The rain hadn't let up since late afternoon, drumming steadily on the roof with a calming rhythm. The warm glow of the fireplace danced across the wooden floor, casting soft shadows that moved like silent company. Felix sat cross-legged on the rug, the wool soft beneath him, his can of hot coffee steaming gently in his palms. Outside, raindrops streaked the windowpanes, turning the outside world into a grey watercolor painting.
He opened a box of chocolate-covered biscuit sticks—Pocky, maybe—and passed them around without ceremony, as if it were second nature.
"I think these were meant for me,"
he said casually, holding out the box toward the center of the room,
"but—sharing sounds better."
A boy with spiky blue hair and a backwards red cap reached forward with no hesitation. His grin was bright, easy, and familiar—like the type of person who filled any space with energy the second they entered.
"Then you've got great taste, dude,"
he said, grabbing one stick and crunching into it without pause.
"These are the best."
From beside him, a boy with blonde hair and bright eyes leaned forward, wearing a sunshine-filled smile that seemed to warm the air.
"You don't mind, do you?"
he asked, already halfway to taking one.
Felix laughed—a warm, genuine sound that settled into the atmosphere like a melody.
"Not at all,"
he said, his voice calm and amused.
"Grab as much as you want."
He glanced around at the rest of the room's occupants. A circle of mismatched personalities had settled themselves around the hearth.
There was the quieter one, seated a bit stiffly with serious, sharp eyes—he hadn't spoken yet but carried an unmistakable weight of presence.
Another boy sat with a laptop bag by his side, glasses slightly fogged from the indoor warmth, and a handful of tech gadgets peeking from his jacket pockets.
One more had long black hair tied neatly at the back of his neck, his posture relaxed, his expression thoughtful—serene, like he carried peace in his silence.
And then there was a girl with soft brown eyes who had been watching him curiously, kindness radiating in her gaze.
As if on cue, another taller boy—this one with striking slate-colored eyes and an unreadable expression—stepped forward, picked one chocolate stick with a polite nod, and retreated just as silently.
Felix settled deeper into the rug, curling one leg under the other, perfectly at ease. The fire crackled softly behind him. The atmosphere wasn't just cozy—it was alive. These strangers weren't trying to impress, weren't performing. They were simply… present. He liked that.
He stretched out his legs, crossing them in a relaxed, comfortable manner.
"So…" The bespectacled one finally broke the soft buzz of conversation. He tilted his head slightly, eyes peeking over his glasses as he asked,
"Are you... um, the son of the house?"
Felix raised an eyebrow, amused, and smiled faintly.
"I live here,"
he said simply,
"so probably."
Laughter erupted in the room, warm and spontaneous. Even the serious boy, allowed a twitch of a smile.
"I'm Max," said the cheerful blond boy, pointing next to him.
"This is Tyson,"—he gestured at the blue-haired one who was now balancing two chocolate sticks on his upper lip like walrus tusks—
"and that's Kenny," he continued, nodding at the one with the laptop.
"That's Ray," he added, pointing to the boy with the black ponytail,
"and that's Kai."
There was a slight change in tone when Max said the last name—more respectful, more cautious.
Then the girl waved.
"Hi! I'm Hilary!"
Felix nodded, his eyes flicking to each face in turn, storing the names quietly.
"Nice to meet you,"
he said simply, but his voice carried warmth, grounded and calm.
"You guys look like you've been running around the whole day,"
he observed, glancing at the puddles of rainwater beneath their shoes.
Tyson shrugged with a grin.
"Kind of have. We got caught in that crazy rain. And someone—"
he leaned sideways to nudge Kai with his elbow—
"forgot to check the forecast."
Kai gave a soft exhale, eyes not leaving his cup of tea.
"I don't check the weather," he replied flatly.
"I check the sky."
"Clearly, your sky-checking skills need work,"
Max joked, and the room erupted again in laughter.
"Sorry for barging in," Kenny added quickly, clearly a little embarrassed.
He pushed up his glasses and looked around.
"The storm came out of nowhere, and we were soaked. Your mom said it was okay…"
Felix shrugged, brushing it off with an easy smile.
"She lets cats and kids in during storms. You're all safe here. No big deal. Hang out as long as you want. You're all welcome."
