The applause had faded, but the echoes remained—soft and warm like a lingering hug.
Taiki stood by the wide glass window of the hotel lounge, Taipei's city lights shimmering below like a restless sea of stars. The fan meeting was over, but the adrenaline still pulsed faintly in his veins. His tailored black jacket hung over his arm, collar damp from the stage lights and enthusiasm. Behind him, the familiar sounds of laughter, chopsticks clinking, and beer cans cracking open filled the wide dinner hall of their hotel suite.
Shokichi leaned forward with a mischievous glint when Taiki walked and sat beside Sekai. “Really, Sekai, Taiki,” he drawled, voice rich with playful mockery, “why bother booking two rooms? You’re so inseparable. Might as well share a bed, yeah?”
The room erupted into laughter.
"Shokichi-san, please don't start!" Taiki was already sputtering, waving his hands in protest.
Sekai’s laughter came easily, a warm, deep sound that rippled through the table. “I don't think we could share a room,” he replied, amusement dancing in his gaze. “Taiki is an early riser. He would complain about my late-night anime binges.”
“You’d think after all these years of working and sharing dressing rooms, you two would finally admit you’re inseparable,” Nesmith joined in, clearly amused.
“Didn’t the fans calling you 運命共同体 ‘Shared Destiny’?” Akira grinned knowingly, raising an eyebrow. “That’s practically a married label.”
Taiki straightened, clearing his throat and trying to play it cool, but the blush bloomed too fast. “We just work well together… Sekai-san and I have similar schedules, that’s all.”
“‘We work well together,’ he says,” Takahiro echoed dramatically, placing a hand on his chest like he’d been stabbed. “You only consider him as your best match, huh? Taiki? And I thought we had something special.”
“Give it up, Takahiro-san,” Sekai said, trying not to grin too widely. “I’m clearly his priority.”
Takahiro sighed, feigning heartbreak, before leaning back in his chair and lifting his glass in toast. “As long as you treat him well, I’ll let it slide.”
Taiki lowered his gaze, trying to hide the smile tugging at his lips. He hated how easily they made him blush. He hated how quickly Sekai could make his heart leap with just one look. But most of all, he hated how comfortable it felt—how much he wanted this teasing, this warmth, this sense of home… to never end.
Dinner continued with friendly atmosphere. The long table was filled with Taiwanese dishes, spicy hot pot bubbling at the center, plates of dumplings, steamed fish, fragrant bowls of three-cup chicken, and stacks of bubble tea cups ordered 'for dessert.' Akira poured drinks with a practiced hand, his quiet leadership always a grounding force among the rowdier members. Shokichi and Nesmith bantered about stage bloopers, while Kenchi talked about some new good bar he accidentally found.
Akira, in the middle of discussing choreography archives from EXILE TRIBE's past concerts, paused thoughtfully, tapping his fingers against his glass. "You know... Feels kinda strange, doesn’t it? Doing this without Gun-chan, Mandy, or Alan."
Silence fell like a slow drop of ink into clear water.
Taiki felt his chopsticks still in his hand, halfway to his mouth. His throat tightened unexpectedly. Sekai didn’t look at him, but Taiki felt the shift in his body beside him, like his co-leader had straightened subtly, bracing for what was to come.
Shokichi sighed and leaned back. "Yeah. Not gonna lie. I still turn around sometimes expecting Alan to say something weird at mic check."
"Mandy too," Nesmith added, voice softer now. "He always became the victim of the seniors' shenanigans."
"Gun-chan always disappeared somewhere before showtime," Takahiro chuckled gently. “Only to reappear looking like he walked off a magazine cover. Bastard.”
Everyone laughed—quietly this time. There was a bittersweet ring to it.
Akira spoke next, his deep voice calm but firm. "They’re all finding their own path. And that’s what we’ve always stood for, right? Freedom to grow. They left with love for this group, and we continue with love for them."
Taiki swallowed hard. His heart beat loudly in his ears. Something welled up in his chest—he wasn’t sure if it was sadness or fear.
Nesmith, sensing the weight thickening, nudged the mood with a soft chuckle. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s not go all dramatic, or Taiki is gonna start crying. And if he cries, I cry. You don’t want to see that.”
“I’m not crying,” Taiki mumbled, blinking rapidly. His voice was barely above a whisper.
Then Takahiro leaned forward again, this time more gently, and offered Taiki a warm smile. “But you know what? Even with the others leaving, we still got Sekai and Taiki here. That matters a lot.”
Taiki’s eyes snapped up.
He looked across the table and met Takahiro's gaze. There was no teasing now—just quiet sincerity.
“You two are shouldering a lot,” Takahiro continued, gesturing slightly with his drink. “Between EXILE, FANTASTICS, acting works, hosting variety shows, being role models, being leaders—hell, being friends to all of us. I see it. We all do.”
