Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
LUCA
The plane lands with a jolt, wheels hitting the runway and rumbling beneath us. I wake up alone in the small bed, the sheets still warm where Kai had been curled against me.
For a second, I just lie there, blinking at the ceiling, heart thudding.
Did that really happen?
The anger, the rough desperate sex against the door, the way I fucked him hard while telling him I’d make him as raw as he made me… then the quiet after, when I pulled him into this bed and held him like he might vanish if I let go.
It feels like a fever dream. Like something my exhausted, hurt brain made up just to torture me.
I sit up, run a hand through my messy hair, and force myself to move. I pull on fresh clothes and splash water on my face in the tiny sink. My body aches in the best and worst ways. Every shift tells me exactly what we did.
The plane rolls to a slow stop on the tarmac in London.
I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and slide the door open.
The main cabin is already stirring. Michael is stretching, Min-ho is quietly packing his headphones away, Tasha is on her phone coordinating with the ground crew.
And then there’s Kai.
He’s standing near his seat, bag slung over one shoulder, looking… soft. His dark hair is still slightly mussed, and when his eyes find mine across the cabin, his cheeks flush the faintest pink.
He doesn’t look away. Instead, he gives me this small smile, the kind I’ve rarely seen on him.
Something tight and anxious eases inside me.
I was ready to brace for regret and him pulling away again, or for another round of back-and-forth that would leave me raw all over again.
But he’s looking at me like he remembers every second of last night, too. And he doesn’t regret it.
Kai walks over slowly, stopping just close enough that I can smell his familiar scent mixed with the faint trace of us from last night.
“Hey,” he says softly, voice a little hesitant. “You slept okay?”
I nod, swallowing. My hands itch to reach for him, but I hold back, unsure where we actually stand after everything.
“Yeah. You?”
“Better than I have in days,” he admits. The shy smile returns. “Because of you.”
The words are simple, but they loosen another knot in my chest. He’s not running or hiding behind his control-freak walls this morning. He’s standing here, sweet and a little nervous instead.
I let out a slow breath.
“Good,” I say, clearing my throat. “That’s…good.”
Kai shifts his bag on his shoulder. His hand brushes mine as he lowers it, and it makes warmth spread through me.
He glances toward the others, then back at me.
“We should probably get off the plane before Tasha starts yelling,” he says, that shy little smile still playing at his lips. “But…later? Can we talk? For real this time?”
“Yeah,” I answer. “Later sounds good.”
He nods once, the relief clear on his face, and turns toward the exit. I follow a step behind, watching the way his shoulders have lost some of their usual tension.
Last night wasn’t a dream.
And this morning, the back-and-forth feels like it might actually be slowing down. I still don’t know exactly where we stand. But when Kai glances back at me over his shoulder with that same sweet, shy look, something warm settles in my chest.
Maybe we’re finally moving forward. Even if we’re both still figuring out how.
London greets us with gray skies and a light drizzle.
The band dynamics feel…off.
Michael is trying too hard to be the jokester, cracking loud jokes about jet lag and British food he wants to have while we wait for the vans.
Min-ho stays quiet, but he keeps glancing between Kai and me like he’s reading every micro-expression.
Tasha is all business, barking orders into her phone about hotel check-in and soundcheck times, but I catch her watching us, too.
Kai walks beside me as we head toward the vehicles as they pull up. Every time our arms brush, my stomach does a little flip, and butterflies take flight. It feels like falling in love all over again.
Man, I'm easy. I was so determined to keep him at arm’s length, and it all shattered the second he was within arm’s reach. But I don’t regret it.
We pile into the van. Michael and Min-ho take the middle seat, leaving Kai and me in the back seat, while Tasha takes the front seat. She takes another call, from Harry by the sound of it, but I tune it out. My full focus is on Kai, honestly.
His hand rests on the seat between us. I let my pinky brush his. He shifts his fingers slightly, hooking his finger over mine. We stay like that for the remainder of the ride. It’s small, but real. No cameras are catching the moment, and I like the secret it creates between us.
