VELVET CHAINS REVIVE

The rehearsal hall echoed with voices, camera clicks, and the anxious pacing of assistants. Models moved like shadows down the mock runway, clad in Luca and Ayden's designs — dark, sensual pieces layered in silk, leather, and vulnerability. The collection was called Caged Hearts, and every stitch told a secret.

Ayden stood beside Luca at the edge of the stage, arms crossed as he studied the rhythm of the walk, the swing of a jacket hem.

"That model's cadence is off," Ayden said tightly. "She's half a beat too fast."

Luca, tired but glowing with a strange excitement, smiled. "So we adjust her. We can't burn the whole show down because of one misplaced footstep."

Ayden exhaled through his nose. "I'm not trying to burn anything."

"You're trying not to fail."

Ayden shot him a look, sharp and guarded.

"I know that look," Luca said, voice low. "You're gearing up to push everyone harder — even though we're already past the brink."

Ayden glanced down at the runway again. "I've come too far to watch it fall apart."

Luca stepped closer, his shoulder brushing Ayden's. "Then let me carry some of it. You don't have to hold the world alone."

Ayden didn't respond right away, but his eyes flicked toward Luca — a silent thank you, hesitant and quiet.

A model tripped then — heels catching on the hem of her long velvet gown. Gasps filled the air. She scrambled to recover, cheeks flushed with shame.

Ayden took a step forward, but Luca beat him to it. Calmly, gently, he helped her up, fixed the train of her dress, and whispered something that made her smile again. The moment passed, but Ayden stared at him as if seeing him differently.

"You're... good with people," Ayden muttered.

Luca gave him a crooked grin. "And you're terrible with them. That's why we work."

Ayden rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide his smirk.

Later, in the dressing area, Ayden found himself alone, adjusting the collar of one of their signature coats — a high-necked piece with dagger lapels and gold threading that shimmered like veins. It had been his most vulnerable design.

Behind him, Luca leaned against the doorway, watching.

"You made that the night after your father called, didn't you?" Luca asked.

Ayden froze. "I don't want to talk about—"

"It's okay. You don't have to." Luca walked in, gently taking the coat from his hands. "But you should know... it's your best piece. Because it's honest."

Ayden's throat tightened. "I'm not used to people seeing through me."

"I don't see through you," Luca said, setting the coat down. "I see you."

And that broke something in Ayden — something cold, something tightly wound. He stepped forward, closing the space between them. Their kiss was slow this time, not fiery or rushed, but tender. Lingering. Like a promise.

In the quiet hours of early morning, Eden found himself in a place he never expected — the back of a tiny bookstore tucked into a corner of Montmartre. It smelled of old paper, candle wax, and faint vanilla. Ren had dragged him there after rehearsal, claiming he needed "a change of scenery."

Eden should have said no. He almost did. But something about Ren's tone — light yet oddly vulnerable — kept him from refusing.

Now, Ren was perched on a ladder, arranging poetry books, while Eden pretended to be interested in a worn copy of Les Fleurs du Mal.

"You ever read Baudelaire?" Ren asked from above.

"No."

Ren slid down the ladder with a flourish. "He's dramatic. Like you. It suits."

Eden narrowed his eyes. "You don't know me well enough to say that."

"Don't I?" Ren moved closer. "I know you like things quiet. I know your favorite color is charcoal. I know you memorize license plates when you're nervous."

Eden blinked. "You've been watching me."

Ren shrugged. "Only when you're not watching me back."

There was a long silence, filled only by the tick of the old clock on the wall.

"Why?" Eden asked finally. "Why keep pushing?"

Ren tilted his head. "Because I see something in you worth breaking for."

Eden's breath hitched.

And then — slowly, cautiously — he reached for Ren's hand.

They didn't kiss. Not yet. But Eden held on this time, fingers trembling slightly, like someone learning to swim in unfamiliar waters.

Back at the Venue

Night settled over the rehearsal space. Ayden and Luca stood by the window, Paris glittering behind them.

"Three days," Luca said.

Ayden nodded. "Three days."

Luca looked at him, serious now. "After this... no matter what happens, I want to take you somewhere quiet. Just us."

Ayden's smile was faint, but real. "You planning to kidnap me?"

"Rescue you," Luca corrected. "There's a difference."

They leaned into each other then — two creators, two lovers, wrapped in ambition, pain, and the raw hope of something real.