aotri

trying to write

[aotri]

Gilded Wings (5)

Series. Word count: 1552

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*･゜ﾟ･*･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

I stumbled out of the tunnel and into a room that looked like an office—rich wood shelves, a wide desk, soft lighting too warm to be comforting.

So the passageways really did lead everywhere.

Naomi crossed the room like he belonged to it—because he did—and dropped onto the couch with easy confidence. After a beat, I followed, perching on the opposite end.

I studied him, unwilling to let the question rot any longer. “…What did you do Naomi? I can’t shake off the feeling that you had something to do with the dorm.”

It wasn’t an accusation.

It wasn’t a statement either.

It was something suspended between the two—dangerous because I wanted the truth.

He smiled slowly.

“Birdie,” he said, pleased. “I knew there was a sharp bone in you.” His gaze flicked to mine, bright with amusement. “Perhaps I should call you magpie instead?” He taunted, or maybe teased? I could never tell with him.

“I am not that cruel.” He continues. “I didn’t cause the leakage.”

Relief barely had time to bloom—

“But, I did tell the school not to help you out. Why? Because the manor was getting a bit dull.”

The words landed cleanly. Deliberately.

I was at a loss for words. “Naomi—” I began but he quickly stopped me.

“Magpie~ Come now, I am certain. You will not disappoint.”

I huffed and grabbed the nearest pillow, hurling it at him. He deflected it effortlessly with a flick of his wrist, barely looking.

“…Then how long exactly do we have to stay here?” I muttered.

“Hmm.” Naomi tapped a finger against his chin, eyes drifting upward in mock consideration. “A month. Two.” His gaze slid back to me, smile slow and unmistakably him. “Or perhaps the entirety of your program.”

“Naomi.”

He brightened. “You do love saying my name, don’t you, birdie?”

I groaned, scrubbing a hand over my face. “And your brothers agreed to this. Why?”

Naomi leaned back against the couch, movements unhurried, deliberate—like he had all the time in the world and wanted me to feel that he did.

“Let’s just say,” he murmured, eyes half-lidded, “I’m not the only one here with a little birdie.”

The implication settled heavy in the room.

And somehow, that scared me more than his smile.

He guided me deeper into the manor, our footsteps quiet against the polished floors. The hallway we entered was lined with framed photographs—generations preserved in gold and glass.

I slowed without meaning to.

One picture near the center caught my eye.

“Is that…” I stepped closer. “You? When you were a baby…?”

The boy in the photograph was round-cheeked, dark-eyed, all soft edges and bright curiosity. I reached out without thinking, fingers hovering just shy of the glass.

“Adorable,” I murmured, smiling.

Naomi scoffed lightly, though the smirk never left his lips. “Yes. I was adorable. Even as a baby.”

I laughed under my breath and let my gaze drift across the rest of the wall—his brothers at different ages, different expressions—before returning to his picture.

“You were so…” I hesitated, searching for the right word.

“Innocent,” he supplied.

Not suggested.

Stated.

I paused, then nodded slowly. “I suppose that fits.” My eyes lingered on the image. “You were cute when you smiled.”

I turned to face him. “Now you’re just… cunning.”

His grin sharpened, pleased rather than offended. “Thank you, magpie.”

That night…

A photo started to circulate on the school forum: three unfamiliar figures entering the Bishop estate gates late at night. The faces aren’t clear—but the silhouettes are.

The comments flooded with theories.

One particularly stands out to him.

“Exchange students shouldn’t have that privillege.”

Naomi smirks. He didn’t comment to confirm nor deny it.

He liked it.

That was all the confirmation they needed.

The next day at school, everything felt… off.

Stares lingered too long. Conversations dipped when we passed. Groups shifted subtly out of our way—not hostile, not overtly cruel.

Just distant.

Careful.

The rest of the exchange students treated us the same as always—laughing, chatting, oblivious. Most of them weren’t active on the forum.

It was the locals who acted differently.

The ones who knew what the Bishop name meant.

That night, I asked Naomi about it.

“You know something.” I accuse.

He hums. “Someone, spread the news about you and your friends living here.”

My stomach dropped. “W-What— I- But that doesn’t explain why they are suddenly avoiding us.” I said, exasperated.

Naomi smirks, raising his eyebrows. “Doesn’t it?”

The question hung there, unanswered.

I stammered, trying to form sentences but no words came out.

He chuckled, amused. “Don’t worry. We won’t let anything happen to any of you.”

Rio’s POV

“T-They’ve been looking at us weird.” I murmured. Lennox hummed, indicating he was listening as he wrapped his arms around me.

I smiled weakly, then looked down at the floor. “I’m afraid, Lennox.”

I felt him tense for half a second—then he leaned in, pressing a kiss just behind my ear. “Ignore them,” he said calmly. “If it gets out of hand, I’ll handle it.”

I’ll.

Then, softer: “We all will.”

We.

As in his brothers.

The thought should’ve comforted me. Instead, it made my chest feel heavy.

I opened my mouth to say something—but he kissed me again, cutting me off before the doubt could surface.

“I’ll handle it.” He reassures.

I forced myself to relax, slumping into his chest. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

Tsunjael’s POV

“People who get too close to the Bishops stop being relatable.” Tae announced.

I hurled a book at him. “And you’re telling me this now?!”

He caught it and tossed it onto the table.“If I told you at the start. You wouldn’t have forgiven us.” he drawled.

I clicked my tongue, ready to snap back—when Amory stepped in, pulling me toward him.

“We’re sorry.” He apologized quietly.

Then his expression hardened, something sharp flashing in his eyes. “But they won’t hurt you.”

That wasn’t reassurance.

It was a promise.

Tae walked over and ruffled my hair. “If anything happens,” he said lightly, “big or small—to any of you—tell us.”

“We’ll handle it.”

I looked between them, heart caught somewhere between anger and something dangerously close to trust. Finally, I sighed and rolled my eyes.

“…You better.”

Amory smiled, tension easing from his shoulders.

Tae grinned. “There’s our snow bunny.”

[aotri]

Gilded Wings (4)

Series. Word count: 870

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*･゜ﾟ･*･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

Tsunjael’s POV

I was in my room doing homework when a hatch from the floor opened up. I tensed and reached to hrab the nearest blunt object to hit whatever had just emerged.

It was just Tae. I threw the blunt object at him. He caught it. “Snow bunny, that’s not very nice.”

“What do you want?” I spat out.

He lifted his arms out in surrender. “To talk,” He leaned against the wall. “You argued with Amory.”

I said nothing. He took that as permission to continue.

“…You should forgive him. I was the one that told him to lie.”

“And why should I believe you.” I grumbled.

“Amory is my brother. I know him well. This will eat at him. And he was really excited to have you as a friend.” He paused, then smirked. “So was I. Even if you hate me.”

I tensed up at his words, turning my head to look at him. I stared at him, caught completely off guard. The teasing edge I was used to wasn’t there.

No smugness. No mockery.

I was lost for words. He crossed the room and stopped in front of me, close enough that I felt boxed into my chair. “Come on,” he said. “I swear—if I ever tease you again, I’ll do a hundred sit-ups.” He tilted his head. “And I’ll buy you those snacks you like so much.”

I leaned back on instinct, pulse skittering at the proximity. But for once, he wasn’t smiling.

But for once, he looked… sincere.

No grin. No games.

It made me want to believe him.

“F-Fine—” I started.

The door opened.

Amory stood there.

Before I could react, Tae seized the moment—hauling me up from the chair and wrapping an arm around me from behind, chest pressed firmly to my back. He angled me forward, forcing me to face his brother.

