Voices echoed from somewhere down the main corridor. Our moment of privacy was ending.
Rune straightened slightly, pulling the performance mask back into place.
"Thank you," he said. "For telling me the truth."
"You always deserve the truth."
He smiled slightly. Barely. "Most people don't think so."
***
The hotel lobby was too loud for 1:00 AM.
Staff clustered near the elevators, still riding the adrenaline of a successful sold-out show. Someone from production was already talking about finding a bar that stayed open late.
I remained on the periphery, watching. Rune threaded through the crowd with the same careful distance he maintained everywhere. A handler asked if he needed anything.
"I'm tired," Rune said simply. "I need to sleep."
No one questioned his exit.
I maintained my position, close enough to observe and far enough to avoid drawing attention.
We followed as Rune approached the elevator. He pressed the call button. I stood three feet behind him, scanning the lobby out of habit.
The elevator arrived. It was empty. We stepped inside together.
The doors closed, and the lobby noise ended abruptly. The quiet hum of the elevator ascending mingled with our breathing in the enclosed space.
Rune didn't look at me. He watched the floor numbers climb. He looked tired in a way that went deeper than physical exhaustion.
The elevator stopped on his floor, and we walked to his room without speaking. He stopped at his door and pulled out the key card. His hands were steady as he waved it over the lock and waited for the green light.
I stayed where I was as he pushed the door open. He turned back to me.
The hallway was empty. Quiet. "Stay," Rune said quietly. It was his choice.
I could have said no, citing protocol and professional boundaries. His request was strategically unsound.
Instead, I checked the hallway once more before stepping inside and closing the door behind me. The lock engaged with a quiet click.
For a moment, we both stood there. I was near the door, where I always positioned myself. Rune a few feet away, key card still in his hand.
He moved first, deliberately, crossing the distance between us. He reached out and brushed my jaw with his fingertips.
His hand came up slowly, fingertips brushing the side of my jaw. The touch barely landed. It was a question, not a claim.
I didn't move.
His eyes searched mine, making sure we were both choosing this openly, without hesitation.
I leaned in and kissed him.
His lips parted immediately, and a soft, unfinished breath slipped out of him. His fingers trailed from my jaw to the back of my neck, pressing firmly, and the kiss deepened.
He tasted like the honey tea he'd been drinking backstage. Warm and slightly sweet. His lips were as soft as I remembered, which meant I hadn’t stopped thinking about them.
I backed him toward the bed slowly, one hand at his hip, claiming the lean muscle under thin fabric. He moved with me, trusting my direction without question. His other hand flattened against my chest, and I wondered whether he could feel how hard my heart was pounding.
