Draven woke up with the faint memory of the river still clinging to him. The quiet, the lights, the way Zenith had looked at him like the world had narrowed to just the two of them. It should have made him smile. Instead, it left a knot in his chest.
He stared at the ceiling for a long time, one arm draped over his eyes. This is dangerous, he thought. Not because Zenith was careless, but because Draven was starting to want more than he could safely have.
Later that morning, he walked Aiven to the café like he always did. He didn't go inside often, but today he stayed near the counter, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room out of habit. Protecting Aiven wasn't just something he did—it was instinct.
"You've been quiet since yesterday," Aiven said softly while tying his apron. "You okay?"
Draven exhaled. "Zenith took me out last night."
Aiven froze for half a second, then turned fully toward him. "A date?"
"Not officially," Draven muttered. "Just… somewhere quiet."
Aiven smiled gently. "And?"
"And now I can't stop thinking about him," Draven admitted. "That's the problem."
Aiven shook his head. "That's not a problem. That's how this starts."
Before Draven could respond, the café door opened.
Zenith stepped inside, cap pulled low, hoodie hiding his frame but not his presence. He didn't scan the room. His eyes went straight to Draven.
Their gazes met.
Draven's spine straightened instantly, his protective instincts flaring before he remembered who this was. Zenith's expression softened just a little when he saw him.
Zenith ordered quickly and quietly, keeping his head down. When Aiven handed him the drink, Zenith nodded politely, but his attention drifted back to Draven.
For a brief moment, they were the only two people in the room.
Zenith's fingers brushed Draven's wrist as he passed by—light, careful, intentional.
"Stay safe," Zenith murmured, so quietly only Draven heard.
Draven swallowed. "You too."
Zenith didn't linger. He left as quietly as he came, but the space he left behind felt heavier than his presence.
Aiven glanced at Draven once the door closed. "You looked like you forgot how to breathe."
Draven huffed. "He shouldn't come here."
"And yet," Aiven said gently, "you're glad he did."
That night, Draven sat by the window of his apartment, city lights blinking below. His phone buzzed.
Zenith: I shouldn't have come today. I just wanted to see you.
Draven stared at the message, then typed back slowly.
Draven: I was worried. But… I'm glad you did. Just don't make it a habit.
Zenith: I'll follow your pace. Always.
That was what scared Draven the most.
Not Zenith's feelings—but the trust behind them.
He set his phone down and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. Whatever this was, it was growing quietly, steadily. And even with all the risks, Draven wasn't ready to let it go.