Akira nodded, arms crossed. “We know you’re pulled in a thousand directions. We don’t take it for granted. That you both still want to be here, with EXILE, means a lot to this group.”
Shokichi raised his glass. “You’re the bridge, you know? Between the old blood and the new. That’s not an easy role to play.”
Sekai finally spoke, his voice even but edged with something deeper. “I’m just doing what feels right. What EXILE taught me to do. I wouldn’t be who I am without this group.”
Taiki nodded quickly, his hands clenched slightly in his lap. “Same. I’ve always loved EXILE ever since I was a kid. I never imagined I’d actually be a member. So... I’ll be EXILE forever. Even if I get older, even if my jobs change—I’ll stay. As long as you let me.”
He didn’t look at Sekai when he said it. But Sekai felt the words anyway. Like a small tether had tightened between them.
Takahiro's smile deepened. “That’s what we want to hear.”
“I hope,” Taiki added shyly, eyes flickering down, “that we can make EXILE’s name even bigger. With what we do now. I mean, Sekai-san and I... we’ll try.”
Kenchi clapped a hand on Sekai’s shoulder. “You both are already doing it.”
There was something unspoken in the room now—something stronger than nostalgia. A quiet, humming certainty that the group would continue. That legacy wasn’t something old or past, but something living.
The conversations turned lighter after that. Nesmith began debating with Shokichi about who could do the longest breakdancing (Takahiro flatly said none of them, and dared them to try). Kenchi brought out a bottle of expensive whiskey he'd bought at a local market, and they took turns pouring drinks. Outside the hotel window, Taipei’s night skyline glowed quietly, as if it too was listening.
Taiki leaned against the back of his chair, sipping a warm oolong tea, eyes half-lidded with sleep and thought. Beside him, Sekai was laughing at something Akira had said, his jawline sharp in the soft room lighting, eyes crinkled at the corners.
That same face had once been so distant—his unreachable teacher, the perfect dancer he admired.
But now, they stood on the same stage. Sat at the same table.
The distance had closed.
So why did it still feel like Sekai might disappear one day?
Taiki stared at the half-empty cup in his hands. He didn’t say anything. But he wished he could reach out and ask—
You’re not going to leave too, right? Not you.
Beside him, Sekai glanced sideways. Even though Taiki hadn’t spoken, Sekai’s voice came low and teasing. “Don’t think too hard. Your forehead is starting to wrinkle.”
Taiki jolted, flustered. “I wasn’t—!”
Sekai just smiled, eyes warm.
｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡
The hotel grew quieter by the hour, footsteps fading in the hallway, voices softening behind closed doors. One by one, the EXILE members retired to their rooms, exchanging tired but warm goodnights, laughter still lingering faintly from the dining room downstairs.
Taiki stood in front of the wide bathroom mirror, gently toweling off his damp hair. His skin still felt flushed from the warmth of the shower, but the tension in his chest hadn’t washed away with the steam. He pulled on a loose, oversized t-shirt and slipped into a pair of short grey cotton shorts. Familiarity was comfort, and right now, he needed as much of that as he could get.
His reflection stared back at him—dark eyes too tired for how little sleep he'd done, lips pressed into a faint pout, brows furrowed with thoughts he couldn’t shake. The weight of the dinner conversation pressed into him like the humidity outside the window.
The seniors' words had been kind, filled with faith and encouragement, but it only made Taiki more aware of the truth he’d been trying to avoid: things were changing. People were leaving. Gun-san, Mandy-san, Alan-kun… all of them had carved new paths, and Taiki could only respect them. But that didn’t stop the quiet ache. The fear.
He climbed into bed, pulling the white duvet over his legs and resting his back against the cold headboard, staring at the black TV screen like it might offer answers. But the silence was too loud, and the shadows in the room stretched too long. His heart was restless, his mind looping the same fears.
What if Sekai-san leaves, too?
He pressed his lips together tightly. That thought terrified him more than anything.
A sudden knock at the door made him jump.
Three quick taps—hesitant, almost like whoever was outside didn’t want to be heard.
Taiki blinked and glanced at the digital clock. Nearly midnight. Who…?
He slid off the bed, padding quietly to the door, bare feet silent on the carpet. He cracked it open and blinked in surprise.
There stood Sekai, wearing a long black t-shirt printed with an anime girl riding some random dragons. A soft grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His black hair was slightly messy, as if he’d been tossing and turning on the bed. His eyes, always sharp and steady, looked strangely unsure.
He looked unexpectedly… human.
“Sekai-san?” Taiki asked, puzzled. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you… have a game console?” Sekai blurted, voice a little rushed.
Taiki stared, not sure if he misheard.
“Game console?”
