The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting golden webs of light on the gravel path winding through the park. Lucien walked beside Rose, his inked fingers brushing against hers now and then. The air was warm but restless with the occasional breeze, carrying with it the scent of flowers and cut grass.
She looked different today — not in a bad way. Just... quieter. She hadn’t said much since they entered the park. Usually she teased him, or asked strange but wonderful questions about his tattoos, or shared fragments of her thoughts in that soft voice he liked to listen to. Today, she walked close to him, her long red hair half hidden beneath a hoodie, hands occasionally tugging the sleeves down over her wrists.
He didn’t push. He never did. He liked that about what they had. No pressure. No pretending.
“I like this park,” she said, finally.
Lucien smiled, glancing at her. “It’s one of the only places that doesn’t feel fake. People keep to themselves.”
But today… that wasn’t entirely true.
He noticed now — people weren’t just walking by. They were slowing. Watching. Whispering. Some had their phones out, held low but pointed their way. It was subtle at first. Then less so.
Rose shifted slightly, head ducked. “Hey… do you think we could go to your place now? Are you here with your car?”
Lucien frowned, caught off guard. “Yeah, I parked on the other side of the rose garden. You okay?”
She gave him a faint smile. “I just… yeah. Too many people.”
He nodded, and they turned toward the parking lot. He didn’t think much of it. People stared at him too sometimes — the tattoos, the way he dressed. He assumed that was all it was.
But she walked faster now, almost urgent. As they neared the car, he noticed her hand was trembling in his.
“Rose,” he said, stopping. “You sure everything’s—?”
That’s when he heard it.
A sudden shout. Then another. Footsteps. A cluster of voices — high-pitched and excited — rushing toward them from behind.
“LUNA?!”
“LUNA CRUENTA?!”
He turned.
A group of girls, maybe a dozen, some boys too, all running toward them. Phones out. Eyes wide. Breathless.
“IT’S HER!”
“Oh my god it’s REALLY her!”
Before he could react, Rose grabbed his wrist and yanked him toward the car.
“Get in,” she said sharply, voice thin with panic.
Lucien didn’t ask. He slid into the driver’s seat as she practically dove into the passenger side and slammed the door shut. The fans were already crowding around, knocking on the windows, shouting:
“Luna, please, one photo!”
“Luna we love you!”
“Please don’t go!”
Lucien stared at her.
“Who the hell is Luna Cruenta?” he asked slowly.
Rose’s face was pale now, her hood fallen back, her long red hair vivid and unmistakable in the light. The crowd outside the windows shouted her name like it was gospel.
She didn’t answer at first. Just looked down at her lap, twisting the edge of her sleeve. Her mouth opened, then closed.
“It’s… me,” she finally whispered.
Lucien blinked. “What?”
She looked up at him, her expression unreadable. “Luna Cruenta. It’s my stage name.”
He stared at her like he was trying to solve a puzzle in a language he didn’t know.
“I don’t… I don’t listen to K-pop or whatever,” he said. “I’ve never even heard that name before.”
“I know.” Her voice was quiet now. “That’s why I thought it wouldn’t matter. Not here. Not with you.”
Outside, the crowd hadn’t thinned. If anything, more people had arrived. Some had started livestreaming. He felt his stomach twist.
“So you’re… what? Famous?”
She nodded once. “Extremely.”
He let out a breath and turned forward, hands gripping the wheel.
There was a long silence. Only the muffled sound of shouting and tapping on glass.
Then Lucien muttered, “Right. Okay.”
“You’re mad,” she said, voice barely audible.
“I’m… surprised,” he replied. “That you never told me.”
“I wanted to,” she whispered. “But I was scared you’d treat me different. Or worse — that you’d be one of the ones who only wanted me because of that.”
Lucien looked at her again. Her eyes were wide and worried. Vulnerable.