The moment Taki hit the stage floor; Yuma felt his heart stop.

*****
"You scared me."
 "I'm still here, aren't I?"
*****

Taki was never the type to sit still.

Even when he was sick, he'd be the one cracking jokes, throwing pillows, and insisting he was totally fine while trying to do a backflip off the couch.

But today?

Today, Taki was too quiet

The lights were blinding, the crowd was deafening, and the energy on stage was electric.

This was their moment.

Until it wasn't.

Until Taki fell.

And Yuma's world stopped.

They were mid-performance, right in the middle of one of their most intense routines.

Yuma was focused—his body moved on instinct, every step practiced to perfection. But then, something felt off.

A loud thud.

The crowd screamed, but it wasn't the usual kind.

Yuma turned—

Taki was on the floor.

For a second, Yuma thought it was part of the choreo. A dramatic drop, maybe? But then, Taki didn't get up.

His hand clutched his leg, his face twisted in pain.

K and Fuma noticed first, rushing toward him. Staff ran onto the stage. The music stopped.

Yuma's chest tightened.

No. No, no, no.

He was moving before he could think, pushing past everyone to get to him.

"Taki," Yuma's voice came out shakier than he wanted. "What happened?"

Taki exhaled sharply, forcing a weak smile. "Guess I landed wrong."

No.

This wasn't like Taki. Taki always bounced back, always laughed things off. But now?

His whole body was trembling. His face was pale.

And Yuma hated the way his voice sounded so small.

They had to carry Taki off stage.

The fans cheered for him, chanting his name, but Yuma wasn't listening. His mind was on one thing only—

Taki was hurt.

Backstage, the medic examined him. "It's a sprain," they confirmed. "He needs rest, ice, and elevation."

Taki, ever the performer, forced a chuckle. "So, no encore?"

No one laughed.

Yuma clenched his fists. "This isn't funny."

Taki's smile faltered. "I was just trying to—"

"You pushed yourself too hard," Yuma snapped. "Again."

Taki blinked. He wasn't used to Yuma sounding so... angry.

Or maybe, afraid.

The concert finished without Taki.

Yuma didn't care.

He stayed with him in the medic's room, arms crossed, watching him like a hawk.

Taki groaned, tilting his head toward him. "You're staring."

"You scared me."

Taki's breath hitched. Yuma's voice was quiet, but it carried weight.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" Taki tried to joke.

Yuma's jaw clenched. "Yeah, but what if you weren't?"

Taki's eyes widened slightly.

"I watched you fall," Yuma continued, voice tight. "I watched you hit the ground, and I—" He exhaled sharply. "I thought—"

He didn't finish.

He couldn't.

Taki's chest felt... weird. Warm. Heavy. He had seen Yuma annoyed, competitive, playful—but this?

This was different.

He reached out, gently grabbing Yuma's sleeve.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Yuma stared at him for a moment. Then, finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Just... don't do that again."

Taki hesitated. Then, with a small smile, he lifted a pinky.

"Promise."

Yuma rolled his eyes, but after a moment, he linked their fingers together.

It wasn't much.

But it was enough.