Moonlight Melodies

Chapter 2- The Liked Post

Babz’s POV

Sigh.

The sound was heavy, echoing against the sterile white walls of the hotel room. I lay back on the duvet, the blue light of my phone screen the only thing illuminating the dim space. My thumb hovered over the screen, replaying a grainy Snapchat clip of the Sweet Boys for the hundredth time.

They were a phenomenon—a sugar-coated whirlwind of pastel hair and catchy hooks. But while the world screamed for the leader’s charisma, I was stuck on Tae. He was the lead dancer, a man who moved with a fluid, haunting grace that seemed at odds with his deep, gravelly voice. There was something in his eyes—a hidden intensity that felt like a secret meant only for me.

I wasn’t a delusional teenager. I was twenty-eight, working a job that felt like a treadmill, living in a town where the most exciting event was a new coffee shop opening. Tae was a global icon. We existed on opposite sides of a glass wall, and tonight, that wall felt thicker than ever.

I’d found their music during the lowest point of my life, right after the "incident" with my family that I still couldn't bring myself to talk about. Their song 'Rise Again' hadn’t just been a catchy tune; it had been a lifeline. It whispered that I could shed my old skin and start over. Tonight was supposed to be the celebration of that rebirth.

Earlier that day...

“Babz, come on! The pre-show energy is going to be insane!” Tina’s voice was a sharp contrast to the grey London drizzle. She was practically vibrating, her hands tugging at my sleeve as we navigated the sea of fans outside the O2 Arena.

London was a labyrinth of noise and history. I felt like a tourist in my own life, staring up at the towering skyscrapers and the neon advertisements. I wanted to soak it all in—the smells of street food, the rush of the underground—but Tina was on a mission.

“I can’t believe we’re actually this close,” I whispered, hugging my lightstick to my chest. For the first time in years, the knot of anxiety in my stomach had been replaced by pure, unadulterated hope.

We took the selfie—a standard fan rite of passage. I was smiling, truly smiling, with the massive arena doors behind us. We grabbed a quick, greasy dinner at a nearby pub, laughing about which members would notice our section.

Then, the world stalled. The emails went out. The staff started turning people away. Canceled due to technical difficulties. The walk back to the hotel felt miles longer than the walk to the arena. The magic had vanished, leaving only the damp cold of a London night.

Now, I sat in the silence of the room, listening to the hum of the shower as Tina washed away the day’s disappointment.

PING.

A notification slid down from the top of my screen. Tina had posted the selfie. ‘Thank you guys for saving my friend! #miraclesdohappen #sweetboysthankyou #shamecouldnotseeyouperform’

“Oh, Tina, no,” I groaned, burying my face in a pillow. She was always so dramatic, acting like the band had personally saved my life. I tapped the notification, intending to tell her to take it down, but my eyes snagged on the 'Likes' count.

1 Like.

I tapped the heart to see who it was. My heart didn't just skip a beat; it stopped entirely.

Verified Account: @Tae_SweetBoys_Official

The phone slipped from my numb fingers, bouncing onto the carpet. I stared at it like it was a live grenade. It’s a mistake, I told myself, my breath coming in shallow hitches. A glitch. A social media manager hitting buttons at random. But the heat spreading through my chest felt real. It felt like a tether tightening.

Tae’s POV

“I don’t want to hear about the insurance, Hye! I want to know why my fans are standing in the rain!” I roared.

The dressing room felt too small. The air felt too thin. Usually, I could keep the wolf under control—years of suppressants and meditation had taught me how to be the "Sweet Boy" the world wanted. But the frustration of the cancellation was eating at my restraints.

“Tae, stop. Your eyes are starting to bleed gold,” Hye warned, his voice low. He glanced toward the door to make sure the human stylists were out of earshot. “Take a breath.”

I slumped into a chair, my chest heaving. We were three rogues who had crawled out of a dying realm and found sanctuary in the most unlikely place: the center of a K-Pop stage. The humans loved us, and in return, we gave them everything. But tonight, I felt like a failure.

To numb the roar in my head, I pulled out my phone and began scrolling through the tags. I wanted to see the people we had let down. I expected to see anger or sadness.

Instead, I saw her.

The photo popped up in the latest feed. A girl with long hair and a shy, breathtaking smile was standing in front of the arena we had just closed.

The reaction was instantaneous and violent. A bolt of lightning shot down my spine, hitting my heart with the force of a physical blow. My wolf, usually a quiet hum in the back of my mind, lunged forward with a possessive, soul-shattering howl that only I could hear.

MATE.

The scent seemed to drift off the screen—lilac and rain and something ancient that belonged to me. My thumb acted on instinct, hitting the 'Like' button before my rational mind could scream a warning.

“Tae?” Ha-Joon asked, stepping into the room. He stopped dead, his nostrils flaring. He could smell it—the sudden, sharp change in my pheromones. The scent of a wolf who had just found his missing half. “Did you...?”

“I found her,” I whispered, my voice dropping into a register that was purely primal. I turned the phone around, my hand shaking so hard the image blurred. “She was right there. At the gates. She’s in London, Ha-Joon. She’s here.”

But as the initial euphoria peaked, a dark, cold dread followed. I looked at her—so human, so fragile, so normal.

What if she’s already found someone else? My claws pricked at the skin of my palms. What if she sees the monster behind the idol? What if she’s the reason I can’t go back to my realm, and she doesn't even want me?

“I can’t let her leave the city,” I growled, the gold in my eyes now glowing with a predatory light. “The venue is closed, the show is over, but I’m not letting her slip through my fingers again.”

“Tae, think about the company. Think about the press,” Ha-Joon cautioned, though he looked at the photo with a sense of awe.

“To hell with the press,” I said, standing up. My wolf was in the driver's seat now. “She’s my mate. And she’s waiting for a miracle. I think it’s time I gave her one.”