The school theater had long since emptied. Costumes hung half-zipped on the rack. Scripts were left splayed open on chairs. The stage lights had been shut off—except for one. A warm amber spotlight over center stage, buzzing softly.
Adrien sat cross-legged on the edge of the platform, still in costume, still breathless from the adrenaline.
Luka was in the front row, guitar resting on his thigh, tuning with practiced fingers. Every few seconds, he glanced up at Adrien—like he was memorizing the way the golden glow hit his hair.
"You ever stay this late after rehearsal?" Adrien asked, softly.
Luka strummed a soft E chord. "Sometimes. The quiet after all the noise feels… honest."
Adrien hummed. "Feels like you can breathe again."
Luka smiled. "Exactly."
Adrien lay back on the wooden stage, staring at the rafters. "You played that scene like it was real, Luka."
Luka's fingers paused over the strings. "And?"
Adrien didn't look at him. "Was it?"
A silence stretched between them.
Then Luka started playing—gentle, intimate. The notes were achingly soft, like secrets being told between chords. Adrien closed his eyes, feeling it settle over him like warm rain.
His heart thudded. "That's the song you wrote, right? From before?"
Luka nodded. "Yeah."
Adrien sat up slowly. "It' was ME, isn't it?"
Luka didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
The silence said it all.
Adrien blinked. His chest felt too tight. "I don't know what this is," he whispered. "I just know that when I'm near you, everything else gets louder and quieter at the same time."
Luka reached out.
Fingers brushed Adrien's—tentative, barely touching.
"I'm not asking you to know," Luka murmured. "I'm just asking you to feel it."
And for a second, Adrien thought he might kiss him.
And he would've let him.
But then Adrien's phone buzzed in his pocket—sharp, too real.
Father.
Adrien winced, drawing back. Luka watched him carefully.
"I have to go," Adrien said, standing too fast.
Luka nodded. "Be careful."
Adrien hesitated at the theater door, turned back, voice soft:
"Play that song again sometime… just for me."
Luka smiled. "Always."
Adrien stepped into the Agreste mansion, the door closing behind him with a soft thud. The lights were low. The silence—unsettling.
Nathalie stood at the base of the stairs. "Your father is waiting for you in the study."
Adrien nodded stiffly.
He found Gabriel standing by the fireplace, hands clasped behind his back, expression unreadable.
"You're late," Gabriel said.
"Dress rehearsal ran long."
A beat.
"I saw the photos from today's run-through," Gabriel continued, pulling up a projection from his tablet. A still image hovered in the air—Adrien and Luka on stage. Too close. Emotions spilling over. Heat in their eyes.
"I hope you remember," Gabriel said coolly, "that you're a public figure. People pay attention to how you behave. Who you spend time with."
Adrien's jaw tightened. "It's a school play. Not a scandal."
Gabriel turned to face him fully. "And he?" His voice dripped with warning. "This… musician. Luka Couffaine. You've been seeing him often."
Adrien's throat dried.
"He's my friend," he said, slow and measured.
Gabriel's gaze narrowed. "Friends don't make you forget who you're supposed to be."
Adrien blinked. "And who's that?"
Gabriel stepped forward, cold and sharp. "You are Adrien Agreste. My son. My legacy. I won't let you ruin everything because of feelings you don't even understand."
Something snapped.
Adrien's voice rose. "Maybe I don't understand them yet. But at least I feel them. Maybe that's more than I can say for you."
Gabriel froze. The tension in the room turned icy.
But Adrien didn't wait for a response.
He turned and walked out of the study, head held high—but inside?