Eli didn't know when it happened.
He'd been sleeping peacefully—deep, warm, anchored—until that strange half-wake jolted him. You know the kind: when your body stirs just enough to shift, then sinks right back into sleep.
Except… that didn't happen.
Eli jolted awake, adjusted his position, and was just about to drift off again when his sleepy brain finally caught up and screamed—
Something's wrong.
He reached out instinctively.
Empty.
Too empty.
The space beside him was wide, cold, untouched. Eli tapped the mattress once. Twice.
Then his eyes flew open.
He sat up so fast it made him dizzy.
"Jordan?" he called softly, hoping—praying—that he was just in the bathroom.
Nothing.
"Jordan?" he called again, louder now, swinging his legs off the bed.
Still nothing.
His heart started racing.
The suite was dark and eerily quiet as Eli scrambled to turn on every light, his movements frantic and unfocused. Panic does that—it short-circuits logic.
He searched everywhere.
The laundry basket.
The walk-in closet.
Under the bed.
Inside the cupboards beneath the beverage table.
Even the bathroom—shower, tub, everywhere—just in case.
Nothing.
When it finally hit him that Jordan wasn't in the room at all, the panic spiked.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Eli muttered under his breath, thoughts spiraling as he tried to piece together where Jordan could've gone.
His body moved faster than his brain.
He was already out the door and sprinting down the hallway, hoping his mind would catch up and give him something.
Thankfully—thank fuck—he'd had the sense to pull on a pair of sweatpants before leaving. Eli was a firm believer in sleeping in boxers… or underwear… or, on rare and special occasions—or blue moons—absolutely nothing at all.
As he rounded the corner, he nearly collided with Ahn Jae, who was running just as hard—face pale, breath ragged.
"Jae?" Eli asked breathlessly. "What's wrong?"
"Eli—thank God," Ahn Jae panted. "August's missing!"
"What?" Eli froze.
"I woke up early for my jog," Ahn Jae explained, struggling to catch his breath, "and August's bed was empty."
"What the fuck is happening?" Eli whispered, dread curling in his stomach.
Ahn Jae frowned, noticing Eli's expression. "Wait—what happened?"
"Jordan's missing too," Eli said.
Ahn Jae's face drained of color.
"Oh no…"
"Okay—okay," Ahn Jae said quickly, forcing a steadying breath. "Let's not panic."
Easier said than done.
"I checked with the front desk," Ahn Jae continued. "They haven't seen August leave, so I'm pretty sure both of them are still in the hotel."
He paused. "So… where could they be?"
Something clicked.
Jordan's voice echoed in Eli's memory—talking about nightmares, restless nights, the things he used to do when sleep failed him.
Eli's eyes widened.
"I think I know where Jordan is," he said suddenly, already turning on his heel.
And then he took off running.
"I just hope," Eli muttered under his breath, heart pounding, "that August is with him."
****
Ahn Jae was momentarily confused—but then he took off after Eli anyway.
Better numbers. Strength in solidarity. And a quiet, desperate hope that August really was wherever Eli thought Jordan might be.
When they reached the floor, Eli kept repeating it in his head like a prayer.
Please. Please. Please. Please.
And then—
Laughter.
Familiar. Bright.
The crushing weight in Eli's chest loosened instantly.
They'd reached the floor where the dance studio was located, and when music—and unmistakably familiar laughter—spilled out into the hallway, Eli and Ahn Jae exchanged looks of pure relief.
Safe.
They slowed their pace, no longer running, and quietly approached the studio.
What greeted them made them stop cold.
Jordan and August were flying across the room.
Not just dancing—soaring.
They moved with a kind of freedom that made Eli and Ahn Jae freeze in place, unwilling to interrupt something so raw, so unfiltered. The way they leapt, rolled across the floor, spun and twisted—bodies moving without restraint or permission.
Sweat drenched their shirts, darkened their hair, traced lines down their faces—but nothing slowed them. The smiles on their lips, the spark in their eyes… it was precious. Vulnerable. Real.
"Wow…" Ahn Jae murmured, breathless.
He watched them—not idols, not artists, not anything polished or curated. Just two young men being themselves.
Especially August.
Ahn Jae had known August for a long time—back in GenPro, when they trained and competed together.
Back then, August had always been the maknae. The adorable youngest. The one everyone watched over, fussed about, protected. Loved for his sunshine personality, his golden retriever energy, his easy smiles.
There were moments—quiet, unspoken ones—when Ahn Jae had been jealous. Of August's talent. Of how naturally light he seemed. How effortlessly happy.
But that jealousy came from insecurity.
