Tension at the Café
Draven waited outside the café again, his gaze sweeping the street for any hint of trouble. Aiven emerged a few minutes later, locking the door behind him. He smiled faintly at Draven, but there was exhaustion in his eyes.
"Another long day?" Draven asked quietly.
Aiven nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah… it's like fans are always a step behind me."
Draven's jaw tightened. "I'll handle it."
Aiven glanced at him, conflicted. "You've been doing too much, Draven. You don't have to—"
"I want to," Draven interrupted firmly. "Protecting you isn't a choice. It's… it's me."
Aiven's lips pressed together, unspoken words lingering in the air. The weight of Draven's presence was comforting, but it also reminded him of how fragile everything around them had become.
Messages in the Dark
Later that night, Draven's phone buzzed. Zenith's name flashed on the screen.
Zenith: Are you alright?
Draven typed slowly. Yeah. Just tired. You?
Zenith: Same. It's hard… trying to stay quiet.
Draven exhaled. "I know it is." He hesitated, then added: But I trust you.
Zenith: And I trust you. Don't let anyone make you doubt that.
The message lingered on Draven's screen longer than it should have. It was simple, careful, but beneath the words was a quiet intensity. A promise that neither of them could say aloud yet.
Small Sparks
The next day, Draven and Aiven walked home together, footsteps echoing along the empty streets. Draven kept a careful distance, but Aiven noticed every subtle shift, every flicker of emotion in his eyes.
"You've been quiet," Aiven said softly. "Ever since Zenith showed up…"
Draven tensed. "Don't ask me about him."
Aiven stepped closer. "Why not? I'm your best friend. You can tell me anything."
Draven swallowed, struggling with the words he wanted to say and the restraint he needed to maintain. "Because… some things aren't ready yet. Not everyone can know. Not even you."
Aiven nodded, though his chest ached. He wanted to pry, wanted to understand, but he trusted Draven enough to let it be. For now.
Watching and Waiting
Across the city, Zenith observed quietly, always calculating, always careful. Every message, every glance from Draven, every small hesitation weighed on him. Patience wasn't weakness—it was strategy. But it was exhausting, too.
He pulled his hoodie tighter around him, silently promising himself that when the time was right, he would make Draven understand—completely and without fear.
Until then, it was shadows and whispers. Secrets held close. And the tension between them stretched tighter every passing day.