Chapter 53
The air backstage at the Olympic Stadium was thick with the scent of expensive hairspray, pyrotechnics, and the frantic, high-voltage energy of a successful opening night. It was a labyrinth of black flight cases, scurrying staff with headsets, and the distant, muffled roar of sixty thousand fans still chanting for an encore.
As soon as Haru stepped into the green room, he was nearly tackled. Suho, still vibrating with a kinetic force that defied the laws of physics, threw his arms around Haru in a fierce hug. He was drenched in sweat, his pink hair damp and messy, but his eyes were bright with a manic sort of joy.
"Hyung! You actually came!" Suho shouted, bouncing on his heels. It was impossible to believe this boy had just performed a grueling three-hour set; he looked ready to do it all over again.
"I wouldn't have missed it, Suho-ya," Haru said, hugging him back and patting his shoulder. "You were incredible. Your vocals during the ballad? I think you made half the stadium cry."
Se-hee peaked out from behind Haru's shoulder, her face flushed a deep shade of crimson that rivaled her outfit. She was clutching a massive, elaborate bouquet of flowers - her second batch of the day- and she looked like she was on the verge of a literal swoon.
"I... I am a huge fan," she squeaked, thrusting the flowers toward Suho. A staff member deftly intercepted them before they could collide with Suho's chest, adding them to a mountain of floral tributes in the corner.
"You are my bias," she whispered, her voice trembling with the gravity of the confession.
Suho flashed her a megawatt grin, the kind that had likely launched a thousand fan edits. "Thank you so much! your outfit is awesome!"
She almost collapsed at the compliment.
He then waved over Grey, who was standing nearby, looking cool and collected even in the aftermath of the show. As Grey approached, Haru felt Se-hee's hand clamp onto his forearm with a grip like a vice. She was vibrating.
"Should we take the picture now?" a staff member asked, checking a clipboard. Time backstage was limited.
The other members filtered in, and then Haru felt it before he saw it. The air in the room seemed to displace, growing heavy and charged. Raiven walked toward them. Up close, without the distance of the stage or the blur of the cameras, he was devastating. The blue mullet was damp, strands of hair clinging to his neck, and the silver rings of his headpiece glinted under the harsh fluorescent lights.
Raiven stood directly beside Haru. The proximity was a physical assault on Haru's senses. He could smell the salt of Raiven's skin, the faint metallic tang of the stage makeup, and the underlying scent of the cologne that always seemed to haunt him. Haru kept his gaze fixed firmly on the wall opposite him, afraid that if he looked to his left, he would simply dissolve.
"Everyone, look here! One, two, three!"
The flash went off. Se-hee took her phone back from the staff member, staring at the screen as if it held the secrets to the universe. "You guys did such an amazing job," she said, her professional influencer persona finally kicking in to mask her fangirl panic. "The performance was spectacular. Truly world-class."
The members bowed and offered tired, genuine thanks, already being ushered toward a group of corporate sponsors waiting in the wings. But as Raiven turned to follow them, Se-hee stepped forward, blocking his path. Haru groaned internally. He knew that look in her eye.
"Thank you for the tickets, Raiven," she said brightly, grabbing Haru's arm and physically maneuvering him until he was standing face-to-face with the idol. "Haru told me all about how you personally made sure we got the seats."
Raiven's gaze dropped to Haru. His eyes were dark, shadowed by the remnants of eyeliner, and unreadable. "It was no problem," he said, his voice a low, raspy friction that made the hair on Haru's arms stand up.
"And," Se-hee continued, fishing a sleek, minimalist shopping bag out of her oversized tote, "he got you this. He didn't want to bring it back here, but I insisted."
Haru stared at the bag in horror. He recognized it -it was a high-end, traditional herbal brew designed specifically for vocal cord recovery and muscle fatigue. He had spent hours researching it online , eventually ordering it under a pseudonym. He hadn'tintended to give it.to him especially after what happened. He had no idea Se-hee had raided his room and found it.
"He searched really long for it," Se-hee whispered, winking audaciously at Raiven.
Haru wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He glared at Se-hee, but she was busy adjusting her hair, looking entirely too pleased with herself.
"Thank you," Raiven said, his fingers brushing Haru's as he took the bag. The contact was brief, but it felt like a brand. His eyes searched Haru's. "I'll use it tonight."
"You did amazing," Haru managed to say, his voice sounding thin and nervous. "Truly."
"You should have seen him when you first came on stage, Raiven-ssi! It was like - - "
Haru's hand snapped up, covering Se-hee's mouth before she could reveal the full extent of his reaction. "We should go," Haru said through gritted teeth. "You're busy. Congratulations again."
A staff member called Raiven's name, and with a final, lingering nod toward Haru, he disappeared into the crowd.
The drive to the restaurant was a blur of Se-hee's non-stop chatter. She was scrolling through her phone, showing Haru the explosion of engagement on social media.
Haru barely heard her. His mind was back in that dressing room, stuck on Raiven.
After a quiet dinner where Haru spent more time rearranging his food than eating it, they finally returned home. He felt a desperate need to wash the day off him.
He emerged from the shower twenty minutes later, a towel draped over his damp hair. He wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a single coffee-flavored toffee from a bowl on the counter. He was unwrapping it, the candy stuck in the side of his mouth as he walked into his bedroom, when his phone began to vibrate on the nightstand.
He picked it up without checking the ID, flopping onto his bed with a tired sigh.
"Hello?" he said, his voice muffled by the toffee.
"Hey."
The voice was a low, scratchy thrum. Haru's entire body went rigid. He sat up so fast the towel fell from his head. his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
"Raiven," he whispered.
"Thanks for coming today," Raiven said. The background was the hollow silence of a hotel room or a quiet van. "And thanks for the brew. I'm drinking it now. It's... it's exactly what I needed."
Haru gripped the phone, his knuckles turning white. "It was nothing. I just... I knew you were working hard. You really were incredible on that stage, Raiven. You looked like you belonged there."
Silence stretched between them, heavy and thick with the weight of the two weeks they hadn't spoken.
"About what happened," Haru started, his voice trembling. "On the road, I ...."
"Could we talk about it when I come back?" Raiven interrupted. There was a note of vulnerability in his voice, an almost desperate edge "I don't want to do this over the phone."
"Sure," Haru breathed, biting his lip. "I understand. The tour is a lot. We can talk when you're home."
"I'm sorry I didn't reach out after that night," Raiven said quietly. "I didn't know how to... I needed to focus, but I shouldn't have gone silent."
"It's fine," Haru reasoned, though his heart felt like it was breaking and healing at the same time. "You were busy. It was out of nowhere. I get it."
The line went quiet again, but it wasn't an awkward silence. It was the sound of two people breathing in sync across the city.
"I would like to continue talking to you, Haru," Raiven said finally.
Haru froze.