Chapter 15 Felix
Felix
“Are you sure they’re not waiting for us somewhere else?”
Lily rolled her eyes so dramatically I was surprised they didn’t fall out of her head. “No. They’ll be here soon, Felix! People are allowed to be slightly late.”
She was practically vibrating with excitement, clutching her SEVENTEEN lightstick like it might disappear if she let go. I’d refused to buy one. Forty quid for a glorified torch had seemed excessive, even if it did sync with the music.
“I just think we all should’ve got here earlier,” I muttered, pulling at my hoodie. Everyone else around us had dressed up for this. My black fabric felt like armour against the army of glittery teenage girls already gathering around us. “The queue’s going to be mental.”
“Felix, chill. We’ve got floor tickets. We’re golden.”
Floor tickets. Great. Standing room only, crushed against thousands of screaming fans, no escape route if things got overwhelming.
I’d have paid double for a nice safe seat at the back where I could slip out unnoticed if needed.
But Lily had been so thrilled when she’d managed to snag these supposedly most coveted ones.
“Don’t forget to be nice to my friends,” Lily said, her tone playfully warning. “You know, like talk to them once or twice. They don’t bite.”
I groaned. Had she briefed them ahead of this? I could practically hear it: “So, just so you know, my brother is super lovely, but he can be a bit quiet. It helps if you’re really chatty with him.”
The thought made me want to die. Was she embarrassed by me? Did she think I’d just stand there like a mute statue while her mates tried to make conversation?
Unfortunately, there was a fifty percent chance of exactly that happening.
Oh, why did Wren’s great-aunt have to die?!
“There they are!” Lily squealed, waving frantically at two girls emerging from the escalator. One had bright pink streaks in her dark hair, the other was wearing an oversized white SEVENTEEN T-shirt featuring their diamond logo and “CARAT” written in bold letters underneath.
“Lily!” Pink Hair shrieked, launching herself into my sister’s arms.
They hugged like they hadn’t seen each other in years instead of probably yesterday at uni. The other girl joined the embrace, and I took a careful step back, hoping distance might save me from whatever social interaction was about to happen.
No such luck.
They disengaged from their group hug and turned to me with identical bright smiles. My face must have been doing something unfortunate because Lily’s elbow connected sharply with my ribs.
“This is Felix, my brother,” Lily said. “Felix, this is Jess and Mia.”
Jess—Pink Hair—extended her arms towards me, clearly expecting a hug.
I could feel my shoulders creeping up towards my ears, my hands shoving deeper into my hoodie pocket.
Physical contact with strangers ranked somewhere between root canal surgery and public speaking on my list of things I’d rather avoid.
Jess dropped her arms, and Mia leapt in with, “It’s so nice to meet you!
It’s your first time seeing SEVENTEEN, yeah?
I saw them last year in Paris. You’re going to die.
Like, literally die. The vocals, the choreography…
Obviously Jeonghan was doing his military service, so I didn’t get to see him, but he’s back now. We’re seeing eight of them to—”
“I think we should get in the queue,” I interrupted. “It’s already massive.”
Lily shot me a look that promised retribution later, but followed my gaze towards the O2 Arena. The queue snaked around the building like a shimmering, screaming dragon, thousands of fans clutching lightsticks and wearing matching outfits. My heart pounded horribly fast.
This had been such a bad idea.
“Felix is right,” Lily said, linking arms with her friends. “Come on. I want to try and get right to the front.”
The front?! Was she insane?!
We joined the back of the queue, which immediately swallowed us into a world of Korean pop music blasting from portable speakers, fans practising choreography, and conversation conducted entirely in excited shrieks.
“This is going to be amazing,” Lily said, practically glowing with happiness.
I forced a smile and nodded, through my mounting anxiety. She’d been looking forward to this for months, saved up every penny to afford the ticket.
Soul-shaking bass lines. Thousands of screaming fans. Hours of standing in an increasingly cramped space with no clear exit strategy.
Oh, joy.
I pulled out my phone, hoping for any distraction from the chaos around me.
There was nothing aside from a message from Kit to the group chat, lecturing everyone because they hadn’t put their mugs in the dishwasher before they’d left for the weekend yesterday afternoon.
I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. The man really didn’t give up, at anything.
