I don't fucking know
Resonance and Reckless Abandon
The leather of the studio sofa was cool against Lily’s skin for only a fraction of a second before the heat of Felix’s body erased the sensation entirely. The air in the small recording booth felt like it had been sucked out, replaced by a thick, electric charge that made every nerve ending in her body scream for more.
Felix’s hands were no longer hesitant. They were the hands of a man who had spent years perfecting the precision of choreography, now applying that same focus to the curve of her waist and the line of her thigh. He shifted his weight, settling between her legs with a heavy, grounding presence that made Lily’s head spin.
"Felix, wait," she breathed, her voice a fragile mix of desperation and a laugh. "If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to forget how to speak Korean *and* English. I’ll just be making weird Aussie bird noises."
Felix chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest and directly into hers. The deep, rumbling tone was a physical caress. "Good thing I speak fluent bird, then. But honestly, Lily? You talk too much. *Mal-i neomu mana*."
He leaned down, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. "Maybe I should give you something else to do with that mouth."
Lily’s breath hitched. She reached up, her fingers sliding into the damp hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down until his face was buried in the crook of her shoulder. "You’re so full of it. The fans think you’re a literal angel, all sunshine and brownies. If they could see you now, *jinjja*, the internet would break."
"Let it break," Felix muttered against her skin, his teeth grazing the sensitive tendon of her neck. "I’m tired of being the sunshine, Lil. It’s exhausting. With you... I don't have to be the idol. I can just be the guy who’s been wanting to do this since the first time we shared a microphone."
He pulled back just enough to look her in the eye, his gaze dark and swirling with a hunger that made her stomach flip. His hand traveled upward, his thumb tracing the line of her bottom lip, pulling it down slightly.
"You’ve been driving me crazy for months," he admitted, his voice dropping an octave, becoming that tectonic rumble that always bypassed her brain and went straight to her core. "The way you laugh at my jokes when no one else does. The way you mix up your languages when you get excited. It’s... it’s too much."
Lily felt a surge of affection so sharp it almost hurt. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss that tasted of peppermint and pure, unadulterated longing. It wasn't the tentative exploration of a first time; it was the explosive release of two people who had been circling each other in the high-pressure cooker of the K-pop industry for far too long.
His hands found the hem of her hoodie again, and this time, there was no hesitation. He pulled the garment over her head in one fluid motion, tossing it onto the floor where it landed near a pile of discarded lyric sheets. Lily felt a brief flash of self-consciousness, the harsh studio lights overhead feeling a bit too revealing, but the way Felix looked at her—like she was the only thing in the world worth seeing—made the shame vanish instantly.
"You’re beautiful," he whispered, his Australian accent thick and honeyed. "Absolutely *yeppeo*."
"Shut up," she whispered back, though she was smiling. She reached for the buttons of his sleeveless shirt, her fingers trembling slightly. "My turn."
She worked the buttons open, her knuckles grazing the hard planes of his chest. When the fabric finally fell away, she let out a soft sigh, her palms flattening against his warm skin. He was all lean muscle and hidden strength, a dancer’s body honed by years of relentless practice.
Felix groaned as her hands wandered lower, his forehead dropping to rest against hers. "Lily... we really shouldn't. If the door opens..."
"The door is locked, Lix. I heard the click when you shut it," she teased, her eyes dancing with mischief despite the heat. "And besides, you’re the one who said the cameras are off. Are you getting cold feet? *Geob-i na?*"
Felix’s eyes darkened, a challenge sparking in the depths of his pupils. "Scared? Not a chance, mate."
He moved with a sudden, predatory grace, his hands pinning her wrists to the sofa cushions above her head. He leaned down, his lips trailing a path of fire from her jawline down to the swell of her breast. Lily let out a high, sharp sound—something between a gasp and a whimper—and arched her back, her body seeking more of him.
The friction of their skin, the scent of the studio’s ozone mixed with his cologne, the muffled sound of a bassline bleeding through the walls from a neighboring room—it all blurred into a hazy, sensory overload.
