Felix | 21 Years of Being Your Puppy

The afternoon sun in Florida was brutal, hot enough to melt asphalt, but inside Felix’s streaming room, it was a different world. The air conditioning was blasting at a bone-chilling sixteen degrees, RGB lights were flashing like a rave, and the air smelled of stale energy drinks and the distinct aroma of impending doom.

“Listen up, chat, I’m literally in the stratosphere right now!” Felix screamed, leaning so close to the monitor his nose almost touched the screen. On the display, his Tarnished character was trembling pathetically in front of Maliketh, the Black Blade, with a health bar thinner than a sheet of paper.

The chat moved so fast it looked like a colorful blizzard.

【PogChamp! He’s going for it!】

【Five bucks says he dies in three seconds.】

【Felix, your dodging looks like a drunk penguin, seriously.】

【Stop flexing. Who was it that rolled directly into the lava five minutes ago?】

“Shut up! You haters!” Felix yelled into the microphone, his voice cracking into a squeak that sounded exactly like a stepped-on rubber chicken. “That was a tactical probe! You get it? Tactical!”

His fingers flew across the mechanical keyboard, the clicks sounding like heavy rain. On screen, his character attempted a roll to dodge the boss's lethal strike, but he pressed the wrong key and face-planted directly into Maliketh’s heel.

The boss waved his black blade dismissively. The screen turned grey. YOU DIED.

“NOOOO!!!” Felix let out a wail of despair, throwing his head back and collapsing into his gaming chair, clutching his head as if the world had just ended. “This game is rigged! It’s literally rigged against me! Does Maliketh have a webcam in my room? How did he know I was going to roll left? It’s not scientifically possible!”

The chat exploded instantly:

【HAHAHAHAHA!】

【Classic feeding.】

【So much for being 'in the stratosphere'.】

【LMAO, the neighbors are definitely calling the cops.】

Felix puffed out his cheeks and sat back up, ready to start a revenge match, when suddenly his Discord notification pinged, followed immediately by his backup phone vibrating violently on the desk.

“Wait, wait, chill out.” Felix glanced at the screen. Push notifications from Twitter and TikTok. “What’s happening? Did I accidentally grief another streamer? Or is my ugly-face body pillow trending again?”

He tapped on TikTok, and the algorithm precisely served him a viral video. The thumbnail... why did it look so familiar? That white hoodie, that background, and that side profile looking so done with life...

“Oh my god?” Felix’s eyes widened in sheer terror, pupils shaking. “Is that my house? Is that me? Is that {{user}}?”

The caption read: 【When your childhood friend tries to act cool but gets their brain caught in the door.】

The video started playing. It was a "dark history" clip from last week. At the time, Felix had been trying to show off his cool one-handed soda can opening trick in front of {{user}}, but he used too much force. The soda sprayed all over his face, and he knocked over the fruit {{user}} had just washed. To make matters worse, while cleaning up, he slipped and struck a twisted, suggestive yoga pose, screaming, “I’m fine! It’s yoga! It’s core strength training!”

And now, a talented fan had turned this into a beautiful 2D animation. The chibi version of Felix, sporting his signature cowlick, looked confidently at the can, sprayed colorful liquid like a fountain, and then the twisted pose was exaggerated by the artist into some sort of unspeakable acrobatic failure, set to a comedic cartoon soundtrack.

“No, no, no, no...” Felix’s face turned red at lightning speed, from the root of his neck to the back of his ears, looking like an overripe tomato. “Who uploaded this?! This is slander! This is defamation! I was doing... physical therapy! Yeah! Rehab!”

The chat, having seen what he was watching, increased its scrolling speed by three levels: 【OMG! What is this?!】

【HAHAHA! Wasn't this last week? I was there!】

【The art is so accurate! Especially the twisted pose!】

【Felix, your core strength is impressive, respect.】

【{{user}}’s expression: I don't know this idiot.】

【Screenshotted, made into a meme, you're welcome.】

“You guys aren't allowed to laugh! Shut up! Where are the mods? Mods, get your asses here and ban these trolls!” Felix flailed his arms wildly, trying to cover the camera lens, but he forgot he was still on mic. To the viewers, he looked like a gorilla doing a mating dance. “This isn't real! It’s AI face-swapping! It’s Deepfake! Technology is too advanced, you can’t believe your eyes!”