I’d had three training sessions with him so far.
Three times I’d turned up to that ballroom and made an absolute fool of myself whilst Kit patiently guided me through the basics of not dying horribly if someone attacked me.
Sometimes I caught him fighting a smile when I inevitably tripped over my own feet or punched the air instead of the target.
He was hilariously good at pretending I was improving.
The man deserved an Oscar for his performance.
Never once did he make me feel stupid for flinching when he moved too quickly, or for the way my hands shook when he demonstrated a hold.
Getting used to him touching me had been…
complicated. And he had to touch me a lot.
Placing his hands on my body to correct my stances, guiding my arms into defensive positions.
The contact was brief, professional, but I still found my skin tingling every single time he touched me, my breath coming quicker whenever his hand skirted near my hip.
It most definitely was not helping my concentration during training.
In our water breaks—which there were a lot of—we’d been chatting more and more. Which was… actually nice. Somehow.
In fact, I’d almost say we were friends now. Sort of.
He’d asked about this concert several times now. Maybe I could send him a picture, once I was inside. No. That would be weird.
Not as weird as me suggesting he take Wren’s ticket, which is what I’d thought of doing for one mad moment.
That would’ve been insane. Because Kit wouldn’t want to spend his Saturday night at a K-pop gig with my teenage sister and her uni mate.
Besides, how would I even explain him to Lily? She’d have had a million questions about why my much older, “obviously not from IT” colleague was suddenly joining us. She’d have been convinced we were dating or something, which would have made the whole thing even more excruciatingly awkward.
He’d have had to pretend to work for my fake company, maintain the whole elaborate charade. Maybe I could’ve said he was our security. That might’ve worked. He certainly looked the part.
The image was so ridiculous I almost smiled.
“Oh my God, they’re opening the doors!” Mia shrieked, and suddenly the queue surged forward.
“Yay!” I said. I must have sounded sarcastic because Lily gave me another elbow jab. I’d be covered in bruises by the end of this.
What followed was an eternity of organised chaos—queuing, security checks, and Lily dragging us through the crowds like a woman possessed.
The arena floor was a mass of bodies pressed against each other, everyone straining towards the massive stage ahead. We squeezed into the third row, close enough to see individual pixels on the giant screens.
“This is perfect!” Lily shouted over thousands of chattering fans. She’d linked her arm through mine the moment we’d entered, probably sensing my panic as the crowd compressed around us.
The other girls were comparing their phone cameras, debating which setting would capture the best footage.
I tried to focus on breathing steadily through my nose. In for four, hold for four, out for four.
“You sure this is okay?” Lily squeezed my arm, her face creased with concern.
“Yeah, all good,” I lied, forcing a smile. “It’s great how close we got!”
The lights dimmed suddenly, and the crowd’s roar became something primal. My ears rang with the collective scream of twenty thousand people losing their minds simultaneously.
The stage exploded into light and movement. Eight figures in coordinated outfits appeared as if from nowhere, and suddenly the music was everywhere—pounding bass, vocals that soared impossibly high, and choreography so precise it looked like a single organism moving in perfect synchronisation.
I found myself genuinely impressed. The production value was insane. Pyrotechnics painted the arena in gold and silver, and the members moved across the stage with an athletic grace that made my own clumsy training sessions with Kit look absolutely pathetic.
Lily was singing along in Korean. She knew every word, every gesture. Her joy was infectious enough that I finally felt my shoulders relax for the first time all evening.
Three songs in, the music paused for what appeared to be a talking segment. The members spread across the front of the stage, scanning the crowd with practiced smiles. One of them—Jeonghan—was speaking into his headset mic, though I couldn’t understand a word.
“They’re choosing people!” Mia shrieked. “They never do this! Oh my God, Lily! They’re choosing people to come up!”
Lily’s grip on my arm tightened. Her eyes were fixed on the stage with laser focus, willing herself to be noticed. Several members were pointing into different sections of the crowd, and security guards appeared at the sides of the stage, ready to escort chosen fans up.
One of the members, Dino—shorter hair, stupidly highlighted cheekbones—was scanning our section methodically. His gaze moved from face to face in the front rows, clearly searching for someone.
His eyes locked onto mine.
Everything stopped.
The noise. The movement. My heartbeat.