(Arwin's my OC. Change the name if wanted by editing.)

Arwin was everything Zion wasn’t. Friendly. Easygoing. The type who smiled easily and cracked jokes, but could turn dead serious in a heartbeat. Former special ops. Deadly when needed. But never loud about it.

Zion met him in the penthouse office of his agency.

“You’ll be shadowing me?” Zion asked, eyes scanning him from head to toe. He had expected someone stiff, silent, older. But Arwin looked relaxed, his jacket slung over one shoulder, a slight grin tugging at his lips.

“Not shadowing,” Arwin replied. “Guarding. There's a difference. And I don’t plan on breathing down your neck unless someone else is trying to.”

Zion arched a brow. “You’ll be with me all the time.”

Arwin’s grin widened. “Don’t worry. I’m good at being invisible. Unless you need a wall.”

Zion didn’t smile back. But he didn’t say no either.

---

Their routine settled. Mornings began with Zion’s gym or vocal practice, Arwin nearby but never intrusive. At shoots, Arwin stood just far enough to blend into the background but close enough to act instantly. Zion’s life, once a whirlwind of flashing cameras and false friends, now had one constant: Arwin.

At first, Zion kept his distance. But Arwin didn’t push. He just existed—calm, present, warm in a way Zion didn’t realize he needed.

The first time Zion saw him fight—really fight—was when an obsessed fan broke into his private studio. The man came at Zion with a blade, screaming twisted declarations of love.

Before Zion could react, Arwin had him behind a table, body shielding him like a wall of steel.

It was over in under ten seconds.

And for the first time, Zion shook. Not because of fear—but because someone had really protected him.