The dorm felt smaller than usual.
Aiven noticed it the moment he stepped inside—the way walls seemed closer, the air heavier. The freedom of the forest already felt like a distant dream, replaced by schedules taped to the fridge and reminders scribbled on whiteboards.
Reality.
Raze disappeared into a meeting almost immediately after they arrived, leaving Aiven standing awkwardly in the hallway with Draven. Neither of them spoke for a moment.
"You okay?" Draven asked finally.
Aiven nodded. "Just tired."
Draven studied him closely, eyes sharp. "He didn't pressure you, did he?"
Aiven blinked. "No. Never."
Draven relaxed slightly. "Good."
Aiven hesitated, then said softly, "I don't regret it."
Draven looked away. "I didn't say you should."
But there was something else in his voice. Not judgment. Something closer to concern… or fear.
---
Later that evening, Aiven helped Miss Liora close the café. The routine felt comforting—the clink of cups, the warm scent of coffee, the familiar quiet.
As he wiped down the counter, his phone buzzed.
A message from Raze.
I miss you already.
Aiven smiled before he could stop himself.
You just left, he replied.
Still counts, Raze sent back.
Aiven typed, deleted, then finally sent:
Last night didn't change how careful I want us to be.
The reply came almost instantly.
It didn't change my respect for you. If anything, it made it stronger.
Aiven leaned against the counter, heart full and aching all at once.
---
Across town, Zenith stood alone in the practice room long after the others had left. Music played softly from the speakers, but he wasn't dancing. He kept stopping, mind drifting.
Draven.
The way he'd avoided eye contact. The tension in his shoulders. The silence that screamed louder than words.
Zenith wiped sweat from his neck, frustration tightening his chest. He didn't want to push. Didn't want to scare him.
But patience had never felt so heavy.
---
Draven sat on the edge of his bed that night, staring at his phone like it might explode.
Zenith's name sat there, unread, untouched.
He clenched his jaw.
"This is stupid," he muttered.
He tossed the phone aside and stood, pacing the room. Feelings were distractions. Weaknesses. Things people used against you.
And yet…
The way Zenith had handed him coffee that morning. The way he'd listened without pushing. The calm strength in his voice.
Draven stopped pacing.
"Damn it," he whispered.
---
The next day brought noise.
Fans gathered outside the building earlier than usual. Security tightened. Whispers followed Aiven when he walked past groups of strangers. Someone shouted Raze's name with something sharp underneath it.
Draven stepped in front of Aiven without thinking.
"Eyes forward," he said quietly. "Don't react."
Aiven nodded, fingers curling into his sleeve.
Zenith watched from a distance, jaw tight. He didn't like how close danger felt. He liked even less that he couldn't do anything about it without drawing attention.
Raze arrived late, face calm but eyes dark. He caught Aiven's gaze across the space, something unspoken passing between them.
Stay strong.
I'm here.
---
That night, Aiven lay awake again.
Not from fear this time—but from awareness.
Of how easily love complicated things. Of how fragile happiness felt under pressure. Of how Draven's silence and Zenith's restraint mirrored each other in ways that felt dangerous.
Two people circling something neither was ready to name.
Somewhere in the building, Zenith stared out a window, phone in hand, debating whether to send a message he'd already typed three times.
Somewhere else, Draven stared at the ceiling, heart pounding like it was bracing for impact.
And somewhere far above all of them, Velric read a report quietly, lips curving into a slow, knowing smile.
Camping trips always left traces.
And he was very good at following footprints.