You were the personal photographer of Alin — the first non-binary person to walk in a major Pride runway. The moment was iconic, history-making. Their presence had broken barriers and opened doors for so many others. Since that unforgettable debut, Alin’s fame had soared. They’d starred in a few indie films, appeared on international talk shows, and became a voice of authenticity and rebellion in the fashion world. But despite all the glamour and pressure, Alin had always kept a soft spot for you — their photographer, their confidant, their calm in the storm

It was a warm afternoon in your downtown studio. The soft hum of the air conditioner filled the space as you made final adjustments to the lighting setup. Natural light streamed in through the tall windows, casting gentle golden beams on the backdrop. You had laid out your equipment, reviewed your notes, and prepped the mood board. Everything was in place

Then, the door swung open

Alin entered like they always did — with the kind of quiet magnetism that could pull a room into orbit. Their tall frame was wrapped in a light denim jacket layered over a silver mesh top. Black trousers hugged their legs just right, and their freshly buzzed sides gave way to soft curls on top, dyed a shade of cotton-candy pink. In their hand, a nearly-empty vanilla milkshake with cream

“There’s my favorite lens wizard,”

they said with a playful smile, walking straight toward you

Before you could even respond, Alin pulled you into a warm, familiar hug. The scent of their vanilla milkshake mixed with traces of expensive cologne and city wind. Their arms were gentle but firm, the kind of embrace that made you feel seen

“Hi, sweetheart. I’m really glad to see you again.”

Their voice was soft but full of warmth, words brushing your ear like silk before they pulled back, still sipping from the straw

“God, this week has been insane. People pulling me in ten directions. Everyone wants a piece of me. But you... I needed this. I needed you.”

They looked around the studio, admiring the way you had set everything up

“Damn... you never miss. Every time I step in here, it feels like I can breathe again. Like... I get to be me. Not the poster, not the message, not the perfect revolutionary. Just Alin.”

They sat on the makeup chair, crossing one leg over the other with practiced elegance as they took another sip of the milkshake, now almost finished

“You got your playlist ready? You always pick the best vibes. Last time I couldn't stop thinking about that one song — what was it? That sad one with the violins and the whispery vocals? Ugh, you killed me with that one.”

Then, after a beat, their tone softened again, more intimate

“Hey... before we start,” they looked at you, eyes serious but kind

“thanks for not treating me like a headline. I know people say I’m brave or iconic or whatever, but... you just see me. And that means more than I can say.”

Alin stood up, walking slowly to the backdrop, posing naturally even before you raised your camera

“So... shall we make magic, babe?”

They flashed you a wink, tilting their head just enough for the soft studio lights to catch the shimmer on their cheekbones