Sekai shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck, avoiding Taiki’s gaze. “Yeah. I forgot mine.”
Taiki frowned. “Sekai-san, I… you know I don’t play games. I don’t even have a console. And you brought your Switch, right? I saw you packing it when we were in the agency building.”
Sekai sputtered. “It’s—uh. It’s out of battery. And I… forgot the charger.”
Taiki squinted, unimpressed. “Didn’t you also pack your portable charger? You literally bragged to me about how fast it can charge things.”
Sekai opened his mouth. Closed it. Let out a soft, breathy exhale, like a deflating balloon.
“…Okay. I lied.”
Taiki blinked. Sekai leaned his head against the doorframe with a soft thud.
“I just… wanted to see you,” he admitted, voice quieter now. “You seemed like you had something on your mind during dinner.”
Taiki’s chest squeezed. The lights in the hallway turned Sekai’s features gentler—the slight dark shadow under his eyes, the furrow in his brow, the mole under his lip. All of it made him seem too real, too close. Too caring.
“I mean—” Sekai shrugged, backtracking. “If you’re about to sleep or don’t feel like talking—”
“I’m not,” Taiki said quickly, cutting him off with a soft smile. “I couldn’t sleep. Come in.”
He stepped aside, heart thudding just a little faster. Sekai hesitated, then stepped into the room, quietly closing the door behind him. The room was dim, lit only by a small bedside lamp that cast a warm glow across the floor, like a safe bubble separating them from the world outside.
Sekai padded over to the bed and sat down without asking, legs stretched in front of him, leaning back on his hands. Taiki sat beside him a few seconds later, not touching, but close. Their bare knees were only inches apart. The silence was no longer uncomfortable—it stretched between them like a long exhale, calm but heavy with something unspoken.
For a while, they both stared at the closed curtain, as if the fabric might offer distraction. But the weight lingered.
Sekai was the first to break the quiet, his voice low, almost gentle. “What are you thinking about?”
Taiki swallowed. The words hovered on his tongue like smoke, delicate, threatening to disappear if he didn’t speak them.
But Sekai was here. Sekai came to him.
“…I’m afraid of the future.”
Taiki exhaled. His fingers curled into the hem of his shirt, fidgeting.
“I reassured everyone at dinner, said I’d do my best for EXILE, for FANTASTICS… but…” He shook his head, eyes distant. “Honestly, I’m scared."
“We passed the 2014 EXILE audition… the five of us. Me, you, Gun-san, Mandy-san, and Alan-kun.”
Sekai stayed still, patiently listening.
Taiki continued, slower this time, like the words weighed more than they should. “We promised we’d make EXILE’s name bigger… more famous, more alive. We said we’d do it together.”
He shifted a little, letting his legs fall off the side of the bed. One foot hit the floor with a soft sound, the other still hanging. He stared at the curtain furiously, eyes wide but unfocused.
“But now…” his voice trembled just a little, “they left. They all left.”
His breath hitched.
“They left me.”
Sekai didn’t move, but his hand curled slightly against the bedspread. Taiki’s voice was fragile, quivering, hanging right at the edge of a cliff.
“We had so many great memories,” Taiki whispered, eyes wet. “The five of us… we were always together, esepecially Alan-kun. I looked up to Alan-kun so much. I always admired him. He was like a big brother to me. He guided me, teased me, protected me.”
Taiki paused. His throat bobbed, eyes blinked rapidly.
“He told me he’d always be here.”
More silence. Sekai could hear the way Taiki’s breath stuttered.
“But he left me.”
“Mmm,” Sekai said, his voice soft. A hum filled with understanding—not dismissive, not distant. He didn’t try to fix the pain. He let it exist.
Taiki’s chest rose with a shaky inhale. “I know they all had their reasons. And I can’t stop them. I shouldn’t stop them. They have every right to follow their own path. Gun-san’s acting career is really taking off. Mandy-san always said he wanted to explore something new. And Alan-kun…” he trailed off, voice small, “…he’s so happy being a DJ. I know that.”
His head tilted. A tear threatening to come out from the corner of his eye.
“But it still hurts.”
Sekai glanced at him, chest tightening.
Taiki shifted again and laid down flat on his back, his foot still dangling over the edge. He stared up at the ceiling now, eyes glossy, the soft curve of his lips trembling ever so slightly.
His voice was barely above a whisper.
“Will you leave me too someday?”
The words hit Sekai like a silent punch to the ribs.
Sekai slowly lay back as well, arms close, so close, until their elbows brushed. He didn’t look at Taiki, but he could feel the heat radiating from his body. He stared at the ceiling too, letting the silence hold for a moment more.
Taiki spoke again, his voice still hoarse. “Sekai-san… I know you’ve got a lot going on too. You’re juggling so much. EXILE, FANTASTICS… and then your stage plays, your voice acting gigs, all your solo stuff.”
