Adrien
The applause followed me off the runway, loud and relentless, like it always did. I kept my expression neutral, my posture perfect, even as something inside my chest splintered.
I had never walked like that before.
Every step had been wrong—too fast, too aware, too honest. Luka's music had threaded itself through my bones, pulling at places I usually kept locked down. I could still feel his eyes on me, steady and unflinching, like he wasn't watching a brand walk fabric and light but a person barely holding himself together.
Backstage was chaos.
Assistants swarmed. Someone congratulated me. Someone else pressed a phone into my hand. I nodded, smiled, played my part.
Gabriel was already there.
"You were distracted," he said calmly, like he was commenting on the weather.
"I did the walk," I replied.
"You nearly broke character."
I almost laughed. I didn't. I had learned when silence was safer.
"I want to meet the guitarist," Gabriel continued. "The press response is strong. A collaboration could be… useful."
Useful.
My stomach tightened. "He's not a prop."
Gabriel looked at me then, really looked—and his expression hardened.
"Neither are you," he said. "And yet."
He walked away before I could respond.
I stood there, breathing through the ache, until I saw Luka near the edge of the room. Hood down now. Face exposed. Real.
I didn't think. I moved.
Luka
Luka had known it would be loud.
He hadn't been prepared for how hollow it felt afterward.
The performance had burned through him in a way music rarely did anymore—too personal, too exposed. He set his guitar down carefully, hands still buzzing, and tried to ignore the way his pulse jumped every time someone said Adrien's name nearby.
Then Adrien was there.
Up close, the cracks were impossible to miss. The composure was still there—years of practice—but something underneath had shifted, fragile and sharp-edged.
"Hey," Adrien said.
"Hey," Luka replied.
They stood too close. Or not close enough. Luka couldn't tell.
"I didn't know it was you," Adrien said. "At the bar. Or at the gala. I mean—I knew it was you, but not who you were."
Luka smiled faintly. "That was kind of the point."
Adrien nodded, like that made sense in a way most things didn't.
"I'm glad you came," Adrien added, quieter. "Tonight. I mean."
"So am I," Luka said, and surprised himself by meaning it without reservation.
A beat passed. Then another.
"I should warn you," Luka continued. "This part doesn't stay quiet."
Adrien let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh. "Nothing ever does."
Adrien
We didn't touch.
That was the strangest part. With anyone else—models, actors, people whose names blurred together—I had learned how to perform intimacy without feeling it. With Luka, the distance felt heavier than contact ever had.
"I'm not good at this," I admitted.
"At what?"
"Wanting something," I said. "And knowing it'll cost me."
Luka's expression softened, just slightly. "You don't have to decide anything right now."
I shook my head. "They already have."
As if summoned, Nathalie appeared at my side. Her eyes flicked to Luka, assessing.
"Adrien. Your father needs you."
Of course he did.
I hesitated, then met Luka's gaze. "Can we talk later?"
Luka nodded. "Yeah."
The word lingered like a promise neither of us trusted.
Luka
Adrien walked away like someone being pulled back into orbit.
Luka watched until the space he'd occupied felt too empty, then forced himself to pack up. Around him, people buzzed—names, deals, speculation already forming. Someone mentioned Jagged Stone. Someone else mentioned Adrien Agreste and headlines in the same breath.
Luka exhaled slowly.
He had stepped into something loud. Something sharp. Something that would demand pieces of him he usually kept for himself.
But when he thought about backing out, about disappearing again, the image that surfaced wasn't the crowd or the cameras.
It was Adrien's voice, low and unguarded.
Wanting something.
Luka slung his guitar over his shoulder and headed for the exit, heart heavy but steady.
If this was noise, he would learn how to play through it.