Fics like we're all 50 shades of fucked up

5091. The passcode to Chan’s apartment. Ripping the security footage was easy. Guessing exactly which numbers Chan was pressing from such a weird angle was harder, but not impossible. The numbers feel too familiar. He’s sure that it can’t be correct, but the light goes green and the bolt turns. It’s like walking onto the set of a movie. He’s seen it so many times, from so far away, that it almost doesn’t feel real when he sees it up close. The stove in the kitchen, the sachets of tea on the counter, the documents pinned to the fridge with magnets. The soap dispenser shaped like a cat paw on the sink ledge. That’s new. It’s kind of cute. Felix feels his heart swell, Channie is so cute. Focus, Felix. You don’t have much time. There’s a mug on the coffee table, still warm to the touch. There’s a glossy smudge on the rim, like lip balm or salve, that Felix presses his lips to. He can’t help himself. Felix is in love with Chan. He's positive that Chan loves him back and he would do anything, absolutely anything, for the man that he loves.

Fics like we're all 50 shades of fucked up

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