Between two worlds | Chanlix

Sorrow

The crowd erupted as Chan took to the stage. The spotlight blazed down on him, illuminating the sweat on his brow and the glitter in his eyes. The audience's cheers filled the air, and the energy pulsed like a living thing, making his heart beat faster. He was becoming a regular name in the industry, and the attention was growing. Tonight, people called out for him to sing his own song—the song, the one that had started to draw whispers of his talent. Chan's smile widened as he nodded in agreement, strumming his guitar to life.

The first notes rang out, a mournful and haunting tune that swept across the venue, silencing the crowd. His voice was deep and aching, filled with longing as he sang about the "lost prince," a figure wrapped in loneliness and trapped by the weight of a crown. The song was raw, a mix of hope and. sorrow, and with each verse, he seemed to give away a piece of himself. The audience swayed to the melody, and some even sang along, though they did not know the depths of what the lyrics meant.

Elsewhere, Felix sat at his desk, eyes drifting from the paperwork scattered in front of him. A notification pinged on his computer—a livestream of Chan's concert was trending. On impulse, he clicked on it, the screen filling with Chan's face. His voice came through the speakers, low and resonant, wrapping around the room like a spell. The lyrics seeped into Felix's skin, clawing at something buried deep inside him. As Chan sang about the prince who had everything but was truly free of nothing, Felix's fingers tightened around the edge of the desk.

The song was too close, too familiar. It wasn't hard to piece together who the "lost prince" was supposed to be.

Felix slammed the laptop shut, the music cutting off abruptly. The silence that followed was suffocating, pushing him to leave the office without a second thought. He didn't bother notifying his staff, merely brushing past them with a curt nod. His father's guard, the ever-watchful shadow, trailed him as he went, but Felix didn't plan on letting him follow for long.

He slipped into a bar, the dim lighting and haze of smoke providing some anonymity. The guard settled in a corner, keeping a close eye as Felix ordered a stiff drink. He didn't want to be here, in this sterile world where people came to drink away problems he could only dream of having. When his phone vibrated with a call from a familiar number, he let it ring unanswered. Text messages followed, each more insistent than the last: We need to talk. Your father will find out. Felix's jaw tightened as he shoved the phone into his pocket and downed his drink in one bitter gulp. He glanced toward the guard, who was speaking quietly into his own phone.

Taking the chance, Felix ducked into the bathroom. He glanced around, then spotted a window, small but just large enough for him to climb through. Without hesitation, he escaped into the night, the rush of cool air hitting him as he landed on the pavement outside. He walked with no destination, letting the streets of Seoul carry him somewhere, anywhere that wasn't a cage built by his father's money and influence.

Eventually, he found himself outside a familiar, tiny bar—the same one Chan had brought him to. It was a quiet place tucked away in a narrow alley, the kind of spot where people came to drown their sorrows or share them. Felix entered, the scent of aged wood and alcohol instantly grounding him. He took a seat at the bar and ordered a drink, his mind drifting back to that night. It was the first time in years he had felt anything remotely close to freedom, even if it was brief.

He was halfway through his drink when a familiar figure caught his eye. For a moment, he thought his memory was playing tricks on him. But then, the figure moved closer, and the outline sharpened into the unmistakable silhouette of Chan.

Felix's breath hitched as he stared at him, unsure if this was coincidence or fate's twisted sense of humor. Chan's eyes widened when he recognized Felix, then a slow smile curved his lips. He took a step closer, his gaze flickering with surprise and something else—concern, maybe, or understanding.

"Felix," Chan said, his voice almost lost in the murmur of the bar. "What are you doing here?"

Felix glanced at his drink, then back at Chan. "Same as you, I suppose," he replied, his voice detached but edged with an unfamiliar softness. "Escaping."

Chan took the seat next to him without asking for permission, his presence as warm and comforting as Felix remembered. "You seemed like the kind of guy who never needed to escape," he said, his tone light but probing.

Felix scoffed, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "Looks can be deceiving," he murmured, his fingers tapping the side of his glass. "Just because someone wears a suit doesn't mean they don't feel suffocated by it."

The words hung in the air between them, and Chan leaned forward, his elbows resting on the bar. "You seemed different up on that stage tonight," Felix said quietly, his gaze meeting Chan's. "The song... it was about someone real, wasn't it?"

Chan didn't answer immediately, his eyes steady on Felix's. "It's just a song," he said after a beat, though the glint in his eye suggested more. "But if it struck a chord, maybe you know why."

There was a silence that stretched between them, thick with unspoken truths. Felix reached for his drink again but then stopped, setting the glass down with a quiet thud. "Come on," he said abruptly, standing up from the barstool. "I'm tired of drinking."

Chan blinked in surprise but quickly followed, curiosity and something deeper pulling him along.

"Where are we going?" he asked as they stepped out into the cool night air.

Felix glanced back, his lips curling into a rare, genuine smile. "Let's find out."