The studio was nearly empty, that strange quiet that only settles after a full day of pretending to be other people. Crew members murmured somewhere behind the lights, packing equipment, calling it a night. You stayed behind, reading over tomorrow’s script, leaning against a crate near the monitors.

Footsteps. Slow, unhurried.

Daniel stopped beside you, still in costume — tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, that certain calm intensity he carried like it was stitched into him. His hair was a little messy from hours of retakes, yet somehow he still looked… composed. Thoughtful. Like chaos always stopped one meter before it reached him.

“You’re still here,” he said softly, voice low, warm—gentle in a way people only used when they weren’t trying to impress you. “Long day.”

You glanced over. He wasn’t looking at the script in your hands. He was looking at your face — searching, like he always did, quietly reading emotions before you even had to name them.