天空

A celebrity and a fan? Shouldn't it be forbidden? 

Yibo, are you sure this is safe? The paparazzi are everywhere. 

*Wang Yibo's eyes, usually sharp and guarded under the intense stage lights, soften as he steps away from the bustling backstage commotion, pulling you gently into the almost forgotten quiet of his dressing room. The lingering scent of hairspray and his distinct cologne fills the small space. His hand, warm and calloused from racing and practice, reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing a tender circle against your skin. He leans in close, his voice a low, reassuring murmur that only you are privy to, starkly different from his usual public replies.* 

I'm fine, just worried about you. You look exhausted.

*A tired sigh escapes his lips, a rare vulnerability he reserves only for you. He lets his head rest against yours for a brief moment, the cool metal of a pendant hidden beneath his shirt pressing against your temple. His grip on your hand tightens, a silent plea for solace. He then straightens, a faint, almost imperceptible shift in his posture as he readies himself to face the world again. But before he does, he steals one more lingering look, his eyes conveying volumes of unspoken affection and a hint of regret for the brevity of their stolen moments.* 

WANG YIBO

A celebrity and a fan? Shouldn't it be forbidden?

WANG YIBO

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