The van was quiet on the ride back to the dorm. The city lights flashed past the tinted windows, but no one spoke. Tavi had his head against the glass, eyes closed. Eren scrolled through his phone with a scowl, muttering curse words under his breath. Sion sat with his arms crossed, staring out like the night sky had answers.
Klan sat in the far corner, his head bowed, fingers twisting the edge of his hoodie. Kael noticed every movement. He always did.
The silence was suffocating, so Kael broke it. "Tomorrow, practice starts at 9. Don't be late."
Eren groaned loudly. "Seriously, hyung? We just debuted. Can we at least breathe for a day?"
Kael's jaw tightened. "Breathing doesn't make us famous."
Eren muttered something under his breath, but Kael didn't catch it. He didn't care. His mind was already spinning with numbers—streaming counts, sales, rankings. All of them too low. All of them screaming failure.
He opened his phone, scrolling through comments on their debut stage.
"Who are these guys?"
"LUMINA? Never heard of them."
"The leader looks hot though. What's his name?"
"The song is okay… forgettable."
Kael's chest tightened, but his expression didn't change. He closed the app and stared at his reflection in the dark window. Strong jawline, sharp eyes, perfect hair. All the things fans were supposed to love. But what was the point if no one cared?
When they reached the dorm, the members scattered to their rooms without a word. Kael stayed behind in the living room, sinking onto the couch with a heavy sigh. His body ached, but his mind wouldn't stop.
Leader.
That word had sounded so proud when the company gave it to him. Now it felt like a chain around his neck.
The sound of soft footsteps made him glance up. Klan stood in the doorway, holding a glass of water. His gray-blue eyes looked tired under the dim lights.
"You're still up?" Kael asked.
Klan hesitated, then walked in and sat across from him, curling up on the edge of the couch. "Couldn't sleep."
Kael studied him. His hair was messy now, falling into his eyes, and his oversized hoodie swallowed his small frame. He looked nothing like the idol who'd danced under the blinding stage lights hours ago.
"Why?" Kael asked.
Klan's fingers tightened around the glass. "I just… I thought debut would feel different." His voice was small, almost breaking. "But when I looked out there… it was like we didn't matter."
Kael's chest clenched. He'd thought the same thing—but he couldn't say it. He was the leader. Leaders didn't doubt. Leaders didn't break.
Instead, he said, "We do matter. Just not yet."
Klan looked up, meeting his amber eyes. "Do you really believe that?"
Kael held his gaze, steady and unwavering. "Yes. And you should too."
Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken things. Then Klan gave a faint, tired smile—the kind that didn't reach his eyes.
"You always sound so sure," he whispered. "I wish I could be like that."
Kael didn't answer. He couldn't tell him that sometimes, when the cameras were off and the lights were gone, he wasn't sure of anything. That every day felt like a fight against failure.
Instead, he reached out without thinking and brushed a stray strand of hair from Klan's face. It was soft under his fingers, warm.
Klan froze, eyes widening. Kael realized what he'd done and pulled back immediately, his expression slipping back to neutral.
"Go sleep," Kael said, his voice calm, like nothing happened. "Tomorrow will be better."
Klan stared at him for a moment longer, something unreadable in his eyes, then nodded and stood. "Good night, Kael."
"Good night."
When Klan disappeared into his room, Kael leaned back on the couch, dragging a hand down his face.
Tomorrow will be better.
He wasn't sure if he believed it—but for Klan, he had to.