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The lights were blinding, the cheers were deafening, and the stage pulsed beneath their feet like it was alive. For the music, the fans, and the unity of every breath shared onstage.
So when the sharp twist of pain shot through his ankle mid-choreo, he didn't dare to miss a beat.
He couldn't.
Mao's body moved on instinct, years of practice overruling pain. Every leap, every spin, he gritted through it. A misstep during a sharp turn earlier had done it, something had popped or twisted. But the adrenaline rushed in like a second wind, and he masked the pain with his trademark smile.
The performance ended in a blaze of applause. Mao gave his all until the final pose, teeth clenched and trembling.
As soon as they stepped off the stage, the façade cracked.
"Whoa- Isara!" Chiaki was the first to notice. Mao staggered, nearly collapsing, but Chiaki caught him before he hit the floor. "You're hurt?!"
Leo's eyes widened, his usual bright smile gone. "Why didn't you say anything?! You're not supposed to destroy yourself for the performance!"
"I—I didn't want to ruin it," Mao muttered, barely able to keep weight on his right foot. Sweat poured down his face, not from exertion, but from sheer pain now that the adrenaline was gone.
Hiyori stepped in immediately, kneeling to examine Mao's ankle. His hands were unexpectedly gentle. "Idiot," he said quietly, though his voice trembled slightly. "Mao-kun, we’re supposed to look after each other."
Leo hovered beside them, frantic. "We need ice. Pressure. Compression? Or was it elevation? Wait! Hiyo, help! My genius doesn't apply to ankles!"
"I am helping, Leo-kun." Hiyori snapped, though he stayed calm. "Chiaki-kun, lift him carefully. Let's get him to the lounge."
Chiaki nodded and carried Mao up like he weighed nothing, concern etched deep into his face.
Mao blinked back the sting in his eyes, not just from pain, but from how much he felt their care.
They laid him gently on the couch backstage.
Hiyori wrapped his ankle with surprising skill, Leo offered a cold water bottle (and then swapped it with a wrapped ice pack after Mao took a few sips), while Chiaki sat beside him, anchoring his hand firmly in Mao’s.
"I'm sorry," Mao murmured, voice quiet.
"For what?" Chiaki asked. "You shined so brightly out there. But we shine together. So next time, let us help you sooner."
Leo leaned in, smile soft and eyes intense. "You don't have to bleed for the music, Mao. It'll still love you even when you're resting."
Hiyori said, finishing the bandage. "I think your fans will riot if you try to dance on this tomorrow. And they'll all get mad at us for letting you perform!"
They all chuckled a light, warm, gentle laughter.
"Thanks guys," he said. "Really."
Chiaki squeezed his hand.
The hotel hallway was quiet, their steps hushed due to the carpets. After the high of the stage and the backstage rush, it felt like stepping into another world.
Mao was pouting on the wheelchair the hotel had provided. They didn't even listen to him as he tried to tell them he can use a crutch (and he tried his best to ignore the glares from the rest of MODE/D).
His ankle was properly wrapped now, thanks to Hiyori's surprisingly graceful first aid skills, and the doctor had given him an ankle brace. He was already on painkillers, but the throbbing still hadn't let up.
Chiaki carefully opened the door to their shared suite, helping Mao over to the bed and setting him down with the kind of gentleness that didn't match his usual booming energy.
"Alright, Princess. Here you are!" Chiaki said with a soft smile. "You heard the doctor earlier, two weeks on not putting any weight on that foot."
"Two weeks of torture," Mao muttered as he looked at Chiaki before throwing his arm over his eyes. "Gonna be out of commission for a while, huh…"
"Not necessarily," Hiyori replied, appearing from the kitchenette with a cup of hot tea. "If you actually rest, ice it, and stop being stubborn, you might bounce back sooner than you think. We already talked to NiceP. After tomorrow's concert, all four of us will be on break for a week."
Leo practically kicked the door closed behind him, arms full of snacks, a bottle of sports drinks, and what appeared to be a heat patch. "I GOT THE SUPPLIES! All the important things Mao needs: painkillers, muscle relaxants, hydration, snacks, and emotional support snacks called gummy worms."
Mao peeked out from under his arm, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You got me strawberry gummy worms?"
