One week later.....
The next week passed like walking through fog.
Thick. Quiet. Drenched in everything we weren't saying.
Jaerin and I didn't speak.
Not directly.
Not since the rooftop.
But the silence between us was never empty.
It was loud, so loud it followed me into dance rehearsals and vocal drills. Into makeup chairs and soundcheck lines. It crawled up my spine when I caught his reflection in passing mirrors, when I heard his voice rehearsing in the studio three doors down.
We didn't speak. But we saw.
Gods.
The morning after the rooftop, we passed each other in the BIGHIT cafeteria. He was across the room, hoodie pulled low, chopsticks in one hand, earbuds in like he was trying to disappear.
But he didn't.
Because the second I stepped into the room—he froze. And so did I.
He didn't look at me.
But his wolf did.
Dal's presence was a crackle in the air. Like static under my skin.
And Dawn responded. Instantly. The warm thrum of her awareness flared in my chest.
There, she whispered. He's hurting.
I turned before I could do something stupid—like sit across from him. Like ask if he'd slept. Like ask if he'd dreamed of me too.
We didn't speak.
But the next day, he showed up to the mirrored studio early.
Earlier than his group's schedule.
Earlier than he should've.
He was standing near the back when we walked in for formation drills. His gaze flicked toward me once. Brief. Scorching. Like he needed a second to remember how to breathe.
I forgot how to count.
Aya had to nudge me back into position.
And later that afternoon, in the elevator between floors, the doors opened—
And there he was.
Alone.
Head bowed. Shoulders tense.
Our eyes met. Just for a breath. Just for a blink.
And that was all it took.
My heartbeat forgot how to behave. My chest felt like a storm.
He didn't speak.
Didn't move.
Just clenched his fists like he was fighting himself, then looked away, letting the doors slide shut before I could step in.
He needs you, Dawn said. Not softly. Not sweetly. He's unraveling.
I ignored her. I tried to. He clearly doesn't want to fight for this, he's been hurt too so I understand his hesitation.
But every hallway he stepped into after that felt like gravity pulled a little harder. Every time I saw him from across the building—laughter forced and eyes shadowed—I felt it.
The bond.
The ache.
The desperation he tried so hard to bury.
Rhea noticed.
"He's acting like he's in love with a ghost," she said one evening, sipping boba on our dorm balcony. "All tense and moody around you. He looks like someone who's drowning in the shallow end."
I gave her a look. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Right. And I'm the next national anthem." She rolled her eyes. "Just kiss already. Or punch him. Something."
But it wasn't that simple.
Because every time I thought I was strong enough to say something—to break the silence—
He'd be gone.
Vanished into a schedule, a meeting, a car headed back to the company flats.
But never too far.
Never out of reach.
Because fate had a cruel sense of humor. And Seoul was small when the bond was this loud.
By Friday, I was exhausted.
From pretending I didn't feel his gaze every time he passed our dance studio.
From pretending I didn't notice how his chest stopped rising when he saw me, like he forgot how to breathe until I left the room.
And from pretending that I wasn't just as ruined by it.
I didn't need him to admit it.
I didn't even need him to say my name.
But gods—
If he looked at me like that one more time—
Like he needed me to stay alive—
I might not be able to keep walking away.
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There were cameras. Everywhere.
Tripod ones. Handheld ones. Boom mics dangling like vultures from the ceiling.
And in the middle of all of it? Me.
Trying very, very hard not to combust.
"Alright everyone!" the PD's voice boomed across the set. "Today's episode is special—BIGHIT IDOL OLYMPICS: Surprise Team Edition!"
Beside me, Rhea elbowed my ribs. "This is going to be chaotic, I can already feel it."
"I just don't want to fall into another foam pit," I muttered, remembering the last time they made us hop across giant mushrooms on national television. I still had bruises.
The PD grinned. "We'll be drawing names randomly for today's pairings. Everyone, check the color-coded envelope under your chairs!"
I reached for mine with cautious fingers.
It was black. The color of Team 5.
I cracked it open. Pulled the card.
Team 5: Jaerin Seo + Dwyn Duskthorn
I blinked. Stared. Blinked again.
My wolf, Dawn, sat up so fast in my chest I nearly choked.
HIM. We're with HIM. It's about time.
I wasn't ready. Not with cameras rolling. Not with the world watching.
I peeked across the soundstage, pulse already racing.
There he was.
Standing next to his groupmates, looking flawless and ice-edged in black cargo and a sleeveless top that exposed those stupid forearms. His hair was a soft mess under a beanie, jaw tight.
And he was holding the same envelope as me.
Our eyes met.
One second. Two. Long enough for my lungs to forget their job.
Then he blinked—slow. Like someone coming out of a trance. And started walking toward me.
Rhea whispered under her breath, "This is going to be spicy."
"Shut up."
Jaerin stopped just in front of me, not too close, not too far.
"Hey," he said.
The word was low. Careful. Loaded.
I cleared my throat. "Hey."
The cameraman called, "Team 5! Please move to the red game zone!"
We started walking side-by-side in silence, and every cell in my body felt wrong. Wrong in the way only an invisible pull could make you feel when you're doing everything in your power not to reach for it.
His scent was distracting. Pine, clean rain, and something sharper—like flint about to spark.
