Chapter Text
The days following the photoshoot had been a blur of practice sessions, interviews, and group schedules. Yet, through all the chaos, Felicity’s thoughts kept circling back to one thing: the plan.
It had been building inside her for weeks now—the need to tell the others. To be honest, not just with them, but with herself. She had always prided herself on her ability to face challenges head-on, but this was different. This was terrifying in a way that performing on stage or speaking in front of thousands of fans had never been.
Felicity had mapped out the conversation in her head a thousand times. She would sit them down, one by one or maybe all together, and explain everything. She’d tell them about her true self, about the journey she had been on, about how she had realized that she was no longer Felix, no longer the person they thought she was. She had even practiced the words in front of the mirror, trying to make sure her voice wouldn’t tremble when the time came.
But despite her plan, she wasn’t ready to act on it yet. Every time she thought about actually saying the words, her heart would race, and fear would creep in. What if they didn’t understand? What if this changed everything?
Then there was Changbin.
Ever since the photoshoot, he had been acting differently—subtle changes that most people wouldn’t notice, but Felicity did. He had stopped calling her by name altogether, never using “Felix” or “he” in conversations. It was as if he sensed that those labels no longer fit her, and he was silently respecting that. It was a small gesture, but it meant everything to her.
And then there were the gifts.
The first time it had happened, Felicity had been surprised. Changbin had handed her a small box after a long practice session, looking almost shy about it. She had opened it to find a delicate bracelet, simple but elegant, the kind of accessory she had always admired but never bought for herself. She had been touched, but she had chalked it up to Changbin being thoughtful. He was like that—always paying attention to the little things that made people happy.
But the second gift had been different.
It arrived a few days later, wrapped in soft tissue paper and placed on her bed. Felicity had unwrapped it slowly, her heart pounding as she pulled out a dress—a dress almost identical to the one she had worn for the photoshoot. It was black, flowing, with subtle floral designs woven into the fabric. Her breath caught in her throat as she held it up, the material soft against her fingers.
Changbin had bought it for her. He hadn’t said a word, just left it there for her to find.
Felicity sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the dress in her lap, her mind racing. The gift wasn’t just thoughtful—it was personal. It felt like Changbin was telling her something without words, like he knew who she was, who she was becoming, and he was okay with it. Maybe even more than okay.
Her heart ached, a mix of emotions swirling inside her. Changbin had always been close to her, one of the members she felt most comfortable with. But over time, something more had grown between them, at least for her. She had harbored feelings for him for a while now—feelings she had never dared to voice, not just because of their group dynamic, but because of her own uncertainty about who she was.
But now, sitting here with the dress in her hands, hope flickered in her chest. Maybe Changbin already knew. Maybe he had always known, in the way that he quietly observed everyone around him, picking up on the smallest details. And maybe—just maybe—he would not only accept her as Felicity, but he might return her feelings, too.
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Later that evening, Felicity found herself standing in front of the mirror, the dress on her body, her hair loosely framing her face. She felt different, yet entirely herself. The way the dress moved with her, the way it clung gently to her figure, made her feel alive. Whole.
But the fear still lingered, like a shadow she couldn’t shake. She wasn’t ready to tell them yet. She wasn’t ready to take that final step, to risk everything. But Changbin’s quiet support, his thoughtful gestures—it gave her hope. And maybe, when the time came, she would find the strength to finally say the words out loud.