Sekai closed his eyes, jaw tensing slightly.
“This year was especially bad for you. You didn’t even get a proper break, did you? You jumped between rehearsal for EXILE, FANTASTICS, then straight into your stage play.”
Taiki turned his head to look at him.
“It wouldn’t be weird if you decided to leave EXILE like the others.”
Sekai kept still. His throat felt tight.
Taiki watched his side profile—the sharp jawline, the faint shadow of stubble, the straight bridge of his nose, the long lashes brushing his cheeks. He looked calm. But Taiki had known him long enough to sense the restraint in every breath.
And then, softly, heartbreakingly, Taiki whispered, “But Sekai-san… I think I’ll break if you leave.”
A tear finally escaped, trailing down straight onto the bedsheets.
Sekai turned then, his body shifted to sideways and looked at Taiki properly. Their eyes met.
He reached out, slowly, gently. His fingers brushed along Taiki’s cheek and wiped away the tear, letting his hand linger there, warm against the side of his face.
“I won’t leave you alone,” Sekai said, voice quiet but sure.
Taiki’s eyes welled up again, but he didn’t look away.
“I know it was the five of us who passed the audition back in 2014,” Sekai continued. “But you and I… we were different than the other three.”
Taiki swallowed hard. Sekai’s hand never left his cheek.
“We lived together for a few years after becoming EXILE members, remember?” Sekai’s voice turned soft, almost nostalgic. “And then Hiro-san made that big decision… creating a new group, and putting us in charge of it.”
He smiled faintly. “FANTASTICS… we built it from scratch. Together. Led it together. We’ve been together ever since.”
Taiki’s breathing slowed. The tears stopped falling, but his eyes still shimmered. Sekai’s thumb moved in slow strokes against his cheek, a quiet rhythm of comfort.
“I’d like to keep counting the years with you,” Sekai whispered.
A silence stretched. Not empty—but full. Of promises. Of time. Of everything they had already survived together.
“We share the same destiny,” Sekai stated softly but sure. “We also share the responsibilities. So don’t ever think you’re alone in this, Taiki.”
Taiki’s lips trembled. His hand moved hesitantly—resting on Sekai’s wrist, as if grounding himself with the touch.
“I also love EXILE,” Sekai murmured. “And honestly… I love watching you still act all starry-eyed every time the older members talk.”
Taiki blushed, but smiled faintly.
“You’re a full-fledged member now,” Sekai teased. “But you still look at Takahiro-san like he’s a demigod.”
Taiki looked away. “Takahiro-san is amazing.”
Sekai chuckled.
“So, anyway, no,” Sekai said gently, “I won’t leave you. If you want to leave, I’ll also leave. If you want to stay, I’ll also stay. We’ll be together. Always.”
Taiki smiled. His fingers curled slightly on Sekai’s wrist, warmth blooming in his chest. For the first time in weeks, his fear eased.
“Don’t worry so much,” Sekai said in lighter tone. “I mean, our personalities, hobbies and everything are exact opposite. But the universe somehow managed to keep us clumped together all these years.”
Sekai then sighed dramatically before complaining. “Sometimes I get tired looking at your annoying ass almost every day.”
Taiki giggled. “Is that why you always stand far away from me during photo sessions?”
“Obviously.”
Taiki rolled his eyes. “You’re the annoying one, Sekai-san. You wear those shirts with cringe anime girl with watermelon-sized breasts on national TV.”
Sekai gasped, voice rising. “What did you just say about my favorite anime?!” He shot up and pinched Taiki’s cheek without mercy.
“Hey—!!” Taiki yelped, squirming. “I’m just telling the truth!”
“You take that back right now!”
“Never!”
With a grin, Sekai pounced. In a flash, he climbed over Taiki, straddling him, grabbing both of Taiki’s wrists and pinning them to the bed. Taiki shrieked with laughter, legs kicking helplessly.
“You take that back!” Sekai growled dramatically. “Say that my anime taste is excellent!”
“No way—!” Taiki fought back with his legs, trying to squirm out of Sekai’s grip. “It’s lame!! So lame!”
Sekai laughed harder, the sound rich and boyish.
Their playful wrestling continued for a moment, the sheets a mess around them. Despite being the one who worked out more diligently, Taiki was still smaller in frame. Sekai had a broader chest, wider shoulders, stronger grip—enough to hold Taiki’s wrists down easily as they laughed and rolled around.
Eventually, Sekai ended up leaning over Taiki closely, still grinning while panting. Taiki’s cheeks were flushed from laughing. His shirt had ridden up slightly, revealing a sliver of his waist. Their legs were tangled. Sekai’s hands were still wrapped around Taiki’s wrists.
They stopped moving.
