[Gathering in Felix's Living Room with Detailed Interaction]
One by one, they returned from the hallway, now dressed in borrowed layers from Felix's wardrobe.
The storm still whispered against the windows, but inside the living room, the air was thick with warmth and the quiet hum of comfort.
Felix sat curled into a large armchair near the fireplace, legs tucked beneath him, wearing a loose charcoal-gray knit sweater and soft black lounge pants. His socks didn't match—one navy, one striped—but he didn't seem to care. A steaming mug rested in his hands, the scent of vanilla drifting through the air as he read quietly.
He didn't look up as footsteps padded in.
Max entered first, wearing a navy hoodie that swallowed him whole, and laughed.
"Man, your son's got great taste."
He flopped down onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, stretching his legs over the armrest like he belonged there.
Ray followed, dressed in a faded constellation hoodie and soft joggers.
"Everything fits surprisingly well,"
he noted, tugging at the hem.
Tyson strolled in behind them, hands behind his head, wearing an unbuttoned flannel over a graphic tee.
"Comfortable and stylish. I should crash at strangers' houses more often."
Kenny appeared in a sweater that could've doubled as a sleeping bag, hovering by the fireplace with his phone still in hand.
Kai came in last, dressed in black from head to toe—long-sleeve tee and dry joggers that matched his unreadable mood.
He didn't speak, but his gaze lingered on Felix, sharp and thoughtful, as if trying to place him in a puzzle he hadn't quite solved.
Hilary twirled once in an oversized hoodie that reached her knees, her wet clothes now neatly folded in a basket by the hall.
"Your clothes are super comfy, Felix."
Felix finally looked up, smiling faintly.
"Guess I've got good taste."
They were all cleaner, drier, more at ease now—sprawled across the couch and rug like they'd known this room for longer than ten minutes.
Felix raised his mug.
"Welcome back to the land of the warm and dry."
Max stretched his arms toward the fire.
"I swear your hoodie just healed my soul."
Tyson tugged on the drawstrings of his borrowed sweatshirt.
"Seriously, how do you even own this much stuff in so many sizes?"
Felix gave a mock-thoughtful nod.
"Years of impulse shopping. And bad judgment in online sizing."
Hilary, now wearing a button-up tied around her waist, settled beside Kenny. She gave their host a sidelong glance.
"You're kind of full of surprises."
Felix's smile was calm, unreadable.
"That's what makes storms fun—unexpected guests, unexpected conversations… and, if you're lucky, garlic bread."
Max slid to the floor, propping his feet up on the coffee table.
"You're seriously a lifesaver."
Tyson leaned on the couch armrest beside him, looking entirely at home. Kenny hunched forward, still scrolling. Ray and Hilary shared a throw blanket as they sat cross-legged near the fire. Kai took the armchair opposite Felix, arms folded, expression unreadable.
Felix looked around at them, a small grin tugging at his mouth.
"You're all welcome to stay as long as the storm sticks around. No rush to leave. There's snacks, spare blankets—and enough space in the kitchen if it comes to that."
Tyson scoffed.
"You're being weirdly casual about a group of drenched strangers crashing your house."
Max grinned.
"I don't know, man. This place is a total vibe."
Felix shrugged, unfazed.
"The storm's not the only one that should know how to make a good entrance."
[Hillary's Quiet Observation & Small Talk with Felix]
The room had shifted. The tension that clung to their clothes like rain had lifted. Warmth had settled in their limbs. Laughter had made its first quiet return.
Hilary, still nestled in the hoodie, watched Felix with quiet curiosity. He sat with ease, like he belonged to the calm even when the world outside raged. There was something oddly grounding about him.
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.
"Do you always take in strangers during storms?"
Felix's eyes twinkled as he met her gaze.
"Not always. But when you live near a bayou, unpredictability becomes part of the furniture. Sometimes it's people. Sometimes it's frogs in your mailbox. Sometimes it's rain that thinks it's an ocean."
He smiled, then added,
"Unexpected's kind of the default here."
She chuckled, shaking her head.
"Well, thank you. You didn't have to… but I'm really glad you did."
Felix tipped his mug toward her.
"It's no big deal. You can thank me properly when the power goes out and I still manage to make cocoa without electricity."
Then, almost like an afterthought, he added with a grin,
"Just don't get tomato sauce on the sleeves and we're good."
Tyson, ever the opportunist, dramatically sniffed the air.
"So... speaking of miracles—any chance there's food involved in this rescue mission?"
Felix gave him a flat look.
"What kind of host do you think I am?"
Without waiting for a reply, he stood and disappeared into the kitchen.
Moments later, the sound of cabinets opening and pots clinking filled the house. Then came the smell—garlic, butter, and something warm enough to make mouths water.
Kenny glanced toward the kitchen.
"You think his mom's cooking?"
Hilary shook her head.
"Nope. I saw her head toward the back with a blanket. Looks like she's letting him handle it."
Tyson blinked.
"Wait—he can cook?"
He looked like he'd just discovered a secret superpower.
Ray chuckled.
"I like him. Quiet, but solid. Doesn't try to impress. Just... shows up and does the thing."
Kai didn't speak, but his gaze stayed fixed on the kitchen doorway—on the boy who moved through it like he'd done this a hundred times.