Between two worlds | Chanlix

Witty

Chan sprinted toward the bus stop, narrowly catching the bus just as the doors began to close. He was late—again. His heart pounded, a mix of exertion and anxiety as the bus rattled its way through the crowded streets of Seoul. He glanced at his watch, silently urging the driver to move faster, even though it wouldn't change the time.

By the time the bus finally reached his stop, Chan was out the door before it had fully opened, racing across the pavement to the building. He darted through the entrance and straight into the elevator, gasping for breath as the doors started to close. Just as he thought he'd made it with no complications, a hand shot out and the doors slid open once more. Felix stepped inside.

Chan's pulse quickened for an entirely different reason as Felix walked in, his expression as calm and detached as always. He exuded an air of effortless composure, dressed impeccably in a charcoal suit, with that unmistakable hard vanilla scent trailing behind him. Felix scanned Chan with a sideways glance, a flicker of something—annoyance? amusement?—in his dark eyes.

"You're late," Felix remarked, pressing the button for the floor without so much as a glance at Chan.

"I know," Chan muttered, keeping his gaze down as he tried to catch his breath. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, goosebumps prickling his skin. The elevator was too quiet, too confined. The vanilla scent seemed to grow stronger, enveloping him as if it were seeping into his very being.

Chan stared at the numbers above the door, watching them tick upward. Just when he thought he'd escape this awkward silence, the elevator came to a stop. As Chan stepped forward to leave, Felix's voice cut through the air, sharp and direct.

"Wait."

Chan halted, his hand hovering over the door frame. He turned back to find Felix staring at him, his expression still as impassive as stone. Felix took a step closer, his gaze narrowing slightly.

"Change your perfume," Felix said, the words delivered as an order rather than a suggestion. "Or better yet, don't wear one at all. That scent doesn't suit you."

A pang of embarrassment shot through Chan, followed quickly by a flicker of defiance. He squared his shoulders and met Felix's gaze with a stubborn glint in his eye. "I won't change it," he replied quietly but firmly, and without another word, he turned on his heel and strode out of the elevator, leaving Felix standing there.

Felix's mask of indifference cracked ever so slightly, his eyes widening in surprise. No one ever talked back to him, especially not someone like Chan—just a struggling new recruit. Before Felix could respond, the elevator doors closed, sealing him in.

Chan stormed down the hall, his frustration bubbling over as he reached the studio. Han was waiting by the door, his brow furrowed with concern. He grabbed Chan by the arm, pulling him inside.

"Are you out of your mind?" Han hissed, looking around to make sure no one else was listening. "You don't talk to Felix like that. You need to control that mouth of yours, or you're going to find yourself out on the street."

Chan sighed, shaking his head. "He didn't have to say it like that. It's just perfume."

Han smirked, stepping closer and giving an exaggerated sniff. "Ugh, I can't blame him. I hate perfume too." He laughed, a teasing glint in his eye. "I don't know how Felix survived the entire ride with you in that small space."

Chan couldn't help but chuckle, the tension from the elevator encounter starting to ease. "Well, apparently he didn't, because he sure let me know about it."

They spent the rest of the day in the studio, burying themselves in the work. It was a long session— hours of tweaking melodies, adjusting levels, and discussing the direction for the film's soundtrack. Despite the hectic pace, Chan felt a sense of accomplishment growing within him. Each hour spent honing the music was another step closer to proving himself, not just to Felix, but to everyone who had ever doubted him.

As evening fell, Chan stepped out to grab some coffee for the team. He carefully balanced the tray of steaming cups as he made his way down the hallway, just in time to see Felix approaching from the opposite direction. Their eyes met briefly, and Chan's heart jumped when Felix's gaze lingered on him.

Felix slowed his pace, his expression as cold as ever. "The aftertaste of that perfume is even more disgusting," he muttered as he passed Chan, his tone laced with disdain.

Chan's lips twitched into a small, defiant smile. "I'll keep that in mind," he said lightly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as he continued on his way.

He reached the studio, handing out the coffees as Han sidled up to him, snatching a cup from the tray. "You know, you're just making it harder for yourself," Han whispered, his voice laced with amusement. "It's like you're asking for trouble."

"Maybe I am," Chan replied, taking a sip of his own coffee. He cast a glance back down the hall, where Felix was now talking on the phone. Chan froze as he caught sight of something he hadn't seen before —a smile. Felix's expression had completely transformed, his eyes softening, his lips curving into a warm, genuine smile. He looked like an entirely different person, as if a bright light had broken through the ice.

"Who's he talking to?" Chan asked quietly, his curiosity piqued.

Han followed his gaze, and then snickered. "That's probably his sister, Rachel. She's the only one who can get that kind of smile out of him." He shook his head, a faint smirk curling his lips. "It's almost like seeing a unicorn."

Chan's eyes remained fixed on Felix as he finished his call, the smile fading and his usual cold demeanor sliding back into place. He was a man of contrasts, as if he were constantly flipping a switch between two versions of himself—one public, the other private.

"Why do you think he's so different with her?" Chan asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Han shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. "Everyone's got someone who brings out the best in them, I guess. Even Felix." He shot Chan a knowing look. "But if you're wondering if that warmth extends to anyone else around here... don't get your hopes up."

Chan nodded, but the question continued to linger in his mind. Who was the real Felix? Was he the aloof, demanding producer everyone feared, or the person who could smile so brightly, as if the world itself had suddenly become a better place?

For now, Chan had no answers. But he had a feeling that unraveling the mystery of Felix would be just as challenging—and perhaps just as rewarding—as his music career. The more time he spent around Felix, the more he felt an undeniable pull, as if he were being drawn into an uncharted rhythm, one that he couldn't quite place but desperately wanted to understand.