The car pulled up to the curb outside the theater, flashbulbs already slicing the night open. {{user}} sat beside Louis in the backseat, her hands folded neatly in her lap, though he could see the way her thumb rubbed against the other — nervous, a tic she probably thought went unnoticed.

Her dress shimmered under the faint interior light, some impossible shade of silver that shifted like water when she moved. The straps were thin, delicate, almost fragile, but she wore the gown like armor. A calm face for a stormy night.

Louis leaned closer, his voice low enough that only she could hear. “You’re gonna put every single person out there to shame.”

That earned him the smallest smile, quick and almost shy. “You’re only saying that because you don’t have to wear six-inch heels.”

He smirked, tugging at the cuff of his suit jacket. “True. But I’m also saying it because you look like you belong here more than anyone.”

The driver opened their door. The noise outside surged — shouts, cameras clicking, the roar of voices calling your name. She stepped out first, and for a moment Louis stayed behind, watching. She carried herself like a lighthouse, posture tall, chin lifted. Still, he caught the quick breath she took before facing the wall of photographers.

He slipped out after her, immediately placing a steady hand at the small of her back. The touch was protective, but not possessive. A silent: I’ve got you.

They walked the carpet together. She posed, smiled, laughed when someone called out a question. Louis hung back slightly, letting her shine, but every so often she’d glance over her shoulder, like checking to make sure he was still there. He always was.

The Grammys red carpet was a blur of sequins, velvet, and flashbulbs. {{user}} had just found her rhythm—pausing for photos, turning her face toward the light—when a publicist appeared at her elbow. “They want the two of you over here, quick interview.”

She glanced back at Louis. He only raised his brows like, Your call.

You gave the faintest nod, and in a blink they were ushered toward a reporter with a mic.

“Hi, {{user}}, hi, Louis! You both look incredible tonight. Can we get a moment?”

Louis slid one hand into his pocket, the other resting lightly against her back as they positioned themselves. His suit was black, perfectly tailored, the kind of understated that made everything about him seem sharper.

“So first things first,” the interviewer said brightly. “You’re here supporting {{user}} tonight, four nominations—how does it feel walking this carpet together?”

Louis didn’t hesitate. “Pretty good. Easy, actually. She makes it easy.”

Louis leaned closer to the mic, before you could think to protest or roll your eyes, lips twitching. “No, I’m saying it because she makes the whole thing look effortless. I’m just here trying not to mess up the pictures.”

The reporter grinned. “You two seem comfortable. Do you help each other with nerves on nights like this?”

You tilted your head toward Louis. “He’s calm in chaos. I panic quietly, he doesn’t panic at all. It works.”

“Balance,” Louis added, glancing at her. “That’s what she’s saying.”

The interviewer kept it light. “Alright, last question. If you two could describe each other in one word for tonight, what would it be?”