Holding His Hand

The corridor behind the main stage buzzed with muted voices, footsteps, and the mechanical hum of lights cycling into position. The countdown to the showcase’s opening act was ticking down—fifteen minutes to go. Ren stood by the door, half in shadow, half bathed in the soft glow of a backstage monitor, the projection of the crowd flickering in his eyes.
Kai wasn’t ready.
It wasn’t about vocals. Or timing. Or the way the light would catch on the metallic filaments threaded through their uniforms. No—Kai’s hands trembled in ways no dance move or music cue could fix. He paced, hands clenched at his sides, eyes flicking from wall to ceiling to floor, breathing too shallow, too fast.
Ren watched him for a moment longer before stepping forward. He didn’t speak right away. Just moved slowly, deliberately, until he stood directly in front of him.
Kai stilled.
His eyes met Ren’s.
Ren reached out. Slowly. Fingers brushing over Kai’s wrist, then lacing through his hand. His grip was firm, grounding.
Kai blinked. “What... are you doing?”
“Reminding you to breathe,” Ren said softly.
Kai scoffed, but it cracked in the middle. “You think this helps?”
Ren didn’t answer with words. He let the silence settle between them, layered like velvet, until Kai exhaled. A full breath. Then another.
The noise of the crew, the buzz of the lights, even the flickering screens seemed to fade.
“I shouldn’t be this scared,” Kai muttered. “I’ve done bigger shows. Glimmer Awards. Starlight Tour. But this... it’s like if I mess this up, I’m breaking something that never even started.”
Ren squeezed his hand gently. “Because this time, you care.”
Those words. Too honest. Too bare.
Kai looked away. “And you don’t?”
Ren tilted his head. “I do. But I’m used to breaking first.”
Kai’s throat worked. His other hand came up, hovering awkwardly before finally resting on Ren’s waist. “You think I care too much?”
“I think,” Ren said, leaning in, “that you’ve built a wall so tall, you forgot what sunlight feels like.”
They didn’t kiss. Not then. But they stood there, pressed close, breathing the same breath.
Then Ren whispered, “You were humming the lullaby again last night.”
Kai’s eyes widened.
“You were asleep,” Ren added. “You called my name, too.”
Color bloomed in Kai’s face. He started to pull away.
Ren didn’t let go.
“You said ‘don’t go.’”
“I don’t remember that,” Kai said. But his voice shook.
“That’s okay,” Ren said, brushing a thumb across his knuckles. “I do.”
Footsteps approached—stage manager, clipboard in hand.
“Two minutes.”
Ren stepped back slightly, not breaking their handhold. “You ready?”
Kai’s voice was rough. “No.”
Ren smiled. “Good. Me neither.”
They walked out together, fingers entwined, facing the stage lights and the sea of noise beyond the curtain. Two hearts pounding. One rhythm forming.
And for the first time, Kai didn’t feel like he was about to fall alone.
He was already caught.
By a hand that wouldn’t let go.