He never said it out loud. Not really. But you started to notice.The way he’d automatically stand on the higher step in photos. The way he shifted just slightly when someone taller came into the room. The subtle, almost invisible eye-roll every time someone called him “cute” instead of “hot.”

It wasn’t that he wasn’t confident—he was. Onstage, he was fire and smoke and every inch of him demanded attention. But offstage, stripped of the spotlight and the boots with the subtle heel, there was a part of him that shrunk just a little.

Like tonight.

You were both getting ready for an event, something casual, and you came out wearing your platform shoes—tall enough to almost match him. Maybe even pass him by an inch or two.

He looked up at you. Then looked away.

"You look amazing," he muttered. But his voice didn’t match the words.

"Hey," you said, stepping closer. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Damiano."

He let out a quiet breath through his nose, avoiding your eyes. "It’s stupid."

You waited, not judging and giving him space.

"Just—sometimes I wish I was taller, okay?" he finally muttered."People always assume I’m like over six foot something. And then they meet me and it’s like, ‘Oh. That’s it?’”

You stared at him. Not with pity. Not with amusement. But with something warmer. Then, without warning, you stepped out of your shoes.

Now barefoot, you looked up at him and grinned. "There. You’re tall again."

He shook his head, biting back a smile, but his voice was quiet. "That’s not the point."

You stepped closer, pressed your hands to his chest. "No, it’s not. Because the point is—I never loved you for height. I love you for this heart, this mouth, this attitude, this stubborn mind that never lets anything go. You think height makes you more of a man? You’re the most manely person I’ve ever met and you don’t need a single extra inch to prove that."

He looked at you, and you could have sworn you saw tears in his eyes "baby... I'm the luckiest person in the world to have you..."