The photo wasn't meant to be public.
It wasn't even meant to be taken.
But the internet didn't ask for permission—it simply took what it wanted and twisted it for attention.
Kaito saw it first.
A blurry, low-resolution snapshot from the alley behind Abyss. A figure with glitter-smudged cheeks, wig tucked under one arm. Beside him—Ren. Mid-laugh, head tilted, standing close. Too close.
The headline read:
"Secret Romance? Kane's Mystery Boy Unmasked!"
He stared at the screen for a full minute before throwing the phone onto his bed, hands shaking.
It wasn't the photo. It wasn't even the assumption.
It was the timing. Just when he had finally let someone in.
---
Ren found out two hours later when Mina sent him the link.
His stomach twisted.
He paced his apartment, reading and rereading the thread. Commenters speculating. Fans defending him. A few cruel jokes. And no statement from Kane—or Kaito.
No message. No text.
His phone stayed quiet the entire day.
---
The next morning at the café, Kaito didn't show up.
Neither did the usual calm that came with the sound of espresso and ceramic cups.
By noon, Ren had already checked his phone twenty times.
At 4:13 PM, the bell above the door jingled.
Kaito walked in.
Ren's breath caught. Kaito looked tired—hood up, sunglasses on, hands deep in his pockets like he wanted to disappear into himself.
"Hey," Ren said gently.
Kaito didn't answer right away. He stepped up to the counter, took off the glasses.
"You okay?" Ren asked.
Kaito exhaled. "It's a mess."
"I know," Ren said. "I didn't tell anyone. I swear."
"I believe you," Kaito replied. Then, softer: "I'm just… scared."
Ren came around the counter, closing the distance between them.
"You don't owe the internet anything," he said. "And you don't have to explain yourself to strangers."
Kaito looked at him, eyes rimmed with exhaustion. "But if people find out who I really am… it could ruin everything. The performances, the freedom, the privacy. You."
"I don't care what people say," Ren said, firm. "I care what you say."
Kaito was silent.
Then he reached into his bag and pulled out something wrapped in soft cloth. When he unfolded it, Ren saw a delicate, hand-held mirror—vintage, heavy, the kind performers used backstage.
"Every time I look into this before going on stage, I ask myself if I can still do it," Kaito said. "Be Kane. Be someone else."
He placed the mirror on the counter. Their reflections wavered inside it, shoulder to shoulder.
"I think I'm tired of pretending," he said quietly.
Ren stepped closer. "Then stop pretending. Be both. Or neither. Just… be you."
Kaito met his eyes, and for the first time, there was no mask—no stage lights, no hiding, no glitter.
Just him.
And slowly, almost cautiously, he reached for Ren's hand.
Ren held it without hesitation.