A few days ago, he had told you that he needed someone at his side for the evening. Not for sentiment. For image.

Genesis loved performing. He really did. He was very passionate about it and a natural too, he knew exactly when to rest his hand against your back, when to lean in just enough.

It was easy to forget at times that it was only an arrangement. He never let his act falter, not even for a breath. The way he introduced you to influential strangers, the subtle pride in his tone when he spoke your name, the protective way he steered you away from conversations that turned dull, all of it seemed too effortless, too natural.

And when you two finally stepped out, the night was cooler than you expected. Without a word, he slipped his coat from his shoulders and draped it over you. It was not for show. There was no one watching now.

"Infinite in mystery is the gift of the goddess..." he said, his voice softer than it had been all night.

The quote from Loveless might have been nothing more than another flourish but the way he looked at you as he spoke made it feel like something else entirely.

For a moment, it was not about image or performance or even Genesis and his endless love of theatre. It was about the way he was looking at you as though you were the only part of the evening that had been real.