Aiven woke before dawn, the soft grey light slipping through the curtains and brushing across his face. For a moment, the quietness felt unreal—like maybe he had dreamed the fans, the messages, the fear. But then he shifted and saw Raze asleep on the floor beside the couch, one arm loosely draped near the cushion, as if he had been guarding him even in his sleep.
Aiven pressed a hand to his chest, warmth flooding him.
"Raze…" he whispered softly. "You should be with the others."
Across the room, Draven sat half-asleep in a chair, arms crossed tightly, chin dipping only to jerk awake again. He looked exhausted, like he had battled sleep all night. He lifted his gaze the moment Aiven sat up.
"You should've woken me," Draven muttered, voice thick with fatigue. "You move too quietly."
"You didn't sleep," Aiven said gently.
Draven didn't deny it—just shrugged and looked away. "Couldn't. Not with those messages still coming in."
Raze stirred then, blinking slowly. When his eyes landed on Aiven, he sat up immediately, worry flashing through him.
"You're awake," he said, the tension in his voice impossible to hide. "How do you feel? Did you sleep?"
"A little," Aiven admitted. "You both look worse than me."
Raze rubbed the back of his neck, guilt flickering across his face.
"I should've been at the dorm. The members are preparing for the comeback today. I told them I'd come later but…" His eyes softened. "I didn't want to leave you alone."
Aiven's throat tightened.
"You didn't have to stay. I don't want to be the reason you get in trouble."
Raze gazed straight at him, sincerity shining through his tired eyes. "You're not trouble. I stayed because I wanted to."
Aiven's heart skipped, but before he could answer, his phone buzzed sharply in his hand.
The moment the screen lit up, all the warmth drained from him.
A photo.
Taken from last night.
Him walking with Raze and Draven.
And the caption beneath it:
"You think we don't see? He doesn't deserve you."
Raze grabbed the phone before Aiven could react fully. His shoulders stiffened, eyes sharpening with anger.
"This is… insane," he breathed. "They're stalking you."
"Give me a name," Draven said through clenched teeth. "Just one. I'll handle it."
"Draven, no," Aiven said quickly. "They want a reaction. Don't give it to them."
Draven inhaled sharply, forcing himself to step back, though his jaw stayed tight.
"We're not letting you walk alone today," Raze said, already standing. "I'm taking you to the café before going to the dorm."
"And I'm staying near the café," Draven added. "If any fans try something again, I'll be right there."
Aiven shook his head, torn. "You both shouldn't—"
"Stop worrying," Raze murmured. "We decided this."
The room fell into a heavy silence—warm, protective, and frightening all at once.
---
They stepped outside together, the early morning chill brushing against them. Aiven tried to steady his breathing, but every shadow on the street made him tense. Draven walked slightly ahead, eyes scanning every corner. Raze stayed so close that their arms brushed with each step.
Still, the moment they neared the crosswalk, a familiar figure leaned casually against a lamppost.
Zenith.
He lifted his head slowly, sunglasses hiding most of his expression—except the small knowing smirk tugging at his lips.
"You three look like you're in the middle of a crisis," he said.
Draven groaned. "Not now."
Zenith ignored him and turned to Aiven. "You okay?"
"I'm… trying to be," Aiven said quietly.
Zenith tilted his head. "Good. Try harder. Velric's been poking around more than usual."
A shiver ran straight down Aiven's spine.
Raze immediately stepped in front of Aiven, tense. "Velric? What did he say?"
"Nothing you want to hear," Zenith replied. His gaze slid briefly to Draven. Their eyes locked for a moment—something sharp, silent, intense—before Zenith looked away again. "Just be careful. All of you."
As Aiven, Raze, and Draven walked away, Zenith stayed behind, hands in his pockets, watching them with an unreadable expression.
Aiven couldn't shake the feeling that something was building between Zenith and Draven—something that had no shape yet, just tension and sparks hovering silently in the space between them.
---
The café was quieter than usual when they reached it. Aiven unlocked the door with trembling fingers, trying to pretend everything was normal.
"I'll walk you in," Raze said.
"But you need to go," Aiven reminded him softly. "Your group will be waiting."
"I'll leave when you're settled. Not before."
Draven slipped into a seat near the window, eyes sharp as he watched the street.
Aiven tied his apron slowly, trying to calm the pounding in his chest. Raze came up beside him, adjusting the knot on the strap without touching his skin directly.
"You're shaking," he said softly.
"A lot happened," Aiven whispered back.
"We'll get through it," Raze replied. "I'm not going anywhere."
His voice was firm—gentle but strong enough to hold Aiven steady.
After a long moment, Raze exhaled and stepped back reluctantly.
"I really have to go. The members will drag me by my ears if I don't show up."
Aiven nodded, managing a small smile. "Go. I'll be okay."
Raze hesitated. "Text me. Every hour. Please."
"I will."
Raze left with one last lingering look—filled with something deep and unspoken.
Draven watched him go, then muttered, "He's too attached."
Aiven blinked. "Is that… bad?"
Draven didn't answer immediately. "No. Just dangerous."
Aiven swallowed hard.
"Draven… thank you. For everything."
For the first time that morning, Draven smiled—small, but real.
"Don't thank me yet. Velric's still out there."
Aiven looked toward the street, the early light catching on the windows, the world slowly waking up.
Danger wasn't just close.
It was already watching.
But for now, inside the café, with Draven nearby and Raze only a text away, Aiven let himself breathe just a little easier.