"Of course I did. I always notice Sena's Yuu-kun buying packets of strawberry gummies. And I see you eating them." Leo grinned, tossing the pack to his lap.
Chiaki sat on the couch near the bed, facing Mao seriously. "Are you sure you’re okay? For real this time."
There was a pause. The room was warm, dim, but still full of something that felt just as big.
"...Yeah," Mao said softly. "It hurts. But I'm okay."
Leo didn't sit so much as sprawl, landing dramatically across the other side of the bed, his head landing on Mao's thigh. "Good. Because I just finished writing a new song and I need you to sing it with me when you're back on your feet."
Mao raised an eyebrow. "You wrote a song in the five minutes it took to walk here?"
"Five minutes is plenty of time for genius."
Hiyori set the tea on the table, then grabbed a blanket from the bed and gently draped it over Mao's legs, tucking the edges in without a word. His face was calm, but there was the faintest crease of worry at his brow that hadn't left since the injury.
"...You don't have to act like you're not scared, you know," Hiyori said suddenly, almost in a whisper.
Mao blinked at him. "Huh?"
"You're allowed to be scared. Or frustrated. Or annoyed at your body. Just don't shut us out, okay?"
There was another quiet pause. Then:
"I won't," Mao said. "I promise."
Chiaki grinned and gave his shoulder a gentle nudge. "That's our Princess."
Mao tossed a pillow at him. "I'm not a princess!"
"But you're OUR princess," Hiyori winked before kissing Mao's cheek.
The pain on his ankle was there, but this? This was already perfect.
Just the for of them, a lot of care, and a mountain of support stacked higher than Leo's prized snack pile.
The hotel room was dim now, lit only by the soft glow of the TV and the gentle hush of city lights seeping in through slightly parted curtains. The laughter from earlier had settled into something quieter, something tender.
The four of them had tucked themselves together on the bed, surrounding their youngest member in MODE/D, the movie playing softly more for comfort than attention. Mao was curled in the middle of the bed, blanket tucked around his legs and his injured ankle resting on the two extra pillows Chiaki had requested for.
Leo lied beside Mao, unusually still. His usual energy had mellowed into something quieter tonight, the corners of his eyes a little softer. He just sat, arms gently folded, watching the screen but not really watching.
Hiyori had taken the spot beside Mao's head, sitting on the bed and leaning against the head board with his arms resting across his knees, the healthy snack long forgotten beside him. He'd been watching Mao out of the corner of his eye for a while now—quietly, without saying anything.
And Chiaki, lying beside Mao while munching on some popcorn, shifted slightly when he noticed the rhythm of Mao's breathing had slowed. A little deeper now. Steady.
He turned to look.
"...He's asleep," Chiaki whispered, his voice soft with something like relief.
Leo blinked, before looking up to look at Mao's face. Mao's head had tilted slightly to the side, face half-hidden in the shadows of the blanket. His hand barely holding the pack of gummy worms Leo bought for him.
Leo smiled, quiet and fond. "Guess the painkillers finally kicked in."
"And he wore himself out," Hiyori murmured, reaching up carefully to adjust the blanket so it rested higher over Mao's shoulder. "He wouldn’t stop trying to pretend he was fine."
Chiaki watched him for a moment. "But he is now, right? He has us."
There was a gentle pause between the three of them.
Then Leo nodded. "Yeah. He's safe."
None of them moved much after that.
The movie continued on, low and soft in the background, but no one really paid attention to it.
They just stayed together, enjoying the peaceful presence each of them gives the others, the kind of silence that only existed between people who trusted without needing to say it.
Eventually, Hiyori curled up on the pillows and leaned his head on Mao's head, eyes slipping closed.
Chiaki was the next to drift off beside Mao, lying on his stomach with one hand wrapped around Mao's waist.
Leo stayed awake a little longer. He looked at Mao. Peaceful, warm, finally resting.
Gently reached over, brushing a stray bit of hair away from his forehead with gentle fingers.
"You did good today during the concert," he whispered. "You don't have to carry it all. You might be our center, but you still have us to support you no matter what."
Then he let his head fall back on the bed, his cheek leaning on the other side of Mao's head, eyes fluttering shut as he fell asleep too.