Secret Patterns

27. Threads of Unease

Morning came with the kind of gray light that made the city feel unfinished. Huntr/x filed into rehearsal with coffees in hand, shoulders rolled back, and faces that told the staff: we're fine, don't ask.

But the air between them carried the weight of last night.

Rin could feel it most—every glance from her sisters sharper, every silence too watchful. Rumi hummed absently as she tucked her sheet music into her folder, but her eyes flicked to Rin every few minutes like a compass unable to find true north. Zoey cracked jokes too fast, her laugh pitched a little higher, every punchline landing like armor. Mira? Mira didn't ask questions—but her eyes stayed on Rin long enough to feel like questions in themselves.

The bury held under Rin's skin, neat and seamless, but it cost her to keep it buried while their gazes pressed from all sides.

⸻

On the Floor

"Alright," the choreographer barked, clapping sharp. "Block from the second chorus. We're not leaving until it reads like one voice, not eight strangers."

The music dropped in.

Rumi's voice set the tone, strong and clean, Jinu weaving in beside her with the precision of a knife sliding into a sheath. Mira and Abby found their pocket—her discipline matching his steadiness, the kind of symmetry that read clean even to people who didn't understand music. Zoey barreled in with Mystery and Baby flanking her, their chaos carefully controlled, the trio sparking like static.

And Rin—Rin stepped forward on her cue, voice threading with Romance's, the air tightening in the pocket between them.

"Shoulder open," the choreographer snapped.

She obeyed. But in the mirror, she caught Rumi's jaw tighten. Mira's pen hovered mid-note. Zoey's eyes flicked to Romance like she was already sharpening knives.

Romance, of course, only leaned in a fraction more, grin lazy, voice cutting under hers with practiced ease. To anyone else, it looked effortless. To Rin, it was another test.

How much do they know? How much will you give away if you falter?

She didn't falter. But the bury strained.

⸻

Between Takes

Water break. Staff scattered to adjust lights.

Zoey dropped onto the bench beside Rin with a sigh that was half-dramatic, half-watchful. "So...dangerous, huh?"

Rin's fingers tightened on her bottle. "Drop it."

"Can't," Zoey said, voice lower now. "Because he's not just talking about the group. And you know it."

Before Rin could bite back, Mira appeared, her tone deceptively mild. "She's right. They're testing angles. Seeing how close they can get before you break."

Rumi crouched in front of Rin, her hand light on Rin's knee. "And we're not sure if you already have."

The words stung. Not cruel, not intentional—but heavy.

Rin exhaled, slow, controlled. "I'm still here. Isn't that enough?"

Zoey leaned back, crossing her arms. "For now."

Across the room, the boys were watching in their own quiet ways.

Abby's gaze flicked to Rin once, steady as always, before moving on. Mystery stood stiller than usual, unreadable. Jinu adjusted his mic pack with surgical focus, but his eyes lingered. Baby twirled his water bottle, distracting the staff with antics while sneaking glances. And Romance—Romance leaned casually against the wall, but his attention never drifted.

It wasn't hunger in his stare. It was recognition.

⸻

The Push

"Back to marks!" the choreographer called.

They reset. This time the run-through demanded intensity: closer formations, tighter lines, interactions played to camera.

Zoey practically dared Baby to keep up with her footwork. Mira synced to Abby so precisely that even the choreographer muttered, "Finally." Rumi stepped into Jinu's space without hesitation, her confidence holding.

Then it was Rin's turn.

Romance leaned in, close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed. "Don't bury too deep," he murmured into the count. "It dulls the shine."

Her patterns pressed against her skin in answer, wanting out. Her sisters' gazes burned in the mirror, three pairs of eyes that wanted proof she was still theirs.

And for half a beat, the silver flickered.

Only Abby's voice cut through, low and steady from across the room: "Four. Hold."

Rin caught the breath, caged the fire, and landed the note exactly on time.

The choreographer clapped. "Finally. That's what I wanted. Again."

⸻

After

When the music stopped at last, sweat dripping, bodies trembling, the staff erupted in polite applause. The producer shouted something about "magic." The choreographer muttered about "progress."

But Rin felt only the thrum under her skin, the truth pressing harder with every beat.

As the groups filed offstage, Zoey brushed her arm deliberately. "We're not blind."

Rumi squeezed her shoulder. "We're not leaving."

Mira said nothing, but her silence carried weight: You won't be able to bury forever.

And across the room, Romance caught her eye, grin sharp, like he knew the same thing.