When we reach the hotel, the front desk staff is overly polite, clearly briefed on who we are.
We get our room keys, and Tasha hands out the cards.
It’s the penthouse suite with a master bedroom that has the largest king bed I’ve ever seen, and three other rooms—one with a single queen and the other two with two doubles.
The living space has a wrap-around couch with a view of the city, located in a step-down space.
There’s even a full-size kitchen. Not that we will cook.
I point toward the master suite before any of the others can.
“Master’s mine,” I say.
Michael groans dramatically as he picks up his bag and heads to one of the rooms with the double. “Good. Your snoring is like a goddamn freight train. I’ve been stuck listening to it for months. At least now I might actually sleep.”
I flip him off with a grin, but there’s no real heat behind it. “You’re just jealous my room has the big bed.”
Min-ho shakes his head with a small smile, already heading toward the other double room. Tasha mutters something about “boys” under her breath and disappears into the queen room, already typing on her phone.
Kai lingers near the entrance to the living area, watching me with that same expression from the plane. His fingers twitch at his side like he wants to reach for me but isn’t sure if he should.
I meet his eyes for a moment, letting the corner of my mouth lift, so my words don’t feel like a rejection.
“See you at soundcheck,” I say quietly. I definitely need time to myself to process everything.
He nods, cheeks flushing just a little. “Yeah. Soundcheck.”
I shut the door between us and drop my bag next to the foot of the bed.
Then I sit on the edge. I want Kai. That isn’t even the question.
But I’m not sure I can go along with the fan service anymore.
Natural stuff—the glances, the little brushes of hands, the way we naturally fall into each other when the music hits—sure.
That feels real now. But the shit Harry keeps pushing…
the choreographed throat grabs, the sucker bit, the forced “Kuca” moments that get edited into thirst traps…
it feels exploitative. Like we’re selling pieces of something that finally started to mean something to me.
I drag both hands down my face.
Ten days ago, I was ready to burn the whole thing down just to get away from him. Now, I’m sitting here wondering how much of our relationship the label is still planning to package and sell.
I pull out my phone and stare at it for a long moment before hitting Harry’s contact.
It rings twice.
“Luca,” Harry answers, already sounding impatient. “You made the flight. Good. Soundcheck is at four. We’ve got new choreography for the opener—more physical stuff between you and Kai. The fans are eating up the tension. We need to lean into it harder now that you’re in Europe.”
I cut him off before he can keep going.
“I’m done with the fake shit.”
There’s a beat of silence on the other end.
“What?”
“The staged stuff,” I say, voice flat. “All the choreographed ‘Kuca’ moments you keep adding. I’m not doing it anymore. Whatever happens on stage happens. But I’m not performing your scripted porn for the cameras.”
Harry lets out a sharp laugh, like he thinks I’m joking.
“Luca, come on. This is what revived the band. The numbers are up, the streams are up, the merch is flying. You can’t just decide—”
“I just did,” I say. “If you want me on that stage, you stop directing every touch. Stop turning us into a product. Or find someone else to play the part.”
The line goes quiet again. I can practically hear him calculating.
“You’re serious,” he says finally.
“Dead serious.”
Another pause. Then Harry sighs, the sound heavy with irritation.
“Fine. We’ll dial it back for London. But don’t think this means you get to do whatever you want. The fans expect chemistry. You still need to sell it. You still have a contract.”
“I’ll sell what’s real,” I tell him. “Nothing more. You can take your contract and shove it up your ass.”
I hang up before he can argue.
The phone feels heavy in my hand. My heart is still pounding, but some of the weight in my chest has lifted.
I don’t know what Kai and I are yet. I don’t know if last night was the start of something or just another messy chapter. But what I do know is that I’m tired of letting the label script every second of it.
Whatever happens between us from here on out, it’s going to be ours.
Not theirs.