The studio's doors closed behind them, and they stepped into the elevator that led to the building's entrance. Inside, Andre leaned quietly against the wall while Mo Yue stood scrolling through his phone. Silence filled the small space.
That's right… I almost forgot. Andre's eyes flicked toward him briefly. I need to get Mo Yue's autograph for Mom.
"…."
"Mr. Mo," Andre said coolly, "can I get your autograph?"
Mo Yue's head jerked up, brows lifting. "What?"
"Can I get you to sign a book?"
"…."
Mo Yue blinked, thrown off. His phone lowered slightly. Clearly, he hadn't expected that from his new assistant—especially one who had been indifferent all day and who had made it very clear he wasn't a fan.
"Why—" Mo Yue started, but the elevator chimed, and the doors slid open to the lobby. The question hung in the air as they stepped out. He decided to save it for later, though his mind was already turning over what could possibly be going on in the young man's head.
Andre followed Mo Yue outside without a word. The night air was cool, brushing against his skin. His body ached from the day's work, but his expression stayed unreadable.
Mo Yue glanced back, grinning. "You're coming with me, right? I'm not letting you disappear into the night."
Andre simply nodded.
The driver opened the car door. Andre slid into the backseat without fuss, and Mo Yue followed, still humming faintly—somehow full of energy even after hours in the studio.
They rode in silence until Mo Yue's voice broke through, light but curious.
"Hey… you never said why you wanted my autograph earlier."
Andre kept his gaze on the passing streetlights. "It's for my mom."
Mo Yue laughed. "Your mom? Really? That's… unexpected."
Andre's tone didn't change. "She's a fan."
"Sounds like she's important to you," Mo Yue said, a softer note slipping into his voice.
Andre didn't respond.
Mo Yue nudged him lightly. "So? What do you want me to sign?"
Andre reached into his bag and handed him a thick book without looking his way.
Mo Yue flipped through the pages, smiling faintly. "Alright, here goes." He scribbled his name and added a small doodle. "Done."
Andre took it back, thumb brushing over the ink before tucking it away. "Thank you," he said, cool but polite.
Mo Yue leaned back, studying him. "You don't talk much, but you're not cold all the time, are you?"
"I just don't see the point," Andre replied.
Mo Yue chuckled. "You're tougher than you look."
Andre stayed silent.
The car slowed in front of Mo Yue's home. He stepped out, stretching. "Thanks for today. See you."
Andre gave a quiet, "See you."
Back home, the house was calm. His mother looked up from the couch as he walked in, eyes softening.
"You're home early," she said.
Andre set his bag down. "First day was long."
"I thought you'd be late—especially working for Mo Yue," she said with mock seriousness.
"Oh," he replied, clearly uninterested.
She sighed under her breath. "What will I do with you and that attitude?"
Then she smiled, holding out the notebook. "Did you get the autograph?"
Without a word, he handed it over.
Her smile bloomed as she flipped to the signed page. "Thank you, baby. This means a lot."
Andre watched quietly.
"Did you eat?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"Still, come have dinner."
"Ok."
"You look tired."
"Maybe."
She reached to touch his arm, but he stepped back slightly.
"Eat first, then rest," she said gently.
"Hm." He followed her to the dining room, sitting while she served his food.
Later, fresh from a shower, Andre stretched out on his bed. His body felt heavier now, the quiet hum of fatigue settling into his bones. He didn't like to admit it, but maybe it was just the first-day exhaustion.
Sleep tugged at him.
The night was silent when the door creaked open.
Andre's eyes snapped open instantly, heart steady but alert. A familiar scent drifted in—the faint, distinctive cologne he knew.
Zhen Yichen.
The man stepped in, closing the door soundlessly. Moonlight caught the sharp planes of his face, pale and drawn, dark circles shadowing his eyes. He looked like someone who hadn't slept in days.
Yichen stopped beside the bed, gaze heavy and unreadable. Andre kept his back to him.
"Can't sleep?" Yichen's voice was quiet.
Andre didn't turn his head. "I'm not the one barging in."
Yichen said nothing for a moment, the silence stretching. Guilt flickered briefly in his eyes. He'd told the boy he wouldn't be around for a while, that he was too busy. Yet here he was.
"I can't sleep," Yichen murmured.
Andre stayed silent.
"And I want to sleep Ani," Yichen added, voice low.
Andre's eyes narrowed faintly in the dark.
The air between them thickened. The night was far from over.