Chapter 12: Breaking Point

Three days.

It had only been three days.

But everything felt… off.

Like his body was slowly folding in on itself. Like he couldn’t go a full hour without something twitching beneath his skin—bones shifting, muscles tugging, skin crawling like it forgot how to stay still.

Three days ago, he'd gone almost the whole day without a single slip-up. He’d held Kelvin’s hand for an hour. Laughed. Smiled. Argued. Felt things.

And he’d stayed normal.

Now?

Now he couldn’t even eat breakfast with the guys without nearly glitching into something inhuman. Grey had cracked some dumb joke about his eyeliner, and Felix had almost shifted right there in front of the cereal box.

He couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t relax.

And worst of all—Kelvin had been quiet.

No teasing. No passive-aggressive side comments. No heated bickering to spark his adrenaline and ironically keep his curse in check.

He was just… there.

Polite. Distant. Careful.

And that? That somehow made it all worse.

---

The instructor called a twenty-minute break during practice, muttering something about meeting with a producer on the next floor. Kelvin had left the second the instructor left the room while the rest of Rune collapsed against the mirrors, grateful.

Felix didn’t sit down.

He didn’t even stop.

He walked straight out the door, ignored the vending machine he’d intended to visit, and kept moving—past the hallway, past the stairwell, all the way up.

To the rooftop.

His place.

The only place that still felt like his.

The breeze was soft. The sun was low enough to cast gold over the city, and the hum of traffic below was distant enough to feel unreal.

Felix exhaled through his nose and reached for the doorknob.

Then froze.

Because someone was already there.

Kelvin.

Lying on a stack of old crates someone had dragged out weeks ago. One arm flopped lazily over his face, legs stretched out like he hadn’t just spent two hours sweating in a dance studio.

Sleeping.

Of course.

Felix’s stomach twisted.

Seriously? Here?

Of all the people. Of all the places.

And now his one peaceful spot felt like another pressure point. Another wire waiting to snap.

He didn’t move. He didn’t speak.

He just stood there, halfway in the doorway, the curse already twitching faintly under his skin.

Because Kelvin didn’t know he was there yet.

And Felix didn’t know what to do about that.

But Felix didn’t leave.

He probably should’ve. His body told him to go, to escape before Kelvin woke up and said something annoying and smug, or worse—concerned.

But he didn’t move.

Instead, he sat down by the wall. Not close. Just… near. A safe enough distance to pretend he didn’t care, and close enough that maybe—maybe—he did.

He watched Kelvin breathe.

He didn’t mean to.

But there was something oddly stupid about it.

Why are you sleeping on crates, he thought, an incredulous smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. Don’t you have, like, a titanium memory foam bed with NASA-grade pillows back home? Your parents are basically billionaires and you’re passed out like a stray cat in an alley.

Felix shook his head, quietly amused. A soft chuckle escaped him before he could stop it.

He pulled out his AirPods, popped them in, and hit play.

Heavy bass. Alt phonk. Sharp beats.

It was his favorite kind of chaos.

But oddly enough, it didn’t feel chaotic anymore. Not with the wind. Not with the sky fading into soft purple. Not with Kelvin snoring—barely, but still enough to be real.

Felix didn’t know how long he sat like that.

But eventually, he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. The music swam through his brain like smoke. And for the first time in days, his body stopped glitching. No twitching. No shifting. Just... stillness.

The kind of peace that felt almost dangerous.

And then—

A shadow.

A presence.

He opened his eyes.

Kelvin was crouched beside him now, eyes still hazy from sleep, hair mussed from the wind. He looked... tired. But soft.

And he was close.

Closer than Felix expected.

Then Kelvin nodded toward the single AirPod still in Felix’s right ear and said, voice low,

“Mind if I listen to what you're listening to?”

Felix glanced sideways at him, skeptical. “If you’re gonna badmouth my music, just hand the pod back, okay?.”

Kelvin gave a lazy shrug. “I can’t promise that. Your playlists are borderline criminal.”

Felix coughed once—a fake one, full of attitude—then wordlessly handed over the left AirPod.

Kelvin took it like it wasn’t the most intimate thing they’d ever done, then plopped down beside him.

Too close.

Way too close.

Felix shifted, stiffening. “You’re too close. Move.”

Kelvin blinked at him, then tilted his head. “Oh. That’s true. I shouldn’t be close to you.”

His voice held something weird. Flat, but laced with a tone Felix couldn’t read.