Tyson blinked, then gave a sheepish chuckle. "So, what's your name?"
Felix had been gazing at the fire, lost for a second in thought. He turned back slowly, as if pulled out of his reverie.
Before he could answer, a voice from the hallway called out,
"Felix, can you help me with the towels?"
He turned toward the direction of the voice, smiling faintly.
"Coming!"
He got up fluidly, stretching slightly before moving toward the hallway.
"That answers your question, doesn't it?"
he called over his shoulder with a grin.
Tyson lit up.
"Felix, huh? Cool."
Kai said nothing, but his eyes followed Felix with careful attention, as though storing that name away in a locked drawer.
In the Hallway
Felix took the bundle of towels from his mother's arms, still warm from the dryer.
"They seem nice," she said gently.
"They're loud," he replied with a wry grin. "But it's the good kind."
His mother smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"The kind that brings life into a quiet house."
Felix laughed softly, balancing the towels on one arm.
"Something like that."
Return to the Living Room
Felix stepped back into the room with ease and a twinkle in his eye. Without a word, he tossed a towel across the room—
"Hey—oof!" Tyson caught it with his face. He rubbed his nose, then burst out laughing. "Thanks!"
Max caught his mid-air like a pro. "Nice throw!" he said brightly.
Kenny nearly dropped his, arms flailing awkwardly before he managed to hold on. "Could've warned me!"
Ray caught his towel like he'd done it a hundred times before, already leaning back against the couch. "Appreciate it."
Kai didn't flinch. Felix tossed the last towel in his direction—and Kai caught it in one clean, controlled motion.
Felix raised a brow, half-impressed. "Nice reflexes."
Kai gave a nod and began drying his hair, not saying a word.
Lastly, Felix walked over to Hilary and handed her the final towel with more care.
"This one's fluffier," he said with a grin. "Don't say I don't spoil my guests."
Hilary blinked, then smiled slowly. "You're full of surprises."
Ray chuckled from the couch. "You're oddly prepared for this kind of thing."
Felix tossed the now-empty laundry basket aside.
"Maybe I'm secretly a boy scout."
"Or secretly running a hotel,"
Max added with a grin.
Felix held up his hands as if considering it. "Don't give me ideas."
As the last towel flew through the air, Felix leaned against the doorframe, his posture completely relaxed. His eyes sparkled with that easy-going energy that made the world feel a little less serious, and his grin — a real, genuine one — made it clear that there was no rush. There was no pressure to change or hurry.
Just then, his mom entered, taking stock of the group. "You're all going to catch a cold like this," she said. "Why don't you take turns showering and changing? Felix has clothes in his closet. You're about the same build."
The room fell silent.
They all blinked in unison.
Tyson was the first to react, sputtering, "Felix's clothes?" Tyson asked, eyes wide. "W-Wait, your son won't mind?"
Before she could answer, Felix spoke casually , "I'm right here, you know. And no, I won't." without missing a beat, grinning. came Felix's voice as he returned, holding a bundle of towels. He pointed upstairs. "Just head upstairs, second door to the right. The closet's open. Top drawer has clean shirts. Sweats are folded under," Felix added
Hillary blinked. "Wait—us too?"
Felix glanced at her, then shrugged easily. "Why not? There are oversized hoodies and stuff. You can roll up the sleeves."
Felix's mom nodded approvingly. "There are fresh towels stacked in the bathroom as well. Go on, all of you."
"Thanks, man," Max said. "This hoodie is starting to stick."
"Bathroom's at the end of the hall," he said, pointing down the narrow hallway. "One at a time, unless you're aiming to make a splash fight. And in case you didn't notice, there's toothpaste and extra toothbrushes under the sink. Don't ask why I have a stockpile, but trust me, it'll make this storm bearable."
Max couldn't help but laugh, a dry chuckle escaping his lips.
"Stockpiled toothpaste? This guy is a living storm prep manual."
Ray snorted. "Maybe we should start asking him for tips. He might know how to survive hurricanes and tornadoes by now."
Felix just smiled wider. "Hey, what can I say? I've been on the receiving end of enough storms to be ready for anything." He then gave a pointed look. "And for the record, don't take my socks. I like them mismatched."
Tyson raised his eyebrows, giving Felix a questioning glance.
