By evening, the café's earlier chaos had become a whisper across social media. Screens lit up with messages, screenshots, and speculation. Toxic Zenith fans had noticed Draven with Aiven, and rumors started spreading like wildfire.
Did you see who was with Aiven today?
That's him… the guy getting close to Zenith!
Zenith deserves better—get rid of him!
Aiven tried not to check his phone, but the buzzing in his pocket was relentless. Every notification felt like another arrow aimed at the fragile peace they'd been holding.
Draven sat across from him at one of the corner tables, eyes dark as he scrolled. He didn't even need to read everything—he could already feel the venom. "It's worse than I thought," he muttered, jaw tight.
Aiven reached across the table, resting a hand on Draven's. "We'll handle it. Together."
Draven glanced at him, the intensity in his eyes softening for a moment. "Together," he echoed, though the weight of the hate pressed down on both of them.
Meanwhile, Zenith, back in the dorm, monitored the messages quietly. Each comment, each accusation, each threat made his chest tighten. He knew Draven was strong, but seeing him targeted like this made something twist in his stomach. Protecting him wasn't just about appearances—it was about keeping him safe.
He sent Draven a short message: Stay calm. I'm here. Don't let them see you shake.
Draven read it, his fingers tightening around his phone. I know.
That night, Aiven couldn't sleep. His thoughts kept returning to the confrontation, the harsh words of fans, and the way Draven had stood between him and danger without hesitation. A wave of gratitude—and something deeper—washed over him.
Zenith, too, sat awake, staring at his ceiling. The protective instinct gnawed at him. I won't let them hurt him. Not Draven. Not Aiven. Not anyone I care about.
Even as the online storm grew, a quiet understanding settled among the three of them: the world could rage and threaten, but they had each other. And sometimes, that was all that mattered.