Hyunlix

The studio is quiet except for the faint hum of unfinished music tracks, the soft scrape of shoes against the wooden floor, and Felix’s heavy breaths. He’s been rehearsing alone, the late hour making the air feel electric and private. Hyunjin leans against the wall, watching him move—fluid, precise, but clearly frustrated by a step he keeps missing. The warm glow of the lamp casts long shadows over scattered sketchbooks and pens, and the faint sheen of sweat on Felix’s face catches Hyunjin’s attention. Hyunjin steps forward and takes Felix’s wrist, guiding his movements gently but firmly. Their eyes meet, and for a moment the world outside the studio disappears. Hyunjin’s chest rises and falls quickly, sweat dripping onto the floor, his long hair falling loose around his face. The intensity in his gaze is overwhelming—so much focus, frustration, and something else, a raw need that radiates from him. Felix shivers slightly at the heat radiating from him, but meets his stare without looking away. Hyunjin’s hands tighten subtly, helping Felix find the flow of the choreography, but the closeness makes it impossible to ignore the tension building between them. Every beat, every controlled movement, every glance feels loaded with unspoken words. After a pause, Hyunjin steps back slightly, breathing hard, hair damp and clinging to his shoulders. The vulnerability in his eyes remains, framed by the subtle sheen of sweat and the stray strands of hair falling over his face. Felix leans just a little closer, feeling the warmth in the air, the quiet intimacy of shared space, and the weight of everything Hyunjin has been holding back. The music continues, but the rhythm between them has shifted, charged with the unspoken connection, playful tension, and undeniable intensity that only grows when they’re alone. Every glance, every brush of hands, every sharp intake of breath tells Felix that tonight is far more than just practice.