Because Ahn Jae knew the truth.
August had been an independent trainee. He worked harder than anyone else in that competition—pushed himself further, burned brighter.
So when August fainted during the GenPro finals, Ahn Jae knew something deeper had broken. Something that wouldn't heal easily.
Seeing August again at the airport later, Ahn Jae had been relieved—August smiled, laughed, acted like himself.
But as time passed, and as August grew closer to him again… something felt different.
It was August.
And yet—it wasn't.
It never quite made sense, but it was the only way Ahn Jae could describe it.
And now, watching him dance, he finally understood.
August had grown up.
Plain and simple.
He'd tasted how selfish and cruel reality could be. But instead of letting it harden him completely, August chose something braver—he matured and held onto his innocence. He still looked for the light, even knowing it could hurt.
That was the difference.
He'd learned not just how to hope—but how to protect his heart.
It wasn't perfect. It wasn't finished.
But he was learning. Step by step.
Even in the way August danced now—his movements were more mature. Broader. Unconfined. He didn't cling to one style, didn't let himself be caged.
He explored. Expanded. Reached.
And Ahn Jae realized—
This wasn't just August dancing.
This was August becoming.
****
Ahn Jae felt something squeeze tight in his chest as he watched August—how he kept growing, how he never stopped.
His discipline. His dedication. His passion. His perseverance.
It was awe-inspiring.
And, if Ahn Jae was being honest, a little shame-inducing.
Once upon a time, he'd nearly quit. Nearly turned his back on the one thing he loved most. Came dangerously close to choosing a life where regret would've been his permanent roommate.
In that moment, Ahn Jae felt profoundly grateful—to Illiyana, for finding him just in time before he crossed that invisible line.
And to Sir Foca, for seeing something in him that so many others—and even Ahn Jae himself—had failed to see.
"Holy fuck," Eli whispered in awed disbelief as he watched Jordan and August move. "I know those two have always been on a completely different level, but shit… I can't even be mad about how much of a dancing monster they are."
Ahn Jae chuckled softly, eyes never leaving the studio floor.
"Couldn't agree more."
"I was gonna say, at least I've got a good voice," Eli continued, rambling freely now, "but then I thought about Monarch and I was like—nah. Never mind. I'll stick to being the face and personality of the group."
"You do have a good voice," Ahn Jae argued, finally turning to him with raised brows.
"Nah," Eli shrugged, utterly unbothered. "Compared to everyone else? I'm here for my looks. And honestly? I'm okay with that." He grinned. "I'm just thankful Sir Foca saw something in me."
"Yeah," Ahn Jae said quietly. "I feel the same way."
Eli stared at him.
"…Dude, are you fucking with me right now?" he deadpanned. "With that voice? Of course Sir Foca saw something in you. Whoever didn't was on some serious bullshit."
"It's not that special," Ahn Jae shrugged. "Compared to your voice—and that face and body? How could I even compete?"
"Oh, so this is how you wanna do this?" Eli cracked his knuckles theatrically. "Fine by me. I'm highly skilled in the art of self-deprecation."
"I practically have a master's degree in it," Ahn Jae shot back with a smirk.
"Uh… are you guys okay?"
Jordan's voice cut cleanly through their nonsense.
"Shit!" Eli jumped back.
"Shibal!" Ahn Jae blurted out.
They'd been so absorbed in their mutual self-dragging that they hadn't even noticed the music had stopped—or that Jordan and August were now staring directly at them.
"Ahn Jae-hyung," August gasped, eyes wide. "Did you just curse?"
Ahn Jae froze.
He wasn't exactly known for swearing, and judging by August's shock, this was a first.
"Shhh, Augie-ah," Ahn Jae said quickly, crouching slightly and speaking to him like a child. "Listen to me. You didn't hear anything, okay?"
"Bullshit," Eli laughed instantly.
"Yeah—bullshit, Ahn Jae-hyung," August echoed innocently.
Ahn Jae gasped in absolute horror and immediately clapped a hand over August's mouth.
"I cannot believe those filthy words just came out of your pure mouth," he whispered dramatically.
Slowly, Ahn Jae turned his head toward Eli, eyes narrowed, shooting daggers.
"What have you done?!"
"What?" Eli asked, genuinely confused—though the smug smirk still betrayed him.
Jordan promptly backhanded Eli's chest.
"Ow—what the hell?" Eli protested, clutching his heart.
Jordan met his eyes with a look that said behave or else.
And that—
That was how Eli and Ahn Jae finally found the missing August and Jordan.
Safe. Sweaty. Dancing. Exactly where they were meant to be.