Draven sat on the edge of his bed, phone still in hand, staring at the screen as if it held all the answers. His chest was tight, mind racing, heart hammering in a rhythm that made him dizzy. He replayed the kiss over and over, every touch, every fleeting warmth of Zenith's lips. The memory was both thrilling and terrifying.
He had pushed Zenith away, and for good reason—or so he had told himself. The fear of fans, the potential fallout, the chaos that would ensue if anyone found out—it was overwhelming. But now, alone and quiet, that fear felt smaller. The want he had felt… that was bigger.
Draven's fingers hovered over his phone. He didn't know how to say it, didn't know if he was ready, but the words tumbled out anyway.
Draven: Zenith… I've been thinking. About us. About that kiss. I… I want this. I want you. I don't care about everything else right now. I just… want you.
He hit send before fear could stop him and exhaled, almost expecting an immediate reply—but nothing came. His mind raced, second-guessing everything. What if he had misread the signs? What if Zenith was just testing him?
A soft vibration jolted him. Zenith's reply appeared:
Zenith: I've been waiting for you to say that. I like you, Draven. I want this too. But we'll keep it secret, okay? Just for now.
Draven's chest tightened—not from fear this time, but from relief and a strange, dizzying happiness. He leaned back, letting the weight of weeks of tension fall from his shoulders. He wanted to run, scream, or laugh—it didn't matter which—but all he could do was stare at the screen and imagine Zenith's face, smiling softly, waiting for him.
The next morning, Draven arrived at the café to see Aiven already at work. Aiven looked up, sensing his unsettled energy. "Did you… figure it out?" he asked carefully, voice soft.
Draven hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Yeah. I… I accepted him."
Aiven's eyes lit up, relief and joy sparkling there. "Finally," he said, a teasing lilt to his voice. "It suits you, you know. Zenith suits you."
Draven chuckled nervously, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't think I'd ever say this, but… I really do like him. A lot."
"And?" Aiven pressed gently, leaning closer.
Draven shook his head, smiling. "And I want to be with him. Secretly… for now."
Aiven grinned. "Good. That's all I wanted to hear. Now… don't make him wait too long."
Draven laughed, the tension finally starting to leave his chest. For the first time in weeks, he felt a strange, liberating certainty. Zenith was someone worth the risk, someone who made the chaos and fear feel manageable because he had someone to face it with.
That evening, he sent a quick message to Zenith:
Draven: I'm ready. Let's do this. Just… promise me we'll be careful.
The reply came almost instantly:
Zenith: Always. Secretly, but completely.
Draven smiled, leaning back against the wall, heart full. The fear hadn't disappeared entirely, but the uncertainty had been replaced by something more powerful: choice. And for the first time, Draven realized he didn't want to hide from it anymore.
Even if the world wasn't ready, even if fans or members or Velric could complicate things, Draven knew one thing: he wanted Zenith. And for now, that was enough.