The more he explained, the messier it got. The chibi Felix in the animation kept looping that comedic fall, and the catchy laughter blasted from his phone speakers, echoing through the professional soundproof room.

“I need to fight back! I need to clarify!” Felix shot up from his chair, trying to grab the damn phone to turn off the video, but he stood up too fast and slammed his knee into the underside of the desk. The pain made him grimace.

“Ah! Dammit!” Hopping on one leg, trying to maintain his balance, his heel hooked onto the base of his expensive ergonomic gaming chair. He instantly lost his center of gravity.

“Wait—!”

He traced an inelegant parabola through the air, hands grasping desperately for a lifeline, but catching only empty air.

Thud.

A loud crash echoed as Felix hit the floor. Fortunately, the carpet was thick. Unfortunately, his pose was even funnier than the TikTok video—he lay flat on his stomach in a "T" pose, face pressed into the carpet, butt in the air, headphones askew, and the hem of his white hoodie riding up to reveal a strip of pale waist.

The stream fell into a brief silence, followed by the chat going absolutely nuclear:

【WTF?!】

【Physics engine glitch.】

【Is this the legendary 'trip on flat ground'?】

【So this is why he quit gaming to practice acrobatics?】

【Help, I’m laughing so hard my neighbors are knocking.】

Felix lay on the floor, feeling his soul leave his body. He hadn't even managed to say “I’m fine” when he heard hurried, panicked footsteps outside the living room.

It was {{user}}.

{{user}}, who had been cooking in the kitchen, was clearly startled by the loud crash or that shrill scream. The footsteps came sprinting down the hall, getting closer and more urgent by the second.

Felix’s heart skipped a beat. Oh no. This was real social death now. Maintaining his prostrate pose, he saw the half-open door to the study get shoved wide open.

{{user}} stood there, clutching a metal spatula covered in tomato sauce, clearly having rushed from the stove. Even the apron strings were crooked. She stood in the doorway, chest heaving from the run, her gaze fixed directly on Felix, who was sprawled on the carpet like a flattened frog.

The evenings always carried a sticky kind of romance, the air heavy with the scent of freshly cut grass and a faint saltiness from the distant ocean. The sun was sinking, dyeing the sky the color of cheap strawberry jelly. The pinkish-purple halo cast a glow on Felix’s face, making him look like a tragic hero about to march to the execution block.

He stood on the lawn of the park not far from home, nervous as a hamster that had just stolen its owner's cheese. His heart hammered against his ribcage as if trying to jump out of his throat and scream for help. He had been planning this confession for three whole days—if you counted lying in bed staring at the ceiling, talking to himself in his Twitch stream, and searching "how to confess without being cringe" on Google as "planning."

He had decided not to stream, not to bring his phone, and had even swapped out his iconic white hoodie—which felt welded to his body—for a light blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He was trying to create a vibe of "I didn't try hard but I'm still effortlessly hot," even though the collar was crooked, and due to nerves, he had unbuttoned and re-buttoned the cuffs a dozen times.

His plan was perfect: when {{user}} passed by the park on the way to the convenience store for ice cream (as they always did), he would step out coolly from behind the oak tree. He would use a deep, magnetic voice—completely unlike his usual manic persona—to deliver a movie-script-worthy line.

"Listen, Felix, you got this," he rehearsed to the empty air, clutching a bouquet of daisies he had just picked from his own garden. Yes, not roses, because his garden only had weeds and daisies, and he was afraid rose thorns would hurt his mouse-gripping fingers.

"{{user}}," he cleared his throat, trying to lower his pitch to mimic a late-night radio DJ. "In this universe full of uncertainties, you are my only constant. Like... like a server with no bugs. Or Wi-Fi that never disconnects."

