The stage lights had dimmed hours ago, but the adrenaline still clung to Raze like a second skin. The final notes of ECLYPSE's comeback concert echoed in his mind as he sat backstage, sweat dripping down his face. The fans' cheers, screams, and chants felt endless, yet Raze's focus wasn't on the crowd—it was on Aiven, waiting somewhere safe.
Aiven leaned against the wall near the dressing room, exhaustion written across his soft features. The café had never felt so far away, yet being here, seeing Raze in the glow of his element, made his heart pound. Draven hovered close, arms crossed, eyes sharp, scanning the backstage area like a hawk. Even with Raze's triumphant performance, neither of them felt entirely safe.
"They loved you," Aiven whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair from Raze's damp forehead. His voice trembled slightly, betraying his fatigue. "They loved you so much."
Raze smiled faintly, fingers brushing over Aiven's. "I see them," he said softly. "But I only see you."
Draven's jaw tightened beside them, keeping a silent watch. His mind kept drifting back to Zenith—how he had held him, kissed him, how their first night together felt like both a spark and a storm. And yet, even with that, the chaos around them didn't cease. Zenith had not arrived yet, leaving Draven uneasy.
Velric's shadow was never far. He had watched the concert from his office, bitterness coating every word he muttered. "They're too strong," he hissed, throwing down the tablet displaying fan reactions. "Both of them… and now these two idiots think they're untouchable."
But Velric didn't give up. He had one more plan. "We'll isolate them. Make them doubt each other. Make them afraid," he muttered. "They'll bend to the rules eventually."
Little did he know, both Draven and Raze were already learning how to stand firm, together, even in the face of his schemes.
Backstage, Aiven and Raze shared a quiet moment, fingers intertwined. The adrenaline from the concert had left a residue of tension that neither could release fully, and yet, being close was enough. Raze leaned in slightly, just brushing his lips against Aiven's hair, careful not to overstep.
"I missed you," Raze murmured.
"I missed you too," Aiven replied, voice barely audible. "Even when you're here, performing… I feel like I'm always waiting."
Raze's hand tightened around his. "You'll never have to wait for me again," he promised, though the meaning behind the words weighed heavier than he let on.
Draven shifted beside them, frowning slightly. He caught Raze's gaze for a brief moment—a silent acknowledgment that everything was complicated. Protecting Aiven meant sometimes stepping into uncomfortable territory, and Draven didn't mind. Zenith would understand.
Meanwhile, somewhere quiet in the shadows of the city, Zenith had found Draven a moment alone after the chaos of the concert. His eyes softened as he took in Draven's tense posture.
"You okay?" Zenith asked quietly, moving close.
Draven nodded, though his shoulders remained tight. "Yeah… I just… I hate that people can make us feel like this is dangerous, like we're not allowed to exist."
Zenith smiled faintly, brushing a hand across Draven's. "Then we exist anyway. You, me… whatever anyone says, whoever tries to stop us—we're doing this our way."
Draven swallowed hard. "I… I like that. I like us."
Their hands lingered together, fingers lacing naturally. The brief touches, the soft glances, and the unspoken promises hung heavy in the air. For the first time since the secret started, Draven felt the calm before the storm—a quiet confidence that they could survive whatever came next.
Back at the dorm, Raze and the other members were winding down, laughing and teasing one another about stage mishaps, wardrobe fails, and choreography mistakes. The energy was light, almost normal. But Raze's thoughts kept drifting back to Aiven, the lingering worry for Draven, and the unspoken tensions that hovered around Zenith and Draven's secret.
Nova nudged Raze, a cheeky grin on his face. "Hey, you gonna tell me how the backstage went, or are you keeping all the juicy stuff for Aiven?"
Raze smirked lightly. "I think Aiven deserves the first report," he said, glancing toward the café guy, whose soft blush told him everything he needed to know.
The night ended quietly, the three of them—Raze, Aiven, and Draven—standing in a small circle by the window, overlooking the city. The air was cool, electric with anticipation.
"We survived it," Aiven whispered.
"For now," Raze corrected, though his grip on Aiven's hand was firm, protective.
"And next time?" Draven asked, voice low, almost teasing.
Raze smiled faintly. "Next time… we face it together."
Draven's eyes flicked to the door, already anticipating Zenith's arrival, knowing that the next challenge wasn't over.
And it wouldn't be.
The night was theirs—but the storm was only just beginning.