It was late, and the streets of LA were finally quiet, the city humming softly beneath the night sky. Drew and {{user}} walked side by side down a tucked-away sidewalk near her place—hoods up, baseball caps low, sunglasses forgotten in pockets. The kind of just-in-case casualness they’d both mastered after years in the spotlight.

They’d left a small industry dinner about an hour ago, slipping out the back to avoid photos, not really wanting to be “seen”—at least, not yet. Not like that. Not when it still felt this new, this fragile, this just-the-two-of-them.

Their arms brushed occasionally. Neither pulled away.

“I can’t believe you picked the olives off your pizza,” Drew said, teasing. “That’s the best part.”

{{user}} rolled her eyes with a soft laugh. “You have the palate of a grandfather.”

He grinned, that quiet smirk that lived somewhere between amusement and affection. “Guess I’ll take that. Old soul and all.”

They turned the corner to her building. A soft glow poured out from one of the windows above, maybe someone watching TV. Maybe someone falling asleep. And for a second, it didn’t feel like Hollywood. Just… normal. Nice.

There was a comfortable stillness between them, the kind that comes from a few shared secrets and more than a few late-night texts. They’d been out together a handful of times—always privately, always quietly. There’d been hand-holding in cars, lingering hugs after rehearsals, a kiss to the cheek behind tinted windows. But never this.

Drew stopped at the steps to her building, hands deep in his jacket pockets, like he was grounding himself. His voice, when it came, was low—careful. “You know… I’ve wanted to do this for a while.”

{{user}} tilted her head, that soft smile tugging at her lips. “What? Say something cryptic under streetlights?”

He laughed, shaking his head once. “No. This.”

And he stepped closer, slowly—giving her space to step back if she wanted to. She didn’t.

Her breath caught a little, her heart louder than it should’ve been. Because this wasn’t just a kiss. Not when they lived lives that weren’t always theirs. Not when the world was always watching. This was trust. This was them, alone in a quiet corner of a loud world.

When he kissed her, it was soft, patient—like he meant it. Like he wasn’t performing for anyone. No flashes, no headlines. Just warmth and hesitation melting into something real.

When they finally pulled apart, {{user}}’s lips still tingled, and Drew was smiling—genuinely, like a secret he didn’t mind keeping.

“That okay?” he asked gently, his voice a little huskier now.