Felix Centric One Shots

Found (OT8)

"He thought he'd been forgotten. They never stopped remembering."

The great hall was quiet, too quiet. The weight of their parents' deaths still lingered like smoke from a long-extinguished fire. Chan stood at the front, golden crown newly placed upon his head, shoulders heavy with responsibility. The firelight flickered across his face, but his eyes were elsewhere—lost.

"We shouldn't be doing this without them," Minho said, voice low as he paced. "Without him."

"I know," Chan murmured. "But the crown doesn't wait. The kingdom needs its king."

"What about what we need?" Jisung snapped suddenly. "He's still out there. Ten years, hyung. Ten years and nothing."

Hyunjin sat on the stairs, elbows on his knees, eyes distant. "He'd be twenty now. What if he's not even—"

"Don't," Seungmin cut in, sharp. "He's alive. I know he is."

Jeongin had been silent the whole time, sitting at the far end of the room, head bowed. Then, he looked up slowly. "I saw him."

Six pairs of eyes turned to him.

"In my dream," Jeongin said, standing up. "It wasn't just a dream. It was like... I could feel him. I could smell the ash in the wind, the field, the trees—he was there."

"Where?" Chan demanded, suddenly alive with urgency.

"A village near the eastern ridge," Jeongin said. "Just beyond the river. I need to go. I have to check."

"I'm going with you," Changbin said immediately.

"No," Jeongin shook his head. "If I go alone, it'll feel like the dream. I think that's how it works. It has to be just me."

Chan opened his mouth to protest but stopped himself. He studied Jeongin, the youngest of them without Felix. "Alright," he said quietly. "Go."

The village was still under moonlight when Jeongin arrived. It looked just like his dream—dusty cobblestone streets, a lone bakery, a crooked windmill. His heart pounded in his ears. He didn't know what he was looking for exactly until he saw him.

A boy—no, a young man—with golden hair and a basket in hand, barefoot, walking through the empty road as if he belonged to the wind.

"Felix..." Jeongin whispered.

The boy paused as if he heard his name. He turned slowly. "Did you say something?"

Jeongin's breath caught. The freckles. The eyes. The shape of his face.

"No," Jeongin said quickly. "Sorry. I thought you were someone else."

The boy gave a soft smile. "Happens a lot. I don't really know who I am anyway."

"What's your name?"

"Lix," he said simply. "Just Lix."

That was all Jeongin needed. He waited until the boy turned, then stepped behind him and whispered, "I'm sorry," before pressing a small charm against the back of his neck. Felix's body went limp in his arms.

By the time the sun rose, Jeongin was back at the castle. He laid Felix on a bed of silk and lace, in the room that used to be his. The others stood frozen in the doorway, unable to breathe.

Chan stepped forward first. "Is it really him?"

"He doesn't remember," Jeongin said. "He doesn't know us. He called himself Lix."

"Lix," Hyunjin repeated under his breath. "That's what we used to call him. When he was little."

"I thought he'd be different," Seungmin murmured. "He looks the same."