Felix Centric One Shots

For Eternity (Minlix) 🔞

The night was thick with the scent of rain, though none had fallen yet. Minho's breath came ragged as he staggered through the alley, one arm clutched to his side where the silver blade had torn through him. He could feel his body trying to heal, but the wound was deep, and the hunters had been ruthless.

The warehouse loomed ahead, its rusted door slightly ajar. He had no choice.

With the last of his strength, he pushed inside and collapsed against the cold concrete floor. The scent of dust, oil, and something else—something warm—filled his senses.

A voice cut through the haze. "Whoa, hey—are you okay?"

Minho's eyes snapped open. A boy stood a few feet away, wide-eyed and cautious, his blond hair catching in the dim light from a broken window. His clothes were worn, his shoes scuffed, and yet his scent—earthy and rich with life—made Minho's fangs ache.

The boy took a hesitant step forward. "You're... bleeding."

Minho tried to move, to push himself up, but the pain lanced through him. He groaned, slumping back.

The boy crouched beside him. "Hey, hey, don't pass out on me. You need help." He reached toward Minho's wound before pulling back, as if second-guessing himself. "Uh... hospitals aren't really my thing, but I can—" His voice trailed off as he finally noticed the sharp glint of Minho's fangs.

His breath hitched. "Oh."

Minho's lips curled into a weak smirk. "Now you run."

The boy didn't move. His gaze flickered between Minho's fangs and the blood seeping from his side. Then, to Minho's shock, he rolled up his sleeve and held out his wrist.

"What are you doing?" Minho rasped.

"You need blood, right?" The boy's voice was steady, but his pulse betrayed his nerves. "I don't know if this is a terrible idea, but... you're hurt."

Minho stared at him. "You don't even know me."

The boy gave a small, almost sheepish grin. "You don't seem like the kind of guy who'd kill me after I saved you. And if you do, well... guess I misread the situation."

Minho let out a weak chuckle despite himself. His body screamed for blood, but his mind hesitated. Taking from an unwilling human was one thing. But this—this was being offered freely.

Before he could argue further, the boy took a sharp breath and dragged a jagged edge of metal across his wrist. Blood welled instantly, the scent overwhelming.

"Here," the boy said, pressing it toward Minho. "Drink."

Minho's control shattered. He grasped the boy's wrist, his lips pressing to the wound as warm, rich blood flooded his system. Strength returned in waves, the pain dulling, his vision sharpening.

The boy swayed, his breath hitching. Minho pulled back immediately, eyes dark with restraint. "Enough," he murmured.

The boy barely heard him before his eyes rolled back, his body going slack. Minho caught him before he hit the floor, frowning as he studied the now-pale face.

"You reckless little idiot," he muttered.

With a sigh, he hoisted the boy into his arms. He couldn't just leave him here.

As Minho stepped into the night, the boy's soft, steady heartbeat thrummed against him, stirring something unfamiliar in his ancient chest.

This human... He was different.

And Minho wasn't ready to let him go.

Minho moved swiftly through the night, Felix's limp form cradled in his arms. The boy's heartbeat was steady but weak—he had given too much. Stupid, reckless human. Minho exhaled sharply, his chest tightening with something he didn't quite understand.