esports.
Faker answered only when he needed to, each word calculated, and Felix listened with an intensity that seemed almost unprofessional, nodding so eagerly it bordered on childlike.
And yet… Faker couldn’t quite decide.
Was Felix’s excitement real? Or was it just another mask? The kind performers wore under the lights, to fit into a certain curated persona? That unrelenting smile, those wide eyes. Were they genuine, or was this just Felix doing his job, performing joy for the cameras?
He couldn’t tell.
But whatever it was, Felix was at least pleasant. Warm in a way Faker hadn’t realised he’d been missing until now.
When the cameras finally cut, applause filled the space, light and polite. Faker offered the idol a nod of thanks. Felix bowed low in return, his grin still bright, as if the end of the shoot hadn’t dimmed it one bit.
And Faker, tired as he was, felt the faintest curl of something unfamiliar at the edge of his chest.
He found his eyes drifting to the freckles hidden underneath Felix's makeup. They were subtle, but still noticeable. They'd probably smoothen it out in post production. Just like everything else. Curated to the most minute detail until everything was polished to a perfect edit.
Before he could slip away to his car, he could already hear Felix’s footsteps barrelling toward him.
“Hyung!”
The call stopped Faker mid-step. He turned, finding Felix jogging toward him, a little breathless, cheeks flushed. The others didn't follow. It was only him.
Faker raised his brows slightly, silent but waiting.
Felix held out a marker with both hands, almost sheepishly, and tugged at the hem of his white t-shirt. “Can you… uh… sign this for me?” His voice dipped low, shy but hopeful.
For a moment, Faker simply blinked at him. An idol, whose face alone could sell out stadiums, asking him, for an autograph. On his shirt, no less. The corner of his mouth twitched.
He took the pen without a word, crouched slightly, and signed across the fabric in a practiced ease that came from years of fan meets and more absurd requests. At least it's not a camera lens. His name sprawled neatly, bold against the cotton.
Felix glanced down, his grin widening until it looked like sunlight itself. “I’m never washing this shirt. Ever.”
That almost pulled a chuckle out of Faker. He shook his head faintly, handing back the pen. “That’s unhygienic.”
Felix chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, but then hesitated. His gaze darted back up, more serious now. “Hyung… are you busy after this?”
Faker tilted his head.
“I know a place,” Felix continued quickly, words tumbling in his accent. “It’s quiet. No cameras, no people. Just…us. If you’d want to hang out. Just for a bit.”
There was no pressure in his voice, no scripted politeness. His voice carried a sincerity of someone who’d dreamed of this moment for too long.
Faker could have declined. Should have, maybe. He was tired. He had scrims tomorrow. This was already more social interaction than he usually tolerated.
And yet, when he looked at Felix, bright-eyed, t-shirt scrawled with his name, waiting with that same nervous energy from before, but the refusal never came.
Instead, Faker gave a single nod. “Alright.”
Felix’s whole face lit up, brighter than the studio lights had ever been.
Faker’s hands rested steady on the wheel. Outside, the late afternoon sun spilled across the hood of his car, glinting off the sleek curves of the dashboard.
Felix let out a soft whistle as he settled into the passenger seat, eyes roving over the polished interior. “Hyung… this is insane. I mean, I don't even hear the engine,” he trailed off, shaking his head with a laugh, voice dipping into that deeper tone. “This is next level.”
Faker glanced sideways, the corners of his mouth threatening to lift. It amused him more than he expected. The way Felix could be dressed head to toe in branded goods, and still look genuinely awestruck by his car.
Traffic rolled slow, sunlight filtering in through the windows. And it was only then, with Felix angled toward the glass, that Faker noticed more. The freckles scattered across pale skin, peeking past makeup that had faded under the heat. They softened him, made him look less like the polished idol on camera, and more… real.
Even the deep eyebags that matched what he used to have, revealed itself under the sun.
Felix wasn’t talking much. Just small exclamations here and there, quiet hums at the view outside, like everything was worth noticing. His presence was warm, radiant even in stillness. Like sunlight poured into human form. Like a sunflower, Faker thought absently.
Felix could barely keep his leg from bouncing under the table. He’d spent the entire car ride trying to burn off the restless energy. Breathing slow, gripping his knees, forcing himself not to squeak whenever Faker’s car glided past traffic like something out of a dream.
Now, sitting across from him in the quietest corner of a hidden café, the excitement still thrummed hot in his chest, too big for his body to contain. He kept reminding himself not to lean in too much, not to overstep, not to be annoying. But it was Faker. Faker! Sitting right there! All calm and cool as a cucumber.
When the waiter came, Felix blurted out the first thing that caught his eye. A pastel-colored concoction with whipped cream, fruits, and a straw shaped like a heart. Something that looked more like it belonged in the hands of a ten-year-old than a grown man in designer clothes.
Faker’s eyes flicked down to the glass when it arrived. “That’s…what you ordered?” His voice was flat, almost deadpan. “I thought you'd have ordered coffee or something.”
