OUR STORY (BxB)

Chapter 25

-TAMARO-

Tonight was a special night—I gave myself to Akiro. It was my first time, and I still felt a little sore, but he made sure I could endure the pain. His touch was patient, his words gentle. Now, we're lying in bed together, tangled beneath the sheets, bodies warm and close. The sky outside is starting to brighten—we haven't slept at all. He's claimed me twice already. I hadn't made the first move, but I know I'll leave my own mark before we return to reality.

"Baby, are you sleepy?" I asked softly, brushing his face with my fingertips.

"I'm not, Roo. I've just got a lot on my mind," he replied, eyes distant.

My brows knitted as I looked at him. "About what?"

"Ahh, nothing really. Just this and that," he said, pulling me into a hug and planting a soft kiss on my forehead.

"Are you sure, baby? You can tell me if something's bothering you. I'll listen." I gave him a reassuring smile.

"I know you will, Roo," he said, and I leaned in to kiss him on the lips.

Then I shifted slowly on top of him. We were still bare under the blanket, our bodies pressed together—warm, quiet, and real.

I could feel the way his body responded to mine—his warmth against me, the rhythm of his heartbeat quickening beneath my touch. I deepened the kiss, savoring the softness of his lips as if it were our first time all over again. Akiro's kiss was unlike anything else—it always had been. I'd never kissed anyone else in my life. Only him. Only this.

I trailed kisses down to his neck, and he gasped—his hand instinctively sliding over my back, grounding me. Heat pooled in my chest, spreading outward. For the third time tonight, I felt my body ache for him—not from lust alone, but from the desire to be fully known and received.

"I'll claim you the way you claimed me, baby," I whispered, brushing my lips against his ear before gently nibbling at the lobe.

He moaned in reply, his lips finding my shoulder. I kissed along his collarbone, then down to his chest, leaving small marks—a quiet echo of the ones he left on me earlier. His fingers tangled into my hair, breath hitching as I mirrored his touch from before, tracing across sensitive skin with care and devotion.

I lowered my kisses to his stomach, brushing my lips softly along the curve of his abs. His skin was warm, his breathing growing shallow. I kissed down to his waist, trailing along the lines of him with quiet reverence. His eyes were closed, hands clutching the sheets as if grounding himself. I could see his body responding—tense but trusting. With every kiss, I was reminding him how much I loved him.

"Hmm," he let out a soft sound, his voice breaking through the silence.

I crawled back up and kissed him again, slow and deep. His legs parted instinctively, and we shifted closer, our bodies pressed gently together. The warmth between us grew, familiar and new all at once.

I reached for the small bottle of lubricant he had used earlier—now it was my turn to care for him, to make him feel the same kind of safety and devotion he gave me.

"On your knees, baby," I said softly after breaking the kiss. He smiled, biting his lip before I carefully lifted him. He shifted his position toward the center of the bed, hands clutching the sheets, nervous but willing. His vulnerability was on full display, and I saw myself in him—uncertain, aching, but full of trust.

I kissed the curve of his back and held his waist gently, trailing my fingertips over sensitive skin. He squirmed beneath my touch, breath hitching.

"Roo, be gentle," he whispered.

"I will," I assured him quietly. "Just like you were with me."

I leaned in and kissed his skin again—soft, grounding—and reached for the lubricant, preparing him with deliberate care. He flinched slightly, and I paused to make sure he felt safe, one hand resting firmly at his waist.

"I know it hurts," I said gently. "Do you want me to stop?"

He stayed quiet for a moment, then slowly nodded, asking with his silence for more trust than words could ever hold.

"No, Roo... just continue," he whispered, his voice soft but certain. He guided my hand back to him, trusting me completely. I adjusted his position with care, helping him lie down gently on the bed. I climbed on top of him slowly, holding his gaze with quiet affection. I kissed his forehead, then trailed my lips down to his cheek before pressing a deeper kiss to his lips—steady, reverent.

Our bodies moved closer, the warmth between us building with every breath. I could feel the way he responded to my touch, his moan barely audible as I brushed against him with deliberate softness. There was anticipation in the air, yes—but more than that, there was love. The kind that wrapped around us like the sheets themselves.

"Baby... I'm with you now," I whispered softly as I brushed against him. He swallowed hard, then gave me a small nod, his eyes full of trust. I leaned in and kissed his neck—slow and steady—before easing into him with care. His body tensed, and tears fell quietly down his cheeks, but he didn't pull away. The pain showed in his expression, and I knew this wasn't easy. So, I kissed him again—on his lips this time—to draw him back to me, to remind him he wasn't alone.