Then Kelvin scooted over, putting a visible gap between them.

They didn’t talk after that.

Two songs passed.

The city stretched below them like a slow-moving painting. The wind tugged softly at Felix’s sleeves. And for once, everything was... okay.

Until the third track was about to start—and the music paused.

Felix turned, frowning. “What the hell?”

Kelvin didn’t look smug. Or playful.

He looked... serious.

“I think we need to talk.”

Felix’s stomach twitched.

Kelvin went on, calmly but clearly struggling to find the right words. “I don’t like having you in my head this much. It’s annoying. And it’s exhausting. So let’s just talk. Okay?”

Felix blinked.

No sarcasm. No teasing. Just Kelvin... being honest.

And maybe that was the worst part.

He sighed, quietly. Then looked away toward the rooftop fence.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Maybe I should stop running every time I feel like I might go crazy.”

He turned to face Kelvin again, jaw tight.

“Say what you need to say.”

Felix braced himself.

If Kelvin was about to say something deep, he was going to need to mentally detach—possibly launch his soul into the astral plane.

Kelvin stared at him for a beat, dead serious.

“…Are you sick?”

Felix blinked. Then squinted at him.

Like, full what-the-hell-did-you-just-say face.

“Excuse me?”

Kelvin tilted his head slightly, shrugging like he wasn’t wildly overstepping. “I’m just saying. You look skinny.”

Felix gawked. “I’ve always been skinny, you absolute idiot.”

“Yeah, but now you look—like—frail.”

Felix’s jaw dropped. “What?!”

“You look tired. Like, all the time.”

“I’m an idol,” Felix shot back, flailing a hand dramatically. “All idols look exhausted. It’s called branding.”

Kelvin didn’t laugh.

Instead, he leaned forward a little, expression softening just enough to make Felix uncomfortable.

“You’re always hiding things.”

Felix’s chest tightened, but he masked it by rolling his eyes.

Kelvin kept going. “Not that I want to know your entire backstory or anything. But I feel like... I don’t know, it’s a duty. As the mature, generous, good-hearted leader of Rune—”

“Oh my god,” Felix groaned.

Kelvin ignored him. “—to ask you if you’re okay. Even though I already know you’re not gonna tell me anything.”

Felix stared at him for a second.

Then said flatly, “Are you trying to apologize?”

“Shut up.”

“No, really. Is this what a Kelvin apology looks like? Do I need to take a picture for evidence?”

Kelvin groaned, rubbing his temples. “I’m literally trying to find the strength to speak and you’re making it worse.”

Felix chuckled.

Just a little.

Barely a laugh.

But it was real.

Kelvin sighed, defeated. “I’m sorry.”

The words came out like he’d never said them before. Like they were foreign. Heavy. Painful.

“I’m sorry for pushing you. For trying to make you tell me stuff when you didn’t want to.”

Felix looked at him—really looked.

And for once, he didn’t deflect. Didn’t tease.

He just nodded.

“…Thanks.”

***

The skies above the Divine Chamber twisted crimson red.

Rage was in the air.

The marble underfoot cracked with each slow step of Shenglie, the Warden of Wrath. Sparks danced along his blackened armor, swords humming behind his back like caged beasts.

Meiyue, the Warden of Mercy, stood near the edge of the platform, her pale robes unmoved by the storm forming around them.

“He laughed,” Shenglie growled, his voice deep enough to split mountains. “That boy laughed.”

“Felix has found peace,” Meiyue said calmly. “A sliver of it, perhaps. That is not against fate.”

Shenglie’s fists clenched.

“Peace was never meant to be his.”

“He is still cursed. Still suffering and a victim of his karma. Is that not enough punishment, Shenglie?"

“Not enough.” His voice cracked through the chamber. “Not after what he did. Not after Haozhi.”

Meiyue looked down at the glowing tablet between them, its runes shifting like smoke in water.

“Fate is turning,” she whispered. “You cannot stop the wheel from spinning, Shenglie.”

“I can burn it.”

His eyes glowed like embers. His aura pulsed with fury. “He does not deserve happiness. He does not deserve mercy. His karma states that.”

Meiyue looked up slowly. Her expression unreadable. “We follow the rules of karma, Ah Sheng. We are mere lowly gods who guide fate but do not forget that it is the mortals who get to define fate. The boy knows nothing of the past, and Haozhi.... suffers with him.”

Shenglie didn’t answer.

He only stared into the shifting future.

And seethed.