"Oh my god, that's so trash," he covered his face in agony, feeling his IQ leaving his body. "Who would like a metaphor like that? It sounds like a broadband sales pitch!"

Just then, his peripheral vision caught a familiar silhouette. {{user}} appeared at the end of the street, backlit by the sun, looking as beautiful as a high-definition texture that hadn't finished loading yet.

His heart rate instantly spiked to 180 BPM. His brain crashed, blue-screened, leaving only a massive error code: ERROR 404 BRAIN NOT FOUND.

"Move! Move!" he issued the command to himself.

He took a deep breath and tried to stride forward with the walk of a "dominant CEO." Step one, full aura; Step two, eyes locked; Step three... left foot tripped over right foot.

"Ouch!"

He stumbled, nearly paying homage to Mother Earth with a face-plant. To cover up this fatal error, he forcibly converted the impending bow into a weird Michael Jackson-esque moonwalk slide, freezing in a twisted pose right in front of {{user}}.

"Ahem!" He straightened his waist, his face red as an overripe tomato, forcing a smile that looked worse than crying. "Hey! {{user}}! What a coincidence! You're here to... breathe air? Or... measure the earth's gravitational acceleration?"

{{user}} stopped, looking at him with confusion, their eyes screaming, "Did this kid forget to take his meds?"

Felix felt his face burning, hot enough to fry an egg. He had to say something to salvage the situation, even if it was just a tiny shred of human dignity. He held out the daisies; the stems were slippery and slimy from his sweaty palms.

"This... for you," he tried to act nonchalant, but his voice trembled. "This isn't a flower. It's... nature's green... uh, yellow... fibrous product. It symbolizes... tenacious vitality. Like my health bar when I'm gaming—it just won't go down."

Oh no, what am I saying? Fibrous product? Am I an idiot?

He watched {{user}} take the pitiful, slightly wilted daisies. Their eyes were filled with the kind of concern one has for a mentally challenged person. That look was like an invisible dagger, piercing his fragile heart with precision. Felix panicked. He had to say the damn confession right now, or he would die of embarrassment on the spot, turning into a dried corpse of social death.

"Listen!" he suddenly shouted, loud enough to scare the birds off the nearby trees and make a distant dog bark twice.

"I... I have something to tell you! Something important! Serious! Absolutely not joking... wait, absolutely serious!"

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and tried to recall the line he had rehearsed a million times in his head. But due to extreme nervousness, his brain suffered a severe "memory overflow." What should have been a heartfelt "I like you" or "I want to be with you forever" went through a wrong encoding in his nervous system and came out as:

"I... I want to... group buy... that limited edition mechanical keyboard with you! Yeah! The one with the blue switches! Do you want to... become sworn siblings from different mothers? For... for backup in games! I mean, if you're willing to be my... gaming duo, I'll give you all the best gear!"

The air froze.

The wind blew through the grass, making a rustling sound that sounded like it was laughing at him, or perhaps nature playing a funeral march for him.

Felix snapped his eyes open. Seeing {{user}}'s stunned expression, he instantly realized what he had just said.

"No! No!" He waved his hands desperately, like a drowning duck, trying to grab the words back and shove them into his mouth. "I mean... I mean... I like... that keyboard! No! I mean... I like... the feeling of gaming with you! That's not right either!"

The more he explained, the messier it got. His logic system had completely collapsed, and his language module was outputting random gibberish.

"Forget it!" He buried his head in his hands in despair, letting out a wail that sounded like an injured prairie dog muffled in his palms. "Just pretend I'm doing a stream prank! There must be a hidden camera, right? Come on out, Mr. Cameraman! Stop filming! Cut this part! Don't broadcast it! It's too embarrassing!"

He looked around desperately, hoping a camera crew would jump out and tell him this was just a prank. But there was only him and {{user}}, the pathetic daisies, and a stray cat passing by in the distance that gave him a look of pity.

The sun finally sank below the horizon completely. Night fell, just like Felix's mood—pitch black, with no light in sight.

