The next night, Eira absolutely, definitely wasn't planning to watch his live again.
Nope. She had willpower. Boundaries. Self respect. A grip on reality.
"I'm just another name in a sea of usernames," she'd mumbles into her blanket.
And yet… there she was.
Back in her cozy little corner of the world, nestled in a nest of pillows and wrapped in the same blanket—like a cinnamon roll of nerves and denial. Her playlist was off. The room was quiet, but her heart ? It was loud. Very very loud.
Her phone buzzed softly in her palm. She peeked.
@AresOfficial is live.
Her thumb hovered.
She stared. Bit her lip.
One breath. Two.
Then she whispered to herself, "Just to check. For health reasons."
Click.
Her screen lit up. And so did her entire face.
Ares was already mid-song. Hair mussed, hoodie slouched slightly off one shoulder, fingers brushing the strings of his guitar like it was an extension of him. Hair a bit wild like he'd run a hand through it too many times. His voice was soft—sleepy, even—but every note wrapped around her like silk. The lightining was soft. Intimate.
Her toes curled under the blanket and heart did an embarrassing little somersault.
"Seriously? Again with the jawline?" she muttered, a tiny grin tugging at her lips. "Do you wake up like this, or did someone curse you with beauty?"
A little snort escaped her. She sighed. She bit back a smile and buried half her face into her blanket. And then, without warning, her fingers moved before her brain could stop them.
"You seemed tired today. Hope your music gives you peace like it gives us."
She blinked at the message.
Paused.
Sent it.
"Wait, why did i....?"
Again too late...! It was out there. Floating in the digital tide of hearts, emojis and desperate pleas of 'Marry Me.'
She covered her face. "Oh my god. Why am i like this?"
On the other side he wasn't even looking for it this time, yet her message blinked up like fate tapping his shoulder.
Ares glanced toward the screen. Eyes slightly unfocused.
He blinked.
Paused.
His fingers stilled on the strings.
He mummbled "....seemed tired today. Hope your music gives you peace.....like it gives us."
After reading this his expression shifted.
"It was simple. No hearts. No notice me. No over the top energy."
He smiled. Not the practiced one for cameras—an involuntary curve of the lips that his assistant would call "rare."
Just looked. Long enough that Eira saw it. Saw him pause.
Her breath hitched.
"He saw it."
Her chest tightened.
"Maybe it didn't mean anything", she told herself, fingers hovering over the screen. She wasn't here to fangirl. She just… liked being honest with people who had the world and still looked lonely.
Ares was still staring at the comment, biting his lip slightly.
"Hope your music gives you peace like it gives us."
He leaned back in his chair and said, "You have no idea how much I needed to hear that."
But… he didn't reply this time. Instead, he stared. Watched her comment disappear under the digital wave.
"Did she expect an answer?"
But still, he didn't type a reply.
Because... he didn't know what to say.
What if he made it weird?
He exhaled.
"Who even are you, Eira? And why do your words hit harder than the stadium screams?"
The guitar sat forgotten in his lap now, fingertips hovering just above the strings like they were suddenly too fragile to touch. His thumb traced the edge of the pick in slow, mindless circles. The chat kept rolling—more hearts, more thirst, more chaos—but it was just noise now. All of it. Faded into a background hum.
She had typed just one line.
No sparkle emojis. No dramatic declarations. No screen-name shoutouts or heart-eyed spam.
Just that.
That line.
It clung to him like smoke. Whispered somewhere behind his ribs.
"Hope your music gives you peace..."
His jaw clenched softly. His brows pulled inward like her words had reached a place even he rarely visited.
He blinked.
Looked at the time.
Had he even finished the song?
Was he still singing?
His eyes flicked toward the live timer.
Oh.
Still live.
Still being watched by tens of thousands.
Still on camera.
But it didn't matter now. He couldn't even remember the lyrics he was supposed to sing next.
There was just her.
Not her face. Not even her voice.
Just a name. A message.
And something about the way it didn't ask for anything made it echo louder.
He reached forward, still dazed, and hit the end stream button without a word. No goodnight. No outro. Just a screen gone black.
The quiet afterward was instant. He didn't move. Just sat there, staring at the reflection of himself in the dark monitor, lit faintly by the lamp beside him.
"Eira," he murmured under his breath.
Tried the name on his tongue like a secret.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands folded tight. His voice was barely above a whisper now—meant for no one, not even himself, really.
"How do you say so little... and still get under my skin?"
He ran a hand through his hair again, gripping the roots like he could shake the feeling loose.
She didn't even know him. She probably didn't even mean it like that.
And yet…
There was something dangerously gentle in the way she saw him—not as a persona, not as a product—but as a person. A tired, flawed one.
He closed his eyes.
And in the quiet, he whispered:
"If I knew you in real life… I'd probably fall for you so slow I wouldn't even notice. Not until it was too late."
A beat of silence.
Then he added, voice lower, almost a confession:
"And maybe I already am."
*In a sky full of stars, he found the one who wasn't trying to shine.