One year later.
The café opened at dawn, the bell above the door chiming gently as Avien flipped the sign to OPEN. Morning light spilled across the wooden floors, warm and familiar. The smell of fresh coffee wrapped around the space like a promise.
Nothing rushed him anymore.
Draven sat at his favorite table by the window, sketchbook open, pencil moving slowly. There was no pressure to create something perfect. Just lines, feelings, moments. He looked up when the door opened again.
Zenith walked in wearing a simple hoodie and cap, not to hide—but because he wanted to. No security. No schedules breathing down his neck. Just him.
Their eyes met, and the smile Zenith gave him was still Draven's favorite thing in the world.
Raze arrived not long after, arms full of pastries, already arguing with Avien about where to place them. Their bickering was easy now, affectionate. The kind that only existed when love had settled into something solid and safe.
ECLYPSE had returned to the industry six months earlier.
Not louder. Not controlled.
Stronger.
They came back with their own terms—clear boundaries, transparent contracts, and a manager who treated them like human beings, not assets. The music they released wasn't chasing trends anymore. It was honest. Raw. Alive.
The fans noticed.
Some left. Some stayed. The ones who remained learned what respect looked like.
Toxic voices faded into irrelevance.
Zenith never hid Draven—but he didn't display him either. Love was no longer something to defend or explain. It simply existed, steady and real.
They walked home together every night.
Sometimes in silence. Sometimes laughing. Always hand in hand.
Avien's café became a quiet landmark—not famous, not viral, but cherished. A place idols visited on off days, where music played softly and no one asked for photos unless invited.
A place where people were allowed to be ordinary.
On evenings like this, when the sun dipped low and the café lights glowed softly, they gathered around the counter—four lives once fractured, now whole in ways they never imagined possible.
Draven rested his head on Zenith's shoulder.
Raze slipped an arm around Avien's waist.
Outside, the world continued—loud, chaotic, demanding.
Inside, they finally breathed.
And for the first time, the future didn't feel frightening.
It felt like home.