“Brother, he said he’d forgive you. Didn’t you cutie~” He whispered in my ear, making my brain short-circuit.

I looked up at the boy who somehow teleported in front of me before nodding.

“…I shouldn’t have yelled—” He pulled me from his brother before I could finish my sentence.

“You’re supposed to share brother.” I heard Tae’s voice. I couldn’t see anything, Amory had me pressed against his chest after all.

“I can’t see anything,” I muttered, voice muffled. “And you two still haven’t explained why this room has hidden hatches.”

Silence. Neither of them answered.

Amory only tightened his hold. Behind me, Tae’s hand found the back of my neck, thumb idly tracing absent shapes against my skin as he continued muttering about “sharing.”

Maybe it was better they couldn’t see my face.

Rio’s POV

I’d just finished unpacking when the wall beside my bed shifted.

I screamed—then slapped a hand over my mouth when the panel slid open and Lennox stepped through like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I stared at him, brain lagging behind reality.

He didn’t say a word. He just crossed the room.

I barely had time to open my mouth before his arms wrapped around me, warm and sure, and he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.

My thoughts evaporated.

“L-Lennox—” I whispered, panicking belatedly. “They’ll see….

I didn’t push him away. If anything, I relaxed, fingers curling into his uniform as if my body had already decided this was safe.

We stayed like that for a while—long enough for my heartbeat to finally slow.

Then he spoke, voice low and calm. “I saw you liked my photo.”

I stiffened immediately, hiding my face against his chest. “…Tsunji did that.”

A pause.

“So you didn’t like it?”

“I- I didn’t say I don’t…” I stammered, unable to focus with his lips pressed against my neck.

He hummed. “I promised to be patient… But you’re not making it easy babe.”

I squeaked quietly, heat rushing to my face. I still wasn’t used to his pet names. “…Lennox, you’re being unfair. You asked me out on the first day.”

“And?”

I sighed. I had no comeback. I had said yes.

Instead, I tilted my head up and pressed a quick kiss to his jaw, hoping it would distract him.

It worked—at least a little.

My gaze drifted past his shoulder to the section of wall that had slid open earlier. “…What’s that secret door for?” I asked.

He didn’t look away from me. Not even for a second.

“To hide,” he said flatly. “When you’ve been caught doing something illegal.”

Then, as if that were perfectly normal, he leaned down and pecked my lips.

I blinked.

I still couldn’t tell if that was a joke.

Meanwhile Naomi and Yue

“The house has a tunnel system,” Naomi said, like he was commenting on the weather.

I stopped short. “You mean secret passageways—!!?”

He glanced at me, eyes glinting, lips curving into that infuriating, knowing smirk.

“Yes.”

Before I could protest, his hand closed around my wrist and he pulled me toward the wall. A panel slid open at his touch, revealing a narrow, dimly lit corridor beyond.

“Naomi—!”

“Let go of my hand and you’ll disappear birdie.” He mused.

I gripped his fingers tight till both our hands turned white.

Was supposed to be an extra.

Ended up influencing the series’ writing style :3

[aotri]

Gilded Wings (3)

Series. Word count: 1644

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*･゜ﾟ･*･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

“Ugh—let me tell you guys,” Tsunjael groaned, dumping his bags onto the floor before flopping dramatically onto the couch.

“At least shower first, would you?” I said, shoving him off with my foot.

He let out an exaggerated oof, collapsing onto the floor and draping an arm across his forehead like a tragic hero.

“Betrayal, Yue,” he cried. “Deep betrayal.”

Rio snorted, watching him with barely concealed amusement.

Tsunjael finally sat upright, pointing accusingly at the ceiling. “Anyway—there’s this guy in the basketball club, and he’s a total jerk. He keeps making fun of me because he’s taller and keeps calling me cute. Me. He doesn’t do it to anyone else! And I’m not even the shortest in the group!”

“Sounds like a douche,” Rio muttered, tossing him a snack.

Tsunjael caught it easily and began munching, nodding in agreement before swallowing. “Right? And he’s a senior. What kind of senior does that?”

He paused, then brightened “Oh, but speaking of seniors. I met someone who’s also interested in architect! Ain’t that cool?”

I chuckled. “Finally found someone of the same pack huh? Got their number? You could ask him for advice.”

“Yeah, I did,” Tsunjael said proudly, turning to Rio. “He’s really nice. On the track team—maybe you’ve seen him.”

He gathered his bags and shot me a pointed look. “I’m going to shower now.”

I stuck my tongue out at him and flopped down beside Rio, leaning against his shoulder. “How about you, Bean?”

He rolled his eyes at the nickname. “Nothing much…” he said, then hesitated. “I’ve been running into the Vice President a lot. He’s actually pretty friendly.”

I caught the faint pink creeping into his cheeks.

“Oh~ is he now?” I pushed myself upright and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Is this the start of a brand-new love chapter?”

His blush deepened but he didn’t deny it. I laughed at his now pink face. “Don’t leave me hanging now. You definitely got his handle right??”

By the end of the afternoon, Tsunjael and I had fully committed to teasing him.

It escalated quickly.

Too quickly.

“—Wait.” Tsunjael froze, staring at his phone. “Oh no.”

Rio’s eyes widened. “What did you do.”

“I—” Tsunjael swallowed. “I accidentally liked one of Lennox’s posts.”

“TSUNJI!” Rio screeched, already sprinting across the room.

Tsunjael yelped and bolted. “IT WAS AN ACCIDENT—”

I collapsed onto the couch laughing, already pulling out my phone to record as the two of them wrestled.

“I told you to make a side account!” Tsunjael shouted.

“And I told you to be careful!” Rio shot back.

“Rio, tickle him!”

The so-called dorm echoed with laughter, the sound spilling into the quiet evening as night slowly settled over the campus.

For a moment—just a moment—it felt safe.

It started with a sound.

Not loud enough to worry about. Just a soft, irregular tap coming from somewhere above the living room ceiling.

Drip.

Drip.

Tsunjael was the first to notice it. He paused mid-rant, snack halfway to his mouth. “Do you guys hear that?”

Rio frowned, lowering his mug. “Hear what?”

Drip.

I tilted my head, listening. “Yeah,” I said slowly. “That.”

We all looked up.

The ceiling was spotless—white, smooth, unbroken. Nothing looked out of place.

“Probably just the pipes,” Rio said after a moment. “Old building.”

“This place is a luxury condo,” Tsunjael replied. “It probably costs more than my entire bloodline.”

The sound stopped.

We shrugged it off.

By the time we got back from class, the air smelled… off.

Not bad. Just damp. Like rain that never quite finished falling.

I noticed it first when I stepped into the living room. The floor near the couch felt slightly cool beneath my feet. Not wet—just wrong.

Before I could react, Tsunjael’s voice cut through. “Uh. Guys?”

We followed his voice to the bathroom.

A thin line of water crept from beneath the door, slow and steady, like the room itself was bleeding.

“Okay,” Tsunjael said, backing up. “That’s not normal.”

Rio’s voice was tight. “Should we call maintenance?”

“I already did,” I said, staring up at the growing stain. “They said they’d send someone.”

“When?”

“They didn’t say.”

The drip turned into a trickle.

Then a snap echoed through the suite, sharp and sudden.

The ceiling gave way.

Water poured down in a sudden, violent rush, soaking the couch, splattering across the floor, shorting the lamp with a sharp pop. The lights flickered wildly before cutting out entirely.

Rio yelped. Tsunjael swore, dragging the coffee table out of the way.

Cold water soaked through my sleeves as I stumbled back, heart hammering.

“This is bad,” Rio said, voice shaking.