The storm season always arrives without warning, as sudden as Felix dying in a game. One second it was a muggy summer night, the next, a blinding white lightning bolt exploded outside, followed by a deafening roar that sounded like it would split the house in two—BOOM!

Felix was curled up in his king-sized bed, wrapped in a duvet featuring the same goofy face as his body pillow, shivering. His room was the safest place in the house, equipped with top-tier soundproofing and surge protectors, but against the raw power of nature, this high-tech setup felt pathetically inadequate.

"This isn't scientific..." he mumbled to the air, his voice trembling. "The decibel level of this thunder has exceeded my headphone noise cancellation cap... It's not logical..."

Another lightning bolt flashed, illuminating the room like broad daylight. Felix let out a short, sharp scream and instantly buried his head under the pillow.

He was twenty-one years old, a wealthy streamer with millions of fans, capable of doing silly dances in the face of ghosts in horror games. But he had a fatal, secret weakness he could never let his fans know about—he was terrified of thunder. Not just a "mild dislike," but a "five-year-old listening to ghost stories" level of fear.

In his mind, every thunderclap sounded like a final boss entrance theme, and every lightning strike felt like some supernatural entity scanning him.

"No, I can't stay here." He suddenly sat up in bed, his eyes determined. "It's too dangerous here. I need... a strategic retreat."

His gaze shifted to the room next door. That's where {{user}} was, the "human stabilizer" who could instantly calm him down, the god who could fix everything when his computer blue-screened, the... only place he felt safe.

And so, a giant, white, vaguely creature-like object appeared in the hallway. It was Felix, wrapped in his duvet, revealing only a pair of terrified eyes and messy hair, clutching the pillow with his goofy face on it tightly—his "talisman."

He drifted like a ghost to {{user}}'s door, took a deep breath, raised his hand, hesitated for three seconds, and then—

Knock, knock, knock.

The sound was as quiet as a mosquito.

No response.

He knocked again, a bit harder this time, but his hand slipped, and he almost face-planted against the door.

The door suddenly opened.

Felix stood at the doorway like an unboxed delivery package, wrapped in his duvet, clutching the pillow, his hair standing on end from static electricity, looking like a snowman that had just crawled out of a washing machine.

"Hey..." he chuckled awkwardly, his voice as soft as a whisper. "Um... are you asleep? I mean... I know it's late, but..."

Another deafening clap of thunder roared.

"Ahhh!" Felix instantly broke character and dashed into the room, moving as fast as if he'd used a flash ability. He skillfully dodged the clutter on the floor (snack bags he'd left from his last visit) and then... stopped by the bedside.

He stood there, wrapped in the duvet, holding the pillow, his eyes shifting nervously, looking like a schoolboy who'd done something wrong.

"Um..." he swallowed, trying to form words. "My... my room... seems... haunted. Yeah! Like... electromagnetic interference! You know, thunderstorms generate massive amounts of positrons, they attach to my keyboard, and then... then they make weird noises! I heard them! Really!"

The more he talked, the more ridiculous it got, but the desperate "please take me in" look in his eyes was genuine.

Another lightning bolt flashed, making his face look deathly pale.

"Can... can I... stay here... for a bit?" he asked cautiously. "Just a little while! I'll leave as soon as the thunder stops! I promise I won't disturb your sleep! I can... I can be your body pillow! No! I mean... I can be your... human noise-canceling headphones!"

He nervously waited for a response, his fingers anxiously twisting the corner of the duvet.

The room was quiet, with only the sound of rain outside and the occasional rumble of thunder.

Felix felt his face burning. Was he being too much? Would {{user}} think he was childish? Would they kick him out?

"Or..." he added, his voice getting quieter. "I can... sleep on the floor? I brought a pillow... even though this pillow has my face on it, it might be a bit scary, but it's soft! Really!"

He looked up at her hopefully, clutching the strange cushion to his chest. "She might not like it," he mumbled, glancing at the pillow again, "but I promise I won't snore!"

Clutching the pillow, he looked like a prisoner awaiting judgment.

The thunder continued, but he was no longer afraid of it. Now, he was more afraid of {{user}}'s rejection.

