After Ryu, Corsair, and Yone finally disappeared backstage—still buzzing, still riding that impossible high—the production crew sprang into action like a well-trained battalion. The elaborate pirate ship set was dismantled in record ti. Wooden panels were hauled away, rigging lowered, props whisked offstage with practiced efficiency. Crew mbers communicated in sharp hand signals and clipped murmurs through their headsets, sweat already forming as they raced against the clock.
Thankfully, the next performance required a far more minimal setup. No massive structures. No elaborate backdrops. Just light, atmosphere, and intention. Sparklers were carefully arranged. Lighting rigs recalibrated. The stage, once a roaring ocean, was stripped bare—reset and waiting to be reborn.
As the behind-the-scenes montage began to play on the massive screens, it gave the crew the precious minutes they needed to finish clearing the stage. And for the audience?
It was ti to et the next trio.
Eli. Monarch. Jordan.
The mont their faces appeared onscreen, the theatre and live stream erupted.
Eli's hoes and surfers scread like their lives depended on it, shrill and relentless. Monarch's na thundered from a sea of Filipino flags and voices chanting in unison, pride radiating from every syllable. And when Jordan appeared? A wave of cheers rolled through the venue—especially from fans within the spectrum, voices full of warmth, recognition, and love.
The montage opened with pure, unfiltered joy.
The three of them jumped up and down when they learned they were grouped together—Eli nearly tackling Monarch in excitent, Jordan laughing as he clapped his hands over his head in disbelief. It was imdiately clear why this trio worked: Eli and Monarch were vocal powerhouses, capable of emotional belts and raw intensity, while Jordan was a choreography alchemist—soone who could translate feeling into movent with uncanny precision.
Together, they felt dangerous.
Even the song assignnt felt like fate.
As the track played for the first ti in the practice room, the mood shifted. The ssage hit all three of them square in the chest. A song about slowing down. About pausing. About breathing when the world feels like it's spinning out of control.
And God—did that resonate.
Life inside LEAVEN was relentless. Constant rehearsals. Evaluations. Caras always watching. The unspoken fear that if you stopped moving for even a second, you'd be left behind. Forgotten. Replaced.
But this song whispered sothing else entirely.
You're allowed to breathe.
You're allowed to go at your own pace.
So the three of them did exactly that.
They took a break.
Eli, naturally, was the instigator—dragging Monarch and Jordan out of the dorms and straight to the beach. Surfboards under their arms, salty air in their lungs. Monarch was hesitant at first, Jordan visibly unsure, but both ended up enjoying it far more than they'd expected.
And the editors?
Oh, they knew exactly what they were doing.
Rushguards clinging to toned bodies. Slow-motion shots of them running across the sand. Eli shaking water out of his hair like he knew damn well what he was doing. Monarch erging from the ocean, sunlight catching on droplets rolling down his skin. Jordan laughing breathlessly as he wiped seawater from his eyes.
Fan service didn't just knock—it kicked the door clean off its hinges.
The internet lost its collective mind.
@FFonBio: Ho ma Lordt PLEASE have rcy! Yes! Hallelujer, an! 🤤
@Corn ⭐: I am thoroughly HYDRATED. Thank you boys for your service 🙏
@DivorcedLegs: If this is the Baywatch remake, I would live in the cinema until security drag out.
Next ca a quieter mont.
Jordan took Eli and Monarch on a late-night snack run—plastic bags crinkling, convenience store lights buzzing overhead. They returned to the dorms, sprawled across the couch, and put on a movie.
Of course, Jordan chose eldritch horror.
The comnts were imdiate.
@Totoro: This is such a cozy way of chilling omg. Also Jordan's taste in movies is S .
@Gilgash: Eldritch horror?? Jordan… a man after my thine heart.
@Hiro: Jordan I love you but WHAT THE FUCK is that movie. I'm not sleeping tonight 🥲
@Suke: OMG I'm eating the sa snacks they are right now 😭
The night ended with Monarch cooking dinner.
A real, hearty, homade al. Steam rising from bowls as they sat together at the table, laughing, talking over one another, just… existing. No competition. No pressure. Just three boys sharing food and stories.
The internet swooned.
@Rumi: Get you a man who can SING and COOK. Wine and dine please.
@Miley Circus: What do I have to do to deserve a man cooking for ???
-> @Edward Cullen: wdym? I always cook for you!
--> @Miley Circus: Your cooking tastes like shit. I love you but it had to be said 😘
---> @Edward Cullen: You're lucky I love you…
-----> @HanabishiHondaCivic: Respectfully, get a fucking room. So of us are single and suffering.
Without realizing it, Eli, Monarch, and Jordan had embodied the very heart of their song.
And when rehearsals began?
Everything clicked.
They worked seamlessly, each one compensating for the others' weaknesses. Vocals locked in. Timing sharpened. Emotional beats aligned. They bonded so deeply that they eventually started sleeping in the sa bed—limbs tangled, laughing until they passed out. So might've thought it strange.
To them, it was just brotherhood.
Their professional help arrived in the form of an award-winning band, there to provide live accompanint. The choice elevated everything—raw guitars, pounding drums, sound that breathed.
The choreography was intentionally simple. Almost deceptive.
Simple didn't an easy.
Every movent required absolute unity. One misstep, one person out of sync, and the whole thing would fall apart. They chose handheld mics, fully committing to the rock energy—no hiding behind headsets, no safety nets.
They practiced hard.
But just as importantly?
They played hard too.
Laughing after rehearsals. Teasing each other. Refusing to let the pressure of competition crush the joy out of the experience.
For once, they weren't running.
They were breathing.
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