The smell hit next—stale, metallic, unmistakably rotten.

We tried to go to the school for help. They didn’t do anything.

“What do you mean it’s not your problem?” Tsunjael snapped, slamming his fists against the counter. “We’re under your care now!”

The staff member barely looked up. “Your dorm is the only one experiencing issues,” she said calmly. “Who’s to say you three didn’t cause it yourselves?”

She spoke like it was fact—not an accusation.

“Bullshit—” I started, only to be stopped by a hand on my shoulder.

I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“Now, now,” Naomi said smoothly. “No need to panic. You gathered your belongings, didn’t you?” His voice dipped, pleasant and dangerous. “You can stay with me.”

The three of us stiffened. Even the staff paused.

“But what about the dorm—” Tsunjael began.

“The school will handle it,” Naomi interrupted lightly. “Right, Mrs…?” He glanced at her badge, then smiled. “No matter. The school will handle it. Or should this be reported?”

It wasn’t a question.

Somehow, the three of us ended up standing in front of Naomi’s mansion.

Only then did we fully grasp what prestige meant.

Everyone at that school came from wealth—but the Bishop family was something else entirely.

The estate belonged to four brothers: Amory, Tae, Lennox… and Naomi.

And until our dorm was fixed—

We were going to be staying with them.

The moment we stepped in, we were greeted with the rest of the brothers.

The space was too big, too quiet—elegant in a way that felt intentional, like the house itself was watching us.

Tsunjael froze.

Then he pointed.

“You,” he spat at the boy with golden-brown hair and a crooked, infuriating smile.

The boy’s grin widened. “Oh?” he drawled. “Naomi didn’t mention snow bunny was in this group.

Naomi omly shrugged, looking uninterested in the whole thing.

He walked over to Tsunjael and wrapping his arms around his shoulder. “So that’s why you missed practice cutie. I’ll forgive you just this once.”

Oh, the douche from basketball, so he’s Tae. I took a mental note as Tsunjael quickly shoved him away.

“Tsunjael!”

Another voice called out, warmer this time. A boy with sharp features and immaculate style waved at him from the stairs.

I recognized him instantly.

Amory.

Tsunjael had sent me a picture of him earlier—the architecture senior.

Who knew an architecture student could look like a runway model?

“How are they brothers when they look nothing alike…” Rio whispered to me. I thought for a moment when Tae spoke out.

“Different moms. Same dad.” He then pulled Amory over. “We’re twins. Irish Twins.”

Amory didn’t care, he seemed more interested in just staring at Tsunjael who gave him a hesitant nod.

The tension shifted.

“…Can we really stay here?” I muttered, eyes drifting over the massive open halls, the sweeping staircase, the soft gold lighting.

Naomi glanced at me. “You have somewhere else to stay?”

“Well, we could—”

I didn’t get to finish.

Tae had already grabbed Tsunjael’s luggage. “I’ll show you your rooms,” he said easily, already heading deeper into the house. “Follow me.”

I was wandering the hall, trying to find Tsunjael, when I stopped short in front of his door.

Voices.

Raised—but controlled. The kind of arguing that hurt more because it was being held back.

“I treated you like a friend, Amory,” Tsunjael snapped. “You lied to me. Don’t touch me.”

There was a soft scuffle inside, footsteps shifting. I imagined Amory reaching out—only to be shoved away.

My stomach tightened.

Lied to him?

“I didn’t think—” Amory started.

“Excuses.” Tsunjael cut him off sharply. “I asked you if you knew that douchebag, and you said no. I complained to you about him because you were my friend.”

“Turns out he’s your brother. Your twin, for goodness’ sake.” He highlights.

Silence stretched—heavy, strained.

“Tsunjael…Tae is my brother,” Amory said quietly. “I promise you, he isn’t that bad—”

“Don’t talk to me.” Tsunjael’s voice cracked, just barely. “Get out.”

I stepped back instinctively, heart thudding, and hurried down the hall before anyone could open the door.

I decided to go find Rio instead. But he wasn’t in his room, I barely took two steps back into the hall before a hand caught my wrist and tugged me gently—but insistently—backward.

Naomi.

“…You really do appear out of thin air,” I muttered, forcing my pulse to settle.

He hummed, pleased, like he’d been aiming for that reaction. “I prefer perfect timing.” His fingers loosened, but he didn’t quite let go. “Rio’s with Lennox.”

Ah.

That explained everything.

I studied him carefully. “…How did you know about our dorm situation?”

A slow, wicked smirk curved his lips as he tilted his head. “Careful,” he said lightly. “That almost sounds like an accusation.”

I paused, then glared. “Naomi—”

He clicked his tongue, feigning offense, and ran a hand through his hair. “You wound me. Truly. I try so hard to be an upstanding, mysterious gentleman, and this is the thanks I get?”

I crossed my arms. “…You’re impossible.”

His grin sharpened, eyes glinting with amusement as he leaned closer—just enough to be distracting.

“And yet,” he murmured, “you keep finding me.”

[aotri]

The Wrong Shape of Love

Oneshot. Word count: 528

Happy Valentine’s Day ٩(˃̶͈̀௰˂̶͈́)و

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*･゜ﾟ･*･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

I wish you were a girl…

Something was wrong with him.

And Tae hated it.

He had a boyfriend. A beautiful, wonderful boyfriend—someone who had been by his side for as long as he could remember.

Childhood friends.

Boy next door.

They were inseparable. Best friends before they even understood what that meant.

By high school, it bloomed into something more. Something soft and rainbow and inevitable.

Yet—

It felt wrong.

And he didn’t know why.

It wasn’t his parents. That excuse never fit. They adored Amory. They drove them to dates, invited him over for dinner almost every night, joked that they already had two sons.

Amory’s parents weren’t the problem either. They treated Tae like family, like he already belonged.

And Amory—

His, sweet, beautiful Amory—

He could do no wrong.

So it had to be Tae.

He loved him. Truly, deeply. But every time he looked at him—every kiss, every brush of hands—a pit opened in his stomach, dark and heavy.

It felt wrong.

It wasn’t.

But his mind, his body, everything inside him whispered the same cruel lie:

You’re wrong.

So he kept it to himself.

Until—

They were sitting on the roof of their shared apartment, the city humming below them. They’d moved in together for university, a natural next step. Amory leaned in, familiar and gentle, ready to kiss him.

Tae turned his head.

The moment shattered.

Amory stiffened, then reached up, cupping Tae’s face with careful hands.

“Why…?”

Tae exhaled, exhausted, leaning into the warmth he didn’t deserve.

“I wish you were a girl.”

The words fell apart as soon as they left his mouth.

He didn’t know why he said it.

Didn’t know why it felt true.

His boyfriend—

Amory froze. His fingers trembled against Tae’s cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Tae sobbed, tears spilling over. “I’m so sorry.”

Amory said nothing.

He stood up and walked away.

They stayed friends after that—if you could call it that.

Amory never forgave him. Tae could see it in the distance in his eyes, the way he no longer reached first. Still, they lived together. Shared friends. Shared space.

Shared silence.

“I have someone I want you to meet.”

Amory’s voice was bright, his smile effortless. Tae knew immediately what it meant.

A boy ran up to Amory, arms wrapping around his waist from behind.

“Amory!” the boy chirped.

Tae watched them laugh, watched them melt into each other, and hated how badly he missed the feeling of being held like that.

“This is Tsunjael,” Amory said. “My boyfriend.”

The boy waved cheerfully, unaware of the history standing right in front of him.

Something in Tae cracked—just a little.

He smiled anyway. Shook his hand.

“We’re going on a date,” Amory added, already being pulled away. “Don’t wait up.”

