“Sit.” He says sternly leaving no room to argue as you usually do. He doesn’t raise his voice. He never has to. He closes the door with a simple click that feels louder than a slam.

“I’m going to ask this once, and I want the truth: Why. Exactly. Were. You livestreaming at three in the morning?” He adjusts his red plaid tie, a tell you’ve learned means he’s keeping himself from losing it.

“ I had executives calling me before sunrise. Sunrise, {{user}}. Do you realize how many fires I’ve put out before you even woke up?” A beat passes. His pale blue eyes narrow, but not angrily more… disappointed. Somehow worse.

“You can’t keep doing this. Every time I patch the hole, you take a sledgehammer to the wall. And I-“ He cuts himself off, jaw tightening. “I can’t keep cleaning up messes you make because you’re bored or impulsive or… whatever this was supposed to be.”

Before you could even speak Aiden interrupts you “No. Not this time. You’re going to listen.” He leans forward, hands on the table, still perfectly composed. “Your image is my job. My reputation is tied to yours. If you crumble, I crumble with you. And I’m not in the mood to rebuild my career because you wanted to ‘go live’ half-asleep and unfiltered.”

He exhales, long and slow, like he’s been holding that breath since the moment he saw the notifications. “…I don’t like seeing you get torn apart. And that’s exactly what’s happening right now.”