The music pounded through the speakers like a relentless heartbeat, echoing off the mirrored walls. Sweat dripped down Kael's temples as he counted the beats in his head.
Five, six, seven, eight—
His body moved on instinct, sharp, precise, powerful. The others followed behind him, their breaths ragged. They'd been practicing for hours, perfecting the choreography for their next comeback.
"Again," Kael said when the song ended.
"Hyung—" Tavi groaned, collapsing onto the floor. "We've been at this for six hours."
Kael shot him a hard look. "And it still isn't perfect."
The members groaned collectively, but no one argued. They reset positions as the intro blared again.
Kael pushed harder. He always did. He couldn't afford mistakes—not as the leader, not when the company was betting everything on this comeback.
He spun into the final move, dropping low—when it happened.
A sharp, searing pain shot through his ankle. His body faltered, landing hard on the floor.
"Hyung!" Tavi rushed over.
Kael gritted his teeth, trying to push himself up. "I'm fine," he said through clenched jaws.
But when he put weight on his ankle, pain exploded again, making him stumble.
"Fine my ass," Eren muttered, helping him to the side.
"I said I'm fine." Kael's voice was harsh, the leader tone that shut everyone up.
But he wasn't fine. Not even close.
---
By the time practice ended, Kael had managed to convince the others it was just a minor sprain. He waited until they all left, pretending to pack up slowly.
Except someone stayed behind.
"Klan?" Kael frowned when he saw the omega leaning against the wall, arms crossed. "Why aren't you gone with the others?"
Klan tilted his head, gray-blue eyes soft but sharp. "Because you're lying."
Kael froze.
"You're not fine," Klan said quietly, walking toward him. His voice was calm, but Kael could hear the tremor underneath. "I saw your face when you landed."
Kael opened his mouth to argue, but Klan was already kneeling in front of him. Before Kael could stop him, Klan gently reached for his ankle, his slender fingers brushing against Kael's skin as he rolled up the hem of his joggers.
Kael inhaled sharply—not from pain this time, but from the touch.
Klan's breath caught when he saw the swelling. "Kael…" His voice broke slightly. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because it doesn't matter," Kael said flatly. "We don't have time for injuries."
Klan looked up, his eyes blazing now. "It matters to me."
Kael froze. Those words, that look—soft but fierce—hit harder than any pain in his ankle.
Klan grabbed an ice pack from the mini-fridge in the corner and pressed it gently against the swelling. Kael hissed, and Klan flinched.
"Sorry," he murmured, his fingers brushing Kael's skin again, softer this time. "You're so stubborn."
Kael watched him in silence, the way his ash-brown hair fell into his eyes, the way his lips pressed together in concentration. For some reason, Kael couldn't look away.
"You didn't have to stay," Kael said finally, his voice low.
"I did," Klan replied, without hesitation. "Because you never let anyone take care of you."
Kael stared at him, something tight coiling in his chest.
When Klan looked up, their eyes locked—amber and gray-blue, a quiet storm between them.
For a moment, the world outside didn't exist. No stage, no fans, no company—just this. The heat of Klan's touch, the softness in his voice, the way Kael suddenly wanted something he couldn't name.
He broke the gaze first, leaning back. "Don't tell the others," Kael said.
Klan gave a small smile, though his voice trembled. "Your secret's safe with me, leader."
Kael didn't answer. He just watched as Klan packed the ice against his ankle again, wondering when the air between them had become so heavy… and why he didn't want it to go away.