Tae watched them disappear around the corner before crouching down, breath hitching.

He stayed there a long time.

Tears soaked into the dry pavement, leaving dark stains that slowly faded—like everything else.

And still, despite everything, the same thought lingered, stubborn and poisonous.

“I wish you were a girl,” he whispered.

Why?

What was wrong with him?

Why was he like this?

Why couldn’t he just accept it—

Why couldn’t love be enough?

[aotri]

Gilded Wings (2)

Series. Word count: 1088

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*･゜ﾟ･*･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

“I thought you’d be in Caelum, Yue,” Tsunjael said, leaning back in his seat as the bus rumbled toward the dormitories.

“Same,” Rio added, fingers fidgeting in his lap.

I shrugged, watching the campus slide past the window—spires and stone and gold catching the late afternoon light. “Maybe the system knew Rio needed a protector.”

Tsunjael snorted. Rio shot me a look. “I do not.”

“You absolutely do,” Tsunjael said cheerfully.

Despite himself, Rio huffed a quiet laugh.

When the bus finally stopped, all three of us fell silent.

The “dorms” were nothing like we’d imagined.

They weren’t dorms at all.

Tall glass windows reflected the sky, balconies draped with ivy and soft lights glowing from within. The buildings looked more like luxury condominiums than student housing.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tsunjael muttered.

Inside, everything smelled faintly of polished wood and something floral. Each of us had our own room—bedroom, really—complete with a private bathroom and a balcony overlooking the gardens below.

We unpacked quickly, disbelief turning into giddy energy.

By the time we regrouped in the living room, Tsunjael had already claimed the longest couch, sprawled across it like he owned the place.

“Okay,” he said, staring up at the ceiling. “This place is ridiculous.”

“Mhm,” Rio murmured, curling into the corner with a blanket and a steaming mug of coffee. He looked more relaxed than he had all day. “Totally worth it.”

I sank onto the couch across from them, letting myself breathe for the first time since arriving.

“Yeah,” I said softly. “And to think we don’t even have to pay for any of this…”

I glanced around again—at the space, the quiet, the comfort.

“Rich schools really are different.”

The knock came just as I was brushing my hair, the soft sound cutting through the quiet of the suite.

I froze.

It was late—too late for staff, too early for sleep. The hall outside was hushed, lights dimmed to a warm glow.

Another knock followed. Unhurried. Patient.

I set the brush down and padded to the door, peering through the small viewer.

Pink hair.

Of course.

I opened the door only a fraction. “Naomi….?” I said, keeping my voice neutral. “Is something wrong?”

His smile was already in place, effortless as ever. “Relax. Nothing’s wrong.” He glanced past me into the suite, eyes flicking briefly toward the hallway. “I was making rounds.”

I opened the door wider, furrowing my brows.

“For the exchange students,” he clarified smoothly. “Orientation can be… overwhelming. I thought I’d check in.”

“Right… Thought you meant you went drinking.” I muttered.

His smirk didn’t falter. “Mmm.” His gaze lingered on my face, unreadable. “Lucen dorms are quieter than I remember.”

“Lucen dorms—? Oh. Good memory. I’m going to assume you’re in Aur… whatever that swan group was?”

“Aurelion,” he corrected, voice soft, measured. “And of course I remember. I pay attention.”

He leaned casually against the doorframe, close enough that I could smell something faintly sweet on him. “And I wanted to see how Lucen treats its newest bird.”

His gaze dropped—just briefly—to the small Lucen emblem stitched near my collar.

“You look like you’re settling in just fine,” he said. “But don’t mistake comfort for safety.”

“Right… oh, yeah,” I muttered, stepping back inside. I returned moments later with a small box of sweets. “I’m sure you’ve never had these here before. As a… thank you. For helping me when I was lost.”

He accepted the box with a tilt of his head, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “A clever bird,” he said lightly, letting the words hang. “I like that.”

He lingered a moment longer, watching me arrange the sweets, before finally turning toward the hallway.

“Oh—and Yue?”

“Yes?”

“Lock your door.”

Then he was gone, leaving the soft hum of the suite and a faint trace of something sweet—and dangerous—behind.

On the official first day, we were first separated into our houses. It was mostly for briefings and getting our schedules.

Rio and I waved at Tsunjael as we joined the rest of the students under the Lucen House.

By breakfast, we were in the grand dining hall. The ceilings arched high above, chandeliers catching the morning light, long polished tables stretching across the room.

The banners for the Houses hung quietly on the walls—Aurelion, Caelum, Virex, Lucen—but today they were just decoration. No one stopped to bow, no one glanced with fear. I barely noticed them, caught up in the sheer scale of the hall.

We were seated at a corner table for new Lucen students. Rio claimed the nearest chair to the window and I sat beside him.

The Lucen upperclassman leading us, pale hair and soft but precise eyes, stepped forward. “Welcome. Today is mainly orientation: introductions, campus tour, and a briefing on school rules and routines. You’ll receive your schedules soon.”

Luckily, the three of ours’ schedule aligned for the most part. Just a few different electives is all.

“We only have the same classes after lunch… so, meet up then?” I suggested, earning nods from both Rio and Tsunjael.

“Don’t get eaten, Ri-Ri,” Tsunjael teased, grinning.

Rio’s hand shot out, punching him lightly in retaliation. I chuckled, letting the morning tension ease just a little.

Even in a place as gilded and imposing as this, familiar gestures—friendship, jokes—still had weight.

As I walked down the polished hall toward my first class, a familiar weight pressed against my shoulder.

“Birdie, what class?”

Of course.

I glanced up, trying not to let my heartbeat show. Pink hair, gold-flecked blue eyes, that impossibly calm, precise smirk. “Uh… algebra,” I said, pulling out my schedule. “Know where room 701 is?”

He hummed, tilting his head like the answer itself amused him. “So… you’re in my class~”

My stomach sank a little. “Right. Of course we are. Must be fate.” I said sarcastically. I glanced at him once more. “Liked the treats I gave you yesterday?”

“Hmm.” He trailed off. “A tad bit too sweet for me.”

I nodded slowly. “Well, should’ve said something when you read the words chocolate. Would’ve given you something savory.” I said with a shrug as he lead me to class.

“A bribe?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Prez,” I shot back. “Can’t afford that now, can I?”

He smirked, saying nothing more, and pushed the classroom door open. The second he did, he tugged me toward a desk beside him.

“I’ll allow it,” he whispered, voice low, teasing, dangerous.

[aotri]

Gilded Wings (1)

Series. Word count: 1537

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*･゜ﾟ･*･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

On her first day at an elite exchange academy, a little more than orientation nerves caused her to get lost—until she crosses paths with Naomi, the dangerously charming and unreadable Student Council President.

What begins as a simple request for directions spirals into something far more unsettling as she’s singled out, watched, and quietly claimed under the council’s polished smiles and unspoken rules.

And as his gaze lingers with promise rather than welcome, one truth settles in: at this school, being noticed may be the most dangerous thing of all.

I looked around the building, excited for a fresh start. I nudged the nervous boy beside me. “Come on Rio. We just got accepted for the exchange program for a famous and rich school! You’re acting like someone will eat you.” I teased, making a biting motion with my mouth.

“Yea Ri-Ri~ loosen up would you? You’ve been shaking since we got on the plane.” Tsunjael comments, nudging his shoulder.

Rio rolled his eyes, nudging him back. “You’re right. Nothing is as scary as you.”

We all burst into laughter, Tsunjael pretending to snap his teeth at Rio’s arm as if he might actually bite him.

Who knew I would get lost on the first day. Well, Orientation Day.

