Husbands (Hyunlix)

Season 2 (20)

The tension calmed, the boys begin discussing what happened at the graveyard. Minho leans against the wall, still restless.

He looked at Felix who was sitting right in front of him but a little far, playing with his gun, he grumbled. "I still don't get it. You had him right there, Felix. We could've ended him.'

Felix, inhales slowly, still spinning his gun on his finger, stayed calm and finally answered without looking up.

"I already did. He just doesn't know it yet." His voice, cold and certain.

The room falls quiet. The youngest's curiosity was on peak, he frowned, confused. Others stayed on there places still curious and trying to figure out in their minds. And Hyunjin, he looked at Felix finding him hot or professional, he doesn't know. But he couldn't stop drooling over his husband.

"What does that mean?" Jisung impatiently asked.

Felix exhales, his tone razor-sharp, steady.

"Killing a man is simple. Pull the trigger, wipe the blood, bury him. But destroying him?" he leans forward, eyes like steel, all their gazes over him as if listening to the boss when he is a brother to them.

"That's slower. Deeper. Every step he takes from now on, every deal he makes… I'll be there. Choking his empire piece by piece until he's nothing but dust. By the time he realizes, it'll be too late. He's already a dead man walking."

Minho smirked faintly, shaking his head.

"Always the patient one. Guess I prefer fireworks." His statement called Felix the patient one who loves to play long games with psychological destruction, when he himself love fireworks; immediate satisfaction of seeing the blood, direct action.

Hyunjin, watching Felix closely, voice low, with a mix of awe and concern, "Never knew you don't just kill your enemies... you haunt them."

Felix's eyes flicker to his husband, his tone softer but just as firm. "Because fear lasts longer than a bullet." And winked at Hyunjin who smirked.

Everyone cheered on his statement that was later interrupted by someone coming in. Ryujin along with the remaining team.

"It's done," she smirked. Felix raised his brow and before he could say something, Beomgyu spoke. "Papers" and handed the papers to Felix.

"Papers of?" Chan asked and Soobin answered, "David's history. Each and every single thing. Even the things he had kept as secrets."

Felix smirked and got up and said amusingly, "good job, work on it now, keep an eye on him always. Not even a single action should be out of our eyes." Beomgyu took the file back before going in and put it where it should be.

"How you did this?" Changbin asked flabbergasted at which Seungmin smirked and whispered, "we are trained."

"We do it my way, Hyung. Patient. Strategic." Felix spoke, took a pause and continued, "now, every step he takes, we'll be waiting. Every man he trusts, we'll turn. He'll feel his empire collapse before his pulse does."

Hyunjin, leans in, smirking darkly, voice low,
"And when he's crawling, broken and begging, I'll be the one to pull the trigger."

Felix smirked proudly and nodded. Minho grined, tapping the table. "Now that's the kind of fireworks I like."

••••••••••••••••

Weeks passed and Felix kept an eye on David's every single action. Every move. He acted weak but played wickedly.

Minho and Felix still tried to solve the mystery of Mr. Hwang's death but nothing gave their answers. Everything was clean or maybe someone made it look clean?

Until....

Hyunjin was out for a short walk in the early morning, that was rare or maybe not expected, but the morning seemed to be tense.

The city was still quiet, streets slicked from a light rain. Hyunjin walked alone, hands in his pockets, his breath visible in the cool air. He isn't armed — it was supposed to be a short walk to clear his head.

As he turned a corner near an old, half-abandoned block of shops, he stopped. A figure stood at the end of the street. Tall. Broad shoulders. Familiar. The air shifted in Hyunjin's lungs.

Hyunjin whispered under his breath, "No way."

The figure didn't move closer. Just stood there, like doing something, unknown of Hyunjin's presence. The light hits them wrong, the face shadowed, but something in the stance — the tilt of the head, the way the hands hang loose — twisted Hyunjin's stomach.

For a long moment, Hyunjin couldn't breathe. His feet felt nailed to the ground. Memories flood in, unbidden. His chest ached. He took one step forward — then the figure shifted, turning slightly away.

Hyunjin's voice, hoarse, almost a whisper, "wait..."

The figure started walking — slow, unhurried — deeper into the fog of the street. Hyunjin's pulse spiked. He broke into a few steps forward. The figure started moving like a shadow—fast, folding into alleys and under awnings.

Hyunjin breaks into a run. He cuts corners, boots slapping wet pavement, breath loud in his ears.

He shouting, half to himself, "Hey! Wait—!"

The city answered with only the drip of rain and the far cry of an early tram. The figure was quick, slipping through a narrow passage between a bakery and a shuttered hardware store. Hyunjin barreled into the passage and skids; the alley was a maze of fire escapes and overflowing bins.

He rounds a rusted dumpster and stops—empty, but when he turned the corner... nothing. Empty pavement. Silent air. No sign of the person. Nothing but the glint of a puddle and a paper cup spinning in a stray breeze. For a heartbeat Hyunjin stands, chest heaving, every sense straining to find movement.

Then he saw it... something small on the wet concrete, half-hidden beneath a leaf. He crouched, fingers numb, and picked it up — a single brass button, dull with age, the thread still clinging to its back. It's ordinary enough to be nothing, specific enough to nag at memory. He turned it over in his palm, it felt like a promise he can't place.

Hyunjin whispers to himself, voice raw, "Where did you get that..."

He checked the corners, the gutters, the stairways—no footprints lead away, no discarded cigarette pack, no hat blown into the trash. The alley gives up nothing else. Whoever it was has already dissolved into the city.

He slipped the button into his pocket, not because he was sure what it means, but because he couldn’t bring himself to leave it behind. It feels like a breadcrumb someone didn't mean to drop, or a dare.

He stood in the damp air, fists clenched, jaw tight. His chest heaves, and for a fleeting second, his vision blurs as if his body didn't know whether to collapse or chase more.

His heartbeat gradually slowing, the city waking around him. The rational part of his brain tells him grief is playing tricks — a familiar gait, a remembered posture — nothing more. Another part, colder and sharper, says this was no accident.

Hyunjin pulled his collar up against the chill and starts walking back the way he came. He didn't call Felix. He didn't tell Minho. For now he kept the button pressed against his palm, a private, troublesome secret.

But the familiar heaviness in his chest lingered. Like a ghost had brushed past him and left its shadow behind...

••••••••••

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