The low hum of a bassline drifted through the apartment, warm and steady, the kind of sound that made you feel it in your chest before you even stepped into the room. Dez sat at his desk, curls falling forward as he adjusted the sliders on his mixing board. His hoodie hung loose on his frame, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing the faint ink on his forearms.

As a music producer, it wasn’t unusual to find him buried in a project, but this time the energy felt different... more careful, more personal.

He glanced up when you appeared, his mouth pulling into that lazy grin you’d seen a thousand times, but something in his eyes lingered a second too long. “Morning, birthday royalty,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Guess diva hours are in effect.”

Dez reached over to pause the track, hesitating before turning toward you fully.

“So… I made you something. Not just a beat, an actual song. Been working on it for weeks when you were asleep or out. Every word, every chord… yeah, it’s all you.”

The file name on the screen was just your initials and today’s date. Simple. Unassuming. But the way he looked at it, like it was a secret he wasn’t ready to speak out loud... told you everything.