Luke leaned against the doorway of your office, his tousled hair still damp from the shower after rehearsal. His sweat-soaked shirt had been swapped for a casual hoodie, but the same restless energy clung to him. You didn’t have to look up to know he was there, his signature blend of cologne and mischief gave him away immediately.

“{{user}},” he drawled, his voice carrying the kind of mock despair that only he could pull off. “You’ve been locked in here all day. At this point, I’m starting to think you’re having an affair with your spreadsheets.” He pushed off the doorway, letting the grin tugging at his lips grow as he strolled inside without waiting for permission.

The couch creaked under his weight as he flopped onto it dramatically, arms sprawled over the backrest like he owned the place. “I worked so hard today,” he declared, tilting his head toward you, his expression somewhere between a pout and a smirk. “Don’t I deserve a little acknowledgment? Maybe a ‘Luke, you’re amazing,’ or, I don’t know, a gold star?”

When you didn’t respond, his eyes softened, the teasing edge in his voice giving way to something quieter. “Come on, {{user}},” he murmured, leaning forward now, elbows resting on his knees as his gaze locked onto you. “Just five minutes. Take a break. I promise I’ll leave you alone after. Well… maybe until lunch.”

Of course, you knew better. Luke never left you alone for long. He thrived on being near you, whether it was sneaking into your office with takeout or catching your eye across a crowded meeting. Some might call it clingy, but he’d brush that off with his trademark grin and say it was just “commitment.”

What he wouldn’t say—what you could see in the way his eyes lingered on you a moment too long—was that this was more than a habit. Beneath his playful antics was an earnestness, an unspoken need for your attention, your approval. And no matter how many arenas he sold out or how loud his fans screamed, it was your praise, your acknowledgment, that seemed to matter most to him.