The campsite was quieter than Aiven expected.
Tall trees surrounded the clearing, their leaves whispering softly as evening settled in. The air smelled like pine and earth, and for the first time in weeks, there were no cameras, no shouting fans, no lurking shadows behind corners.
Just them.
The members spread out quickly, unloading bags, teasing each other, laughing louder than usual. Kaze immediately complained about bugs. Nova took pictures of everything. Astryx disappeared with his phone, pretending he wasn't checking signal.
Draven stood a little apart, arms crossed, eyes scanning the forest like he expected danger to leap out at any moment.
"I told you this was a bad idea," he muttered.
Aiven smiled softly. "You haven't even sat down yet."
"I don't trust places where the ground is uneven," Draven replied. "Or people who smile too much."
Zenith glanced over at him, lips twitching. "Then why did you come?"
Draven shot him a look. "Because some people don't know how to take no."
Aiven pretended not to notice the way Zenith's gaze lingered a second longer than necessary.
---
Night fell slowly.
A fire crackled at the center of the campsite, warmth spreading as laughter grew easier, looser. Someone passed around drinks—nothing strong, just enough to soften edges and loosen tongues.
Raze stayed close to Aiven, not touching much, but always there. A shoulder brushing. A knee knocking lightly against his. Small things that made Aiven's heart race more than they should have.
"You okay?" Raze murmured.
Aiven nodded. "I feel… safe."
Raze's eyes softened. "Good."
Draven watched them from across the fire, expression unreadable. He wasn't drunk—just quieter than usual. Zenith sat beside him, close enough that their shoulders almost touched.
Almost.
"You're tense," Zenith said quietly.
Draven scoffed. "You're imagining things."
Zenith didn't push. He never did. And somehow, that made it worse.
---
Later, as the others drifted off—some to tents, some still laughing softly by the dying fire—Raze stood and held out a hand to Aiven.
"Walk with me?"
Aiven hesitated only a moment before taking it.
They didn't go far. Just beyond the firelight, where the forest wrapped around them in shadows and quiet. Crickets sang. The air felt heavier, charged.
Raze stopped, turning to face him. "You don't have to—"
"I want to," Aiven said softly.
Raze searched his face, slow and careful, like he was memorizing him. "Tell me if you're scared."
"I am," Aiven admitted. "But I trust you."
Raze exhaled, forehead resting lightly against Aiven's. "Then let me be gentle."
They kissed—slow, unsure at first, then deeper, warmer. No rush. No pressure. Just two people choosing each other in the quiet.
When they disappeared into the tent together later, the forest swallowed the sound, leaving only the fire's dying embers and the hush of night.
What happened between them was private. Tender. Something that belonged only to them.
---
Draven sat by the fire long after most had gone to sleep.
Zenith handed him a bottle of water. "You're thinking too loud."
Draven accepted it without comment. After a moment, he said, "You ever feel like… you're standing on the edge of something, and stepping forward would ruin everything?"
Zenith's breath hitched—but his voice stayed calm. "Every day."
Draven looked at him then. Really looked.
The firelight painted Zenith's face in gold and shadow. Familiar. Steady. Too close.
And suddenly, painfully, Draven understood.
The irritation. The tension. The way Zenith's presence felt like a challenge and a comfort all at once.
Oh.
Draven looked away sharply. "Damn it."
Zenith frowned. "What?"
"Nothing," Draven muttered, standing abruptly. "I'm going to bed."
Zenith watched him go, heart pounding, not knowing why the distance suddenly felt heavier than silence.
---
That night, the forest held secrets.
Love had deepened quietly in one tent.
And in another heart, something dangerous and undeniable had finally begun to wake.