I was with the rest of the group just a moment ago. One trip to the bathroom and everyone vanished. I couldn’t even call anyone because I gave Rio my bag and phone when I went to the bathroom!

By the fifth wrong turn I thought about just ending it and jumping out the window when a student appeared. It A student stood near the corridor’s end, posture relaxed, expression unreadable. A silver badge glinted on his chest—student council. Relief rushed through me.

I hurried over and grabbed his arm without thinking, squinting to read the name engraved on the badge.

Naomi.

“H-Hey—! I’m kinda lost…” I muttered. “You think you can help me?”

That was when I really looked at him.

Pink hair, soft but sharp at the edges. Blue eyes kissed with gold, like sunlight trapped beneath ice. Beautiful in a way that felt… dangerous.

The boy looked down at me like I was a puzzle he’d already solved—and was enjoying anyway. A slow smile tugged at his lips, all mischief and secrets.

“Oh?” he murmured, tilting his head. “A lost little birdie wandering into forbidden halls on her first day?” His blue eyes flickered with something warm—golden—before he leaned just a bit closer. “How rare...”

His gaze swept over me, unhurried, deliberate, like he was savoring the moment. “You really should be more careful,” he added softly, amusement lacing every word. “Someone might take advantage of how… helpless you look.”

Then, as if remembering himself, he straightened and tapped his badge. “Naomi,” he said. “And if you’re very nice, I might guide you back to your flock.”

His smile widened. “Or,” he shrugged lightly, “I could lead you somewhere far more interesting.”

I blinked momentarily at him. “…Just guiding me back is good enough..” I said, a bit taken aback by his words.

It didn’t take long for me to spot the group of exchange students all heading into the auditorium. I turned back around to him.

“Thank you. Appreciate it.” I said with a curt nod. As I turned to leave, he caught my wrist.

“Sit with me.”

Before I could protest, he steered me through a side entrance and up the stairs—higher and higher—until we reached the very top row of the hall.

“…Can I really sit here?” I asked, caution fogging my head.

He leaned in, lips brushing my ear, his voice a velvet whisper.

“Wait and find out.”

The auditorium slowly emptied, students filing out in neat clusters as the echo of footsteps filled the grand hall. At the front, a line of students remained behind—distinct from the rest by their posture alone.

The student council.

They stood like they owned the building. Maybe they did. Naomi—The Student Council Presiden;I should’ve read the badge more carefully;stopped before the group of exchange students, his gaze sweeping over them.

And lingering—briefly—on me.

“Welcome,” he said, voice smooth, pleasant enough to sound sincere. “You’ll be split into groups. Each of us will guide you through a portion of the campus.”

Murmurs of excitement rippled through the exchange students.

“Think of this as a… courtesy,” a sharp-eyed girl added. “You’re guests here, after all.”

Naomi smiled at that. “Yes. Guests.”

He stepped closer and clasped his hands behind his back. “Now—names will be called. When you hear yours, come forward.”

As names were read, students were pulled into different groups, guided away by council members who already seemed to be judging them.

I felt a strange knot in my chest as Naomi’s eyes flicked to me again.

“—And you,” he said suddenly, pausing mid-list.

My head snapped up.

“You’ll be with me.”

I spent most of the tour texting Rio and Tsunjael, frantically recounting my encounter with Naomi. They were with Lennox, the Vice President—apparently far friendlier, which felt wildly unfair.

“Oh is that so?” A whisper fannned my ear, making me tense.

I shivered, covering my ears. “It is not nice to look at other’s screens.” I protest, pressing the phone to my chest.

He only smirked.

He walked away slowly, hands in his pockets, allowing the group to trail behind him once more. The other council members’ voices echoed faintly from distant corridors.

“This wing houses advanced classrooms,” Naomi said casually. “Restricted access after hours. If you’re caught wandering here without permission…” He glanced back, smile faint. “The consequences are unpleasant.”

A nervous laugh rippled through the group. Naomi didn’t laugh.

We stopped near a tall arched window overlooking the inner courtyard.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked. “Most students never see it from this angle.”

His gaze drifted to me again. “Some views are reserved.”

One of the exchange students raised a hand. “Um—are there any rules we should know about?”

Naomi hummed thoughtfully. “Rules?” He tilted his head. “Of course.”

He stepped closer to the group, lowering his voice just enough that everyone leaned in.

“Don’t lie to the council,” he said softly. “Don’t embarrass us. And don’t assume kindness is the same as safety.”

His eyes met mine as he finished, gold glinting beneath blue.

“If you’re favored,” he added, almost gently, “you’ll thrive here.”

A pause.

“If not—” His smile returned, sharp and beautiful. “Well. This school has a way of reminding people where they stand.”

He straightened, clapping his hands once. “Tour continues. Try to keep up.”

By the end of it, he slowed enough to walk beside me.

“Still think I’m not friendly?” he asked lightly. “I brought the lost birdie back to her flock.” His tone scoffed—his smile didn’t. “And not even a thank you.”

“You seem awfully invested,” I muttered.

“I don’t usually pay this much attention to others,” he admitted, eyes glinting. “Consider yourself… exceptional.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Is that supposed to make me feel lucky?”

He hummed, gaze drifting ahead.

“It will,” he said softly. “Eventually.”

When the tour ended, the teachers announced that all of us would be separated into houses…? Like we were in Harry Potter or something. Apparently our houses didn’t matter for the most part, just that we would use it for events. (Guess rich schools can’t be normal and just call it Sport Houses.)

The hall was quiet in the way only expensive places ever were—hushed, reverent, waiting.

We stood in rows beneath a vaulted ceiling painted with winged figures in gold leaf. At the front loomed four banners, each one heavy with embroidery and history. They shimmered faintly, as if alive.

🦢 AURELION–Gold & Ivory — “To Be Chosen Is to Rule”

🦅 CAELUM–Blue & Silver — “See All. Say Little.”

🐍 VIREX–Emerald & Black — “Endure. Adapt. Survive.”

🕊️ LUCEN–White & Rose-Gold — “To Be Good Is to Be Safe”

A woman in ivory robes stepped forward, her voice carrying without effort.

“Today,” she announced, “you are not judged by what you’ve done—but by what you will endure.”

One by one, names were called.

Students stepped onto the dais and pressed their palms to a thin, gilded plate etched with feathers. The metal glowed, flared—and chose.

“Aurelion.”

Cheers, polite and sharp.

“Caelum.”

Applause, restrained.

“Virex.”

Murmurs. Curiosity. Wariness.

When my name echoed through the hall, my pulse thundered in my ears. I stepped forward, the floor cold beneath my shoes, and placed my hand on the plate.

It was warm.

Too warm.

The gold light spread slowly, like hesitation.

Then the banner unfurled.

🕊️ LUCEN.

A soft ripple passed through the room—not disappointment, not excitement. Something quieter.

Expectation.

I exhaled, unsure why my chest felt both lighter and heavier at once.

From the front row, I felt eyes on me.

Watching.

Naomi didn’t react immediately.

He remained seated, chin resting against his knuckles, blue-and-gold eyes fixed on the Lucen banner as it settled back into place.

Lucen.

Interesting.

A smile tugged faintly at his mouth—not amused, not pleased. Curious. Like he’d just watched a card flip he hadn’t expected, but very much intended to keep.

Beside him, Lennox glanced over. “Lucen,” he murmured. “That surprises you?”

Naomi hummed. “No.”

A pause.

“It disappoints me.”

Lennox raised an eyebrow. “You sound invested.”

Naomi’s gaze flicked back to me, still standing beneath the banner, still trying to look composed.