Felix coughed into his fist, cheeks warming. “I, uh—I don’t drink coffee.” He fiddled with the straw, the little heart bobbing in the cream. “I actually tried it once ‘cause I saw this one video that said it makes you live longer. Thought I should try it, you know? But I couldn’t stand the taste. I ended up dumping so much sugar and syrup into it that it… kinda defeated the whole point.”
Faker let out a short breath as he lifted his own drink. “You really did that because of a video?”
Felix ducked his head, smiling sheepishly. “Yeah. Pretty much.”
But then he noticed what Faker was drinking. Simple, straightforward, but unmistakably sweet boba milk tea. Felix blinked at it, then at him.
“You can’t judge me, hyung,” Felix said, his grin breaking through, freckles crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “You ordered boba.”
For the first time that day, Felix swore he saw something shift in Faker’s expression. A spark in his eyes, a quirk at the corner of his lips.
Felix swirled the straw in his drink, watching the cream dissolve into pale pink swirls. The sugar was enough to make his teeth ache, but the sweetness grounded him, something familiar when his chest still felt too tight with excitement.
He leaned back a little, letting the heart-shaped straw bob lazily. “You know, hyung…earlier this year, I got into a car crash.”
Faker’s gaze lifted from his boba, quiet but attentive.
“I had to take a break for a while,” Felix continued, voice softer. “Couldn’t dance, couldn’t really move the way I needed to. It was… scary, having everything stop like that. Watching the others go on without me.” He shrugged, like he was trying to make light of it. “First real hiatus I ever had to take.”
For a long moment, only the hum of the café filled the silence. Then Faker set his drink down, thumb tracing the condensation on the cup.
“I had one too,” he said simply, pushing his glasses to the bridge of his nose. “Carpal tunnel. But I couldn't afford to stop for too long.”
Felix blinked, surprised. It was different, but for some reason, it made him feel closer.
“Wow…” he murmured, and then, after a beat, he chuckled. “Well I’ve always been accident-prone. I even broke my arm once in taekwondo.”
Faker’s brows lifted.
Felix demonstrated with his good arm, making a crooked motion, elbow bent the wrong way. “It literally went like this.”
Faker’s composure cracked. His eyes widened, and then almost abruptly, he laughed. Just a small one, short and startled, but real.
Felix froze, then grinned so wide his freckles scrunched up again. He wanted to bottle that sound, play it on loop forever.
“The fans often told me to sit properly during streams.” Faker added unprompted. “Always saying how much a spine surgery would cost when they send the donations.”
That pulled a laugh out of Felix. “I would've told you the same.”
They settled into a comfortable silence.
Felix tilted his head, resting his chin in his palm as he watched Faker sip his boba.
The thought popped into his head before he could stop it, and for once he decided not to bite it back.
“Hyung,” he said carefully, trying not to sound too desperate. “Could you…do it? Just once?”
Faker blinked at him. “Do what?”
Felix raised a finger, pressing it lightly against his own lips in demonstration. “Your move. The finger.”
For a second, Faker just stared at him. Then, almost imperceptibly, he let out a quiet sigh. But he lifted his hand all the same, placing his index finger against his lips with practiced ease. His eyes glinted in seriousness.
Felix’s heart nearly flew out of his chest. He had to squeeze his knees together under the table just to stop them from bouncing. His smile strained at the corners, threatening to spill over into a laugh or a squeal. Hold it together, Felix.
Before he could combust, Faker tilted his head slightly. “Then what about yours?”
Felix blinked. “Mine?”
“Your signature.” His tone was flat, but his eyes held a glint of curiosity.
Felix cleared his throat, lowering his voice to that impossibly deep register. He leaned in a little, eyes wide in seriousness.
“...Is this a bug?”
Faker froze. His lips twitched, and then, to Felix’s utter delight, he actually laughed again. A short burst, almost like it slipped past his guard.
Felix’s grin stretched so wide it almost hurt. “You liked that one?” His cheery voice came back.
Faker shook his head faintly, still amused. “It’s good.”
That felt like winning some secret level Felix hadn’t even known existed.
They let the moment linger, the tension softened by humor.
They chatted more. Exchanging stories about their teammates, about Tekken of all things, and about many other mundane things that happened off the camera.
Before they realised it, it was already dark out.
Felix stared at the payment bill like it was a farewell letter and almost wept. They had to end the night. Because the next day, they'd have to go back to their respective lives. Uninvolved with each other. Two worlds that shouldn't have met.
Felix casted his gaze down, he wasn't bitter about it. Not really. He was happy that at least he had gotten to meet his idol. Sat down with him, and talked like normal people. To see him as a person behind the screen.
Just before they parted ways, Felix scrawled his personal number in the back of his photocard and handed it to Faker. He didn't expect anything, but if he were ever to reach out, that'd be another dream come true.
Faker accepted it, and put it in his pocket, nodding at him politely. Felix bowed back lower, and thanked him for his time, and the interview, and everything else.
As his car drove off, Felix stood at the curbside, watching it turn the corner and disappeared. His heart beat gently against his ribs. An unfamiliar ache settled in his heart. One that he didn't know would grow with each passing day afterwards.