Chapter Text
The heavy fluorescent lights hummed overhead as the members of Stray Kids settled into the practice room, stretching limbs and shaking off the exhaustion that had been stacking for days. Bang Chan stood near the sound system, clipboard in hand, eyes scanning the group as he cleared his throat.
“All right, everyone,” Chan said, voice steady, commanding attention in the usual way. “For our next stage, the company wants something different. Something raw, emotional. So you each have to choreograph an emotionally intense dance — to a western song of your choice.”
The words settled over the room like a ripple, quickening pulses and sparking whispers. An emotionally intense dance? This was new territory for all of them.
Lee Know cracked his knuckles, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Sounds like we get to really show what we’ve got.”
Hyunjin nodded thoughtfully, already tapping fingers on his thigh in rhythm, eyes glinting with possibility. “I can’t wait to dig into this.”
Felix, however, felt the stirrings of something else — a flicker of unease, like a cold shadow sliding just beneath his skin.
Chan’s gaze flicked to him briefly, and Felix forced himself to meet it, masking the sudden tightness curling in his chest with a small, polite nod.
“You don’t have to pick something upbeat,” Chan added, voice softer now, almost like a warning. “It can be slow. Vulnerable. Whatever tells your story best.”
The group dispersed to start brainstorming. Some pulled out their phones, scrolling through playlists; others hummed tunes quietly to themselves. Felix sat cross-legged on the floor, hands clasped loosely in his lap, his mind racing through a storm of possibilities.
He needed a song that could hold what he couldn’t say.
Something that danced on the edge of pain and beauty.
In the quiet of his thoughts, a melody whispered — one he had kept close but rarely shared. A band he had discovered ages ago.
Anberlin.
"Hyung, what song did you choose?" Jeongin asked, already scrolling through dozens of raw but undeniably spicy tracks that would've put Chan into a coma.
“Dismantle. Repair.”
The title alone felt like a confession.
The song’s slow build, the haunting guitar lines, the desperate, almost pleading vocals — it was perfect.
"Oh, a pretty song deserves a pretty choreo. I'm sure you'll bring it to life, Lix." Innie nodded before going to pester Changbin, who was mouthing lyrics, his phone to his ear.
Felix listened to his song one full way through, absentmindedly experimenting with footwork and hand choreography.
Felix imagined the choreography taking shape in his mind: movements sharp and broken, like pieces of himself fracturing, then tentative gestures reaching out, trying to piece those fragments back together.
He thought of the way his fingers sometimes curled tightly around nothing, phantom grips near his wrists, the flicks of hands that felt more like silent screams than dance.
No one knew about those moments. No one except maybe himself.
Moments he could barely remember, ones coated in blood and guilt.
See, Felix had been cutting himself.
None of his members knew.
It had all started after his whole eating disorder fiasco. He had given up trying to starve for the camera, and began eating again, which got him more praise than backlash from their loyal fans. Chan had sat him down, telling him if he didn't eat, he'd hurt himself and the group as a whole. That was the thing about going to Channie for advice; He's always considering EVERYONE- And Felix could tell his struggle had taken a toll on his friends. He just didn't want to hurt anyone...
So he hurt himself.
It had all started one night after Felix had seen something he wasn't supposed to.
"He's h-hurting me. You think I can stand this? He n-needs to eat f-food..."
Felix had been walking out of the bathroom and back to his room when he heard sobbing from Lee Know's room.
Chan was sitting on the bed, sobbing into the younger's shoulder, shaking with the unspoken weight of his leadership responsibilities.
"I-I know, hyung. It hurts us all. He's- doing his best. Try not to worry, yeah?" Lee Know had tearily affirmed Chan, not sobbing but definitely crying.
Felix turned away from the door, stunned. Emotions layered on so hard he could barely FEEL.
He stumbled back to his room, searching for control, for grounding, for...
A glint of silver caught his eye from the dresser.
It was the pocket knife Seungmin had gifted him for his birthday, since Lix had been the only member without one. He stared at it, seriously considering whether he should just run himself through with it or not. He was obviously a burden to his friends...
Instead, he let the cool metal of the blade trace his forearm, leaving a trail of dark blood. A sense of horrifying warmth rushed over him as he made to wipe the blood off the blade with an old handkerchief. It's like it listened to him, to his need for a grounding touch...
"Dismantle. Repair., huh?"
He pushed the flashbacks away, stood, and caught Lee Know’s eye.
“What’re you thinking?” Lee Know asked, grinning.
Felix shrugged, the small smile he offered feeling fragile. “Something… slow. Raw.”
Lee Know nodded, eyes twinkling. “Sounds intense. Can’t wait to see it.”
Felix wanted to believe it was just excitement. Wanted to believe he could pour everything into this dance — his fear, his pain, his silence — and maybe, somehow, set it free.