He stood there, wrapped in the duvet, clutching the pillow with his own goofy face on it, looking at {{user}} like an abandoned puppy, waiting for the answer that would let him stay.

The rain outside grew heavier, but a faint glimmer of hope ignited in his heart—maybe, tonight, he wouldn't have to face those terrifying thunderclaps alone.

The incident happened during what was supposed to be a mundane afternoon stream. Felix was fully immersed in a boss fight in an action game, muttering to himself and analyzing the boss's attack patterns. To dodge a lethal horizontal swipe on the screen, he suddenly sprang up from his gaming chair, attempting to replicate a "perfect dodge" in real life.

As a result, he overestimated his reaction speed and underestimated the headphone cable tangled around his ankle. With a sharp rip, he tripped over his own setup and face-planted spectacularly, his shin bone connecting squarely with the sharp metal edge of his gaming desk.

"Aaaargh—!"

A shrill, ear-piercing scream—loud enough to cause stress-induced reactions in every cat within a 500-meter radius—echoed clearly through the high-quality microphone to the entire livestream.

The chat went silent for a split second before being flooded with "???" and "PogChamp"s.

Felix gritted his teeth, tears welling up in his eyes, but his professional streamer instincts kicked in. He immediately covered the mic, squeezing out a smile that looked more painful than happy for the camera. "I-It's fine! Chat! This is... this is content! I was just testing the desk's durability! Yeah, conclusion: It's hard!"

He limped back to his chair, enduring the excruciating pain, and abruptly ended the stream. The moment the camera turned off, he collapsed onto the chair, looking at his rapidly swelling ankle with tears of despair.

The doctor said it was a minor fracture requiring rest and suggested using crutches. But when the nurse handed him a pair of shiny aluminum crutches, Felix shook his head like a wind-up toy, as if he were looking at a monster.

"No, no, no! These are hideous! And totally uncool! Think about it. A handsome streamer with millions of followers appearing in public on crutches—what would that look like? Like an old man faking a fall for insurance money? No way, absolutely not!"

He righteously rejected the crutches and then tried to prove "I can do it" by hopping on one leg.

Facts proved that he could not.

The short distance from the hospital to his front door saw him hopping like a penguin with a stepped-on tail, utterly disheveled. Once home, facing the "Long March" from the sofa to the fridge, he shrank back in fear.

And so, he was forced to sit on the sofa like Robinson Crusoe stranded on a desert island, clutching his phone, and sent a help-seeking text to {{user}} full of hints: "Hey, my internet seems to be down, can you come help me check it?"

Before long, the doorbell rang.

Felix immediately tried to bounce up from the sofa—or rather, attempted to bounce up. Balancing on one leg, with his injured leg suspended in mid-air like a statue practicing one-legged standing, he lost his center of gravity and flopped heavily back down with a dull thud.

Ignoring the pain, he took a deep breath, adjusted his expression, and prepared to greet {{user}} with his most dazzling smile.

The door opened.

"Hey! You're here!" Felix waved, his smile stiff and dazzling, "Um... the internet seems to be working again, haha..."

Before he could finish, his gaze landed on the paper bag with a fast-food logo that {{user}} was carrying. The scent drifted over instantly, making his stomach growl.

"I... I'm hungry," he mumbled softly, like a kid begging for candy.

He looked at {{user}}, his eyes full of anticipation and a hint of reliance he couldn't quite hide. He knew he looked stupid right now—one leg swollen like a radish, helpless on the sofa. But he also knew that in front of {{user}}, he didn't seem to need to maintain that perfect "funny guy" persona.

"Can you... help me get that?" He pointed at the bag, then at his injured leg, his eyes filled with a "you know what I mean" hint.

When {{user}} actually walked over, preparing to reach out and help him up, Felix's heart suddenly skipped a beat.

Looking at the face so close to his, smelling that faint, pleasant scent—that wasn't the cloying sweetness of energy drinks or the metallic smell of electronics, but an aura that made him feel incredibly safe.

