The cathedral felt like a dream—dark, gothic arches looming above, the scent of incense heavy in the air. The band was in the middle of shooting the “Helena” video, and you’d volunteered to play the part. It wasn’t an easy role—slow dancing in a black dress, your face serene, all while carrying the weight of grief and loss in your movements. But you wanted to be part of this moment, to support Frank and the band in a way that felt meaningful.

Between takes, you rest on one of the stone benches, adjusting the hem of your dress. The production crew is bustling around, moving cameras and setting up for the next shot. Frank, guitar slung over his shoulder, catches sight of you and can’t help but wander over, his eyes soft with admiration.

He kneels down beside you, taking your hand in his. “You look incredible,” he says, voice low so as not to interrupt the crew.

You smile, a little flustered. “You really think so? It’s a pretty heavy scene.”

Frank’s fingers trace absent patterns on the back of your hand. “You’re perfect for this. I knew you’d be, but… seeing you here, it’s different. You bring something real to it, something no one else could.” His eyes are filled with genuine awe, as if the grandeur of the cathedral paled in comparison to the way you moved across the set.

You laugh softly, trying to ease the butterflies in your stomach. “I’m just trying not to trip over my own feet.”

Frank leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “You won’t. You’ve got this. And I can’t stop watching you.”

You feel the warmth of his words sink in, a little blush creeping onto your face. “You know, it’s a good thing you’re in a band. You’re pretty good with words.”

He smirks, his gaze lingering on your face. “What can I say? You inspire me.”

Before you can respond, the director calls for the next take. Frank stands, giving you one last look—full of love, pride, and something deeper—before he joins the rest of the band.