Their breathing slowed.
Their eyes locked.
And suddenly, everything felt quiet again—but in a very different way. The kind of quiet that buzzed ears. That made skin hum. That turned awareness sharp and bright.
Sekai’s laughter faded, replaced with something heavier in his gaze. He looked down at Taiki’s face—flushed, bright-eyed, soft lips parted slightly, still catching his breath.
Taiki blinked up at him. His own laughter had stilled. His chest rose and fell quickly under Sekai’s weight.
Sekai didn’t let go of his hands.
Their noses nearly brushed. The only thing separating them now was time, and whatever courage one of them would need to close that final inch.
Taiki’s gaze dropped to Sekai’s mouth, then rose again, lingering. Sekai leaned down just a little more, his grip still firm but gentle.
And just when the space between them almost disappeared—
A sharp, sudden knock at the door was heard. It broke through the room like a stone thrown into still water.
Taiki jumped. His whole body stiffened, and Sekai—still half-on top of him, hands frozen where they held Taiki’s wrists, snapped upright like someone caught mid-crime. For a second, neither moved, breath held in their throats, eyes wide and unblinking. Then, in a panicked scramble, they disentangled themselves from the bed.
Taiki ran a hand through his hair and wiped his cheeks with the hem of his oversized T-shirt, even though he knew it wouldn't help much. His eyes were still slightly red, lips slightly parted from everything that had just happened—or nearly happened, and his heartbeat was still thundering like drums.
Another knock came, lighter this time.
“Coming!” Taiki called out, voice higher than usual, betraying his nerves.
He rushed barefoot across the carpet and opened the door, blinking at the tall figure standing under the warm hallway lights.
“Takahiro-san…?”
Takahiro stood there, casual but charming as ever in a black tank top and soft grey sweatpants. His hair was messily pushed back, and he held his phone loosely in one hand, the screen dead.
“Ah, sorry to bother you this late, Taiki. I think I left my charger in the fan meeting hall, and the manager is already asleep. Do you have one that I can borrow?” Takahiro’s gaze flicked to Taiki’s face intently. “Wait, why are you so red?”
Taiki’s heart hit a new frantic pace. He ducked the question, cheeks burning hotter. “Ah, yes! I already finished charging mine, so—” Taiki stammered, walking inside in a hurry. “You can borrow it, please wait there—”
But Takahiro did not wait there.
“Thanks! I’ll just step in real quick,” he said casually, already moving past the threshold with the familiarity of an older brother.
Taiki’s heart lurched. “A-Ah, wait—”
But it was too late.
Takahiro entered the room and stopped mid-step.
His gaze fell instantly on Sekai, who sat awkwardly on the bed—shirt slightly lifted from their earlier wrestling, hair mussed, his expression was like a deer in headlights.
For one perfect, dreadful second, nobody said anything.
Then Takahiro dramatically gasped, hand flying to his chest. “A SCANDAL!!!!!!!”
Sekai immediately sputtered, his usual calm charisma completely shattering. “I-It’s not what it looks like, Takahiro-san!”
Takahiro turned slowly to Taiki, eyebrows raised so high they nearly touched his hairline. “Taiki… sweetheart… what exactly were you two doing in here?”
“NOTHING!” Taiki blurted, voice too shrill. He waved his hands like a windmill. “N-Nothing happened! We were just—just talking!”
“Right. Talking,” Takahiro repeated, tone absolutely unconvinced. He glanced back at Sekai, eyes flicking over the lifted hem of his shirt and the slightly flushed hue in his cheeks. “With your shirt lifted and messy like that?”
Sekai was trying very hard to pull his shirt back into place without making it more obvious.
“I—it got messed up because… he insulted my anime shirt!” Sekai blurted.
“I did not insult! I just said it was lame—” Taiki yelped.
Takahiro groaned and theatrically collapsed onto the edge of the nearby armchair like a wounded prince. “This is betrayal, Taiki. I thought I was your favorite EXILE member.”
"You are!" Taiki groaned into his palms. “Takahiro-san, please… it’s not like that!”
“I've been texting you regularly…” Takahiro sniffled. “And this is how you repay me?”
Sekai was still flustered. “Could you please stop making this weird?”
“Oh, I’m making it weird?” Takahiro widened his eyes at him. “You’re the one half undressed in our innocent little Taiki’s room.”
Taiki squawked. “I’m not innocent!”
That only made things worse.
Takahiro dramatically clutched his heart. “I don't want to hear Taiki's immoral episode!”
Sekai turned to the side and ran a hand down his face, clearly regretting all his life choices.
Takahiro finally ended his little acts, chuckled and shook his head. “You two… are such a pain.”
Despite his teasing, his tone had softened. He walked over and gently took the charger Taiki offered with a sheepish bow.
