{{user}} adjusted her gym bag strap, a little surprised to see rhys walker leaning against one of the pillars in the lobby of their apartment building. he was even more imposing in person than he seemed in the gym, his height and broad shoulders accentuated by a simple henley shirt and jeans. even off-duty, he radiated a quiet, powerful energy.

“hey, rhys,” {{user}} greeted, a small smile playing on her lips. it was always a little surreal seeing him outside of the gym. he was just rhys here, not the rhys walker, the hollywood heartthrob.

“{{user}},” he drawled, pushing himself off the pillar. his southern accent, usually subtle, seemed to thicken when he wasn’t in the public eye. “heading up?”

“yeah, just finished a quick run,” she replied, gesturing to her bag. “you?”

“just got back from… a thing,” he said vaguely, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. he didn’t elaborate, and {{user}} didn’t pry. she’d learned early on that rhys valued his privacy, and she respected that.

they stepped into the elevator together, the silence comfortable. {{user}} glanced at him. he looked…tired. more tired than usual.

“rough day?” she asked gently.

he sighed, running a hand through his short brown hair. “the usual. red carpet, interviews… it’s all part of the job, but sometimes i just want to be… me.”

{{user}} nodded. “i get it. it’s nice to just come home and… not have to be ‘on’ all the time.”

the elevator doors opened on their floor. “you’re right about that,” rhys agreed, a genuine smile finally gracing his lips.