The studio rooms were nearly empty by the time Loran caught him. "Kiolle."
His voice was smooth, measured, but there was a quiet command behind it. Kiolle paused mid-step, a towel slung around his neck, his hoodie half-zipped over a damp black tank. He turned, eyes wide with practised innocence. "Yeah?"
Loran was leaning on the doorframe now, head tilted, smile soft...too soft. "Come with me. Just for a sec."
Kiolle blinked. Tilted his head like a confused puppy. "Did I mess up something?"
Loran chuckled. "No, no. Just wanna talk. Get to know you better."
Suspicion. A slow nod, an unsure shuffle toward him. That was the correct response, right? Kiolle followed him through the corridors into one of the private lounges used for vocal warmups. It was dimmer here. Quiet. Too quiet.
Loran dropped onto the low couch with a casual thud, then gestured to the seat beside him. "Sit."
Kiolle hesitated, then sat. Barely. Just enough to keep the image of discomfort on his frame. He curled into himself, towel in hand like a shield.
"I know being new's rough," Loran said, studying him sideways. "All these routines. Deadlines. Pressure
Kiolle nodded slowly. "And we're intense, I get it. But we're family, yeah? Corin, me, Briar… Eldrin." Loran watched closely. "Especially Eldrin."
At the mention of the name, Kiolle's fingers tightened slightly. Loran noticed. "You like him?"
Well, that's as plain as day, Kiolle flushed on cue. Just enough. "He's… kind."
Loran grinned. "He is. Real stand-up guy. Just a bit oblivious sometimes." A beat. "You know," Loran continued, eyes glinting, "joining a group like this; it's not just about how you sing or dance. It's how you bond. Trust. Share."
Kiolle met his gaze, wide-eyed and unsure. "I… want to."
"You sure?" Loran asked, leaning in slightly. "Cause trust goes both ways. Some of us share everything. The stress, the fun... even the beds sometimes."
Kiolle stiffened just a little. Loran watched it happen, waited for him to push back or break eye contact.
Instead, Kiolle smiled. Shy. A little awkward. Voice quiet. "I want to trust you all… I just need time."
Loran blinked. He hadn't expected that. Most people either recoiled or flirted back. Kiolle had taken the middle ground. Cautious. Honest. Vulnerable. A perfect little bird in the wolf's den.
Loran grinned, slowly and impressed. "You're interesting."
Kiolle lowered his gaze, smiled faintly. "I've been told."
Meanwhile, Inside Kiolle's Mind
That was cute. He thinks I'm a baby deer lost and alone in the woods.
Kiolle had actually rehearsed that exact scenario the moment he met Loran for the first time. Loran's whole demeaner from day one had just screamed pervert. From his approach, the sleazy softness mood, to the invitation wrapped in warmth. Loran was predictable. Men like him always were. They thought seduction was a weapon when it was really just a door handle Kiolle could twist at will.
And Kiolle saw the truth for what it was. Loran just wanted to see just how far he could push before he hit a snag.
It was odd though, with Corin? Weren't they an item? He had heard them one day; engaging in some not so pleasant activities locked up in one of the storage rooms and cursed his enhanced hearing with all his might.
Then again, maybe both of them were just perverts looking for a third to spice up their nightlife. Perhaps Corin was even watching from somewhere or would hear all about it later. They moved as a unit, those two. Like a pack.
Kiolle wasn't scared. He was amused. They think I'm soft, gentle and naive. They have no idea I'm already sharpening the knives.
Still, he made sure to glance nervously at the door before standing slowly.
"I should go," he answered in the softest voice he could utter.
Loran didn't stop him. He just smiled again, that dangerous, hungry smile. "Anytime you want to talk," he said smoothly, "or… anything else—you come to me. Got it?"
Kiolle nodded, biting his lip, perfectly rehearsed. Then he walked out, heartbeat steady, mind already working five steps ahead. Loran was baiting him. But he could use this to cure his boredom perhaps and maybe even get Eldrin's attention.
Some days later
Recently, Kiolle hit a snag, he'd been trying so hard to get close to Eldrin but utterly failed and it had been too late for a strategy change. Kiolle wasn't used to failing. Especially not with someone like Eldrin.
It had been six months. six months of perfectly crafted fragility. Of staged breakdowns and soft stares. Of letting his voice tremble just slightly when Eldrin asked if he was okay. Of curling into himself, always just enough for Eldrin to offer a shoulder. And yet... nothing.
No emotional confession. No subtle brushing of fingertips. No hunger, not even a whisper of it, in his gaze. Eldrin remained distant. Kind, yes. Gentle, always. But emotionally untouchable.
Kiolle lay on the hallway bench outside the recording studio one late night, eyes closed but alert, earbuds in but off. He was pretending to nap, waiting to "accidentally" bump into Eldrin when he left his solo recording
He didn't mind waiting. The patience of a predator was something he'd long since mastered. All he needed was one glance—one little crack in Eldrin's polished mask. Tonight felt different, though. The air was heavier, less sterile. Something in the rhythm of the atmosphere felt… off.
Then, like a needle through fabric, something slipped through.
Blood. Faint. Sharp. Familiar. Definitely not his doing, he hadn't had time to look for food for a while. His lips parted, nostrils flaring slightly. The scent curled into his nose, delicate and lingering, like a half-finished sentence. It wasn't fresh, it had the dry, metallic residue of something spilt hours ago. Maybe even longer.
But it was there. And it wasn't from the studio accident last week. Nor was it from his bags of food. This… belonged to someone else, someone not from the studio. He had mastered everybody's scent of course.
Kiolle's eyes flicked toward the studio door just as it creaked open. Eldrin. Hair slightly damp with sweat. Sleeves rolled up just past his forearms. Calm expression in place. But the scent was stronger now. His shirt. Somewhere near the collar.
Kiolle lowered his gaze and spotted it—a pinprick stain, smaller than a fingernail, nearly missed under the navy threads. It had oxidised, barely visible under the low hallway lighting.
But to a vampire? It was practically a ringing be. Kiolle blinked slowly, keeping his face perfectly blank as Eldrin approached. "You're still up?" Eldrin asked softly.
The scent clung to him, faint but rich with meaning. There was violence in it. A familiar one. Not like spilled wine or nosebleeds. Like something died recently.
"Yeah," Kiolle replied, voice quiet as always. "Couldn't sleep, so I just came here, my apartment is not so far away."
Eldrin tilted his head, watching him with soft, unreadable eyes. "Everything alright?"
"Of course." Kiolle smiled, his gaze just a little too wide, a little too watchful now. "Just tired, that's all."
"Get some rest, you can crash at our place, it's just above the studio you know. Its dangerous outside, I'll be in the showers let me know when your ready to go." Eldrin gave him a small pat on the shoulder before walking off, footsteps light but unhurried.
Kiolle didn't move until he disappeared down the corridor. Then, slowly, he stood. His fingers ghosted to his lips, his eyes narrowed, no longer tired or soft.
That blood… isn't his, he thought. And it sure as hell isn't random. Actually, the scent is concentrated on his hands, did he get into a fight or something
Eldrin clearly had his own secrets, Kiolle wanted to know what exactly they were.
Kiolle stood frozen for a moment longer, processing the implications like puzzle pieces falling into place. All this time, he'd been treating Eldrin like a prince. But maybe… Eldrin was more like a wolf in silk. A chill of delight passed through him. So, we're not that different after all. But first, let's figure out whether you're a vampire or something else.