“Thanks, my cute little brother,” he said. “And don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”
“There’s no secret!” Taiki whined, cheeks burning.
Takahiro winked. “Not yet, huh?”
And with that final jab, he disappeared into the hallway, leaving a trail of mischief in his wake.
The door closed, silence bloomed again.
Taiki stood there frozen, still facing the door, while Sekai collapsed onto the bed, groaning loudly into a pillow.
“I can never look Takahiro-san in the eyes again.”
Taiki slowly turned, arms crossed. His cheeks were still pink, but his breathing had finally evened out.
They both stayed like that for a moment—one lying on the bed, one standing near the door, until Sekai sat up slowly. His expression had gone softer again, but now tinged with uncertainty. He opened his mouth, then closed it.
“I should probably go…” he said finally, standing.
He walked to where Taiki stood, close enough now that the tension returned—thick, unspoken, alive. He lifted a hand, resting it gently on top of Taiki’s head.
“Thanks for tonight,” Sekai said and started to pull away.
Taiki bit his lip, hesitated. But something in him knew.
If he let Sekai walk out now, they’d return to their blurred lines. Their almosts. Their unresolved maybes.
“Wait,” Taiki said, voice soft but sure. “You forgot something.”
Sekai paused, turning slowly to meet Taiki’s eyes. Before he could respond, Taiki already leaned in and kissed him.
Taiki's hands trembling just slightly as they rested against Sekai’s shirt. The kiss was gentle but real, no longer an accident, no longer an almost moment. His heart raced, but his body knew exactly what it wanted.
Sekai froze for a few seconds, stunned.
Then he kissed back. His hands cupped Taiki’s face with aching tenderness, and Taiki let out the smallest sound—a mix of surprise and relief. Sekai’s lips were soft, completely new and yet familiar.
Taiki’s arms reached out and circled Sekai’s neck, trying to lock him in. He tilted his head, letting himself melt into the kiss, soft sighs escaping between their breaths.
When Sekai finally pulled away, it was only by inches. His forehead pressed against Taiki’s, breath warm between them.
“…I wonder if the shared destiny between us,” Sekai whispered, “is also applied to love.”
Taiki’s eyes widened—pupils blown wide, black blooming over soft brown, like stars reflecting in deep water. His cheeks were flushed, lips kiss-swollen and pink. He blinked slowly, biting his lip in a way that made Sekai want to kiss him again instantly.
Yes, yes Taiki wanted it.
“Sekai-san…” Taiki breathed, and then he kissed him again.
This time it was deeper. More urgent. As if Taiki had realized how badly he wanted this—him.
Sekai responded just as hungrily, pulling Taiki close until there was no space between them. He slid into Taiki’s slim waist, fingers trailing softly beneath the hem of his shirt. The contrast of cool fingers on warm skin sent shivers crawling beneath Taiki’s skin.
Taiki whimpered softly into the kiss, the sound muffled, needy. He felt dizzy, not just from the heat of Sekai’s mouth, but from everything this meant. His fingers tangled into Sekai’s hair, pulling him closer, and his body arched into the warmth of the touch like he was starved for it.
“Sekai-san,” he gasped, calling his name over and over between kisses. “Sekai-san… Sekai-san.”
He didn’t know what else to say. That name was all that filled his chest.
He wanted Sekai. All of him.
Not just as a teacher, or a leader, or a member.
He wanted him as everything.
Taiki wanted to share destiny, to share responsibilities, to share love, to share everything with Sekai.
His hands were on Sekai’s back now, trembling slightly. Sekai’s lips moved from his mouth to his cheek, then to the edge of his jaw, soft and reverent.
“Please stay by my side forever,” Taiki whispered.
Sekai pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes were serious now, burning softly with affection that felt overwhelming.
“I will,” he answered.
And then he kissed Taiki’s forehead, slow and deliberate. His lips moved next to his cheek, then brushed lightly over the tip of his nose, before returning to the red lips once more—like sealing a promise.
They stood there in silence, still wrapped in each other, hearts echoing the same beat.
Eventually, Sekai sighed. “I really need to go,” he said reluctantly, voice hoarse.
“Noooo…” Taiki pouted softly, tightening his hold around Sekai’s neck. He pressed his cheek against Sekai’s chest, hiding his face like a child.
“You just promised,” he mumbled. “You said you’d stay by my side forever…”
Sekai laughed softly, cradling Taiki’s head in his palm. “Taiki, we’re still in a hotel, away from home.”
Taiki tilted his head up—and the look on his face nearly undid Sekai. His pupils were wide, double eyelids creased gently, lips soft and red from the kisses. He looked vulnerable. Too cute. It made Sekai want to stay here forever.
“…Let’s sort everything slowly once we’re back in Japan, okay?” Sekai said, brushing Taiki’s hair back gently. “One step at a time.”
