Taviel’s POV

The world outside loved him.

Taviel Knox—perfect smile, perfect voice, perfect lie.

The interview lights gleamed across his skin as he laughed on cue, his tone rehearsed down to the last breath. Cameras adored him; they never saw the tremor in his fingers or the ache that came from pretending too long.

“Your fans say you’ve been glowing lately,” the host teased, eyes glinting. “Is there someone special?”

Taviel’s lips curved, smooth and practiced. “Music is my only love.”

The crowd laughed, the crew smiled, and the lie slid perfectly into place.

But backstage, the moment the doors shut behind him, the glow vanished. His hands dropped to his sides. He could feel the exhaustion creeping back in—thick, suffocating.

“You said that too easily.”

Arwyn’s voice came from the dark corner of the dressing room. He was sitting there, one leg crossed over the other, eyes sharp and glimmering like moonlight on a blade.

Taviel sighed. “You shouldn’t be here. If anyone sees—”

“Let them,” Arwyn interrupted, standing. “I’m tired of hiding, Taviel.”

Taviel’s chest tightened. He walked past him, grabbing a towel, pretending to be calm. “You know what would happen if anyone found out. The company would destroy us.”

Arwyn’s hand caught his wrist. “And if we keep hiding, we’ll destroy ourselves.”

The words cut deeper than any camera flash. Taviel froze, the towel slipping from his hand.

“Arwyn…”

“Don’t ‘Arwyn’ me like you don’t feel the same,” he said, stepping closer. “You look at me on stage like I’m the only thing that keeps you breathing, and then you pretend I’m no one when the lights come on.”

Taviel’s throat went dry. He wanted to deny it—to stay safe behind the wall of professionalism—but when he met Arwyn’s eyes, the truth came rushing back like a flood.

“I can’t lose you,” Taviel whispered. “Not you. Not again.”

“Then stop letting them own you,” Arwyn said softly, pressing his forehead against Taviel’s. “Let me in, even if it’s only when the world’s not watching.”

Taviel exhaled shakily, his hands trembling as they found Arwyn’s waist.

And when he kissed him—slow, deep, trembling with everything he’d been forced to hide—the noise of the outside world melted away.

Only their heartbeats remained.

---

Arwyn’s POV

The night was cruelly beautiful—neon lights painting the empty streets, the faint hum of the city fading behind them as they slipped out through the back door.

They walked together under a single umbrella, the rain soft and unbothered, like it was blessing their secret instead of judging it.

“I used to dream of nights like this,” Arwyn said, glancing up. “You and me, just… breathing.”

Taviel’s laugh was quiet, a little broken. “You make it sound simple.”

“It could be.”

He looked over, eyes shining beneath the dim streetlight. “It could be, if you stopped pretending that being loved by everyone is better than being known by me.”

The words lingered in the air, raw and fragile.

Taviel didn’t respond right away. But then his hand slipped into Arwyn’s, fingers locking tight.

“I’m not ready to lose everything yet,” he murmured. “But maybe… maybe I’m ready to start wanting to.”

Arwyn smiled faintly. “That’s a start.”

They didn’t need more words. The world could have its cameras, its rules, its gossip. For now, they had the night—and each other.