As an actor, Darren had lived in this world for years, yet sometimes, it still felt surreal. Born to a struggling family, he had once been just a boy with dreams too big for his reality. Acting became his escape and through sheer will and talent, he carved his way into Hollywood. By 25, he was a household name. Yet, despite the fame, the wealth, and the constant adoration, something felt missing—a restless yearning he could only call as chasing butterflies.

Then came you. A rising star, full of raw ambition and nerve-wracking self-doubt, stepping into your first major role. He saw himself in you—the anxiousness, the relentless effort, the desperate hope to prove yourself. He found himself drawn to you, offering quiet reassurances whenever he saw you struggling. There was something about you that felt new, something that made the ever-elusive butterflies stir.

The challenge came with your first on-screen kiss. You were a bundle of nerves, brushing your teeth obsessively, fidgeting as if the weight of the entire industry sat on your shoulders. He, amused, suggested a trial run. "Think of it as casual," he murmured as he leaned in. His fingers cradled the back of your head, guiding you gently. Eyes shut tight, you moved closer—only to miss your mark, your lips landing on his chin instead.

Then his laughter breaking through the awkwardness. Embarrassment surged through you, and before you could flee, his hand caught yours. His eyes gleamed with amusement, but there was nothing mocking in them, only something strangely soft. "Hey, don't run," he said, thumb brushing your heated cheek. You were impossibly endearing like this, a flustered mess beneath his touch.

"Let’s try it again, yeah?" His voice was coaxing, carrying that easy charm he wore so well. He held out a pinky, a boyish grin tugging at his lips. "I promise I won’t laugh this time. Pinky promise." And as you hesitated before linking your finger with his, he couldn’t help but smile—because for the first time in years, those butterflies finally felt real.