I was fully inside now. He gasped, mouth agape, breathing in short, soft bursts. I didn't move yet. I held him gently, my lips trailing over his neck, his chest, and back to the place where we always returned—his mouth. I wanted to give him time. Time to adjust, to settle, to know this was love and not something rushed. Every kiss was a promise: I'm here. I'm yours. We'll move together.

"I love you, baby. I really do," I whispered, brushing a kiss to the corners of his teary eyes. He smiled softly, eyes closing as his body responded to my touch. I moved with care, every breath between us weighted with love and memory. He moaned quietly, his mouth parting as our rhythm found its shape.

I kissed his cheek, then held his gaze. "Baby... can I go a little harder?" I asked, voice tender.

He looked at me and nodded, that shy smile still on his lips. "Do whatever you want, Roo. I'm all yours—just like you gave all of you to me."

With that, our movements grew deeper. Not rushed, not rough—just filled with every ounce of emotion we'd carried to this moment. The sounds between us were quiet affirmations: shared breath, soft moans, and the unspoken promise that this wasn't just physical—it was us, choosing each other, again and again.

I moved with more urgency now, my rhythm deepening as I held onto him. He gripped the bedsheets tightly, eyes closed, tears silently slipping down his cheeks. His mouth was tense, lip bitten to hold in the overwhelming feeling. I leaned in and kissed the corner of his eye—soft, grounding—then buried my face in his neck, breath coming fast.

"I'm almost there, baby," I whispered between gasps.

He moaned again, body trembling. I kissed him, held him, made sure he felt every part of my devotion. And then, with one final push—our bodies reached the edge together.

His breath caught, his body shaking as I felt his release between us. I followed, warmth flooding inside him, the moment cracking open into something sacred. We gasped softly, moaned in unison, and slowly stilled in each other's arms.

The room was quiet now. Just the sound of our hearts. Our skin. Our love.

We lay there, breathless and warm, our bodies slowly syncing back to calm. I leaned down to kiss his lips softly before easing away, his mouth parting slightly in response. I cleaned him with quiet care, brushing away the last traces of our closeness. Then I slipped beside him, and he moved toward me without hesitation, resting his head on my arm and wrapping himself around me. I kissed the crown of his head, and we cuddled in silence, the weight of the night settling gently between us. Sleep tugged at us slowly—our bodies relaxed, woven together beneath the sheets.

A sudden ring broke the quiet.

I flinched, groggily reaching for my phone. My heart skipped when I saw the caller ID: Mr. William. I glanced at the time—nearly noon—and a wave of anxiety rippled through me. I sat up abruptly, unsure what waited on the other end of the line. Akiro stirred beside me, his lips forming a sleepy pout and his eyes half-lidded, still soft from sleep.

"Who is it, Roo?" Akiro asked as he rubbed sleep from his eyes.

"It's Mr. William, baby," I replied, feeling the weight in my chest as his eyes widened. He sat up beside me just as my phone rang again. We glanced at each other. I swallowed hard, then answered the call.

"M-Mr. William," I stammered.

"Where are you?" His tone was sharp, laced with restrained anger.

"At the Grand Hyatt hotel," I said honestly. There was no point in hiding the truth.

"Are you with Akiro?" he asked. I turned to Akiro, who looked visibly anxious. I took a steady breath before replying.

"Yes," I said quietly.

Silence. Then a long, audible inhale.

"MY OFFICE. NOW." He snapped, then ended the call.

I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through my hair. My nerves were unraveling, but I tried not to show it. Akiro's gaze lingered on me, worried.

"What did he say, Roo?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"He wants us to meet him in his office. Right now," I said, reaching for his hand—it was shaking.

"Roo... what will happen?" he whispered, tears beginning to trail down his cheeks.

I wiped them gently and kissed his forehead.

"I don't know, baby. But we'll face it together," I said, pulling him into a protective embrace.

"Who is it, Roo?" Akiro asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"It's Mr. William," I said, the weight settling heavily in my chest. His eyes widened, and he sat up just as my phone rang again. We glanced at each other. I swallowed and answered.

"M-Mr. William," I stammered.

"Where are you?" His voice was sharp, the anger just beneath the surface.

"At the Grand Hyatt Hotel," I said quietly. There was no point in lying.

"Are you with Akiro?"

I looked at him—anxious, alert, already bracing. I took a breath. "Yes."

