stuck with a phobia ; lee felix

like a fever

☾✰

"Take those clothes off," Felix says as soon as we entered his house that I could mistake for being an actual palace.

I choke on the air and turn around quick, "Excuse me?"

"Do you want to stay wet?" he arches a brow, before climbing up the mountain of stairs and leading me towards his room. "You can borrow my clothes and stay for the night," and just as I begin to speak, he shuts me off, "—And you are banned from saying no, so don't even think about it."

I was so out of it, I didn't even bother to argue. It's not like I even wanted to go back home; just thinking about sleeping in that house made my guts twist.

I say nothing and just follow him quietly, but Felix himself was unusually quiet, with the exception of frequent sniffling. His house was empty like always, but I think I liked it this way. Just the two of us slotted in each other's company.

"Take these," Felix says softly while handing me a black hoodie and adidas sweatpants.
I stared at the clothes until I felt my lips curving up when I smelled that familiar heavenly scent of vanilla from them. It smelled like home.

But when Felix turned around to go change himself, I noticed how weak his footsteps were, how tired his voice was. Guilt pinned me in the throat as I thought of all the reasons Felix was so worn out. It's inevitable that he'd be tired, and it's all my fault.

I'm shutting out again when the boy I like has been right next to me all this time.

If I had the single opportunity to reach into my chest and pull the phobia that encloses around it, ripping away the thorns that prick at my veins, I would do it. I would so do it—but.

There's always a but. My mind is never cleared because it's a jungle of useless thoughts. I'm constantly overthinking, constantly hanging onto the possibilities that don't even make sense sometimes. It's so exhausting digging through my own head and wearing myself out. It's so loud in my mind, but when I'm with him, it's like everything goes quiet except for the hammering in my chest.

But I suck it up, like Felix says. And I believe him, and perhaps I could believe in him. In us.
In myself.

When the door closed, I tried on his clothes. It wasn't a surprise they'd be kind of oversized, but at least the hoodie wasn't a full on ball gown on me. It was the perfect kind of comfort—like Felix was all over me. Wearing his clothes felt like he'd never leave my side and I was just enveloped in his arms.

Then a certain picture on the mirror caught my eye. Walking towards it, I recognized the bittersweet night. It was the very first picture I had taken with Felix—on the night of the school festival when he took me on a boat ride. The night I nearly drowned.

But there it was, printed and bordered with gold glitter taped onto his mirror. Below it was another picture of me sleeping in what seemed like the school library. It was the same day where he had falsely accused me of snoring and recording me.

A weird sensation hit the bottom of my stomach, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to cry because of how wholesome this was or if I had let him confess his feelings back then, then maybe things would have been easier now.

It made me wonder if Felix looked at these pictures every morning and smiled to himself at the sight of us both. If he envisions a completed future with just the two of us.

I wanted his room to encompass more of me like mine had of him. My room was decorated with that stuffed doll I won at the school festival—to which I named bok ari given Felix's constant pleads, the trinket that played the melody of phobia, and those mittens I seek solace in.