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Seible is strong. Seible is strong.
That’s what he tells himself, again and again, like a mantra etched into the back of his tongue, every morning as he faces his reflection. Eyes locked with the mirror, lips curled into the same perfect smile he always wears. “You're strong. You’re doing great.” Over and over, until the words feel numb against the hum of his heart. Then, and only then, he steps out of his room.
Stage lights are waiting. His bandmates are waiting. The laughter, the music, the flash of fans’ glowsticks and the noise of love, they all wait for Seible, who walks out shining like stardust woven into lace.
But off-stage—life has become tougher. Not cruel. Just... heavier.
Nothing catastrophic happened. Nothing you could point to and say, “That broke him.” No, the world didn’t fall apart. But Seible did, in the quiet places where no one could see. Where no spotlight could follow.
Because it wasn’t tragedy. It was doubt.
He loves BY THE BEAT. Loves the music, the fans, the dream they’ve built together. He loves hard, loud and fierce and relentlessly. He says "thank you" every chance he gets. He shines brighter so others can bask in light too. But somehow... somehow, he forgot how to believe that love could be returned to him. Not just in cheers or fan letters, but truly—to him, to Seible, the boy who once talk and sang behind locked doors, afraid his voice would be the reason everything crumbled again.
He still can’t believe fate has been kind to him. After all, it had been so unkind before.
Once, he talked, stood proudly and sang freely. Until his father, so rich in money and coldness—told him to stop. Told him what he did was nothing but a hobby. A waste of time. That dreaming would get him nowhere. So Seible stopped. And he left. Left the cold, echoing halls of that mansion, and ran toward something warmer. Something real.
This live house is love. Here, there is warmth in the cluttered dressing rooms and laughter behind the curtains. Here, Kaelix teases him with the gentlest mischief, always pulling him close into tight hugs and letting Seible talk and talk and talk. Kaelix, who sobs when Seible says he’s proud of him. Kaelix, who looks at him like he’s irreplaceable.
And yet, when Kaelix says, “You’re amazing, Seible. You’re brilliant.”
Seible only smiles.
Because something in him has grown deaf to affection. It passes by like a whisper he’s too scared to believe in.
Then there's Freo. Grounded, composed Freo. Seible bounces around him like sunlight, arms open and teasing: “Furichannn~!” He always makes sure Freo is comfortable, always the first to notice when Freo needs space, or a compliment, or a reason to smile. And Freo, in return, never fails to pat his head gently. Sometimes, he even says, “You’re not alone, Seible. You’ll never be alone again.”
But that’s the part Seible never hears. The again.
Because being alone... that still scares him the most.
Even now, surrounded by three people who would catch him the moment he falls, Seible clutches fear like a charm he forgot to throw away.
And Zeal. Sweet, weird, calm Zeal. Seible loves to pull him into chaos, dragging the older man into fun with an arm around his waist and words like, “This guy right here? Genius. Idol of the century.” He loves hearing Zeal laugh, flustered, his face pink beneath his widened smile.
He praises Zeal’s voice because he knows Zeal doesn’t always believe in it. "Your voice is beautiful. It hits, you know? Right in the heart."
And Zeal, quietly, with a soft hummed—says, "So is yours, Seible. You know that, right? It’s... soft. Safe. I love your voice."
But Seible can’t believe it. Because once upon a time, his voice was the reason something precious was taken away. His dream, his freedom, his self-worth.
He hated his voice. He hated speaking. He hated the sound of himself because it reminded him of silence that followed, long, frozen silences in his father’s study, the unspoken judgment that came after he sang too freely.
So now, even when he sings in front of thousands, the part of him that once lived in silence trembles.
He sings anyway.
Because if his voice can reach someone, if it can make Kaelix smile, Freo breathe easier, Zeal lift his head just a little higher—then maybe it’s okay. Maybe being strong doesn’t mean not feeling.
Maybe being strong means loving, even if it hurts.
Even if it breaks him every night and he tapes himself back together by morning.
Seible is strong.
Yes. He is.
But he’s also tired.
And someday, maybe, he'll let himself be loved loud enough that he starts to believe it again.
…
Seible is good at many things. He knows how to make people laugh. He knows how to read the room like a melody, when to crack a joke, when to shine a little brighter, when to pull back just enough to let someone else have the spotlight. He knows how to comfort, how to praise, how to carry the mood on his shoulders like it’s weightless, even when he feels like he’s crumbling underneath it all.
But sometimes, even when he’s good at everything, Seible isn’t good at seeing himself.
He doesn’t know how to look in the mirror and say, “You did well.” Not without feeling like he’s faking it. Not without that strange guilt blooming in his chest, whispering, “You could’ve done more. Been better. Tried harder.”
Seible has a beautiful laugh, bright, contagious, the kind of sound that makes others feel safe just by hearing it. And he always tells people, “Take care of yourself, okay? Rest. Eat. Be kind to yourself.”
But does he believe it when he says it?
Does he follow it?
Or is he just telling others what he wishes someone would keep reminding him?
He tells himself he's fine now. After all, he's surrounded by people he loves. He has what he once thought he'd never have again—music, a stage, a family built from rhythm and chaos and midnight takeout. He should be fine. He should be grateful.
So why is it that when he's finally alone in his room, the silence feels like a scream?