"Wait, mismatched socks? Dude, you're a man of many mysteries."
Felix shrugged, completely unbothered. "I like chaos, but only the fun kind."
The boys hesitated—then began heading upstairs exchanged uncertain glances, unsure how to take the invitation. Felix's easygoing response put them at ease,
As the group slowly headed upstairs, Max elbowed Tyson. "This Felix guy's chill."
"He's either super nice," Tyson said, suspiciously, "or some kind of towel ninja."
One by one, the boys took the hint and stood up to head upstairs. Tyson and Max went first, chatting and joking about who would get the bigger towel, followed by Kenny clutching his soaked device like a fragile egg, Ray with his calm, observant gaze, and finally Kai, silent as ever, but not without a sharp glance around as he ascended the stairs.
Hillary, however, lingered behind, watching Felix curiously.
"You're really okay with this?" she asked gently. "A bunch of strangers crashing in, raiding your closet?"
Felix leaned back, propping his feet up on the wooden stool by the fireplace.
"You're not strangers anymore. Just… storm guests. That earns bonus trust points."
Her lips twitched into a faint smile. "Storm guests, huh?"
"Exactly," he replied, lifting his cup of tea. "Temporary title. Expires when the sun comes back."
She laughed softly and finally excused herself to dry off. Felix watched her go before turning his gaze back to the flames. The quiet moments were always his favorite—the ones where the world hummed gently, asking for nothing in return.
Upstairs: The Room of a Mystery
The hallway upstairs was quiet, lined with soft yellow lights that made the wooden floor glow gently. Rain still tapped at the windows like a lullaby, softer now, like it knew it was intruding.
They headed up one by one. Tyson was the first to reach the room. He pushed the door open with the curiosity of someone stepping into a stranger's world. The others followed—Kai, Max, Ray, Kenny—one by one, each of them slowing down at the threshold.
Felix's room wasn't like any boy's room they'd expected.
It was... clean. Very clean.
The room smelled faintly of citrus and rain, as if the windows had been opened earlier to let in the storm air. It was neat—surprisingly so—but not cold. There were signs of life here, quiet ones.
A sturdy bed was tucked into the far corner beneath a slanted ceiling, draped in dark blue sheets. The bed was perfectly made, not a wrinkle in sight. There was no mess, no sports posters, no rough energy. Just... calm. A bookshelf stood proudly along one wall, its contents alphabetized—science fiction, mystery, a few adventure novels—and beside it, a low desk with a closed laptop and an analog alarm clock that ticked faintly, keeping time in the stillness.
Tyson let out a low whistle. "Dang... this is cleaner than my soul."
Max elbowed him, laughing. "That's not saying much, Ty."
"Still," Ray said, stepping inside and glancing around, "this room's got personality."
Ray wandered toward the bookshelf, running a finger along the spines. "He likes stories. I can tell. Fantasy… action… a few martial arts volumes."
Kenny nodded, his fingers already itching to examine the model gadgets lined up on a shelf—mini drones, an old Rubik's cube, and even a miniature, high-detail model of a beyblade arena, carved from wood.
"Did Felix make this?" he murmured, almost to himself.
Kai didn't answer. He had moved to the desk, where a framed photo stood quietly in the corner. It showed two children—a boy and a girl, both with matching eyes, bright and full of mischief. They looked alike. Too alike. Twins, probably.
Kai stared at it longer than necessary.
"You okay, Kai?" Max asked, peering over his shoulder.
Kai nodded once, putting the frame back exactly where he found it.
The closet doors creaked softly as Tyson flung them open. "Whoa. This guy has more hoodies than I have socks."
True enough—rows of neatly hung clothes greeted them revealing neatly folded button-ups, hoodies, and dark jeans, all arranged by color. Mostly greys, blues, blacks. A few graphic tees, some button-ups, and plenty of sweatshirts. There were also three folded school uniforms stacked carefully—button-up shirt, tie, navy vest. On the top shelf, they noticed a black cap—flat-brimmed, slightly faded—and beside it, a pair of dusty roller skates.
Ray pulled out a shirt at random, then paused. "This says 'Fell' on the inside tag." He looked confused. "Fell?"
Kenny frowned. "I thought his name was Felix."
