Between two worlds | Chanlix

Part 2 My life

P.S. i think it's time to return back!

A whole year had passed.

Chan sometimes thought it was strange how life could change so much, how distance could turn people into strangers without a single word exchanged.

Since that night—the night he had left Felix standing in the cold air outside the grand venue—Chan's life had taken off like a bullet. His focus had sharpened, his hunger for success burning brighter than ever. Music became everything.

He had become not only a singer but a respected producer. His songs were everywhere, breaking records, breaking hearts. His name was on the lips of the industry, whispered in admiration and envy.

He formed a small team, **3RACHA** — himself, Han, and Changbin — a unit bound together by music and dreams. Long nights turned into longer mornings spent in cluttered studios, unfinished meals left on coffee tables, lyrics scribbled in notebooks tossed across couches.

They worked like their lives depended on it — because in a way, they did.

They were a family, born not of blood but of shared hunger and sleepless nights.

Chan barely noticed the passing of time, the growing number of zeros in his bank account, or the way people treated him differently now. He didn't care for luxury. He was chasing something else — something only music could touch.

**And Felix?**

Felix had disappeared from his world like a ghost. The only glimpse Chan got of him were the wedding pictures that had been plastered all over the office building for a while — a celebration he hadn't been invited to, nor would he have gone even if he had been.

It had been a royal event, the kind where old money and power smiled in carefully posed photographs, the kind of life Chan could never touch.

A *pretty wife, a pretty husband* — all polished perfection, shimmering under the eyes of the world.

Rumor had it that after the wedding, Felix had flown to Los Angeles to work on expanding the company's reach overseas. No one really knew for sure. No one dared to ask.

Chan sometimes caught his mind wandering — wondering where Felix was, what he was doing, if he was happy. But he always pushed those thoughts away like a bad dream.

He had gone on a few dates himself, but none of them lasted. They never even stood a chance.

Maybe it was him. Maybe it was the way his heart wasn't whole anymore, how no matter how many smiles he gave or received, there was always a piece missing inside.

People loved the image of him, the star, the talent, the producer who could spin pain into gold.

But Chan didn't want fans.

He didn't want admirers.

He had always wanted just *one person* who would see him—not the shining lights around him—but him, and love him anyway.

And if that wasn't meant to be, then Chan had accepted it.

He would fill the empty spaces with music instead.

At least music never lied.

At least music never left.

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