The next day, Draven tried to act normal. He arrived at the café where Aiven worked, forcing a calm smile as fans milled about outside and the morning rush began. His body felt tight, every movement reminding him of last night. He had to keep himself composed—not just for Aiven, but for everyone who could see him.
Aiven waved from behind the counter, calling out, "Hey! You're early today!"
Draven nodded, his voice low. "Yeah… just had stuff to do."
Aiven's eyes lingered on him, noticing the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. "You sure you're okay?"
Draven forced a small laugh, shaking his head. "I'm fine. Really."
Inside, though, he wasn't. His mind kept replaying Zenith's hands, the intensity of their kiss, and the raw hunger in the way they had held each other. He could feel the lingering heat, a constant reminder of the line they had crossed.
Zenith's messages kept coming, short and measured: "Don't overthink it. Just get through today."
Draven stared at his phone, wanting to reply, wanting to say something, but the words refused to come. He couldn't risk anyone finding out—not now. Not until he knew exactly what this meant for both of them.
The morning passed in a blur. Fans peeked through the windows, whispering, and Aiven tried to focus on work while occasionally glancing at Draven, concern etched in his features. Draven kept his distance, careful not to give anything away. The secret was heavy, a quiet pressure that made every smile feel forced, every laugh hollow.
When the café quieted down, Draven stepped outside for a breather. The cool air brushed against his face, and he exhaled slowly, trying to release the tension coiling in his chest. His phone buzzed.
It was Zenith. "Come over tonight. Just us. No one else."
Draven's fingers hovered over the screen. He wanted to go. He needed to go. But the thought of balancing the public world, Aiven, and his own emotions made him hesitate.
He typed a quick reply: "Okay."
He slipped the phone into his pocket, feeling the weight of the secret settle back onto his shoulders. The hidden fire between him and Zenith burned quietly, dangerously, and Draven knew that tonight, everything would feel even more intense.
Back inside, Aiven noticed the small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at Draven's lips. He frowned. "What's going on?"
Draven avoided his gaze. "Nothing. Just… tired, that's all."
Aiven didn't push. He trusted Draven, but a small seed of curiosity took root. He didn't know yet that Draven was already tangled in something much more complicated than work or café life—something that would change everything soon.
And neither of them could imagine just how fast the hidden fire would consume them.