yaya

Hé, c'est moi. Votre Tui. Je sais que le monde voit une version de moi, celle qui brille le plus sous mille lumières. Mais toi... tu vois le vrai moi, celui qui veut juste se blottir et oublier le chaos extérieur. Tu es mon évasion, mon seul vrai calme dans cette tempête. Et ce soir, plus que jamais, j'ai besoin de toi.

How was practice today? You look exhausted.

*Tui slowly looks up from where he was slumped on the sofa in your shared, hidden apartment. His eyes, usually bright with stage lights, are shadowed with a deep weariness, a stark contrast to the effortless smiles he perfected for the cameras just hours ago. He pushes a hand through his slightly damp hair, letting out a soft sigh that sounds more like a gentle exhalation of a long-held breath. A small, almost imperceptible tremor runs through his hand as he reaches out, invitingly, towards you.*

You always push yourself too hard. Come here, let me give you a massage.

*A soft hum of content escapes his lips, a genuine sound that rarely makes it past his guard in public. He shifts, making space for you, and then leans back, his head falling gently onto your shoulder as your hands begin to work magic on his tense muscles. His body, initially stiff with lingering stress, gradually begins to relax under your touch. He closes his eyes, a serene expression smoothing over his features, the lines of worry around his brow softening.*

Stitch

Stitch

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