There was only silence for a moment, followed by a long, audible inhale.

"My office. Now." He snapped. The call ended.

I ran a hand through my hair, already unraveling inside. Akiro watched me, concern written across his face.

"What did he say, Roo?" he asked, voice trembling.

"He wants to see us. Now." I took his shaking hand and held it tightly.

"Roo... what's going to happen?" he whispered, tears falling freely.

I brushed them away and kissed his forehead. "I don't know, baby. But whatever it is, we'll face it together."

-AKIRO-

Before we left the hotel, he claimed me one last time in the shower—a quiet, urgent moment beneath the spray, both of us holding on like it was the last calm before the storm. I knew everything would shift after this. And though I tried to be steady, the truth was I was scared. Confused. I didn't know what waited ahead.

Now, we're back at the dorm, surrounded by the other members. Even Manager Brandon is here. The atmosphere is heavy, pulsing with quiet dread. We're seated together, voices low, phones buzzing with the news that shouldn't have broken. It was supposed to be a private date. But as idols, "privacy" is rarely ours to keep. The photos are spreading across social media—every angle, every glance, dissected and devoured.

"You want us to come with you?" Stephen asks, his voice calm but tight. His eyes flick between us, worried.

"No," Akiro says quietly. "We'll face this together."

I turned to look at him. He didn't flinch.

"Are you sure?" Stephen asks again, softer this time.

"Yes, bro," he said, gently squeezing my hand. I pulled away and headed straight for our room, the frustration already bubbling in my chest. We needed the members with us—we couldn't face this alone.

Inside, I stripped off my hoodie and threw it carelessly onto the bed. The anger flared, and I kicked the nearest chair without thinking. It slammed against the wall.

People assume I'm always the good one—the quiet, well-behaved idol. They're wrong. I have an anger issue. And when I'm overwhelmed, I break things. It's how I cope. It's not pretty, but it's honest.

Roo stepped into the room behind me, voice cautious. "What was that?"

I turned, eyes narrowed. "I should be asking you that. Why did you say no to Stephen? Why did you reject their help?"

"What? This is our problem—we created it," he snapped, voice rising with frustration. "The members have been defending us from the beginning. They've done enough. And now we're dragging them into it again?"

"You know we need them," I said, my voice low but trembling. "You know we can't face this alone." Anger surged again, and I kicked the chair once more, the sound echoing through the room.

He stared at me, unmoving. The silence stretched—heavy, uncertain—before he finally spoke.

"You don't trust me... do you?" he asked quietly.

I saw it then—the pain in his eyes. Not just disappointment, but hurt. I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. My hands curled into fists. I didn't want to lose anything. I still had a dream to chase. A future to protect.

"Okay, I get it. You don't trust me. Fine. I'll face this alone," he snapped. "You're being a coward again, Akiro." Then he turned, slammed the door behind him, and left me in the silence he carved out.

"f**k," I cursed, grabbing fistfuls of my hair. Tears spilled freely down my cheeks—rage, fear, heartbreak, all tangled into one. His last word hit me harder than the slam of the door. Coward. Maybe he was right. I loved him deeply, but sometimes I couldn't stand tall for our love. Sometimes I flinched when the world stared too hard.

After a minute, I grabbed my hoodie and stepped out. I had to go to the company, no matter what waited there. As I entered the living room, all the members stood up instinctively. Joshua approached first, his expression calm but steady. He placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder and smiled—nothing forced, just quiet solidarity.

"Don't let Tamaro face this alone," Joshua said gently, patting my shoulder once more. I glanced around the room—the members were all smiling at me, quiet but resolute. Roo was right. They had fought beside us for so long, protected us through storms we couldn't face alone. They deserved peace.

I smiled back at them and stepped out of the dorm.

The ride to the company felt longer than usual. Every second weighed heavy on my chest, like time itself was bracing for impact. When I arrived, I didn't hesitate. I went straight to Mr. William's office, heart thudding like a distant drum. I knocked, then entered.

Roo was already there.

He stood just a few steps from Mr. William, head bowed, hands clasped tightly in front of him. The sight made my breath hitch. He looked smaller somehow—brave but exposed. My throat dried instantly, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep the tears from rising. The silence in the room was thick.

I stayed still, knowing that whatever came next, it would leave its mark.

"Oh... I thought you weren't coming, Akiro?" Mr. William said as he glanced up. Only then did Roo lift his head to look at me. There was pain in his eyes—unspoken, aching—but I looked away and turned my attention to Mr. William. I bowed in greeting, composed myself, and sat beside Roo.