"Maybe a nickname?" Tyson guessed, holding up a hoodie to his chest like he was modeling. "Or maybe he has a brother?"
"This guy's way too organized," Ray muttered.
Tyson whistled. "Feels like I'm sneaking into a detective's house or something."
"You think he's a blader?" Max asked suddenly, inspecting a hoodie. "He gives off that vibe, right?"
"He didn't mention it," Kenny said. "But… he did have good reflexes when he tossed the towels."
Kai gave a low hum, noncommittal but his sharp eyes didn't miss the slight irregularities—clothes too neutral, almost like they were chosen to hide something.
Kai said nothing but walked to the bookshelf. His fingers brushed past a row of old manga, and then paused on a weathered notebook tucked between them. He didn't open it—but something about the careful way it was placed said it mattered.
The room had layers—silent secrets tucked in plain sight. It was too personal to be just a guest room, but not messy enough to scream teen chaos. There was a rhythm to the way things were arranged. Precise. Hidden in simplicity.
Ray glanced again at the photo and finally said it aloud. "That girl… she looks just like him."
The others grew quiet.
Then, as if on cue, Tyson broke the silence with a dramatic yawn. "Okay, mystery later. If I stay in wet clothes for one more minute, I'm gonna get pneumonia."
Max tossed a bundle of sweats at him. "Bathroom's down the hall. Go first."
"I'm claiming the second turn," Kenny said, already rifling through the bottom drawer for dry socks.
As the boys took turns changing and joking around, the strange calm of the room settled back in like fog. Kai lingered longer than the others, still by the bookshelf.
He finally turned, expression unreadable, and said only, "We're not just crashing at a stranger's house."
Ray nodded slowly. "No. We're not."
The Shower Sequence
The group moved down the hall, each of them stepping into the bathroom one by one. It was a warm, inviting space, with rustic wooden floors and a large mirror above the sink. A soft, floral scent lingered in the air, and the shower was surrounded by plush towels, neatly arranged — clearly, Felix's mother had kept things in order despite the unexpected house guests.
Tyson was first to claim the shower, and he immediately started bickering with Max about who would be next.
"Priority based on who got the wettest,"
Tyson announced dramatically, already stepping into the warm stream of water.
"I'm fine with that,"
Max said, rolling his eyes but already preparing to take his turn.
"But if your showers take too long, I'm coming in with a bucket."
"You wouldn't dare," Tyson yelled from behind the door.
"Would I?" Max grinned.
Ray chuckled softly.
"You think Felix would have some? Water balloons, I mean."
Felix's voice drifted in from the hallway. "Do I look like the type of person who needs water balloons in my life?" His tone was playful but had that familiar, easy warmth that made everyone relax.
Hillary, already wrapped in a towel and stepping out of the bathroom, looked around Felix's room as she moved toward the closet.
The air inside was fresh and smelled faintly of something like cedar and clean laundry. She smiled softly to herself as she looked at the neatly laid-out clothes.
She selected a loose-fitting hoodie in a deep shade of blue, paired with a comfortable pair of black joggers that she could tie to fit.
"Thank you, Felix," she murmured, though he wasn't looking. The words felt natural coming from her — like she'd already thanked him a hundred times over.
Kai emerged from the bathroom next, hair damp and face unreadable, as usual. But something about his quiet movements seemed to soften in the atmosphere of Felix's home. Even he couldn't resist the pull of the warmth and comfort around them.
Felix glanced at him with a relaxed smirk.
"You good? The shower didn't steal your soul, did it?"
Kai's lips twitched ever so slightly, a small indication of amusement.
"I'm fine."
Then he added, as if realizing how rare it was for him to speak that much:
"You... don't have to keep offering clothes, you know."
Felix didn't bat an eye. "I've got a lot of stuff that doesn't fit me anymore. Don't worry about it." He seemed completely at ease, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
The boys showered and changed quickly, each one finding something that somehow fit them.
Felix's style wasn't flashy, but it was comfortable—soft cottons, earth tones, and warm fabrics. There was a peacefulness to his belongings, like he cared for everything he owned without attachment.
Even Tyson, who usually hated borrowed clothes, found himself admiring how the hoodie smelled faintly of sandalwood and something vaguely herbal.