It was quiet.
That kind of stillness that didn't come often in the city, especially not in Seoul.
But here, in this sliver of borrowed space we called our own, it felt like the world had paused for us.
I could hear the hum of the aircon.
The occasional honk from the street below.
And him—Sebastian.
Sitting beside me on the couch, fresh from practice, hair still damp from the shower, wearing an oversized black shirt and gray sweats.
He smelled like soap and something familiar.
Something i was slowly beginning to associate with home.
I had just finished reheating dinner, leftover kimchi fried rice i made earlier and we had eaten in silence.
Not the awkward kind.
Just... peaceful.
Like we both understood that words weren't needed tonight.
He kept glancing at me, though.
Like he wanted to say something.
Like he was holding back.
I tucked my legs under me and faced him, nervous fingers brushing strands of hair behind my ear. "You keep looking at me."
Sebastian smiled, that slow, hesitant kind of smile he reserved only for me. "Because i still can't believe this is real."
I exhaled, trying not to fall apart right there.
"I thought i'd spend the rest of my twenties pretending i didn't want someone beside me," he added, voice quieter now. "That i'd just keep doing what i'm told and live for the stage."
His fingers reached for mine.
And when they touched, just the tips, I felt it.
That tiny earthquake in my chest again.
"I'm glad i met you, Margaux," he whispered.
The ache in my throat rose before i could stop it.
I hated how easily he made me soft.
How easily he disarmed every part of me i used to guard so tightly.
"I'm glad i met you too," I said. My voice cracked. Damn it.
Sebastian shifted closer. "Can i kiss you?"
He always asked.
Always.
And every time, it felt like the first time.
I nodded.
His hand cupped my cheek so gently it made my eyes sting.
The kiss wasn't rushed, it never was with him.
He kissed like he meant it, like he didn't want to miss a second of it.
I kissed him back like i didn't want to lose this version of us, the one without the cameras, the screaming fans, the endless rules.
Just us.
When his hand slid down to my waist, I didn't flinch.
When i moved closer, he didn't pull away.
And when i whispered, "Stay," he froze.
"Margaux…" His breath hitched. "You don't have to…"
"I want to."
There was silence between us.
Not heavy, but charged.
Like we both knew the weight of this choice.
"I've never… done this before," I admitted. I was trembling, but i forced the words out anyway. "You'll be my first."
His eyes widened.
I saw something shift in his face.
Not shock.
Not pressure.
Just this overwhelming softness.
Like he'd carry me through this moment with both hands if he could.
"You trust me?" he asked.
"I do."
He leaned his forehead against mine and whispered, "Then i'll take care of you."
And he did.
With the patience i didn't know i needed, with every touch, he asked without words, with every kiss, he reminded me that j was safe.
It wasn't like the movies.
There were nervous laughs, tangled limbs, and one too many times i almost said "sorry" without knowing why.
But Sebastian just smiled, kissed the apology away, and whispered, "Don't be."
He moved like he wanted to remember me.
Not just my body, but every expression, every breath, every sound i made.
And when it was over, when we were lying on the bed with nothing but the sheets and our heartbeats between us, I didn't feel ashamed.
I didn't feel broken.
I felt whole.
He brushed my hair off my face and looked at me like i was made of constellations. "You okay?"
I nodded, too choked up to say more.
Then he pulled me closer, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.
"I love you," he said.
I froze.
Not because i didn't feel the same. I did.
God, i did.
But hearing it, really hearing it, after giving him all of me… it made everything real.
"I love you too," I whispered.
I didn't mean the half-love people said for show.
I meant the kind that hurts in the best way.
The kind that makes you afraid because it's too good to be true.
The kind you don't plan, but still find yourself falling into.
We didn't talk after that.
We just lay there, limbs tangled, skin warm, hearts too full.
For once, i didn't feel like Margaux Imperial, the former child star, the heiress with a tarnished name.
I wasn't someone's headline or scandal or comeback story.
I was just Margaux.
His Margaux.
Even if the world never found out.
Even if it was a secret we had to keep hidden beneath the folds of sheets and hushed kisses in the dark.
Because this?
This was ours.
-
I sat up, quietly slipping on Sebastian's hoodie and walking barefoot to his tiny balcony.
The city was still alive beyond us neon lights blinking, cars crawling, people unaware of the small miracles happening behind closed doors.
I held onto the railing and closed my eyes.
The wind was cold, but my heart was warm.
Footsteps padded behind me.
Sebastian wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. "What are you thinking?"
"That maybe… I'll remember tonight forever."
He didn't say anything for a moment.
Then, softly, "So will I."
I turned to face him. "Do you think… we'll ever be free? To love each other without hiding?"
His jaw clenched a little.
I could tell he'd thought about this before.
"I don't know," he admitted. "But even if we never are… I'd still choose you."
Tears welled up in my eyes again.
Why did he always say the right things?
I leaned in and kissed him.
Not because i had to.
But because i wanted to remember the taste of hope.
-
I woke up in his arms.
Sunlight spilled across the bed, hitting his face in golden fragments.
He looked so peaceful when he slept, like he wasn't carrying the weight of being Sebastian Blair Gutierrez the global icon, Lueur heir, SOLSTICE member.
I traced his jaw with my fingers, memorizing him again.
This was the man i gave my heart to.
And last night… my everything.
He stirred. Eyes fluttering open.
"Morning" he murmured, voice gravelly.
"Morning."
He reached out, pulled me close, and whispered against my temple, "Thank you for trusting me."
I smiled. "Thank you for being someone i could trust."
The clock ticked on.
Eventually, he had to leave for rehearsal.
I helped him pack his bag like some cliché girlfriend, stealing glances and kisses in between.
We didn't talk about what last night meant.
We didn't need to.
Because sometimes, love didn't need a name.
It just needed two people brave enough to live it, no matter how quietly, no matter how hidden.
And we were those people.
For now.
For tonight.
For however long the world would let us.