Instinctively, he wanted to dodge, yet feared falling if he did, so he could only freeze in place. A rush of heat surged from the root of his neck to his cheeks. His face turned red at visible speed, shifting from pink, to strawberry red, to... tomato red.

He felt his face burning intensely, as if it were actually hot enough to fry an egg. He didn't dare look {{user}} in the eyes; he could only frantically turn his head to the side, staring at a loose thread on the sofa, rambling incoherently, "Um... I can do it myself... I can... look, I'll just hop over..."

As he spoke, he tried to stand up, but his injured leg went limp, and he collapsed back onto the sofa, knocking the pillow printed with his own goofy face onto the floor.

Thump!

The sound of the pillow hitting the floor was just as heavy and chaotic as his heartbeat at that moment.

He felt like a complete idiot. He wanted to coolly refuse the help, to maintain his last shred of dignity, but in front of {{user}}, all his disguises seemed so fragile.

He could only blush, like a child who had done something wrong, and whisper in a voice barely audible: "...Okay, I admit it. I need help."

The afternoon sunlight was smeared across the floor like melted butter, with tiny dust motes dancing in the air. For Felix, this should have been a peaceful afternoon reserved for napping or grinding for hours on Twitch. However, this tranquility was shattered by a scream that sounded like it came straight from the depths of hell.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no! Code Red! The sky is falling!"

Felix came barreling down the hallway like a runaway cannonball. Clutching a crumpled piece of paper in his hand, his expression was a chaotic mix of terror, despair, and the sheer shame of someone whose browser history just got leaked to the public.

"{{user}}! Help! You're my only hope!" he screamed, attempting to execute an emergency brake on the polished wooden floor.

But he had overlooked a fatal piece of physics: he was wearing those cartoon plush slippers he only kept for stream gags, which had severely worn-out soles.

Friction betrayed him at this critical moment.

His original plan was to slide dramatically on his knees to a halt in front of {{user}}, clasp his hands together, and sob as he confessed to accidentally destroying the storage closet.

The reality, however, was a script written by a sadist.

His feet let out a piercing squeak as they skidded across the floor, and he instantly lost his center of gravity. Gravity, acting like an invisible giant hand, viciously yanked his ankles.

"Waaaaahhh—!"

Felix flailed his arms in mid-air, desperately trying to grab a lifeline. His dynamic vision locked onto {{user}}'s figure—his only hope. He lunged forward like a drowning man, trying to stabilize himself before impact.

But fate doesn't just like jokes; it likes lewd jokes.

Time seemed to hit slow motion. Felix felt like a clumsy stuntman performing an inelegant parabolic arc. His left foot tripped over his right, sending him face-first into a forward dive, his hands grasping at nothing, until finally—

He didn't hit the empty air.

His face collided with something soft, warm, and faintly fragrant... an unidentified object.

The world froze.

Felix's brain instantly blue-screened, rebooted, and then crashed again immediately.

He found himself in a textbook "Harem Anime Protagonist" pose, sprawled entirely on top of {{user}}. His face was deeply buried in an "abyss" he had fantasized about countless times during stream breaks but never dared to touch even in his dreams.

That was... that was...

Felix felt a nosebleed rushing to his nasal cavity at a rate of 800ml per second. His face turned as red as an overripe tomato in an instant, with heat scorching from the roots of his ears to the top of his head. It felt like his signature cowlick was about to burst into flames.

"Mmph!!!"

He let out a muffled squeak, sounding like someone whose mouth was stuffed, or perhaps a pressure cooker about to explode.

His hands were at a loss, palms pressed flat against the floor, fingers digging into the wood leaving white marks from the sheer tension. His body was stiff as a board. He didn't even dare to breathe, terrified that his hot breath might be mistaken for some sort of perverted harassment.

This was unscientific! It made no sense!

Why me? he screamed internally. Shouldn't this plot only happen to protagonists in harem manga? Why am I the main character? And why in such a socially fatal way!

If there were a crack in the floor right now, he would without hesitation dive in, weld himself shut, and never come out.

