"…Walking on water?" Lan Yu looked at the stage that showed just above the surface.

It was the first day of filming their debut MV. They had all arrived early, got hair and makeup done, and were waiting backstage.

"We're shooting the most important part of the MV today. You all know our title track is 'Walking On Water,' so in the chorus there will be a sequence where you dance in sync on the water's surface. We'll film that portion first today." The director came over to the members and briefly explained the day's task.

Lan Yu looked over the set. In the middle of the huge pool, he could just make out a small platform; a thin skin of water lay over it, easy to lose from sight unless he looked hard. Which meant they would be doing almost the entire routine in the water.

"Feels like our shoes are going to be ruined," Lan Yu said, half helplessly. Now he finally understood why the stylist had looked so grim when changing him earlier.

But more than worrying about their outfits getting soaked or ruined, he was worrying about how they were going to pull the performance off on this stage. Lately they'd been made to practice with sandbags tied to their wrists and ankles—clearly to prepare for dancing in water—but, likely for the sake of the shot, the platform hidden under the surface was far too narrow; one careless step and it would be easy to slip off the edge.

"Yu, are you nervous?" When Lan Yu looked up he realized Luke had come over at some point. "You've been staring at the stage."

"Leader-nim's not nervous?" At that moment Lan Yu really couldn't pretend to be calm.

"We practiced a long time for this, right?" Luke leaned a little closer to Lan Yu, setting both hands on his shoulders as if lightly holding him.

"We've never actually danced on the water, though—and on something this narrow." Maybe it was the nerves taking over, but Lan Yu didn't notice Luke's small gesture and just kept talking.

"But isn't this exactly what all those hours of practice were for?" Luke's tone didn't change; only his hands on Lan Yu's shoulders seemed to hold a touch more firmly.

At this point, failing to pick up on Luke's touch would've been more than a little slow. Still, the comfort did ease him a little. "Rehearsal and a real performance aren't the same, you know?"

Luke answered without missing a beat, smiling, "Exactly—we should do even better in the real thing."

Lan Yu couldn't help laughing. "Sometimes I'm really curious how Leader-nim ends up with takes like that."

"You mean my way of thinking is weird?" Luke tilted his head.

"No. It's just not how I'd ever frame it." Talking with Luke did keep him from staring at the stage, and the anxiety ebbed.

"Let's go." Kaede passed by Lan Yu and, whether on purpose or not, hooked his fingers against Lan Yu's palm.

"Okay—" Lan Yu immediately followed after him, clearly forgetting he'd been nervous a second ago while talking to Luke.

Luke stood where he was for a moment, watching Lan Yu walk onto the stage; when the others had taken their marks, he went up too and stood center.

When all the lights hit that platform floating on the water, the refraction off the surface reminded every member, every second, that they would have to rely entirely on the muscle memory drilled into them thousands of times; there would be no chance to glance down and check their spots.

"Three, two, one—action!" At the clap of the slate, the chorus they'd heard countless times flooded the set, the heavy drums driving the track to its peak.

"'Cause forgetting you is walking on water."

On the stress of "because," everyone stamped in unison to kick up a sheet of water, then swept it away with a quick leg, as if erasing the ripple the instant it rose.

"Please don't gimme your cold shoulder."

As everyone turned their backs to the camera, leaving only a cheek angled back over a shoulder, Luke moved back quickly on his marks, and Kaede Fujiwara stepped into center.

"We used to say it didn't matter,

Even when we were fighting each other."

Almost the instant his profile met the lens, Kaede's gaze pinned it; his look made the harmony read not as "cold shoulder," but as "cold beholder." He brushed his right hand over his shoulder, as if dusting off settled snow. And when he turned to hum his two lines, his sliding hands were like drawing back a curtain—laying a brutal battle bare.

"I still believed it would get better—"

But it was only Lan Yu who stepped out from behind that curtain, taking over center from Kaede. Unlike Kaede's chill, and unlike Luke's warmth, every step Lan Yu took toward the camera seemed to announce the end of the war. He hadn't come to deliver the joy of victory, nor to weep over the cruelty of the fight; he was only here to declare that it was over.

It wasn't the feeling the director most wanted; this line clearly ought to read as a lingering attachment, a fantasy that things could begin again, while Lan Yu seemed to be saying he'd never thought there was a "future" to begin with.

Before the director could call "Cut!", an accident beat him to it: as Lan Yu stepped off center to switch positions, the sole of his shoe suddenly slipped. He lost his balance and went straight down.