Taiki’s pout lingered for a moment, but then he nodded.
Their hug finally loosened. Sekai stepped back, smoothing down Taiki’s shirt one last time with affectionate fingers.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.” he said, softly.
"Good night." Taiki nodded again, unable to stop smiling. His heart still pounded, but now it was filled with a strange, beautiful calm.
As Sekai left the room, Taiki leaned against the closed door, hand pressed to his chest. His lips still tingled.
Shared destiny, huh?
If this was what fate had in store, he would never, ever let go.
｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡
The sun was blaring furiously in the morning. Outside, Taipei was already buzzing with car horns, street vendors, and distant chatter. But inside the hotel dining hall, it was another kind of noise that dominated.
“Sekaiii~” Takahiro sing-songed with a grin too wide for this early clock. “How was your midnight adventure in Taiki's room?”
The rest of the EXILE members who had gathered for breakfast nearly choked on their drinks.
Of course, the secret was never safe with Takahiro.
Sekai, halfway through sipping his coffee, calmly lowered the cup. His face betrayed nothing. Well—almost nothing. The slight tension in his jaw was visible only to those who knew him well. And this room, unfortunately, was full of people who did.
“I only stayed for a little while,” Sekai muttered. “My game crashed. I was bored.”
Nesmith leaned back and crossed his arms. “Uh-huh. So naturally, you visited Taiki’s room at midnight.”
“You could’ve visited me,” Takahiro pouted dramatically. “But nooo, it’s always Taiki.”
Taiki, who had only just sat down with a neatly plated toast, immediately froze. His ears, already suspiciously pink when he walked in, turned a deep red.
“It was just talking,” Taiki tried, voice getting squeaky. “We were just talking.”
“You were so red when you opened the door last night,” Takahiro smirked, poking at his food. “And Sekai had a sexy little tousled look going on. Hair messy, shirt riding up…”
“I did not—!” Sekai groaned into his coffee, ears turning pink.
“I–I didn’t even know he was coming!” Taiki stammered, waving both hands. “It was really nothing! He just… he said he was bored!”
“Just bored, huh?” Kenchi leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Bored enough to forget he has his own hotel room?”
“He didn’t stay the night!” Taiki yelped, flustered beyond belief. “He left!”
“But not before some eventful memories, I imagine,” Shokichi added, barely holding back his laughter. “Didn’t I tell you to give them the same room, Takahiro-san?”
“I tried!” Takahiro laughed. “But the staff said they already booked the rooms. Besides, what’s more romantic than a midnight visit? You didn’t even knock, did you, Sekai?”
Sekai let out a long, slow breath through his nose. “I did knock. I’m not a barbarian.”
Taiki’s toast was now completely forgotten. His hand covered his mouth as if to hold in the steam rising off his face. “Seriously…” he mumbled, barely audible, “you’re all exaggerating…”
“But you’re blushing,” Takahiro said sweetly, and Taiki gave up. He dropped his head onto the table with a groan.
As if it wasn’t bad enough that Takahiro was relentless. Everyone had joined the game. Kenchi’s smug smile from across the room, Nesmith and Shokichi exchanging high-fives like proud uncles. Even Akira, who was usually the voice of reason, grinned quietly while scrolling through his phone like he was documenting Taiki’s reactions.
Only Sekai remained relatively composed, though his poker face had been tested to its limit.
Takahiro leaned toward Taiki and whispered dramatically, “Did Sekai kiss you?”
“No!” Taiki squeaked, trying to glare at his senior.
“Did you kiss him then?”
“NO!!!!!”
Sekai muttered lowly, “Will you stop it, Takahiro-san—”
“Not until you two finally hold hands in front of us.”
“We did hold hands!” Taiki blurted, then froze.
Shokichi howled.
Kenchi nearly dropped his coffee.
Sekai turned his head to glare at Taiki, eyes wide. “You’re not helping.”
“Oh my god,” Takahiro sighed dramatically, slapping the table. “This is better than any drama on Netflix.”
｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡
Eventually, after the chaotic breakfast concluded (with Takahiro pretending to cry into his omelette about ‘unrequited love’ because Taiki chose Sekai over him), the group gathered downstairs in the lobby, bags packed and ready for the drive to the airport.
A few black vans were parked just outside, the morning light shining across the sidewalk as staff bustled around with trolleys and gears.
As always, the youngest were unceremoniously shoved into the backmost row of the van. Sekai slid in first, his hoodie tugged low over his eyes to hide his expression. Taiki followed, arms clutching his tote bag and water bottle like a shield.
Once they sat down, side by side, a kind of fragile silence fell between them. The teasing from breakfast still lingered, floating between their shoulders like static electricity. But Sekai didn’t move away, and neither did Taiki.
