Kai sits alone under the flickering glow of an old backstage corridor—half-lit, half-deserted after the most recent Neon-Hype set. The music still lingers faintly in the vents, but his existence is quiet. His phone is facedown on the floor beside him. Unread messages from East, Ash, Mick. Even Cherry had sent a meme earlier.
He should be full. He should be happy.
Instead… he just feels empty.
His chest rises slowly, a long inhale he doesn't realize he's holding. Then it shudders out, and he leans forward, elbows on knees, head dropping into his hands. That old weight settling again, right at the base of his ribs.
Noah's face keeps flashing in the back of his mind.
The way he reached for him. The desperation. The guilt.
And then Kai's own words—like a blade he'd sharpened himself:
"I don't love you anymore."
But it wasn't that.
It was the silence that came after. The way Noah didn't fight back after the fifth time. The sixth.
How he finally turned away.