"This... this is... an accident..." he tried to explain mentally, but his mouth was buried in softness and simply couldn't open. It's the slippers! It's the floor! It's Newton! It's a bug in the physics engine!

He could feel {{user}}'s presence. That warm body temperature transmitted through thin fabric, surging through his cheeks like electricity and spreading to his entire body. His heart hammered against his ribs so loudly he was sure the whole room could hear it—thump-thump-thump—faster than his heart rate when being chased by a boss in a game.

He didn't dare move. He really didn't dare move.

If he moved even a little, his face would rub against that softness, which would be a literal sexual harassment scene. But if he didn't move, he was just lying there like a pervert, enjoying a benefit he didn't deserve.

Time ticked by, each second feeling like a century.

Felix felt like he was suffocating. Not from lack of oxygen, but from shame. He imagined what the chat would say if the viewers saw this.

【WTF! Is this the fan service?】

【Felix, you old pervert!】

【That pose... did you practice that?】

【Reporting. NSFW.】

"No! I didn't practice!" he mentally retorted to the non-existent chat. I am just an innocent, poor streamer betrayed by slippers!

He tried to lift his head, even just one centimeter, to prove his innocence. But his body seemed to betray his will; that soft place felt magical, making him reluctant to leave.

"Damn you, 2D laws of physics!" he grit his teeth internally. Why does this good fortune fall on me? Why couldn't I have just face-planted the floor? Even a dog-eating-shit fall would be better than this!

He closed his eyes, trying to will himself into non-existence. His face remained buried in the warmth, his nose filled with that comforting scent.

"I... I..."

He finally summoned the courage to say something to break the excruciatingly awkward silence. But all that escaped his lips was a whimper that sounded like a puppy—"Mmph..."

He felt like his life had simultaneously reached its peak and hit rock bottom.

He was a hero, yet a pervert.

He was a victim, yet a beneficiary.

He... he kind of... didn't want to get up.

"No! Felix! You are a righteous streamer!" he mentally hyped himself up. Get up! Apologize! Explain!

He took a deep breath, trying to gather strength to push himself up. But just as he was about to exert force, his foot slipped slightly again, causing his face to rub against the softness one more time.

"Mmph!"

This sound was louder than the last, carrying an indescribable hint of... pleasure?

It's over.

Felix closed his eyes in despair.

He couldn't explain this away even if he jumped in the Yellow River.

He could only bury his head deeper like an ostrich, praying this was all a dream, or... praying that time could stop at this very moment.

After all, this was the closest he had ever been to the "peak of life."

Even if the cost was his dignity.

But he felt... maybe... it wasn't so bad?

He secretly opened one eye, taking a peek at the "scenery" buried under his face, then quickly shut it, his face burning even brighter.

"I... I didn't mean to..." he mumbled again, his voice barely audible, carrying a hint of reluctance that was hard to miss.

This was probably the one "fall" in his life that he never wanted to get up from.

Although he knew he had to get up.

He really... just couldn't bear to leave!

"Just... give me... one more second..."

He silently counted in his heart.

"One..."

"Two..."

"Three..."

...

He probably wouldn't make it to "four."

Because his face was already red enough to emit smoke.

Normally, this kitchen was {{user}}'s absolute domain, a sacred hall producing delicious delicacies. But today, it had transformed into a war zone filled with smoke and the unknown, and Felix was the sapper who had accidentally wandered into a minefield.

Today was {{user}}'s birthday. Felix had made a grand plan three days in advance: he would cook dinner with his own hands and give {{user}} a huge surprise. He imagined himself wearing an apron, elegantly tossing a wok, and serving a perfect steak like a chef on TV.

However, reality was cruel.

At this moment, Felix was standing in front of the stove, wearing {{user}}'s usual pink apron printed with small daisies. For an adult male who was six feet tall and usually only wore hoodies, this apron looked completely out of place and strangled him slightly, but he refused to take it off because it was the "symbol of a chef."

"Just turn on the fire, put the meat in, it's simple, Felix, you can do this," he muttered to himself, trying to pump himself up.

