Framework | Stray Kids FF

Chapter Three

Felix was sitting on the couch between Woojin and Hyunjin, both trying to cheer the miserable boy up. The youngest hadn't talked since the day of the 'Save the Motherhen' Mission, which had multiple reasons. The first and most obvious reason would be that he blamed himself for the injuries of their teammates, and no one could talk him out of that. He was the one who acted without permission, setting off the firebomb without informing anyone. It was his fault that Seungmin and Changbin, as well as Minho, got hurt by the flames. It was his fault that all of the three were now lying on beds with injections in their arms, unconscious for the last three days. Woojin constantly assured him that they would be fine, that they were put in an artificial coma and that they would wake up soon. But Felix wouldn't listen. 

Woojin had an arm placed over Felix' shoulders and ran his other hand soothingly through the boy's blond hair. Felix had a rather intimidating aura, with dark eyes and his full lips naturally curved downwards. He certainly had a well-proportioned face, and together with his height and exceptionally deep voice it only added to his dark vibes. His personality was the exact opposite though. Felix was the mood maker of the group, he had always something funny to say, was always laughing, and let out the dumbest shit at the most random times, often making everyone around him either completely confused or immediately bursting out with loud laughter. Felix was never quiet, would never shut up and never sit still for more than five minutes. He liked to let himself go loose, acting like a little kid at times, running and goofing around. It could be very annoying, but he was loved nevertheless. He would always know what to say or do to cheer other's up, and he could be very sensitive to other's feelings. He cared a lot for everyone on their team and made sure that they got to know that on a daily basis.

But now, the otherwise so cheerful boy looked pale and sick, he had barely eaten or slept and not smiled even once the past days. He looked so incredibly sad and no matter what the others tried, they couldn't cheer him up. All they could do was being there for him, shower him with love and affection because they all felt that he really needed that, to know that they weren't mad, that they didn't think that it was his fault.

The heavy atmosphere in the room got interrupted when the door at the other end of the room was opened and someone walked in. The three boys all turned their head at the same time to see who had entered. And there, straight and with his arms wide opened to make his appearance as dramatic as he could, stood Minho in his full glory. He wore a dirty white shirt that was too big on him and a pair of grey sweatpants that belonged to Woojin, his black hair messy and greasy, his deep brown eyes sunken in but sparkling and shining, his body too slim and covered in bruises, but he was there. He was there and he stood upright like an angel who had just arrived from heaven, smiling widely at his friends, whose mouths had fallen open, eyes wide and Woojin even had a tear running down his cheek. 

«What's up, I'm alive,» he grinned, his voice raspy and hoarse, it was barely audible. He started walking towards the three boys on the couch, only for his legs to give in halfway. Before any of them could react Chan had already appeared behind Minho, catching him before he could fall on the floor. 

«Easy there, you've just woken up,» Chan laughed and hugged the smaller from behind, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. Everyone knew that Chan and Minho had something going on between them, but it was rare for them to show affection like that in front of others. It was obvious that Chan was more than just happy and relieved for Minho to be back. It had been such a long time.

The two sat down on the floor in front of the three, Chan pulling Minho on his lap, his arms securely put around his waist. His head with the curly black hair rested on Minho's shoulder, and Minho's own head was leaning on top of Chan's. It was written all over his face that he was still incredibly tired, exhausted from just that little walk from the other room to where he sat now. His chest heaved with every breath he took through his slightly parted lips, but he was still smiling at his friends.