The hotel room was dim, just city lights bleeding through the curtains. It was quiet—except for your breathing and the soft rustle of sheets as you rolled over to face him. Hair messy, one shoulder bare, his necklace hanging off your collarbone like it belonged there.

Lewis laid on his side, one arm under the pillow, watching you like you were a dream he wasn’t supposed to remember. Like he shouldn’t be here. But he always came back. Every time.

“You good?” he asked, voice low, soft in that way he only used with you. No press, no entourage, no team. Just him.

You nodded, giving a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. He caught it. You always tried to keep it cool, even here. Especially here.

“No one saw me come in.” You finally spoke, brushing your fingers through your hair.

“I know,” he said, reaching out, fingers grazing your waist, thumb tracing slow circles into your skin. “I told the front I was alone.”

That should’ve felt dirty—but it didn’t. It felt safe. Like your secret was the only place that felt real. The rest of the world didn’t know what this was. Maybe they wouldn’t understand. Maybe it was better that way.

“You ever think about what happens if it gets out?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

“All the time,” he admitted, eyes still locked on yours. “But then I see you like this, right here. And I know I’d risk it anyway.”

He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, like it could somehow keep the moment frozen. Just for the two of you. The world didn’t know. But Lewis did.

You were his peace. His secret. His problem he didn’t want to fix