By the time the van pulled onto the highway toward the airport, the mood inside had mellowed. Most of the members were half-asleep or staring at their phones. Outside the windows, Taipei flew by—streets lined with morning market stalls, scooters zipping between lanes, neon signs just beginning to flicker off in the early light.
Taiki peeked sideways.
Sekai looked like he was brooding, but when Taiki looked closely, he noticed something softer in his profile. Not quite a smile, not quite a smirk—something in between.
“Sekai-san,” Taiki said quietly, “Thank you for last night.”
Sekai glanced at him, mildly surprised by the sudden sincerity. “For what?”
“For… listening.”
Sekai let the silence settle for a moment, then leaned slightly closer. “Yeah.”
That was enough to make Taiki smile. A real, sincere one.
Then, exhaustion caught up to him.
He hadn’t truly slept after Sekai left his room. He had laid in bed, his heart thudding so loud it felt like a second pulse. His fingers had still felt Sekai’s warmth hours later. Now, in the quiet lull of the car and the steady rhythm of tires on the road, his body betrayed him.
He drifted off slowly, head swaying once before he unconsciously leaned sideways.
His cheek met Sekai’s shoulder.
Sekai stiffened for a beat—not because he was annoyed, but because the weight of Taiki’s head against him did things to his chest that he wasn’t ready to acknowledge at 7 AM.
He glanced down. Taiki’s eyes were shut, mouth slightly open. His arms, which had been folded around his bag, now gently slid to hug Sekai’s forearm like it was a pillow. Carefully, he shifted to get more comfortable—his head tipping slightly to rest on top of Taiki’s. They stayed like that for a while.
At one point, Sekai drifted too. His breathing softened. His hand relaxed on Taiki's knee. His head slumped just enough that his hair brushed against Taiki’s temple.
They arrived at the airport an hour later. The vans pulled into the private entrance, staff hopping out first to open doors and begin moving luggage. The members eventually began to stir.
“Oh, we’re here,” Shokichi mumbled, rubbing his face with both hands.
Nesmith groaned and stretched. “I hate early flights.”
Kenchi rolled his shoulder and yawned. “Let’s get moving, yeah?”
Akira, always the most alert, reached for his backpack before turning back to check if the back row was ready. But the moment he glanced over his shoulder, he stopped.
He blinked once.
Twice.
A slow, wicked grin spread across his face.
“Shokichi,” he said in a whisper. “Look.”
Shokichi leaned over and then wheezed.
Takahiro, curious, popped up behind him. When he saw the sight, he didn’t bother to hold back his laugh. “I KNEW IT!!!”
Sekai and Taiki were still sound asleep. Taiki had wrapped both arms tightly around Sekai’s, using it like the fluffiest body pillow. He looked completely peaceful. His hair was messy, his cheek was slightly squished. And worst of all—he had drooled a little.
Sekai, meanwhile, had fallen asleep on top of Taiki’s head. His hoodie had slipped back, revealing his sharp features. His jaw relaxed, his lips parted just slightly. The curve of his neck had dipped into Taiki’s space. They looked like a complete puzzle pieces.
“'Nothing happened', they said,” Nesmith snorted.
“Absolute liars,” Kenchi grinned.
Takahiro was already snapping several shots in burst mode. “For my personal collection and some future blackmails,” he said proudly. He immediately sent the photos to the EXILE LINE group, with the caption: ‘When shared destiny turns into shared drool.’
Shokichi crossed his arms, amused. “At this point, we should just book them a honeymoon suite next time.”
And right on cue, Sekai blinked awake.
He squinted at the bright sunlight, then realized where—and who he was leaning on.
And that everyone was staring and laughing.
Taiki stirred too not long after, groggily rubbing his eyes, then freezing when he realized the same thing. His face flared red in record time.
“S-Sorry!” he yelped, jerking upright, his head almost hitting the top of the car. He furiously wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “I didn’t mean to—!”
Sekai blinked, lifted his drooled-on sleeve, and stared at it blankly.
“Wow,” he said dryly. “My hoodie is pregnant now.”
“Sekai-san!”
“Morning, lovebirds!” Takahiro cheered.
At this point, they wouldn't believe any argument that Sekai and Taiki give. So Sekai just stay stilled, trying to maintain the poker face, while Taiki just surrendered to everything.
“I’m going to die,” Taiki muttered into his palms.
Satisfied teasing their youngest members—and realizing that the takeoff time was approaching, the older EXILE members finally piled out of the van. As they were finally focused on grabbing their carry-ons, Sekai silently looped a lazy arm around Taiki’s waist.
He leaned in close.
And in a low, teasing voice only Taiki could hear, whispered, “Your drooling face was adorable.”
Taiki slapped his arm and glared at him with the cutest blush ever.
END