You're annoying, Dawn huffed. Just say you like him.
I don't know if I like him, I shot back. I'm trying not to fall in love with him.
The games started with a three-legged race. A literal one.
A very tied-together, limb-touching, zero-personal-space three-legged race.
"Seriously?" I said as the assistant wrapped the Velcro strap around our joined legs.
Jaerin gave me a pained half-smile. "I didn't plan this."
"Sure you didn't," I muttered.
"We could just drop out of the race and asked to be swapped"
Dawn was swift to answer.
NO!
"NO!.....I'm sorry, just no"
What the hell Dawn?
But then his hand brushed my waist for balance, and I swear my whole soul blipped.
We wobbled our way to the starting line.
And gods help me—I could feel his tension. Not anger. Not discomfort. Something deeper. Need? Hunger? That quiet ache that had lived in both of us since the bond cracked open?
"Ready!" the host shouted. "Set—GO!"
We sprinted. Kinda.
More like tripped in sync.
By some miracle, we crossed the finish line second.
Breathless. Too close. Too everything.
He didn't let go of my waist right away.
Neither did I say anything about the way our bond thrummed between us like a taut string waiting to snap.
The next game was worse.
The Trust Balloon Pop.
One partner holds a balloon against their chest. The other has topop it using only their body.
We stared at the heart-shaped balloon between us.
"Don't look at me like that," I warned.
"I'm not looking at you like anything."
Gods, why does being this close set off fireworks everywhere.
Dawn you traitor
"You are. You're doing that thing where your eyes are a little too soft."
"They're not soft."
"They so are."
He exhaled sharply. "Fine. Let's just... get it over with."
I braced myself.
He leaned in.
The balloon pressed between us. And so did every molecule of tension we'd built for two months.
His breath hit my neck. His hands hovered near my waist again.
Dal, his wolf, roared in my veins.
Mate. Now. Now. Touch her. Claim her.
Dawn was just as feral.
Let him. Let him. We belong.
The balloon popped.
I gasped—too loud.
He stepped back like he'd been burned.
We didn't win the round.
By the end of the shoot, our team had tied for second overall.
And by the time they called "cut," my heart felt like it had gone twelve rounds in the ring.
I turned to thank him. To say good game. Something neutral.
But he was already walking away.
Right, what did I expect.
He wasn't walking fast.
Just... carefully.
Like someone who knew if he looked at me again, he'd never stop walking toward me.
And for the first time—I wasn't sure how long I'd be able to let him walk away.
=================================================
I didn't say goodbye.
Didn't look at her.Didn't trust myself to.
My hands were still clenched at my sides, white-knuckled from holding on to the last fraying strands of control.
Dwyn.
She'd laughed today. Smiled. Rolled her eyes like she didn't know she was killing me.
Every time her voice hit the air, Dal—my wolf—howled like a goddamn choir was being torn from his ribcage.
She touched us. She laughed with us. She was ours and we felt it.
I shoved the dressing room door open too hard. It banged against the wall with a crack. No one followed.
Good.
I needed quiet. I needed to breathe.
I braced both palms on the edge of the vanity, head bowed between my shoulders. My reflection stared back from the mirror — sweat-damp hair, flushed skin, pupils too wide.
Pathetic.
"I can't do this," I whispered.
Dal growled inside me.
You already are. You've been doing it for weeks. You just refuse to stop lying about it.
"She's not mine," I bit out.
She is.
"She has a life. A group. She's still healing. I'm—I can't give her what she needs."
What she needs is you.
I slammed my fist into the side of the vanity. The lights flickered from the impact.
I saw her everywhere.
Heard her voice like a ghost note trailing behind every song I recorded.
Smelled her in the wind even when she wasn't near.
And today?
Having her next to me?
Tied together. Moving together. Breathing together.
It had ruined me.
She wasn't just beautiful. She was real. Unedited. Wild. Sharp.
She didn't look at me like I was a star.
She looked at me like I was human.
And that scared the hell out of me.
Because I knew—knew—that if I touched her again, if I let myself lean into that bond for one second, I would never stop.
I wouldn't be able to.
Dal already hadn't.
He was clawing at me from the inside like the ribcage was a prison. Pacing, furious, desperate.
She smelled like storm, salty wind and moonlight today...I know that's not an actual thing but anyways, she smiled and we didn't kiss her. WE COULD HAVE TOUCHED HER. HELD HER.
I dropped into the nearest chair like my knees finally gave out.
She'd felt it, too.
I saw the twitch in her fingers every time our shoulders brushed. The way her laugh caught a little too sharp. The way her gaze pulled away when mine held it too long.
She was pretending.
Just like me.
But her wolf —Dawn— she knew.
Dal howled for her now.
She's our balance. She's our moon. She's ours.
And I kept telling myself she deserved more than this half-version of me.
But the truth?
She already had all of me.
Whether I said it or not.
The bond was singing now. Through my bones. Through my skin. Every breath without her was a question I didn't know how to answer.
And sooner or later...
I wouldn't be able to hold back.
Because she was the only thing that made this stupid, suffocating world feel bearable.
And next time?
Next time she looked at me like she almost believed it too—
I wasn't sure I'd have the strength to look away.