Between two worlds | Chanlix

The new light

The Tokyo dome was packed.

Neon lights danced along the walls as the energy of thousands trembled in the air. Chan stood just behind the curtains, listening to the crowd chant his name in waves. His hands were calm—deceptively calm—but inside, his nerves tightened like guitar strings being pulled too hard. This tour was everything he had worked for. Everything. A rebirth from the ashes of his heartbreak, the cracks, the pain.

Beside him, Han grinned as always, bouncing with boyish excitement. Changbin threw a towel over his shoulders and shouted something encouraging—but the sound was distant, muffled behind the storm inside Chan's chest.

The lights dimmed. The intro began. The stage opened its arms to him.

And he walked into the light.

The moment his voice rang out, a hush fell. Like the world paused to hear the sound of his heart.

"I walked away but left the pieces
The light was off, but I still see this..."

And then—there he was.

In the third row, slightly to the right.

Felix.

Not a memory. Not a ghost.

Real.

Hair slightly longer than before, face pale under the lights, dressed in all black like the shadow of something once golden.

Chan almost missed the line—but his voice carried, trained like muscle memory.

Their eyes locked, and the music shifted.

Time slowed, seconds bending around them. The crowd disappeared. There were only two people in the entire dome now—two people who knew exactly what every word meant. The distance between the stage and the seat felt both vast and invisible.

"I said goodbye with a smile
But I died with a breath
You were my beginning
And now you're my death..."

His voice cracked—just once—but it was hidden by the backing instrumentals. Nobody noticed. Except Felix.

He was still staring. Expression unreadable. But the tension between them was magnetic, searing. A pull from the center of the earth. A scream beneath the silence.

The final note echoed and dissolved into the dark.

Applause burst, deafening and bright—but Chan didn't feel it. He bowed. Professional. Cold. He didn't look back at the crowd. Didn't look at Felix again.

Backstage was chaos—clapping, cheers, water bottles, cameras flashing. He was pulled into hugs, into congratulations, as makeup artists swarmed to fix the sweat on his brow.

Then the television turned on.

The staff quieted as a breaking news banner slid across the screen. The anchor, polished and bright, delivered the words that felt like nails down Chan's spine.

"BREAKING NEWS: Heiress Yujin Seo, wife of JYP Entertainment executive director Lee Felix, has confirmed that she is three months pregnant. The couple, married last year in a high-profile wedding, are said to be 'thrilled' about the news."

Laughter in the background. Congratulations from the press. A soft picture of Yujin, glowing in designer silk, one hand placed delicately on her stomach.

Then the camera cut to Felix at a gala days ago, smiling, hand placed protectively around her back.

Chan didn't realize he had stopped breathing.

The room around him seemed to buzz and warp. People kept talking—but their voices were just noise. Like static underwater.

Han stepped closer, carefully. "Hyung...?"

Chan's eyes were locked on the screen. His lips slightly parted. But no words came out.

He turned.

Walked away without speaking.

The corridors were long and cold and far too silent. His footsteps echoed, sharp against the tile, but he didn't feel them. Didn't feel the door when he opened it to the Tokyo night. Didn't feel the wind hit his face like the slap of reality.

He stopped in the alley behind the venue, stars hidden behind the city lights, heart buried beneath layers of denial.

She was pregnant.

The boy who once sat on studio couches with Felix, sharing earbuds, laughing over bad lyrics, crying over dreams...

Was gone.

The man he saw in the audience tonight?
He didn't know who he was anymore.

Chan leaned against the wall, the concrete biting into his back.

He had just sung a song that told Felix everything he never dared to say.

And now?

Now the world was telling him it didn't matter. That Felix was a husband. A soon-to-be father. A man who had chosen his path.

Not him.

Tears didn't fall.

Not yet.

He just stood there in the dark, chest hollow, letting the silence settle like dust in a forgotten room.

And in his mind, Felix's eyes still looked at him.

Haunted.

And haunting.