Why does the sadness return so quietly, like an old friend slipping in through the cracks?
Why do the tears stop before they fall?
Why does his sobbing go soundless—mouth open, chest shaking, but no voice, no cry?
Why do his shoulders tremble even when he tells himself there’s no reason to?
Why does his heart feel heavy when he’s gotten everything he dreamed of?
He doesn't understand it. Not fully. He just... feels. And sometimes, feelings don’t make sense. They just hurt.
But what he doesn’t always notice, what slips past his busy mind and bright smile, is that he’s not as alone as he thinks.
He may not hear it over the sound of his doubt, but the love is there. It's always been there.
BY THE BEAT loves him.
HZBEATS, the crowd that cheers until their throats are raw, loves him.
The Seinyans, the ones who believe in him no matter what, love him.
And more importantly, they love him—his family, his heartbeats.
Kaelix will burst into his room with no warning, arms open, yelling something dumb that makes Seible laugh until he cries. Kaelix will hug him so tightly it feels like his ribs will crack open and let the sorrow fall out, and they’ll laugh again like nothing ever hurt.
Freo will silently slide into the room with a cup of tea, his fingers warm around the handle, and sit beside Seible without saying a word until Seible does. And when he does speak—finally, carefully—Freo will look at him with those grounded, steady eyes and say, “I’m glad you talked to me.”
And Zeal—oh, Zeal. He’ll listen. He always listens. With that calm, slow nodding, his face soft and understanding. Zeal never rushes Seible to be okay. He just stays, and in the silence between them, Seible’s shaking slowly stills. Zeal reminds him, just by being there, that his voice is heard. Even when he whispers. Even when he breaks.
And the stage?
The stage is a promise.
That no matter how heavy the nights get, when the lights go up and the first note plays, Seible isn’t alone. Because everyone, everyone—loves him back.
He just needs to remember that he doesn’t need to earn that love. It’s already his.
And even when he forgets…
Kaelix will remind him with laughter.
Freo will remind him with tea.
Zeal will remind him with silence and softness.
And the Seinyans will remind him with voices echoing into the night.
He is loved.
And on stage, under the lights, he feels it.
For once, he lets himself believe it.
Even if just for a moment… that is enough.
…
It’s just another day in the Live House, as Seible is just making a living, like always. Standing near the entrance of the live house, wrapped in the soft hum of music and the warmth of lights, he greets each patron with a spark in his voice and a smile that’s made of glitter and gentleness.
“Thank you for standing with us!” he says, waving with both hands, his tone as cheerful as ever. His eyes crinkle at the corners, like they always do when he's trying to keep the light in. Some of the patrons call out to him in return, hands forming hearts, messages of love spilling into the live chat and floating up the screen like stars.
“You guys…” He pauses, just a second too long. His voice comes quieter. “I don’t know why, but… thank you for being here with us.”
He laughs softly, hand brushing through his hair like he’s trying to hide the way his chest tightens. Because he really means it. He doesn't always know how to say it. But he feels it—they're still here.
And then, like sunlight pouring through a half-closed window, the comments begin to bloom.
“We’ll always stay with you, Seible!”
“Your smile makes our day better!”
“We love you and all of BY THE BEAT!”
“We’ll keep cheering, so you can keep smiling.”
It floods him, slowly, steadily. A kind of warmth he isn’t used to receiving without flinching. It settles into his chest, a little heavy, a little overwhelming, but not in a bad way. It feels like a hug he forgot he needed.
So this is what it’s like, he thinks. To be loved back. To really feel it.
He presses his palm against his chest, not to stop it, but to hold it close. And just as his heart begins to swell with emotion he can’t put into words—
Kaelix pops into frame with that chaotic sparkle in his eyes, wrapping an arm around Seible's shoulder and flashing a grin at the camera.
“Oi oi! Don’t forget to visit the live house, okay? Come see our shining boy here,” Kaelix says, pointing at Seible with both hands like he’s presenting treasure.
Seible laughs, eyes watering for reasons he won’t admit, and leans a little into Kaelix’s warmth.
Freo follows next, calm as ever, offering a quiet nod and a small smile. “Thank you for your support,” he says simply, voice like a warm cup of tea. “Hzbeats, You make this possible for all of us.”
And then Zeal joins, chuckling under his breath as he adjusts his sunglasses. “Drinks are on me—best ones you’ll ever have,” he jokes, voice low and rich, “but only if you bring your good vibes.”
Their energy is different, louder, calmer, quieter, more playful—but it blends like harmony. Like a song built from different instruments, all playing for the same reason. The same love.
Seible looks at them, Kaelix’s grin, Freo’s quiet gaze, Zeal’s soft laugh, and he feels his heart settle into something peaceful.
He loves BY THE BEAT. With all of his heart.
And he loves the Seinyans too, those kind, loyal patrons who stayed through every stage, every song, every late-night stream and shaky confession. He loves HzBeats, the rhythm of their cheers, the background music of his life.
He still gets sad. He still breaks down alone sometimes, when the laughter fades and the lights turn off. But not tonight.
Tonight, they’re here.
And in the quiet warmth of their presence—his friends, his fans, his found family—Seible breathes in deep, eyes shining.
He laughs again. Softer this time. Truer.
Because somehow, for once, he really does believe…
He’s not alone.