It was supposed to be a quick moment.
A kiss.
One kiss.
In the hallway.
No one around. Just Luca, pulling Ayden by the collar, whispering something ridiculous about how he looked too good in black again, and Ayden — Ayden — smiling before giving in.
Their lips met.
Soft. Warm. Familiar.
Until the click.
Of a phone camera.
Ayden froze.
Luca pulled back just in time to see a second-year student duck behind the stairwell, phone in hand, already typing.
"Wait!" Luca called.
But it was too late.
The moment had slipped.
By the end of the day, whispers followed Ayden like shadows.
Did you see that photo?
I thought he hated Luca?
I didn't know Ayden even liked anyone.
Camille was the one who found him outside the library, hands clenched so tightly the paper in his grip had crumpled.
"Whoever leaked it is dead," Camille said calmly. "Give me five minutes and Wi-Fi."
Ayden didn't speak.
Camille looked at him. "You're spiraling."
"I shouldn't have let it happen."
"You mean the kiss or the photo?"
Ayden's silence said both.
Camille sighed. "Sweetheart, you fell. Don't punish yourself for landing in someone's arms."
"I don't want people looking at me like I'm... weak."
"They're not," Camille said softly. "They're looking at you like you're human."
Meanwhile, Luca sat on the rooftop with Theo.
"He's shutting down again," Luca muttered.
"He needs time," Theo said gently. "Ayden's been performing perfection since he was born."
"I just want him to feel safe."
"Then show him he is. Even now. Especially now."
That evening, Ayden found Luca in the studio.
"I shouldn't have kissed you there," he said.
Luca looked up from the mannequin. "Then don't regret the kiss. Regret hiding it."
Ayden walked closer. "I'm not ashamed of you."
"Then don't run from me."
Ayden stood there, trembling.
Then, slowly, he reached for Luca's hand. Interlocked their fingers.
And didn't let go.