The venue was enormous. Dome-shaped. Rows and rows of empty seats stretched out like waves. The first full-dress rehearsal was scheduled for that morning, and the gravity of the upcoming joint performance hit Yuna like a silent avalanche.
ST4R and ECL!PSE stood on opposite ends of the stage. The set designers were still adjusting light panels and mounting final LED screens. Staff members in black headsets swarmed like bees, calling out adjustments.
Yuna stood center-right, blinking under the overhead floodlights. Her in-ear monitors buzzed with static for a moment before balancing out. Her heart thudded—not from nerves about the dance, but because Kai was walking toward her, hands in his jacket pocket, stage outfit already perfectly in place.
He stopped beside her, scanning the sea of empty seats.
"Feels real now, doesn't it?" he murmured.
Yuna nodded. "Like we've been preparing for something impossible and now... it's suddenly here."
He glanced at her. "You ready?"
She hesitated. "I don't know. But I'll give them a show."
Kai smiled slightly. "Good answer."
---
The director's voice crackled through the loudspeakers. "Opening set. ST4R and ECL!PSE, positions! We'll run everything from top to bottom—lights, camera, sound."
Both groups scrambled into formation.
Yuna took her spot beside Kai, the music swelling to life through the monitors.
The choreography was tighter now. Every movement was cleaner. But there was something else happening too—between Yuna and Kai. An unspoken rhythm. A shared beat no one else could hear.
In the middle of the second chorus, there was a moment. A simple turn, face-to-face.
And he smiled at her.
Not for the camera. Not as a performance.
Just for her.
Yuna's steps faltered—just slightly—but she recovered quickly.
The lights dimmed at the end of the number, and the echo of applause from imaginary fans filled the silence.
"Cut!" shouted the stage manager. "Reset for duet run-through!"
Yuna turned to get water when a hand lightly touched her elbow.
Kai.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine. Just adjusting."
He tilted his head. "You weren't expecting me to smile."
"Why did you?" she asked.
Kai shrugged. "Because you looked like you needed it."
She didn't respond. But her heart did.
---
They sat near the edge of the stage during lunch break, legs dangling over the steps. Their bento boxes were open but mostly untouched.
Kai pulled out a small notebook from his hoodie. It was black, worn at the edges.
He passed it to her without a word.
Yuna looked at the cover, then opened it. Lyrics.
Page after page of handwritten lyrics. Some with musical notation. Some with scribbled-out lines. Some complete.
"You wrote all of these?" she whispered.
He nodded. "Songs I never gave to the company. Some are personal. Some are... guesses of how I think things feel."
She looked at him. "And this one?" she asked, pointing to the page with a single verse:
"You stood where my silence ended— In the moment before I knew your name."
"That one I wrote after our second rehearsal," he admitted.
Yuna blinked, stunned.
"You barely knew me."
He smiled. "Doesn't mean I didn't feel something."
The moment thickened, heavy with honesty. But before either could speak again, someone called from behind.
"Yuna! They need you for mic fitting!"
She stood, slowly handing the notebook back. "You should share these," she said.
"Maybe I already have," he replied softly.
---
That evening, the full team reviewed performance footage on the monitor. Managers pointed out mistakes. Stylists noted hair placement issues. The lighting crew adjusted timings.
But Yuna wasn't watching the screen. She was watching the way Kai avoided looking at her, as if afraid of showing too much.
Later, as she walked back to the dressing room, she found a folded paper star tucked into the zipper of her makeup bag.
She unfolded it carefully.
Inside, one line:
"Still standing where the silence ends."
No signature. No name.
But she knew.