The silence after the live was louder than any crowd.
Zenith felt it the moment he woke up—his phone vibrating endlessly on the nightstand, the air heavy with something final. He didn't reach for it right away. He stayed still, staring at the ceiling, Draven's steady breathing beside him the only thing keeping his chest from collapsing.
Then the phone rang.
Not a message.
A call.
Zenith answered.
"Get dressed," Velric said coldly. "You have thirty minutes."
The line went dead.
Draven sat up slowly. "That didn't sound good."
Zenith exhaled. "It wasn't meant to."
Draven swallowed. "I can come with you."
Zenith turned to him instantly. "No."
Draven stiffened. "Zen—"
"They'll use you," Zenith said firmly. "Your presence. Your expression. Your existence. They'll frame it as weakness."
Draven's jaw tightened. "So I'm the liability."
Zenith softened immediately, cupping Draven's face. "You're the reason. There's a difference."
Draven closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. "Then let me at least wait."
Zenith nodded. "Wait for me."
The conference room was colder than Zenith remembered.
Velric sat at the head of the table, legal representatives flanking him. Printed screenshots lay scattered—hashtags, comments, headlines.
ZENITH CONFIRMS RELATIONSHIP.
FANS DIVIDED.
IDOL BREAKS UNWRITTEN RULE.
"You crossed protocol," Velric began.
Zenith didn't sit. "I told the truth."
Velric steepled his fingers. "Truth is negotiable. Image is not."
One of the executives slid a document forward. "Effective immediately, your solo activities are suspended."
Zenith's eyes flicked down. "And ECLYPSE?"
"Pending," Velric said. "We'll see how public sentiment stabilizes."
Zenith laughed once, sharp and humorless. "You're punishing five people for one man's honesty."
Velric's gaze hardened. "You're punishing them."
Zenith leaned forward. "No. I'm protecting someone you were willing to sacrifice."
Silence fell.
Velric finally spoke. "End it. Quietly. We spin reconciliation with fans, you recover your standing."
Zenith straightened. "No."
Velric sighed. "Then prepare for consequences."
Zenith turned and walked out without another word.
Draven knew something was wrong the moment Zenith stepped inside.
He looked… emptied. Like someone who'd walked through fire and left pieces behind.
"They suspended you," Draven said quietly.
Zenith paused. "How did you—"
"You look like someone who paid a price."
Zenith crossed the room and pulled Draven into his arms, forehead resting against his shoulder. "They want me to erase you."
Draven's chest tightened. "Maybe… maybe it wouldn't be erasing. Just—delaying."
Zenith pulled back immediately. "Don't."
Draven's eyes glistened. "I never wanted this to hurt everyone."
Zenith cupped his face firmly. "Listen to me. What's hurting everyone is a system that survives on fear. Not you."
Draven shook his head. "Your fans—"
"Are learning," Zenith said. "And the ones who won't? They were never mine."
Draven looked unconvinced.
Across the city, Aiven paced the café after closing, Raze leaning against the counter, arms crossed.
"They're circling," Raze said. "I can feel it."
Aiven nodded. "Draven's trending again."
Raze scowled. "Zenith fans?"
"Mostly."
Raze clenched his jaw. "They don't scare me."
"They scare Draven," Aiven replied softly.
Raze exhaled. "Then we don't let him face it alone."
That night, Zenith found Draven sitting on the floor of the bedroom, phone in his lap.
He didn't need to ask what Draven had seen.
Zenith sat beside him. "Talk to me."
Draven's voice was quiet. "They say I trapped you. That I used you. That if I really loved you, I'd leave."
Zenith took the phone and set it aside. "And what do you think?"
Draven hesitated. "I think… loving you shouldn't cost you your life's work."
Zenith turned fully toward him. "Loving you is my life's work."
Draven broke then, tears spilling silently.
Zenith pulled him close, arms tight. "I chose this. Every consequence. Every fight."
Draven whispered, "I'm scared."
Zenith kissed his temple. "So am I."
They stayed like that, holding each other while the world outside recalculated their worth.
Elsewhere, Velric stared at fresh reports.
Numbers dipped.
But others rose.
Support threads. New fans. Old fans speaking out against toxicity.
He frowned.
This wasn't collapsing.
It was changing.
And change was dangerous.
He picked up his phone.
"Prepare a contingency," Velric said. "If they won't bend… we remind them who holds the stage."
And far from the noise, on the edge of something fragile and unbreakable, Zenith and Draven held on—not knowing if love would save them, but certain now that silence never would.