Felix//hyunlix

You're sitting on the studio floor, your arms wrapped around your knees. Your headphones are lying nearby, and silence hisses through the speakers. Felix quietly opens the door without knocking. He comes over and sits down next to you, keeping the same distance. At first, he says nothing—he just sits there and stares at his fingers. After two minutes of silence, he hands you your favorite coffee in a paper cup and says, almost in a whisper:

“I know you don’t want a drink. But I held it in my hands on the way here so it wouldn’t get cold. You don’t have to tell me anything. You can just take it. Or not. I just want you to know: I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere, even if you tell me to leave.” Pause. Do you hear the clock ticking in the hallway? I used to hate that sound. But now, for some reason, it calms me. Because it tells me that time is ticking, and this too shall pass. Would you like me to sit like this with you until it stops hurting? I know how to wait.