Chapter Text
The studio was alive with motion. Bodies twisted, voices echoed, sneakers slid across the scuffed floor as Huntrix and the Saja Boys rehearsed in tandem. The space buzzed with heat and tension, the kind that always came before a major performance—but this wasn’t just any performance.
It was Huntrix and the Saja Boys. The biggest idol groups in the industry, sharing one stage, one track, one shot at perfection. And everyone in the room knew it.
“Again,” Rumi said, not even out of breath. She stepped back from formation, her purple hair braided into an impossibly long plait that nearly brushed the floor, swinging slightly as she crossed her arms with the same commanding confidence that had made her both a beloved performer and the most terrifying leader either group had ever trained under. “Take it from the pre-chorus. And if anyone messes up the timing again, I’m making you all stay another two hours.”
Groans. Collective, quiet—but present.
Rumi raised one brow. “Try me.”
The music cued up again, and the groups moved like clockwork. Mira landed in her mark just as the beat hit—sharp and smooth. Her long, perfectly straight pink hair fell to the middle of her back, swaying with every movement. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.
Mira danced like her silence said everything.
Beside her, Zoey rapped her verse with the sharp control of a switchblade, hitting every syllable like it owed her something. On her other side, Rumi moved with unshakeable precision, her every step a masterclass in execution. She didn’t stop to correct them this time—she stayed in formation, performing her part while overseeing the rest.
It was exhausting. Brilliant. And Mira loved it.
Except her focus kept drifting.
To Abby.
The way his smile broke wider every time he caught someone watching him. To the bright flash of pink hair that matched her own, damp with sweat as he danced like the floor was a playground. He was always loud, always full of motion—chaotic in a way that should’ve been irritating but somehow wasn’t.
And just off to the side, Romance was watching him again.
Not like he didn’t realise he was doing it. No, Romance was aware. The glances weren’t casual anymore. They lingered. Waited. Mira could feel the pull every time Romance looked Abby’s way.
And that scared her more than she wanted to admit.
Because she wasn’t blind to Abby either.
As the song built toward the chorus, Baby stepped into place beside Zoey, matching her energy with easy swagger. His bright blue eyes sparkled as he dropped into the rhythm, his smirk barely hidden under his breath. He looked like he was born for the spotlight—like the moment bent to him.
Zoey shoved his shoulder without missing a beat, laughing mid-step. A second later, Mystery stepped into the centre from the other side. His pale lilac hair fell into his eyes as always, hiding every expression except the way his posture shifted when Zoey moved closer.
Zoey caught his sleeve briefly. Just a touch.
And then she was gone again, spinning back into formation like the moment hadn’t even happened.
Mira watched it all.
Zoey made it look easy—loving two people without shame. Baby and Mystery weren’t dating each other, but they shared Zoey without fighting. Somehow, they made it work.
Mira hadn’t even dared to speak out loud about what she felt.
“Five-minute break!” Rumi called, clapping sharply once the music faded. “Hydrate. Stretch. And if I see anyone half-assing it, we’re doing cardio for twenty minutes before vocals.”
The groups scattered. Baby flopped onto the floor with a dramatic sigh. Mystery leaned silently against the mirror. Rumi grabbed her water bottle and a pack of wet wipes from her bag, wiping down her arms like she hadn’t just done three rounds of full-speed choreography.
Mira grabbed her water but didn’t drink. Her eyes tracked Abby instead.
He was teasing Jinu again—loud, handsy, bouncing in place like he couldn’t sit still. His energy was magnetic, even when it was overwhelming.
Then Mira noticed Romance stepping over to Abby.
Without a word, the two slipped quietly out through the door and vanished from view.
Jinu caught Mira’s glance and shrugged with an easy, “They needed some time, I guess.” He didn’t think twice about it; after all, Abby and Romance were part of the same group.
Mira didn’t move. She didn’t look away.
In the hallway, the silence was thick.
Romance leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking slightly more nervous than he wanted to admit. But he didn’t back down.
Abby watched him curiously. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just—okay. I’m gonna say something, and I need you not to laugh.”
“Romance,” Abby said, grinning, “when have I ever laughed at—”
“I like you.”
The words cut clean. No hesitation.
Abby froze.
Romance took a breath. “I don’t just mean I like hanging out with you. Or that I think you're fun to annoy—though you are. I mean I actually like you. In the way where I’ve been thinking about it for too long, and trying not to make it obvious, and probably failing.”
“Romance…”
“I don’t expect anything,” Romance added quickly. “I just... needed to get it out before I drove myself insane. You don’t have to say anything now. Or ever. Just know that it’s real.”
Abby stared at him.
He didn’t feel panic. Not exactly.
But he didn’t feel clarity either.
He liked Romance. He always had. As a friend. As someone he trusted. As someone who got him in a way most people didn’t. But now? Now those feelings were twisting into something unfamiliar. Something that made his chest feel too full.
He wasn’t sure what it meant.
He wasn’t ready to say yes.
But he couldn’t say no either.
“Okay,” he said softly.
Romance blinked. “Okay?”
“I’m not mad. I’m not scared or anything. I just need... time. To figure it out.”
Romance nodded slowly. “You’re allowed that.”
And just like that, the hallway wasn’t so quiet anymore. Not awkward, not tense. Just... open.
They turned to head back in.
Before they reached the door, Abby muttered, “Hey. You can keep calling me annoying if it helps you feel normal again.”
Romance laughed under his breath. “Please. I’ll be back to roasting you before you hit the centre position.”
“That’s the Romance I know.”
Back in the studio, Mira didn’t look at them when they reentered.
But she felt it—the subtle shift in the air. The quiet buzz of a conversation that mattered, lingering like a faint echo.
She noticed the tiniest change in how Abby stood beside Romance now—not closer, not further—just aware. As if something unspoken had been set loose between them, threading through the space without sound.
Mira’s chest tightened. A slow, aching pull deep inside—part hope, part fear, part something she hadn’t named yet.
Her eyes fixed on the floor as the music restarted, but her mind was elsewhere. The silence she’d kept for so long felt heavier now, a fragile shield barely holding back the storm inside her.
Because she knew, with a sudden, undeniable clarity, that silence wasn’t going to protect her anymore.