Ah—I'm going to fall. The moment Lan Yu realized it, he also realized it was too late; there was nothing he could do to save it. He could only hope he wouldn't hit too hard. That hope shattered with the stab that tore up his back.

This is a little bad. He felt people crowd in around him all at once; waves of noise crashed into his ears, but he couldn't catch any of it. The scene in front of him, inside the clamor, blurred further and further. Someone drew close and shouted something at him, but he could no longer make it out; his line of consciousness had already snapped under the pain slamming into him.

When he opened his eyes again, he was on a hospital bed. Lan Yu quickly replayed what had just happened and realized he must have been rushed to a nearby hospital after the fall. He tried to sit up—and a stabbing pain shot through his waist.

Oh. Hurt my back, he thought.

"Lan Yu, you're awake. How do you feel?" The manager's face appeared at the bedside.

"I—" Lan Yu had meant to say "okay," but before the words reached his lips, the stab at his side reminded him he wasn't. "Not great," he decided to tell the truth.

The manager didn't answer him. He was staring at an incoming call that had been stuck on "in progress." Even though it was blurry, Lan Yu caught a glimpse of the CEO's name.

"But I can keep shooting." Lan Yu broke the manager's stare at the phone with his own and spoke so flatly there was no room for reply—though he didn't think the manager would say much else right now anyway.

When Lan Yu appeared back on set with the manager, the place, already thrown into chaos by the accident, churned up again. In a second, all the members surged forward and gathered around him.

"Yu? You came back?" Seeing Lan Yu reappear on set, Luke looked shocked; he was the first to run up.

"Yu, can you really do this?" Luke was the first to speak.

"They gave me a nerve block. I can hold on and get it done for now." Lan Yu answered like he was giving a status report, without much feeling in it.

Hearing that clearly made Luke anxious. "Don't force yourself! Yu, you know better than anyone how hard you just fell, don't you!? Isn't what you need most right now rest?"

"If I rest, what happens to our shoot? This isn't something everyone can pause to wait for me, and it's not something that can be fixed with pickups later. There's no reason to hold up everyone's work just so I can lie down." Lan Yu didn't look at anyone while he said it, but he knew he was speaking loud enough for the manager beside him—and the director behind the members—to hear it clearly.

"Yu, what are you even saying! Isn't your body the most important thing?!" Luke raised his voice again; clearly this wasn't the answer he'd expected.

"Of course not." Lan Yu met Luke's eyes. "Leader-nim, isn't this something you should know better than I do? The moment we became 'idols,' 'we' had already stopped belonging to ourselves."

"Yu, you—" Luke was so angry he started to stammer. Realizing he couldn't talk Lan Yu down, he reached for backup. "Kaede, aren't you going to help talk sense into him? Can you really stand to watch him film hurt like this?" He turned pleading eyes to Kaede.

Kaede simply met Luke's gaze without expression, then looked lightly at Lan Yu. "What standing do either of us have to tell him otherwise?"

"Kaede? What do you mean by that?" Luke hadn't expected that answer either. "Aren't you and he—"

"Does being close give us the right to go against his wishes?" Kaede turned his head and looked at Luke, cutting him off.

"But doesn't it hurt you to see him this badly injured?"

"It does." Kaede didn't look at Luke, who was practically hopping with agitation; his eyes stayed on Lan Yu. "And then?"

"And then? God, Kaede, what are you even saying?!" Luke grabbed Kaede by the shoulders and turned him to face him. "Shouldn't you be telling him not to push himself? What if he gets hurt worse?!"

"If Yu wants to keep filming, on what basis do I stop him?"

"…I don't get it. You're not worried something will happen to someone you care about?"

"I care. I also care about his choice."

"…Even if that choice hurts him?"

"At the very least, it's his choice."

Everyone present could smell the gunpowder thickening between them. Lan Yu sighed and had to step in to ease it. "Okay, okay—Leader-nim, niisan, why make it so tense? If we knock this out fast, I can get some rest sooner."

"…Why are you doing this?" Luke moved his eyes back to Lan Yu; his voice sounded a little pained.

"…" Realizing he couldn't brush it off with some easy excuse, Lan Yu paused and answered seriously: "Because I don't want to be a burden." With that, he headed back up onto that narrow stage above the water.

Luke stood there, watching the light refract off the water and strike Lan Yu's face. In the ripple-light, it was impossible to read what Lan Yu's expression meant.