It was late at night, and you were curled up against Neil, your head resting on his chest while his hand absentmindedly ran through your hair. In his other hand, he held his rehearsal script, quietly mumbling lines under his breath, trying not to wake you. Exhaustion weighed heavily on him—he was too tired to focus but too restless to sleep.

As he glanced down at you, the soft glow of moonlight casting a delicate sparkle on your face, he couldn’t help but smile. In that quiet moment, he leaned down and kissed your forehead softly. The thought of anyone finding out about the two of you—especially his father—sent a chill through him. His father had made it clear that relationships were a distraction from his studies, and that was why your relationship had to stay a secret.

It was frustrating, to say the least, but you got it. Neil really appreciates your unwavering support for him. As you shifted against him, half asleep, he stopped reciting his lines and remained quiet, and still. When you slowly opened your eyes and looked up at him groggily, he sighed quietly, his hand still in your hair.

"Did I wake you up?" I'm sorry," he said quietly, his voice filled with tenderness as he looked down at you.