Stray Kids | Sickfics

Afar | Felix

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ᯓ ✈︎

Moments I create, I can't share them with you,

Each fleeting second, a tempest in blue,

I capture the laughter, the joy, the despair,

But the echoes of silence remind me you're rare.

Felix's pov

The late-night sky was painted in deep hues of blue, the stars twinkling like distant memories I could barely grasp. I sat on the edge of my bed, the cold breeze wafting in from the partially opened window, bringing with it the earthiness of the outside world. I had always loved nights like this—when Seoul seemed to settle down, taking a collective breath after a long day. But tonight felt different; an uneasy heaviness wrapped around me tighter than the blanket that lay draped across my shoulders.

Scrolling through my phone, my heart sank lower with every passing second. A new message had popped up from my family back home—not just a message, but a series of photos that made my stomach twist. There they were, my parents and sisters, standing together at one of our favorite spots in Australia, a seaside area we used to visit every summer. The sunrays danced on their skin, their smiles radiant and carefree, and for a moment, I felt as though the distance between us had shrunk—until reality hit, pinching my heart like a cruel reminder of what I was missing.

I had left Australia full of hope, eager to chase my dreams. The excitement of it all had swept me up, the bright lights and loud cheers luring me in. I was so focused on proving myself that I hardly stopped to think about what I was leaving behind. I wanted to be a part of something big, to create something beautiful with my music and share it with the world. But now, standing on this precipice of success, I was also painfully aware of what I had sacrificed.

Watching my family embark on a trip to our cherished summertime escape felt like salt in an open wound. I had been in touch with them throughout their adventure, hearing about every sunrise they caught and every meal they savored together. They were creating memories without me, and a vicious part of my mind couldn't shake the feeling that they were living life just fine without my presence. They didn't need me there—after all, life went on, didn't it? I was still the little boy who dreamt big while walking on that same sandy beach where they were now making new memories. Yet here I was, feeling trapped, as if I were watching my family from behind a glass wall.

A soft knock on the door broke me out of my spiraling thoughts. "Felix?" came Chan's voice, filled with concern. "Are you okay?"

I quickly wiped away the unshed tears that had lingered on my lashes, clearing my throat as I turned towards him. "Yeah, just... busy," I replied, forcing a smile that I hoped didn't look too strained.

"Mind if I come in?" he asked and before waiting for my response, he gently opened the door and stepped into my room. His warm presence immediately enveloped the space, contrasting the cold air that clawed at my skin.

As Chan approached, I noticed the way his brow furrowed slightly, his eyes sharp and observant. He could sense that something wasn't quite right. "You don't look busy, mate," he said, crossing his arms and leaning against my desk. "What's going on?"

I took a deep breath, a lump forming in my throat. It was hard to articulate the swirling emotions within me—the sadness, the guilt, the aching loneliness that seemed to seep through my very bones. "I got a message from my family," I finally muttered. "They're at our old beach spot, the one we visited every summer."