Rehearsal felt suffocating. Kiko’s body ached, but Mr. Reyes was watching—waiting. Kiko and Jae were practicing choreography for their new collaboration, and Mr. Reyes insisted their chemistry looked too friendly.

“Act like you’re in love,” Mr. Reyes ordered coldly. “The fans want it. Make them believe it.”

Kiko’s throat burned with shame, his face heating up every time Jae’s hands ghosted along his skin. He hated that his body was trained to react to touch like it was a violation—thanks to Mr. Reyes. But this was different. This was Jae.

“Closer,” Mr. Reyes barked. “Kiss him.”

Kiko froze. “W-what?”

“You heard me,” Mr. Reyes sneered. “A peck. Sell the romance.”

Kiko’s breathing hitched. His mind flooded with memories of Mr. Reyes’ touch, his forceful kisses, his threats. His body locked up.

“…I’ll do it,” Jae said gently, stepping in. He met Kiko’s trembling gaze. “Only if you’re okay with it.”

Kiko swallowed hard. He wasn’t. But saying no wasn’t an option. “…Okay.”

Then Jae kissed him. Soft. Gentle. Barely a brush of their lips—but it was still a kiss. Kiko’s entire body locked up, his fists clenching, his nails digging into his palms. But it wasn’t Jae’s fault. It was Mr. Reyes. It was always Mr. Reyes.

“Hold it longer,” Mr. Reyes ordered coldly.

Jae deepened the kiss slightly, but not in a romantic way—more like he was trying to shield Kiko, to make it easier on him. His hand lingered on Kiko’s waist, grounding him. When they finally pulled apart, Kiko was trembling.

“…Perfect,” Mr. Reyes smiled, satisfied. “We’ll do more of that tomorrow. Dismissed.”