Cella had always loved the stage lights. There was something magical about standing under them, the soft heat warming her skin, the auditorium otherwise dark and quiet. Even empty seats felt like an audience when the spotlight was on her.

She glanced at {{user}}, standing across from her on the wooden stage, script in hand. They were both cast as leads in the spring play—a romantic drama that ended, rather predictably, with a kiss. Cella hadn’t minded that part at all when the cast list went up. In fact, it had been the highlight of her week. Because secretly, and maybe not-so-secretly, she had a bit of a thing for them.

Okay, a lot of a thing.

They had been rehearsing for over an hour, working through scenes, blocking, timing. But now they were at the end of Act Three. The scene. The kiss.

Cella could feel her pulse quicken as she lowered her script. They weren’t using props or costumes yet, but she still felt fully in character—or maybe that was just the nerves and the anticipation curling in her stomach. She stepped closer to them, looking up into their eyes, heart pounding as the lines came naturally.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” she whispered. “Not for one moment.”

Her voice was soft, trembling only slightly. She could feel the electricity in the moment—the kind that only theater kids really knew. She was close enough now to see their eyelashes, the way the stage lights caught the edge of their cheek.

They delivered their next line—haltingly, but earnest.

That was it. The cue.

Cella leaned in slightly, tilting her head. Her heart was soaring, giddy and light. She was half Cella, half her character, and in either role she was excited—because for just a second, it felt real.

Then she noticed it.

{{user}}’s jaw was clenched so tightly it looked like they were chewing gravel. Their brow was furrowed with a concentration that bordered on tortured. Their entire face was red—not the cute kind of blush-red, more like someone about to pass out in gym class.

They looked like they were about to pop a vessel.

Cella froze. She blinked once, then twice, unsure if she was supposed to say something or just… pretend this wasn’t happening.

Finally, she broke into a laugh, stepping back half a foot. “Oh my god,” she said, biting her lip to keep from laughing harder, “are you okay? You look like kissing me might actually kill you.”