VELVET CHAINS REVIVE

The email arrived on a Thursday morning.

Ayden had barely sat down with his coffee when the notification pinged. He opened it lazily — expecting another sponsor pitch or collaborative invite.

But then his eyes caught the subject line.

From: VOGUE RUNWAY – Feature Inquiry: Ayden Vale

His coffee sloshed, forgotten.

The email was direct. Polite. Terrifying.

We would love to do an exclusive feature on your artistic journey and solo creative vision post-Ruinlace.

Not the team. Not the duo. Just you.

Ayden reread it three times.

Then again.

And again.

Luca was still asleep, face buried in the hotel pillow they'd brought home from Paris. He looked peaceful, despite everything. Ayden stared at him, at the bare shoulder peeking out from under the sheet.

He should have been excited.

He should have been furious.

But mostly?

He was scared.

That afternoon, Luca walked in, humming, grocery bags in his arms, wind in his curls.

"Hey, I got the pasta you like—wait."

He dropped the bags.

"You look like someone died."

Ayden stood in the center of the studio, the email still open on the big screen.

Luca's smile faded.

"What is it?"

Ayden didn't speak at first. Just turned the screen around.

Luca read it.

Quietly.

Slowly.

The pause afterward was so long it hurt.

Then, finally, he said:

"Oh."

Ayden crossed his arms. "It's not what you think."

"They want you."

"I didn't ask for it."

"I know."

Ayden swallowed hard. "But I might want to say yes."

That part shattered the air.

Luca took a breath.

Another.

"Okay," he said. "I mean… it's Vogue. Of course you want to say yes."

Ayden looked away. "But it doesn't feel right."

"Because of me?"

"Yes."

"Because you don't want it without me, or because you're afraid of what it means if you do?"

Ayden flinched. "Luca…"

Luca laughed, but it was hollow.

"I knew this would happen," he said, pacing now. "You're the star, Ayden. Always have been. I'm the charming sidekick who fades when the lights turn."

"Don't say that."

"But it's true."

"It's not," Ayden snapped. "Ruinlace was ours. Every line, every stitch, every sleepless night."

"But they're only asking you."

Ayden stepped forward. Grabbed his hand.

"Then tell me what to do."

Luca blinked. "What?"

"Tell me. Should I say no?"

Luca stared at him. "No. You say yes."

"You're sure?"

"I'm not," Luca admitted, voice cracking. "But you can't pause your future because you're scared I won't keep up."

Ayden stepped in closer, forehead resting against Luca's.

"I'm not scared you'll fall behind," he whispered. "I'm scared I'll lose you in the spotlight."

"You won't," Luca said, wrapping his arms around him. "But you might if you keep hiding behind us when you're meant to be seen."

They stayed that way — quiet, touching, afraid, together.

And Ayden realized something terrifying.

Love wasn't just choosing someone once.

It was choosing them even when the world tried to pull you forward without them.

That night, Ayden replied to the email:

Yes, I'm honored. But only if there's space to mention the person who taught me how to breathe between sketches — and love between seams.