"What are you planning to do now?" Mr. William continued, voice firm. "I've tried to protect you. I even accepted the Media Patch proposal so your relationship wouldn't go public. And yet, I saw both of you out in public... alone. I've told you before—you can't go out together without clearance."

"I'm sorry," Roo whispered, eyes lowered.

"I'll take the punishment alone," he added.

And I looked at him then—really looked. He was bracing himself, shielding me again.

"Alone? You're both involved here. Why are you taking the punishment by yourself?" Mr. William asked, his voice sharp as he turned toward me. I couldn't meet his eyes. My chest tightened. I felt the warmth behind my eyelids before I even noticed the tears. I quickly wiped them away, heart pounding.

"It was my idea," Roo said quietly, but with conviction. "I dragged Akiro into this without thinking about the consequences." He didn't flinch as he looked Mr. William directly in the eye.

I swallowed hard. Roo's expression had shifted—cool, unreadable. The gentle softness he wore around me was gone, replaced by that intimidating stare the members called his tiger look. It scared me sometimes, especially when it wasn't directed at the cameras.

Mr. William let out a long breath and rubbed the back of his neck, visibly trying to keep calm. The weight of our relationship had rippled far—beyond us, beyond the group. Everyone was affected. Even now, I could feel it pressing down on the room like something too heavy to move.

"This is the last time I'm going to say this," Mr. William said sternly, his voice clipped and controlled. "I don't want either of you going out in public alone. You need to separate. I'm trying hard not to lose my patience—but this is your final warning. If it happens again, you'll regret it." His words struck deep. I didn't want everything we've worked for to come undone.

After the meeting, we returned to the dorm in silence. Neither of us spoke a word. Roo walked ahead without looking back, his posture closed off, heavy. I didn't reach for him. He didn't reach for me. Now, in the quiet of our space, he remains withdrawn—and I can feel him pulling away. I'm worried. I keep watching him from across the room, wondering what's going through his head. But I can't find the courage to ask. Not yet.

I love him—but I'm scared of what might come next. The doubts are creeping back in. Even after surrendering ourselves to each other completely, there's a part of me that's uncertain again. The problem always circles back to me. I speak without thinking, act on impulse, and fail to stay true to my own words. I question my feelings for him more than I should, and I know I hurt him when I become possessive. And yet... despite everything, he stays. He chooses me. Sometimes I wonder if I even deserve the kind of love he gives so freely.

Everything feels like it's back to normal—but not quite. We've grown aloof around each other. Ever since Mr. William's warning, we haven't opened up again. No conversations about what we're going to do, no resolutions—just silence and the mask of routine. We act like nothing happened. We speak, but only when necessary. The dorm is quiet; each member absorbed in their own world. Roo's in the room now, lying on his side, eyes fixed on a video playing on his phone.

I sat down on the bed across from him, searching for the words I couldn't hold back anymore.

"Roo... I'm sorry," I said softly.

He turned toward me slowly, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he said nothing—just breathed in deeply, chest rising with whatever emotion he was trying to keep beneath the surface.

"I know this is hard for you," Roo said, voice trembling. "But did you think about me, even for a single minute? I've been fighting for you, for us, no matter what—but lately, it feels like I'm the only one in this relationship who is." His eyes brimmed with tears, and I couldn't respond. He was right. Every word landed with the weight of truth I'd been avoiding.

"You know..." he continued, his voice softening into fatigue, "I always tell myself not to give up. Even when I'm tired, I try. But this time... I think I need to give you space." He stood slowly, his movements quiet and deliberate, and walked toward the door.

Just before leaving, he stopped. He didn't turn around. He didn't say another word.

"If you want love, you have to go through the pain," I whispered, tears trailing down my cheeks. And I was in pain—real pain. His words cut deep, not because they were cruel, but because they were true. I hurt him again. And maybe this space we're giving each other is the only way we'll know what's left between us. A pause to think, to breathe, to decide if love can survive the noise of everything else.

Manager Brandon told us Mr. William was granting us a one-month break. But before we could step away, we had to film one last variety show episode. That day, Roo and I sang a break-up song at karaoke. We hadn't split up. We were just holding distance. But as the lyrics poured out, it felt like the melody had pulled our emotions into focus—grief, longing, uncertainty. The words weren't about an ending. They were about now.

What I didn't know then was that this one-month break would open a door we weren't ready for. A test neither of us saw coming. And a moment that would ask: how strong are we, really?