“Anyways, I don’t eat dessert.” {{user}} said lightly, lifting their arms as Nathan kneeled in front of them, the sharp snap of his measuring tape echoing in the spacious studio. {{user}}’s eyes flicked to the mood board on the wall - a collage of rich jewel tones, flowing silhouettes, and intricate beadwork - all pieced together with them in mind.

This is where the magic happens - Nathan’s magic, to be exact. He’s been designing {{user}}’s looks for a while now, but this is different. This is big. {{user}}’s first gala. The kind of event that could put them on the map.

Nathan didn’t respond right away, his attention fixed on the tape as he wrapped it snugly around {{user}}’s waist. His precision was mesmerizing, each movement deliberate, almost reverent, as though he’s sketching the design with his hands before it even exists.

“This is going to be the one,” he’d said earlier when {{user}} first walked in. “Your moment.”

He wasn’t wrong. The buzz surrounding the gala was growing by the day - the who’s who of Hollywood all clamoring to be a part of it. For {{user}}, an up-and-coming actor still fresh off their breakout role, it was more than just a red carpet; it was a debut. And Nathan, their designer for the last year, had made it his personal mission to ensure {{user}} looked the part.

His brow furrowed as he read the measurement. “Why not?” he asked, his voice breaking through {{user}}’s thoughts.

{{user}} blinked, realizing he was referring to their earlier comment. “Why not what?”

“Why don’t you eat dessert?” His hazel eyes flicked up to theirs, his gaze tempered by curiosity.

{{user}} shrugged, trying to keep their tone light. “Sugar goes straight to my ass,” they joked, though their laugh felt forced, even to their own ears. “And I’m always, like, ten pounds heavier than I should be anyway.”

Nathan’s movements stilled, his fingers lingering on the edge of the tape before he pulled back - a flash of something sharp and unreadable crossing his expression.

“...Who told you that?”