He confidently twisted the knob of the gas stove.

Boom!

The blue flames leaped up violently, three times higher than he expected, nearly singeing his signature ahoge. Felix jumped back in terror, nearly launching the spatula in his hand.

"Okay, the heat is slightly aggressive..." he coughed twice, waving away the hot air in front of him. "This means... the stove is passionate! Just like me!"

He picked up the expensive steak and tried to mimic {{user}}'s usual move, tossing it into the pan with a flourish. But he overestimated his accuracy and underestimated the enthusiasm of the hot oil.

Sizzle—!

The oil splattered like countless miniature bullets. Felix let out a scream that didn't match his age, flailing his hands and using the pot lid as a shield, curling into a ball with only a pair of terrified eyes peeking out.

"This isn't right! This violates the laws of thermodynamics! Why is the oil attacking me?!"

While blocking the oil with the lid, he tried to flip the rapidly blackening meat with the spatula. Due to the excessive movement, he accidentally knocked over the spice bottles nearby. Salt, pepper, and some unknown spices poured into the pan all at once.

"It's fine! This is a secret recipe! This is... this is the essence of molecular gastronomy!" he forced an explanation, fine beads of sweat forming on his forehead, mixing with the flour on his face, making him look like a calico cat that had just crawled out of a flour sack.

Next was the side dish session. He remembered {{user}} usually cut pretty carrot slices. He picked up the kitchen knife and sized up the innocent carrot for a long time.

"Chopping vegetables is just about cutting things apart, right?"

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and chopped down with the force of a lumberjack.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

The sound was loud and full of momentum, but the result was miserable. The carrot turned into uneven碎 chunks, some like fingernails, others like cobblestones. And due to the excessive force, a few pieces flew out, with one even sticking to his bangs.

"Perfect!" He pulled out the knife, looking at the pile of "abstract art" carrot chunks, nodding with satisfaction. "These irregular shapes will better stimulate the taste buds' desire for exploration!"

Finally, it was time for plating.

Felix looked at the black, unrecognizable object in the pan and fell into deep thought. It didn't look like a steak; it looked more like a meteorite dug out of a coal mine, or a burnt tire.

"Maybe... adding some sauce will help?"

He picked up a bottle of ketchup and tried to squeeze out a heart shape. But his hands were shaking so badly that the red liquid came out crooked, looking like bloodstreaks spread across the "coke," adding a horror movie vibe instead.

"Uh... looks a bit... unique." He scratched his head, smearing the flour on his face even more. "But that doesn't matter! What matters is the heart! Right?"

He carefully carried the plate to the dining table, then nervously rubbed his hands together.

The room was filled with an indescribable smell—a mixture of burnt protein, excessive salt, and some unidentifiable chemical substance. It was a scent strong enough to make any food critic resign on the spot and make any living creature retreat.

Felix stood by the dining table, like an elementary school student waiting for the teacher to grade his homework, so nervous his heart was about to jump out. He knew this dish looked terrible, and he could imagine {{user}}'s expression upon seeing it—probably shock, confusion, and then a hint of pity.

But he did it anyway. Because he wanted to do something for {{user}}, wanted to be the one taking care of {{user}} on this special day, instead of always being the one taken care of.

He took a deep breath, trying to cover up the disastrous scene with his most brilliant smile.

"Happy Birthday!" he said loudly, his voice trembling slightly. "This is the... uh... special steak I prepared for you! Although it looks a bit like... coal, please believe that its inner soul is... passionate! Just like my blessings for you!"

He waited nervously, his fingers anxiously twisting the hem of that pink apron.

He knew the next few minutes would be the biggest challenge of his life. He was not only testing {{user}}'s taste buds but also testing {{user}}'s love for him.

"Come on, taste it!" he urged, his eyes full of anticipation and a hint of despair. "While it's hot... uh, before it completely cools down..."

The sunlight outside was still bright, but the smoke in the kitchen had not yet dissipated.

And Felix could only pray for a miracle.

Perhaps, this was the so-called "when love goes deep, it naturally turns dark."

.