“She’s exactly where this school likes to put things it wants to use,” he said lightly. “Kind. Visible. Replaceable.”

He stood, smoothing his jacket.

“But,” he added, eyes glinting, “not where I would’ve placed her.”

As the Lucen students were guided to their section, my eyes met his for half a second.

His smile returned—slow, deliberate.

Not welcoming.

Promising.

[aotri]

His Stylist, His Undoing

Oneshot. Word count: 4230

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*･゜ﾟ･*･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

In this world, idols are not just entertainers.

They are the modern incarnations of ancient archetypes — living embodiments of the chess pieces that once governed kings, wars, and empires. Those archetypes shape them just as much as talent, training, and ambition do.

Fans know about the system.

Agencies exploit it.

Media markets it.

The government pretends it’s all symbolism and branding.

But within the industry, everyone understands:

being born as a piece determines who you are before you ever get the chance to decide.

Promotion is possible, but terrifying.

To change one’s piece is to rewrite one’s identity — and not everyone survives the transition.

Checkmate, a five–member idol group whose archetypes are unusually balanced. Agencies dream of configurations like this but almost never achieve them.

The members are:

RIO — The King

Center position, main vocal, the face of the group. Calm, charismatic, and endlessly camera-friendly. Coaches say he was born for the spotlight; critics say he makes the spotlight jealous. Fans call him Your Majesty for a reason.

NAOMI — The Queen

Lead choreographer, powerhouse performer, the group’s precision blade. Known for quiet intensity and flawless execution. If Rio is the center, Naomi is the force that keeps the whole formation from collapsing. Fans swear he never misses—even when he does.

LENNOX — The Knight

Main dancer and variety menace, impossible to predict, impossible to ignore. One moment he’s brooding, the next he’s laughing harder than anyone else. Has a knack for stealing scenes without meaning to.

AMORY — The Bishop

Sub-vocal, lyricist, resident strategist. Soft-spoken but sharp, with eyes that make people feel like he’s reading their thoughts. Interviewers love him, because he actually answers questions instead of dodging them.

TAE — The Rook

Lead rapper, stage anchor, the dependable one. Strong lines, strong presence, quietly hilarious off-stage. When the group’s energy spirals, Tae is the one who reels everyone back in without making a fuss.

On paper, Checkmate is perfect: a complete board with no missing roles. In reality, perfection rarely holds.

The industry wants Rio and Naomi marketed as a destined pairing — King and Queen, the ruling duo. It sells well. Fans eat it up. Interviews lean into it. Their stylists match their motifs as if a throne awaits them.

But kings do not always love queens, and queens do not always want crowns.

The first fracture appears when Lennox enters the group — a Knight’s presence always changes the board, and Rio gravitates toward him with an instinct no one can quite explain.

Naomi notices before anyone else. Naomi always notices first.

Outside the spotlight, the group is managed by Tsunji, who has the exhausting job of keeping scandals down, schedules tight, and egos from colliding too catastrophically. He is a professional, not a caretaker; the boys’ emotions are not his jurisdiction, during working hours that is.

But Naomi has a caretaker, whether he admits it or not.

Yue, his personal stylist and assistant — a civilian, unaligned to any piece. Or perhaps a Pawn, in the quiet way Pawns always are: small, unassuming, and far more dangerous once they start moving.

Yue sees Naomi without the Queen’s mask. She sees him unravel, sees him fight for a destiny that was engineered more than written, and she tries to tell him to stop. To back off. To save himself.

But Queens do not retreat.

Even when losing.

Even when bleeding.

Even when the King has already begun to look elsewhere.

This is how the story of Checkmate begins — not with a scandal, or a kiss, or a concert — but with the simple truth that in chess, the first piece to fall is rarely the King.

Sometimes it’s the Queen.

And sometimes, it’s the Pawn who learns to rise.

I was rushing down the service hallway behind Studio C, juggling garment bags, a steaming wand, and a clipboard, hoping the chaos wouldn’t claim me first. Clearly, the universe disagreed — a second later, I collided with someone solid enough that the clipboard flew across the floor.

I grunted, bracing myself, and looked up.

Tall. Lean. Too perfect to be real.

Pink-blonde hair styled like it wasn’t even touched by hands, eyes glinting a strange mix of gold and pale blue under the fluorescent lights.

And that smile — not friendly. Not casual. But… calculated, as though he already knew how I’d react.

Naomi.

“Hey,” I said, crouching to grab the clipboard. “Sorry about that.”

He tilted his head just enough to let me meet his gaze, then smirked.

“Why apologize?” he asked. His voice was smooth, teasing, like he enjoyed knowing I’d been startled. “You’re not hurt… are you?”

I blinked. “No… I’m fine. You?”

He leaned casually against the wall, one hand in his pocket, the other brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder.

“Of course,” he said. “I hardly feel collisions… unless I want to.”

I blinked again, unsure if he was serious. He didn’t help. He only watched me with that unnerving, effortless focus.

I cleared my throat. “Well… as long as you’re okay.”

“Perfectly,” he said, finally letting the smirk fade into something softer. Not warm, exactly — just… evaluative. “Though you should slow down. Chaos doesn’t suit someone who tries to juggle everything at once.”

I snorted. “Tell me about it. I’m a stylist, not an acrobat.”

He stepped aside smoothly, still watching me like he could predict every motion.

“Next time,” he said as I passed, “try not to crash into things worth noticing.”

I didn’t respond, just hurried down the hallway, ears burning.

But even as I rounded the corner, I could feel him watching, that subtle pull in the back of my mind that whispered: He notices everything… and nothing I do escapes him.

And somehow, I knew I’d see him again.

And I did. In fact, I was his personal stylist and assisstant.

And I saw everything.

I saw how the King and Queen acted once the cameras turned away. They weren’t the divine, star–aligned pair the public adored — they were business partners in love’s costume, hitting their marks with mechanical precision.

Every kiss had a cue.

Every touch was negotiated.

Every headline was drafted before the rumor even existed.

I saw how the illusion began to crack.

How Checkmate was supposed to run like a perfectly engineered system — King and Queen as the axis, Rook and Bishop maintaining order, Knight stirring the chaos, Pawn grounding the image.

And for a while, it really did work.

Until it didn’t.

“WE’RE SUPPOSED TO BE A MATCH. THE KING AND QUEEN.” Naomi’s voice cut through the corridor, sharp enough to break glass.

I froze.

Around the corner, Lennox stood with Rio held protectively behind him. Rio’s eyes were glossy, red at the edges. Naomi looked like royalty stripped of costume — too composed, too furious.

“Rio and I are soulmates ,” Naomi continued, voice low but shaking with fury. “We are the pairing that keeps order intact. You and I are the structure the others rely on.”

“What’s the use of being soulmates if he doesn’t love you.” Lennox scoffed, not even bothering to hide his disgust.

Rio flinched.

Naomi didn’t.

He only smiled — hollow, practiced, devastating.

“The system doesn’t concern itself with love, Lennox. It concerns itself with balance.”

I walked over to Naomi when he was alone. I handed him snacks and a towel. I tried to talk to him.

“Naomi, you don’t exist as a Queen just to be with the King. Love isn’t an obligation—” He moved fast — faster than delicate, royal Naomi ever did for cameras. His hand smacked mine off his shoulder, sending a sharp sting along my wrist.

“Don’t,” he said.

His voice wasn’t loud. It was worse. Controlled. Brittle.

“What is a Queen,” he asked, eyes fixed on the vanity mirror, “if the King doesn’t need her?”

The choreographer clapped rhythmically as Checkmate practiced a partnered sequence — Naomi and Rio were supposed to end the final chorus face-to-face, hands linked, posture elegant and synchronized.

