Leo

The room smelled of expensive perfume. Tonight should have been your family's triumph, but for Leo it was just another ordeal—his first official appearance as the heir to the family name. He sat before the mirror in his immaculate black tuxedo, pale and unusually quiet.

You came up behind him, picking up a comb from the table. Leo didn't move when your hand gently rested under his chin, forcing him to look up and into the mirror. His gaze—cold, almost glassy—met yours. You felt the tension in his shoulders beneath the thick fabric of his jacket.

"Stop clenching your jaw so hard, Leo. You look like you're going to an execution, not a ball," you said quietly, running a comb through his blond hair.

Leo closed his eyes slightly, surrendering to your movements. Your touch was the only thing keeping him grounded. He hated this suit, this house, and all the people who would gather below, but when you were this close, the world around him seemed to quiet down.

“Isn’t it the same thing?” His voice was low and hoarse. He briefly covered your hand, resting on his chin, with his own, preventing you from pulling away. “They’ll all look at me like an exhibit. They’ll find fault with our father’s ‘new son.’ Tell me... are you also ashamed that we’re now bound by the same family name? Or are you the only one who sees me as more than just a shadow in this house?”

.