The car door hissed open just outside K/DA HQ, and Seraphine stepped out—hair pulled back into a loose braid, pink-tipped strands dulled by stress. She clutched her tablet to her chest like a lifeline, expression caught somewhere between frustration and heartbreak.
Cole noticed her from the lounge window. She didn't bounce up the steps like usual. No hum on her lips. No wave to the cameras.
He met her at the front entrance.
"Hey," he said softly.
Seraphine looked up, eyes already glassy. "Hey…"
"You okay?"
She hesitated. Then shook her head.
Cole stepped aside. "Come on in."
They walked the hall in silence, the soft whir of the lights above the only sound between them until they reached the main lounge.
She sank onto the edge of the couch like she was afraid to take up too much space.
"My parents called," she said quietly. "Again."
Cole sat across from her, elbows on his knees.
"They're still saying I should drop K/DA. That it's too risky. That I should focus on solo work. They say I'm… blending into the background."
She rubbed at her eyes, voice cracking. "They don't get it. K/DA isn't just a brand. It's family."
Cole nodded slowly. "Have you told them that?"
"I try. But they don't listen. They just hear… noise."
He leaned forward. "Seraphine. You're not background. You shine in ways none of the others can. I've seen what you bring to the team—and what the team brings out in you."
Her lip quivered. "Then why does it feel like I have to choose?"
He let a beat pass before answering. "Because they're afraid. People who love us sometimes confuse control with protection. But you already made your choice, didn't you?"
She looked at him—really looked at him—and nodded. "Yeah. I did."
Cole smiled gently. "Then we've got your back. Every step."
A tear finally slipped down her cheek, and she gave him a grateful smile before wiping it away with her sleeve.
Just then, Akali poked her head in from the hall.
"Hey Cole" she said. "True Damage is waiting on us."
Cole stood, shooting Seraphine a look. "You want to come?"
She shook her head. "No. I'm okay. Go. They're important."
"You're important too," he said, squeezing her shoulder lightly before heading out with Akali.
___
They took Akalis bike to True Damages soundproof studio for meetings, recording sessions, and the occasional underground sparring match.
The doors parted with a soft ding, revealing a room charged with rhythm. Beats thumped low through the walls like the building had a heartbeat. Inside, True Damage had already gathered.
Yasuo leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, listening to music.
Ekko was perched on the edge of the mixing table, nodding along to a beat only he could hear.
Qiyana sat with her legs crossed on the corner couch, nails gleaming obsidian, eyes gleaming sharper.
Senna stood near the window, arms folded, watching the street like it might blink first.
Only one person spoke when they entered.
"Look who decided to bring backup," Yasuo drawled, a flicker of a smirk ghosting across his lips. "The K/DA maelstorm herself."
Akali cocked her head, lips quirking. "Jealous I've got better stage presence?"
"I've got a sword and a mixtape that say otherwise," he shot back.
"Cute," she replied. "Maybe we should duel and duet. See who gets the final cut."
Cole cleared his throat, stepping forward. "Is this your version of a warm welcome?"
Ekko grinned from his seat on the console. "Pretty much. Come on in, boss man."
Cole's entrance turned a few heads. No longer the outsider, he felt the weight of attention shift—not with suspicion, but measured interest. Respect. Maybe not complete, but real enough to feel.
He cut to the chase. "So what's the plan for the collab?"
Ekko spun his chair around and tapped a few keys. Holograms flickered to life—storyboards, scene sequences, rough color schemes, snatches of lyrics and choreography.
"We're building something slick," Ekko said. "High-concept, urban-fantasy grit. Think neon noir with beats that bite."
"It looks solid," Cole said, scanning the boards. "Do we have filming dates?"
Senna stepped in, arms crossed but expression calm. "Permits are in place for most locations. One venue's still… unofficial. But we've got ways around that."
Cole smiled. "I like your resourcefulness."
"You're here to keep things tight," Ekko said, hopping down from the table. "Especially with her." He nodded toward Akali.
Akali rolled her eyes. "One close call with a spray can and suddenly I'm public enemy number one."
"We're aiming for good press," Yasuo said, arms folded. "Your chaos has a place. Just not center stage."
Cole slipped an arm casually over Akali's shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll keep our ninja from starting an urban war."
Akali made a noise—half grunt, half scoff—but didn't pull away. Cole leaned in just enough for only her to hear.
"Think of it as quality time. You rap, dance, shoot your scenes. And after? We disappear and do something fun. Just us."
She tilted her head, eyes gleaming. "Yeah? I'd like that."
Yasuo groaned. "Okay, lovebirds, cut the flirting. We've got a video to shoot."
Cole shot him a grin. "Don't be salty, Yas. I'm sure there's a demographic out there that loves the whole 'brooding swordsman' vibe."
"I'm not brooding. I'm focused."
"Sure you are," Akali teased, smirking.
Ekko clapped once, redirecting attention. "Alright, enough banter. We've got schedules to keep and cameras that won't roll themselves." He gestured toward the glowing storyboard. "This vision's not gonna direct itself."
Cole nodded. "You good to go, Kali?"
Akali grabbed her helmet from a nearby bench. "Always. You ready to ride my bike again?"
Memories of hairpin turns and shattered speed limits flashed through his mind.
"…Sure."
She tossed him the helmet with a grin. "Try not to scream this time."
As they headed for the door, Akali turned back with a wink. "See you guys at the set."
"Ciao," Ekko called, already turning back to his monitors.
Yasuo muttered something about "amateurs and hormones," but no one was listening.
Author's Note:
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