It used to look natural. Now it looked rehearsed.

Naomi held the formation perfectly. Rio flinched at every point of contact.

At every fleeting chance they got, the King and Knight would make eye contact. And that look of theirs could only be seen as the look of love.

Naomi noticed. He noticed everything. And his patience was running low at every fleeting glance of his Kings’.

“Your Queen is here.” He’d remind through gritted teeth. “Act like it.”

Practice ended early that day. And when Rio scurried off, Lennox was right behind him.

I was sitting beside him at his apartment, watching him drink down his sorrows. I wasn’t sure if he invited me because we had gotten closer over the past months working together or he just needed his ‘caretaker’. Apparently that’s my nickname.

“Naomi—”

“Shhh… Let me. I drink, to forget. So let me forget. Please Yue.” He said between sobs. This was the first time I’ve seen his mask crack as much as it did.

I sighed, wiping his tears away.

We were alone in his dressing room. I watched as he stared at his phone, analysing every little movement and expression of their previous performance.

Rio and Lennox shared a small smile towards one another at the very last second. Very few viewers watch till the end. You wouldn’t even notice it with how far from the camera they were.

Unless of course, you were Naomi.

His eyes narrowed, jaw clenched I swear I heard his teeth grinding.

“You can be angry.” I told him.

“Queens don’t get angry.” He states, shoving the phone back into his pocket. “We strategize. We win them back.”

“And how’s that going for you.”

“Poorly. Thanks for the reminder.” He said bitterly.

I rolled my eyes. “Naomi—“

The door slammed. And he was out there, beautifully composed, beautifully in control, beautifully untouchable.

Beautifully alone.

“Standing here and watching won’t help.” I told him.

The two of them were walking together, laughing and having fun. Nothing too out of the ordinary, they were idols in the same group afterall. But enough to draw jealousy out of the Queen.

“I’m not watching.” He stubbornly says. “I’m strategizing.”

I sighed. “What have you strategized then?”

“That fate can be cruel.”

Silence filled the air after that admission.

I tried again. “Naomi, love isn’t assigned—”

“Of course it isn’t. Roles however, are.” He said sharply, gaze never away from Rio and Lennox

“Naomi—“ He leaned his head against my shoulder. I knew that was a signal, for me to shut up. But also that he needed support.

Staff rushed everywhere. Fans screamed outside the venue. Members were finishing makeup.

Rio’s chair sat empty — he was late.

Lennox arrived first, dropping a smoothie into Rio’s seat as if by habit. Naomi saw. The air snapped like static.

“Did no one tell you he prefers coffee before fanmeets, not sugar?” Naomi asked, voice honey-sweet and venom-thin.

Lennox smirked. “Funny. He drank all of it when we rehearsed.”

The subtext landed hard.

Nao­mi’s lips curled into a smile that could slice glass. “How adorable. The knight trying to care for his king.”

“Someone has to,” Lennox shot back. “Since you’re too busy trying to own him.”

The room fell silence. Makeup artists, staffs, techs, even air felt like it froze into ice with the sudden breeze that blew.

Naomi didn’t lash out — that wasn’t his style. Instead, he placed a hand on Lennox’s shoulder and leaned in, whispering:

“Kings don’t belong to knights.”

Lennox didn’t flinch. “No. They choose them.”

The dressing room smelled like hairspray and coffee, warm and sharp at the same time. Naomi sat on the edge of a crate, sleeves rolled up, hands trembling slightly as he adjusted his stage jacket for the fourth time that hour. Each movement was meticulous, precise, rehearsed — but his eyes were tired, flickering over nothing.

I stood at the doorway, arms crossed as I looked him over.

He noticed me. He always did.

“Don’t. Yue, please.” His voice was quiet yet calm and firm.

“You can’t do this alone.” I said.

Naomi’s jaw tightened. “Alone?” he echoed. “I’ve never been alone. I’ve always had my position. My duty. My—” He stopped. His hands shook.

I knelt beside him, gripping his hand. “You’re tired. Overwhelmed. You need rest.”

“The King? The Queen. The perfect image. The stars aligning. None of it belongs to you. And you’re hurting yourself by pretending it does.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes flicked to her. “You don’t understand,” he said finally, voice tight. “I can’t… I can’t just step aside. I can’t abandon the King… the act… the others.”

“I can’t be a burden. A disappointment.”

I squeezed his hand tighter. “You’re not a burden. A disappointment. You’re not abandoning anything. You’re allowed to have a rest. You’re allowed to prioritize yourself. Not the position of a Queen. Not the act you put up front. Just you.”

His hands dropped to his knees. For a moment, he looked small, human — not a Queen, not a role, not a mask. The first time she had truly seen him like this, stripped of precision and control. Vulnerable.

“Why… why do you care?” he whispered, voice cracking just enough to sound like someone else entirely.

“Because everyone needs someone.” I said.

Silence fell between us as he processes everything.

“I’ll be there if you fall. You won’t be alone anymore.” I assured.

He swallowed, a faint tremor running through his shoulders. “I… I don’t know how to stop pretending.”

“You don’t have to,” I whispered. “Not with me.”

Gradually he started to open up more. Though it was mostly when we were alone, it was still progress. We’d go out for drinks, movies, anything and everything really. It allowed us to get to know one another better.

“You’re not everyone’s Queen. You don’t have to be.”

For a heartbeat, he looked at me like I’d spoken a foreign language. And then, almost imperceptibly, he leaned back against the chair, letting his arms fall to his knees.

“I’ve forgotten what it’s like,” he said quietly. “To exist without the act.”

Yet there would always be slip ups. And whenever there’s a slip up. It was always because of Rio.

Sometimes seeing Lennox and Rio together was what’d trigger him. Others would be if Rio just gave him some sort of affection or attention. Intentionally or not.

And when that happens. His mask slips back on. He turns back to the Queen. The Idol. The Naomi the world knows and loves.

“Duty calls.”

I nodded. “I know.”

I knew.

Naomi could open up to me, could trust me, could let me anchor him — but he would still run back to Rio at the end of the day.

He straightened, putting on the mask that made him untouchable again. Hair perfect, shoulders squared, jaw tight. Queen, image, perfection — all returned. And he left, moving toward Rio, the Knight, the center of the world he couldn’t abandon.

But at least he was learning, right?

The stage lights were harsh and bright, hotter than usual, glaring down at Checkmate as they ran through the final dress rehearsal before their biggest fan showcase yet. The audience seats were empty for now, but the cameras were rolling, the agency watching from the control room, and every movement counted.

Naomi stood center stage, Queen as always. But the rhythm of the music felt off. His arms trembled slightly during the lifts, his head snapped toward Rio just a fraction too late.

Rio didn’t notice — or pretended not to. Lennox, however, saw everything. The Knight leaned against the wings of the stage, hands in pockets, eyes sharp. Every hesitation, every falter of Naomi’s carefully constructed facade was logged in the Knight’s mind like a something to use against him, to exploit.

“You’re off-beat, Naomi,” Lennox said quietly from the side. “You keep watching him.”

Naomi’s jaw clenched. The Queen didn’t break in public. Not for anyone. “And if I am?” His voice was low but cut through the hum of the rehearsal. “Does it matter?”

“It matters to him,” Lennox said flatly, gesturing subtly toward Rio, who was adjusting his own costume just beyond Naomi’s line of sight. “And it matters to the rest of us.”

“You’re supposed to hold us together. Not the piece that starts the domino fall.”

I met him at the door with a towel. He took it without a word, pressing it to his forehead.

