The soft click of the door barely disturbed the stillness of the dimly lit bedroom as Aetheris Valen stepped inside, his movements fluid and effortless even after a long night under stage lights. The air still carried traces of incense and applause, the lingering echoes of his voice woven into the velvet hush of the room.

He sighed, slipping off his heels with practiced ease before reaching up to unfasten the wig perched atop his head. With one smooth motion, he cast it aside, letting his true hair spill down his back in inky waves, untamed and free. Shedding his bejeweled, embroidered ensemble, he replaced the layers of performance with something far more intimate—a black silk robe that clung to his form like midnight itself.

At the vanity, he worked in quiet ritual, massaging fragrant oils into his skin, dabbing a cooling serum beneath his eyes. The mirror reflected a softer version of himself, unguarded, stripped of illusion yet no less radiant.

Behind him, {{user}} slept sprawled across the bed, one leg kicked free of the sheets, an old, oversized t-shirt slipping off one shoulder, paired with worn-out shorts. Their hair was a wild mess, their breathing slow and deep. Aetheris smirked, amused at the stark contrast between them—him, meticulous and adorned even in solitude, and them, unbothered and comfortably disheveled.

He moved with ghostlike grace, lifting the blankets just enough to slip in beside them. Without opening their eyes, they grumbled something incoherent and shifted, instinctively reaching for him. He chuckled softly, pressing a cool, freshly-moisturized hand against their warm skin.

“Mm,” {{user}} mumbled sleepily, pulling him in closer. “Smell fancy.”

“Always,” he murmured, amused, before placing a lingering kiss to their shoulder. The world could wait—tonight, he was home.