"Lix," she gasped, her fingers flexing against his grip. "Felix, please."
He released her wrists, his hands sliding down to cup her face, his thumbs wiping away the stray tears of heat that had gathered in the corners of her eyes. "I’ve got you. I’ve always got you."
As they moved together, the rhythm was instinctive, a choreography they hadn't needed to rehearse. It was messy and frantic, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between two souls who spent their lives being watched by millions but felt truly seen only by each other.
Lily’s world narrowed down to the feeling of Felix’s weight, the sound of his deep voice whispering sweet, nonsensical things in a mix of English and Korean, and the way his freckles seemed to glow in the dim light. She felt like she was flying and falling all at once, a sensation more exhilarating than any stage performance she had ever given.
When the peak finally hit, it was like a physical blow, leaving them both breathless and clinging to each other as the world slowly drifted back into focus.
For a long time, the only sound in the booth was the heavy, synchronized thud of their hearts and the distant hum of the air conditioning struggling to keep up. Felix didn't pull away; instead, he collapsed onto her, his head tucked into the crook of her neck, his breath hot against her skin.
"Oi," he murmured after a few minutes, his voice barely a thread.
"Yeah?" Lily replied, her hands lazily tracing patterns across the expanse of his back.
"We’re definitely going to be late for the dance practice."
Lily let out a wheezing laugh, the sound bubbling up from her chest. "Late? Felix, we’re practically dead. I don't think I can move my legs, let alone do the choreography for 'Dalla Dalla' or whatever we’re supposed to be doing."
Felix lifted his head, a lopsided, tired grin stretching across his face. He looked soft, his usual sharp edges rounded off by exhaustion and satisfaction. "I’ll just tell them you had an Australian emergency. A kangaroo broke into the studio or something."
"Yeah, a very specific kangaroo with blonde hair and a deep voice," Lily joked, reaching up to boop his nose.
He caught her hand, kissing her fingertips one by one. The playfulness was still there, but beneath it, there was a new, steady weight—a shared secret that felt like an anchor in the chaotic sea of their careers.
"In all seriousness," Felix said, his expression turning uncharacteristically grave. "Are you okay? *Gwaenchanha?*"
Lily looked at him, really looked at him, and felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the physical act they had just shared. "I’m more than okay, Lix. I feel... light. Like I finally stopped holding my breath."
Felix nodded, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. "Me too. But we should probably get dressed before Manager-nim actually does come back with that coffee. I don't think he’d appreciate the 'Australian emergency' explanation as much as I do."
They moved slowly, the process of putting their clothes back on feeling strangely intimate in the aftermath. Lily pulled her oversized hoodie back on, the fabric smelling faintly of Felix now. She watched him pull his black shirt over his head, the muscles in his back rippling one last time before being hidden away.
As she reached for her sneakers, she noticed a small, red mark on the side of Felix’s neck, right where his collar didn't quite reach.
"Uh, Lix?" she pointed, biting her lip to keep from laughing. "You might want to wear a scarf. Or a turtleneck. Or a very large bandage."
Felix caught his reflection in the glass of the recording booth, his eyes widening as he touched the mark. "Lily! *Jinjja!* How am I supposed to explain this to the stylist noona?"
Lily shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she headed for the door. "Tell her you got into a fight with a very aggressive microphone. Or just tell her the truth—that you finally met your match."
Felix groaned, but the smile on his face told a different story. He grabbed his bag and followed her out, catching her hand for one brief, hidden squeeze before they stepped out into the hallway and back into the world of flashing lights and expectations.
"Hey, Lily," he called out as they reached the elevator, his voice dropping back into that deep, soul-stirring register.
She turned, one eyebrow raised. "Yeah?"
"Same time tomorrow?"
Lily grinned, the brightest, most genuine expression she’d worn in weeks. "You bet, mate. Don't be late, or I’ll start the ad-libs without you."
As the elevator doors closed, separating them for the walk back to their respective dorms, Lily leaned against the metal wall and exhaled. The studio was behind them, the music was paused, but the resonance—that deep, vibrating connection—was only just beginning.