The roar of the crowd was still ringing in K's ears as he stepped off the stage, heart pounding from the adrenaline of another incredible performance. The energy, the flashing lights, the chants of their names—it was electrifying. But as soon as the stage lights dimmed and they crossed into the wings, exhaustion settled in like a heavy blanket.

And then, out of nowhere, Fuma tackled him.

Or, at least, that's what it felt like.

"We killed it!" Fuma practically shouted, throwing his arms around K and squeezing tight. His laughter was pure, uninhibited joy, the kind that made even K—normally composed and steady—lose his balance slightly.

K stumbled but caught himself, letting out a breathy laugh as he instinctively wrapped his arms around Fuma in return. "Yeah, we did," he admitted, his voice still slightly breathless from the performance.

Fuma pulled back just enough to look at him, a grin splitting his face. His eyes were bright, shining with the kind of pride and happiness that only came from doing what they loved. "You saw the crowd, right? They were insane! I almost forgot I was tired."

K chuckled, finally steadying himself. "Yeah, but you're feeling it now, huh?"

As if on cue, Fuma let out a dramatic sigh and draped himself against K like dead weight. "You have no idea."

K rolled his eyes but didn't push him away. Instead, he tightened his grip just slightly, keeping Fuma from completely sliding down. "You're ridiculous."

"You love it," Fuma shot back, smirking.

K scoffed, but he didn't deny it.

The rest of the members were still buzzing around them—some high-fiving, some chugging water, others collapsing onto the couches in the dressing room. But for a brief moment, it was just them in their own little world.

Fuma, still hanging off of him, tilted his head slightly. "You were insane out there, by the way."

K raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"That last chorus? You destroyed it," Fuma said, his voice serious now. "Like, if I wasn't already impressed by you every single day, that would've done it."

K felt a small warmth bloom in his chest. Fuma wasn't the type to give empty compliments—if he said something, he meant it.

K looked away for a moment, pretending to adjust the rings on his fingers. "Well... you weren't bad yourself," he admitted.

Fuma laughed, nudging him. "Wow, high praise. I'll take it."

K smirked. "Don't let it get to your head."

"Too late," Fuma grinned.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The energy around them was still chaotic, yet in this tiny space they carved out for themselves, it felt steady.

K had always admired that about Fuma—how he could bring warmth into any room, how he made everything feel lighter even when it wasn't. He was the kind of person you wanted to hold onto, not because you needed him, but because he made everything better.

And, in a way, Fuma had become just that for him—something steady. Something real.

Fuma must have noticed something shift in K's expression because his teasing smirk softened just a bit. "You okay?"

K blinked, then exhaled through his nose, giving Fuma a small, genuine smile. "Yeah. Just... glad we get to do this together."

Fuma's grin returned, but it was different this time—softer, knowing.

"Me too."

And for now, that was enough.