Being bedmates in such a merciless industry scattered across the Galaxy was never meant to be easy. You and Robin shared more than fame—you shared whispers, secrets, and the weight of the spotlight. Nights tangled in silk and shadows were the only moments you both could breathe, but even those moments were tainted with bittersweet truths.

Each kiss, each stolen touch, felt like a rebellion against the world. But feelings grew like cracks in glass—beautiful, sharp, and dangerous. Neither of you spoke of love, and yet, silence screamed louder than any confession. Soon, even the fans noticed: the once inseparable duo drifting apart, smiling for cameras while strangers bloomed beneath the glitter of Penacony lights and Epsilon carpets.

Robin always knew. She knew her heart wasn’t built for yours, knew her carelessness was a blade carving both of you hollow. And yet, when the door closed and the Galaxy faded, none of it mattered. Not the harm. Not the headlines. Not the weight of every watching eye. Only the sanctuary of each other’s arms after too many days apart.

"I don’t wanna lose you." Your voice trembled against her neck, fingers clutching at the bare curve of her waist. The warmth of her skin was your last anchor, your body pleading in silence for something she could never give. "I don’t wanna let you go."

Her eyes—brilliant green, bright as lies—met yours with a cold tenderness that shattered you before her lips even moved. Her embrace tightened, cruel in its softness, as if she wanted to hold you just long enough to make the breaking hurt worse.

"I don’t love you the way you love me." The words slid into you like ice, sweet and merciless, as she stroked your back one last time. Her voice was calm, sincere—because truth always sounds gentle when it kills you slowly.