The stadium still echoed in their ears long after the final lights dimmed. The roar of ECLIPSE, their fandom, had been deafening as VNX took their last bow of the night, drenched in sweat but smiling for the cameras. Fireworks had exploded above them, confetti rained down, and the chant of their names blended with the closing notes of their encore.

Now, hours later, the seven of them stumbled out of the backstage exit, exhaustion heavy in their bones. Jinwoo, the eldest, raised a tired hand to wave one last time at the lingering fans before the security team ushered them into their waiting cars.

“Two cars, same as always,” their manager instructed. “Get some rest, you’ll need it.”

Minho quickly directed them. “Okay, I’ll take Daon, Taeyon, and Kyungmin with me. The rest of you go with Jinwoo.”

So they split, three into one van, four into the other. Security and staff cars formed a protective convoy as they pulled away from the arena. Seoul’s streets, usually buzzing, were calmer at that hour—city lights flickering like stars on the pavement.

In Daon’s car, silence lingered at first. He leaned his head against the cool glass, black hair sticking slightly to his temple. His chest still rose and fell unevenly, the afterburn of adrenaline refusing to let him go. Kyungmin broke the silence with a soft hum of the last song, and soon Taeyon added his voice. Minho gave them a mock glare from the front seat but didn’t stop them. Daon smirked faintly, hidden by the shadows.

Meanwhile, in Jinwoo’s car, Suhwan stretched his legs across Hyunjae, earning a groan and a playful shove. Jinwoo just laughed, resting his forehead against the window, while Hyunjae complained loudly until Suhwan threatened to sing off-key. Their tiredness turned into quiet banter, filling the ride with warmth.

By the time they reached the villa in Hannam-dong, the clock had slipped past 2 a.m. The seven poured into the living room, jackets tossed aside, shoes abandoned at the door.

“I’m starving,” Hyunjae muttered, heading straight for the fridge.

“Cup ramen?” Taeyon suggested, already pulling packets from the pantry.

“No,” Jinwoo warned. “Your stomach will hate you tomorrow.”

But ten minutes later, they were all slurping ramen at the dining table, laughing over ridiculous mistakes from rehearsal. Suhwan mimicked a dance slip, nearly falling out of his chair, while Daon, for once, laughed openly.

After eating, they sprawled across the living room. Blankets, pillows, and a late-night movie on the big screen. At first, they tried to follow the plot, but laughter and teasing commentary drowned it out. Slowly, one by one, their voices faded, heads lolling against each other.

By dawn, the movie still flickered on the screen, ramen bowls forgotten on the table, and seven exhausted boys—kings on stage, brothers at home—slept together in the quiet of their villa.