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Nicholas POV
I don’t mean to touch him.
That’s the lie I tell myself every morning.
The truth is—I do mean to. I just never plan how often.
Taki is already in the practice room when I arrive, stretching near the mirrors, black hair damp at the nape of his neck from warm-up. He’s humming softly, off-key, completely unaware of the way my chest tightens at the sound.
He doesn’t notice me watching. He never does.
“Morning,” I say, voice steady despite the way my alpha instincts flare the moment my eyes land on him.
He startles—actually startles—nearly losing his balance before grabbing the barre.
“Oh! Hyung!” he laughs, embarrassed. “I didn’t hear you.”
I smile. I always do when he calls me that.
“Careful,” I murmur, stepping closer. Before I can stop myself, my hands settle on his waist, steadying him. Light touch. Innocent.
Except it isn’t.
He smells like citrus shampoo and something softer underneath—him. My fingers linger half a second too long before I force myself to step back.
“Thank you,” Taki says, cheeks pink. “You’re always helping me.”
Always.
I tell myself it’s because I’m the leader. Because I’m responsible. Because he’s younger and shy and needs looking after.
But I don’t fix Harua’s mic every practice.
I don’t feed Maki strawberries during breaks.
I don’t pull jackets over anyone else’s shoulders when the AC gets too cold.
Only Taki.
The members start trickling in, and I catch EJ’s knowing smirk from across the room. He leans toward Yuma and whispers something that makes them both snort.
I ignore them.
Rehearsal starts, and within ten minutes I’m already hovering.
“Taki, your spacing—here,” I say, stepping behind him, guiding his hips gently to the right.
He stiffens.
“Like this?” he asks.
“Yes. Perfect.”
Too perfect.
When the music plays again, he dances beautifully—fluid, expressive, focused. I watch him more than I should, correcting him more than necessary, feeding him water during breaks before he even asks.
Halfway through rehearsal, the choreographer pauses the music.
“Nicholas,” she says, eyebrow raised. “You good?”
“Yes,” I answer instantly.
“Then why are you glued to Taki?”
The room goes quiet.
Taki looks at me, confused. “Hyung…?”
Heat creeps up my neck. “I’m just helping,” I say quickly.
The members exchange looks.
The choreographer sighs. “Five-minute break.”
As soon as she turns away, EJ whispers loudly, “Five minutes for Nicholas to calm down.”
I shoot him a glare.
Taki doesn’t understand. He never does. He just smiles at me, soft and trusting, and hands me his water bottle.
“You can drink first,” he says.
That’s it. That’s the moment I realize I’m in trouble.
Because I want to.
Taki POV
Nicholas hyung is… very kind.
That’s what I tell myself when he sits too close.
When he fixes my collar.
When he feeds me during breaks like I’ll forget how to eat without him.
He does it for everyone, right?
…Right?
I sip my water, sneaking glances at him while he talks to the choreographer. He looks serious, brows drawn together, jaw sharp. Sometimes I forget how handsome he is until he turns sideways and the lights catch his profile.
My heart beats faster. I don’t know why.
“Stop staring,” K whispers, nudging me.
“I wasn’t!” I hiss.
He grins. “You were. At Nicholas.”
Heat floods my face. “I just—he’s very hardworking.”
K laughs. “Sure.”
Break ends too quickly. We go back into formation, and Nicholas immediately positions himself beside me.
Again.
During the run-through, my mic slips. Before I can react, Nicholas is already there, fingers brushing my chest as he fixes the clip.
His hand is warm. Too warm.
I forget the choreography.
“Taki,” he murmurs quietly, only for me to hear. “Focus.”
“I—sorry.”
He doesn’t move away right away.
The music resumes, but my thoughts are a mess. Why does my chest feel tight? Why does his voice sound deeper when he talks to me? Why do I feel… disappointed when he finally steps back?
After rehearsal, the members head for the dorm. Nicholas walks beside me like always.
“You did well today,” he says.
“Because you helped me,” I reply honestly.
He stops walking.
I turn to him, confused. “Hyung?”
He looks at me like he’s trying to decide something dangerous.
“Taki,” he says slowly, “do you really think I do this for everyone?”
I blink. “Yes?”
Silence.
His shoulders sag just a little. He smiles—but it looks strained.
“Of course,” he says. “Why wouldn’t I?”
I don’t understand why his voice sounds… sad.
Nicholas POV
He thinks I’m like this with everyone.
That realization hits harder than any rejection could.
Back at the dorm, the members drop their bags and immediately start chaos—music blasting, someone arguing about food.
I sit on the couch, Taki curled beside me without thinking. His thigh presses against mine, and my body reacts instantly.
Control. Always control.
I toss a blanket over both of us under the excuse of watching a movie. The room darkens. Laughter fills the air.
Taki leans closer.
Too close.
His head rests against my shoulder, trusting, warm, oblivious. My heart pounds so loud I’m sure he can hear it.
I adjust the blanket. My fingers brush his hand.
He doesn’t pull away.
The members notice.
“Wow,” Yuma mutters. “They’re really not subtle.”
EJ shushes him. “Let nature take its course.”
I pretend not to hear, focusing entirely on the feel of Taki breathing beside me. Every instinct screams to pull him closer, to claim, to protect.
Instead, I whisper, “Are you comfortable?”
“Yes,” he says instantly. “With you, always.”
That almost breaks me.
Taki POV
I don’t know when it happens.
Maybe it’s the way Nicholas stiffens when someone else gets too close to me.
Or how he always waits for me before leaving a room.
Or how his hand trembles when he thinks I don’t notice.
Later that night, I wake up thirsty.
The living room light is on. Nicholas is there, sitting alone.
“Hyung?” I whisper.
He looks up immediately. “Taki? Did I wake you?”
I shake my head and sit beside him.
We’re close. Too close. The air feels heavy.
He exhales slowly. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
His eyes search mine. “If I stopped touching you… would you miss it?”
My heart stutters.
“I…” I swallow. “Why would you stop?”
He smiles sadly. “Answer the question.”
I think about it. About his hands, his presence, his warmth.
“Yes,” I admit quietly. “I would.”
Something shifts.
He cups my face—gentle, reverent. Not kissing. Just holding.
“Taki,” he says softly, voice shaking, “I’ve been touch-starved for you for a long time.”
My breath catches.
“Oh,” I whisper.
And suddenly—I understand.
Nicholas POV
When realization dawns on his face, it’s like watching the sun rise.
He doesn’t pull away.
He leans in.
I stop him just short of a kiss, forehead resting against his.
“Tell me to stop,” I murmur.
He shakes his head, cheeks flushed. “Don’t.”
That’s all the permission I need—to finally, gently, kiss him.
Soft. Sweet. Unrushed.
When we pull back, he’s smiling.
“So,” he says shyly, “you don’t do this with everyone?”
I laugh, breathless. “Never.”
The members cheer from the hallway.
We both jump.
Taki hides his face in my chest.
And I hold him—finally, openly, without restraint.
💙