Aiven didn't sleep much that night.
Not because of fear—but because every time he closed his eyes, he remembered the way Raze had said his name by the river. Quiet. Careful. Like something precious he didn't want to break.
Boyfriend.
The word felt unreal in his chest.
Morning light filtered through the curtains of Draven's apartment, pale and gentle. Aiven lay on his side, staring at the wall, phone pressed loosely against his palm. There were messages from Raze—short, careful ones, spaced out like he was afraid of saying too much.
Did you get home safe?
Rest today.
I'll be busy, but I'm thinking about you.
Aiven smiled into the pillow before he could stop himself.
"You're glowing," Draven said from the doorway.
Aiven startled. "I am not."
Draven raised an eyebrow. "You're smiling at your phone like it just confessed love."
Aiven hesitated only a second before nodding. "He did."
Draven leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, studying him closely. "How do you feel?"
Aiven thought about it. The fear was still there—quiet but persistent. But beneath it was something warmer.
"Lighter," he said. "And terrified."
Draven snorted softly. "Sounds right."
He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. "Remember. You don't owe anyone perfection. Not fans. Not managers. Not even him."
"I know," Aiven said. "But I want to do this right."
Draven's gaze softened. "Then you will."
---
The café was busy by midday.
Aiven tied his apron, took a steady breath, and stepped back into the familiar rhythm of orders and smiles. Work helped—it grounded him, reminded him that not everything revolved around fear and secrets.
Still, he felt eyes on him more than usual.
Whispers followed him when he moved between tables. Phones lifted a little too quickly. One customer stared at him openly, lips curling into a smile that made his skin crawl.
"You okay?" Miss Liora asked quietly as she passed him a tray.
"Yes," Aiven lied.
During his break, he checked his phone and froze.
A message from an unknown number.
Congratulations.
His heart dropped.
Before he could respond—or block it—another message came through.
Be careful who you celebrate with.
Aiven's fingers trembled.
He didn't reply.
---
Across the city, Raze sat in the dorm living room with the other members, half-listening to their chatter as they prepared for their upcoming return to schedules. He laughed when he was supposed to, nodded when someone spoke—but his mind wasn't there.
It was with Aiven.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn't check it immediately. Cameras were everywhere in this building—some official, some not.
When he finally excused himself and stepped into the hallway, he opened the message and felt his jaw tighten.
Unknown number. Threatening tone.
Raze leaned against the wall, anger flaring hot and sharp.
He typed back quickly.
Don't reply. I'll handle it.
After a pause, he added:
I'm sorry.
Aiven responded almost instantly.
This isn't your fault.
Raze closed his eyes.
That made it worse.
---
That evening, Draven noticed the change in Aiven immediately.
"You got another message," he said flatly.
Aiven nodded. "They know."
"They always know something," Draven replied. "Doesn't mean they know everything."
Aiven sank onto the couch. "I thought saying yes would make things feel simpler."
Draven sat beside him. "Love doesn't simplify things. It gives you a reason to survive them."
There was a knock at the door.
Both of them stiffened.
Draven stood first, checking the peephole before opening it slightly. Zenith stood outside, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.
"We need to talk," Zenith said.
Draven stepped aside reluctantly.
Zenith's gaze flicked to Aiven, lingering for just a second longer than necessary. "You look… different."
Aiven swallowed. "I feel different."
Zenith nodded slowly. "That's what I was afraid of."
Draven bristled. "Say what you mean."
Zenith exhaled. "Velric asked about him today."
The room went cold.
"What did he say?" Aiven asked quietly.
"Nothing direct," Zenith replied. "Which makes it worse. He smiled. Said your name like it was already his problem to solve."
Draven clenched his fists. "We need to be careful."
Zenith's eyes lingered on Draven now—something unspoken passing between them, tension curling tight and unresolved.
"I'll keep watch," Zenith said. "Both of you."
Aiven nodded gratefully. "Thank you."
Zenith hesitated, then added, "And Aiven… whatever you're doing—don't rush it. Velric punishes speed."
With that, he left.
---
Later that night, Aiven lay in bed again, phone pressed to his ear as Raze whispered on the other end.
"I wish I could be there," Raze said.
"I know," Aiven replied. "But hearing you helps."
There was a pause. "Are you scared?"
"Yes," Aiven said honestly.
"Me too," Raze admitted. "But I don't regret asking. Not for a second."
Aiven smiled softly into the dark. "Neither do I."
They stayed on the line longer than they should have, saying very little—just breathing, existing together in stolen quiet.
When the call ended, Aiven stared at the ceiling, heart full and heavy all at once.
They weren't safe.
They weren't free.
But they were real.
And somewhere, Velric was watching the pieces fall into place—already planning how to pull them apart.