The bell above the café door chimed softly, a sound Aiven had grown used to, yet today it made his heart jump. He wiped his hands on his apron, eyes flicking instinctively toward the window. Fans lingered outside again—not aggressive, not loud—but present. Always present. Watching. Waiting.
He hated how normal it had become.
Draven stood a few steps away from the counter, arms crossed, posture relaxed but eyes sharp. Anyone who didn't know him would think he was just another customer killing time. Aiven knew better. Draven had positioned himself so he could see the entrance, the street, and Aiven all at once. Protective without hovering. Silent without being distant.
Aiven met his gaze, offering a small smile.
"You don't have to stand like that all day," Aiven murmured when he passed by with a tray of cups.
Draven raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I do."
Aiven huffed softly. "You're impossible."
"And you're alive," Draven replied, lips twitching just slightly.
The café wasn't busy, but the tension filled the air like static. Every phone lifted outside made Aiven's shoulders tense. Every whisper felt louder than it should have been. He wondered if this was what Raze felt every day—this constant awareness, this inability to simply exist without being seen.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
A message from Raze.
Are you okay today?
Aiven stared at the screen for a moment before replying.
I'm fine. Draven's here.
A pause.
I know. Still… be careful.
Aiven smiled faintly. Raze was trying so hard not to overstep, not to make promises he couldn't safely keep. That restraint somehow made everything feel heavier.
Draven noticed the shift in Aiven's expression. "Raze?"
Aiven nodded. "He worries too much."
Draven scoffed quietly. "He doesn't worry enough."
That earned him a look. "You don't get to say that."
Draven's eyes softened. "I do. Because if anything happens to you, it won't be fans who regret it."
Aiven swallowed, heart thudding. There was something intense about the way Draven said it—not threatening, not dramatic, just fact. It reminded Aiven again that Draven was dangerous in a very quiet way.
The afternoon dragged on slowly. A few customers came and went. The fans outside shifted positions, some leaving, others replacing them. It felt endless.
When Aiven finally closed the café for the day, his muscles ached with exhaustion. Draven locked the door behind them and walked beside him as they headed down the street. The sky was painted in deep oranges and purples, the city lights flickering on one by one.
"Do you ever get tired?" Aiven asked suddenly.
Draven glanced at him. "Of protecting you?"
"Of all this," Aiven said quietly. "Watching. Being watched. Always ready."
Draven considered it. "I get tired of the reason. Not the act."
Aiven stopped walking.
Draven noticed immediately. "What?"
Aiven looked up at him, eyes searching. "Why do you stay?"
The question hung between them.
Draven didn't answer right away. Instead, he scanned the street, making sure they were alone enough. Then he spoke, voice lower.
"Because I promised myself I wouldn't fail again."
Aiven's chest tightened. "Fail who?"
Draven met his gaze. "Someone who mattered."
Aiven didn't push. He knew better than to pry into wounds that weren't ready to be touched. Instead, he stepped closer, shoulder brushing Draven's arm.
"Well," Aiven said softly, "you're not failing me."
Draven's breath hitched almost imperceptibly.
They continued walking in silence until Draven's phone buzzed.
Zenith.
Draven hesitated before answering.
"You don't have to," Aiven said gently.
"I want to," Draven replied, already typing.
Zenith: You busy?
Draven: With Aiven. What's up?
There was a pause. Longer than usual.
Zenith: Just checking in. I heard fans were crowding the café again.
Draven frowned. How did you—
Zenith: I hear things.
Draven scoffed under his breath. "Of course you do."
Aiven tilted his head. "Zenith?"
"Yeah."
Aiven hesitated, then spoke carefully. "You know… you don't have to carry everything alone."
Draven looked at him. "Are you trying to get yourself scolded again?"
Aiven smiled nervously. "Maybe."
Draven sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're too soft for this world."
"And you're too hard," Aiven shot back.
Draven paused, then laughed quietly. A real laugh. Rare. Warm.
"Careful," he said. "You're starting to sound like him."
Aiven blinked. "Like Zenith?"
Draven didn't answer. His phone buzzed again.
Zenith: Are you safe tonight?
Draven stared at the message longer than necessary.
Draven: Yes.
Zenith: Good.
That single word sent a strange ripple through Draven's chest. He slipped the phone back into his pocket, jaw tight.
Aiven noticed. "He cares about you."
Draven stopped walking again. "Don't."
Aiven turned to face him. "I'm not asking. I'm just saying."
Draven's voice dropped. "This isn't something you meddle in."
"I'm your best friend," Aiven said firmly. "I'm allowed to worry."
Draven exhaled slowly. "Worry about yourself. Your life is already complicated enough."
Aiven crossed his arms. "You're deflecting."
"Yes," Draven admitted bluntly. "Because I don't need another weakness."
The word stung more than Aiven expected.
Draven saw it instantly. "That's not—"
"I know," Aiven interrupted. "You mean you don't want to hurt anyone."
Draven's gaze softened. "Exactly."
They reached Aiven's apartment building shortly after. Draven waited while Aiven unlocked the door, scanning the street one last time.
Inside, the quiet felt heavy but safe.
"Stay," Aiven said before he could stop himself.
Draven looked at him. "You don't need—"
"I know," Aiven said quickly. "I just… don't want to be alone tonight."
Draven nodded once. "Alright."
They sat on opposite ends of the couch, the TV playing quietly in the background. Aiven's thoughts drifted—to Raze, to how close yet distant they still were. To Zenith and Draven, orbiting each other without ever colliding.
"So," Aiven said softly. "If you ever decide to stop running from it… I'll be on your side."
Draven didn't respond immediately. Then, quietly, "I know."
Outside, the city buzzed with rumors and expectations. Fans whispered. Screens lit up. Somewhere, Velric was watching, planning.
But inside the apartment, for just one night, the world slowed.
And that was enough.