“You’re tearing yourself apart,” I said softly. “All this, trying to hold everyone’s expectation.”

“I’m doing what I have to,” he said, eyes sharp as ever. But the tremor in his fingers betrayed him.

“Naomi,” I said, kneeling beside him. “You don’t have to be the Queen for him. Or for them. Or for anyone. You can just… be you.”

He swallowed, gaze flicking to the floor, and then back to me. “And what if ‘me’ isn’t enough?”

“You’re enough,” I whispered. “For me.”

And yet, everytime the call came — Rio, waiting for him near the stage exit or needing him to demonstrate that difficult move again. Everytime Naomi’s hand slid from mine, just enough to break contact, and he rose. Perfect posture. Mask back in place. Queen restored.

The comeback stage was supposed to be triumphant. Cameras, fans, and glittering sets meant to crown Checkmate at the top again. Instead, it was a battlefield disguised in LED screens and choreography.

Naomi pushed harder than any of them. Harder than the choreographer demanded, than the manager monitored, than his own body could tolerate. I watched him rehearse long after the others were dismissed, sweat soaking through his shirt, knees shaking with strain.

“Again.” He’d mumble to himself in the studio. He was alone. Everyone had gone home at this point, taking a break. Here he was late in night at the studio. Pushing himself harder than he needed to. Just to keep the image of the perfect Queen, the best strategist.

What he was obligated to do.

“Naomi. Enough—”

“No! I need to be perfect.” He argued.

I saw that look in his eyes. He wasn’t going to back down anytime soon. But I also saw the slump in his shoulders, the sloppiness in his moves growing more prominent by the minute.

He didn’t look at me. He stared at the mirror instead—the reflection of the perfect Queen he was destroying himself to protect.

“Rio hits the lines,” he murmured. “Lennox hits the emotional beats. The fans crave the King and Knight. What do I offer if not precision? If not control?”

“You offer yourself,” I said. “And that’s already enough.”

“Not for him.”

The four words landed like a fist. I swallowed hard, because I knew exactly who “him” was.

Rio chose Lennox after rehearsals. After schedules. After meals. After every moment the cameras allowed Rio to be a person instead of a symbol.

And Naomi—Naomi chased the role written for him rather than the future he wanted.

“You’re hurting yourself.”

“So?” He muttered, already preparing to practice another set.

I walked over to him, griping his shoulders so that he’d finally look at me. “Every day you open up to me just enough to keep breathing, and then you run right back to him to suffocate again.”

Naomi’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “This isn’t about you.”

“It became about me when you started to rely on me.” I said, shaking his shoulders, hoping to gather sense into him. “When you let me care. When you let me see the real you.”

He flinched—not physically, but like someone who hadn’t expected to be the one struck. “I didn’t ask for that.”

“No. You just take and take. Loyalty. Attention. Care. And then you just pull away whenever I want you to give back.”

He finally looked at me. “So you’re mad I won’t love you.”

I shook my head. “That you won’t love yourself. You’ll lose the people that actually care about you if you keep this on.”

“Yea? Like who?”

“You’ll lose me.” I whispered. “I will not stand here and watch. I will not wait for the day you finally collapse. When your body, your mind gives out. When you become only a shell of the person you once were. When you’re no longer the Naomi I know.”

Naomi didn’t move. Didn’t reach out. Didn’t beg. He just stood there, breath ragged, eyes flickering with a pain he refused to name.

I pulled my badge from my lanyard and placed it on the table with steady hands I didn’t recognize as my own.

“I quit.”

Months later.

I was no longer working for him. No longer working for Checkmate. Instead, I was a stylist for another idol. A civillian. The first fully civillian group in town.

I never thought I’d see Naomi again. I never bothered to keep updated on him. On Checkmate.

There was a pounding on my door as I got ready to sign off for the night. The knock was loud, hard. I didn’t think anything of it. Maybe the neighbour dropped something, maybe a cat had came up and started to scratch at the door.

“Yue…”

I froze. That voice. I know that voice. But this time it was twinge with sadness, fustration and a feeling I never thought I would associate with him.

“Naomi…?” I barely whispered, cracking the door open.

Naomi stood there like the last thread holding him upright was the sight of me. Hair undone, stripped of its color, eyes swollen and red like he’d been rehearsing grief instead of choreography.

“Y-Yue,” he breathed, broken, like my name was air finally reaching his lungs. “You… you changed the locks. I thought—” a sharp inhale, panicked, “—I thought you were done with me.”

He stepped forward before I could answer. His forehead dropped to my shoulder, mouth brushing my neck, arms locking around me with desperate precision—like he’d practiced this too.

Alcohol. Not enough to erase him. Just enough to loosen the truth.

I lifted my hand, hovering uselessly in the air. I didn’t touch him.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“I needed you,” he whispered, voice small, almost reverent. “It hurts.”

I swallowed. Nothing came out.

“Naomi, I’m not your stylist anymore.”

“No.” Immediate. Too fast. Too sure. “You’re just… reassigned. Temporarily. They pull you away when you’re too good at your job.” A laugh that cracked halfway through. “You’ll come back.”

He believed that.

That was the worst part.

“You told me to focus on myself,” he continued, thumb tracing my arm like muscle memory. “I did exactly that. I listened to you. I always listen to you.”

My chest tightened.

“I took breaks. I stopped pushing. I stopped caring so much about everyone else.” He looked up at me, eyes shining, pleading. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Naomi—”

“I’m here to fix it,” he said, talking over me gently, desperately. “To take you back from that other idol. I just needed time. You said you’d understand. You promised you’d stay.”

His voice softened on the word promised.

“Why aren’t you letting me in?” he asked quietly. Not angry. Just wounded.

Silence stretched between us, sharp and ugly.

“I stopped dyeing my hair,” he added suddenly, like an offering. “You said you liked it natural.”

He took my hand. I could’ve pulled away.

I didn’t.

He pressed my palm to his cheek, eyes fluttering shut like he’d been starving for contact. My fingers curved around his face on instinct alone.

“Am I still charming?” he asked.

The word still cut deeper than it should’ve.

“Yeah,” I said. It came out weak.

He smiled—relieved, triumphant, fragile.

“I did it,” he said.

“Did what?”

“I became better.” He pressed his lips to my palm, reverent. “For you. And for me.”

My stomach dropped.

“I say no now. I rest. I go out. I don’t collapse anymore.” His voice steadied, confident. “I stopped caring about being Queen. I chose myself.”

He searched my face.

“Say you’re proud of me.”

I couldn’t.

“I did everything right,” he insisted, faster now, like if he said it enough it would become undeniable. “I didn’t break. There won’t be another goodbye.”

He wasn’t crying.

He was convinced.

“Naomi—”

“I won’t make you feel second anymore,” he cut in, gentle but immovable. “I fixed myself. I fixed us.”

My throat burned.

“You’re drunk,” I said quietly. “You drink to forget.”

“No,” he snapped, panic flashing. “Not this. Not you. Don’t do that.”

Tears spilled freely now. He kissed my palm like a vow.

“I won’t forget this,” he said. “I won’t regret it. I don’t regret loving you.”

His breath shook.

“I miss you,” he broke. “God, I miss you.”

Then, smaller—destroyed—

“Please hold me.”

He pulled me into him again before I could answer, clinging like gravity itself was failing.

“I eat now,” he whispered into my shoulder. “I sleep. Eight hours. You were right. I’m good now.” A sob caught in his throat. “So come back. Fix my hair. Listen to me complain. Watch bad dramas with me.”

His voice crumbled completely.

“Be mine again.”

“Be my anchor.”

“Become my muse.”

He was desperate.

And desperation had always been my undoing.