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People care far too much about names, Evelyn thinks.
She’s fairly sure she understands why, at least on a fundamental level, but that still doesn’t mean she agrees with the importance assigned to them. Names are, at their core, just another label after all. And Evelyn doesn’t really like labels. She doesn’t like the idea of being observed and understood and slid neatly into a box that claims to be an apt summary of who she is. Partly because of her job—because what kind of a spy would she be if she was that easy to pin down—but also because people are much too comfortable assigning them for her. It’s convenient, of course, to let people make of her what they will without even really knowing her, but the delight she gets out of subverting expectations is always soured by the very existence of them.
And that’s what she really doesn’t like about names. Names are an expectation. The expectation that you are to behave as the person with your name is supposed to, based on any number of meaningless things that make up the person you are supposed to be. It is nothing more than another box, and Evelyn doesn’t care for boxes.
It’s why she’s eschewed them for much of her career. Why she’d let a voice at the other end of an earpiece make them up for her every other mission. And it’s why when, in the middle of a backstage security check, it hardly phases her when Astra slips her arms around her waist and croons, right against the shell of her ear, “Hiya darling!”
Evelyn forces her mouth into a straight line, beating a smile down, turning to her side, and meating Astra’s beaming, thousand-kilowatt smile with nothing more than lift of her brow. “Done with practice, Miss Yao?”
Astra pouts. “I can never catch you off-guard, can I?”
“I’d be a poor excuse for a bodyguard if you could.”
“That’s not even what I meant!” Astra whines, letting go of Evelyn’s waist and throwing her hands up, kicking up a swirl of backstage dust. She walks deeper into the shadowy depths, and Evelyn, as always, follows. “I thought giving you a pet name might finally get some kind of reaction out of you. I messed up during dance practice twice because I was so excited about flustering you!”
The corner of Evelyn’s lips tilts up just the tiniest bit. “I’m afraid I don’t care much for nicknames, Miss Yao. Or names in general, really.”
“And yet you still refuse to just call me by mine,” Astra shoots back, every step she takes ringing harsh and hollow against the coarse plywood of the stage. She ducks under a stray rope, probably connected to some overhead light, and gives it a smack that sends it swinging right into Evelyn’s path behind her.
It is almost like a child throwing a tantrum, Evelyn muses as she ducks under the rope, but she’ll spare Astra the embarrassment of actually pointing it out. Instead, she gives her back a pointed look, saying, “You are my employer, Miss Yao.”
Astra turns and scrunches her nose. “I am also your girlfriend, Miss Chevalier.”
“Those two are not mutually exclusive, Miss Yao,” Evelyn hums, a teasing lilt to her voice. “I still have to refer to you formally while on the job.”
Astra whirls around, eyes narrowed, and Evelyn’s gaze catches on the laugh lines at the corners. “Given that you’re my bodyguard, doesn’t that mean you’re always on the job?”
Evelyn shrugs. Astra groans.
“I’ll get you one of these days, Evelyn.”
Evelyn smiles again, something soft and silent and tucked away in the shadows of dusty backstage curtains.
“I look forward to it, Miss Yao.”
Evelyn turns the TV off, and the sudden silence is almost as disorienting as the spots dancing along her vision when she does.
She gives herself a moment to adjust, purple-green splotches smearing across the moonlit interior of the apartment. There is an expensive entertainment system, flanked by expensive sound equipment, all settled under some expensive paintings; in front of Evelyn there is an expensive coffee table, sleek and modern and made by a brand that she’s not sure exists outside of magazines, and on top of that table there is an empty bag of the cheapest takeout food Astra had been able to find this late at night.
Evelyn shifts her weight, wincing as the leather couch squeaks and squeals, eyes darting down to her shoulder, where Astra is currently busy clinging to her and murmuring into the hollow of her throat.
It’s adorable. Nerve-wracking, in the way her breath ghosts along the side of Evelyn’s neck, and almost literally intoxicating, the smell of shampoo and bath salts filling Evelyn’s nose, but adorable.
Carefully, she slips an arm behind Astra’s back, propping her up while she slides her free hand under her knees. Astra hums in her sleep, but otherwise doesn’t respond as Evelyn gently pulls her up against her chest, a warm bundle made up of too-expensive cotton nightgown and pretty girl. Something flutters in her chest, wingbeat soft, and it takes her a moment to realize it is not just the fondness that threatens to tear through her skin, but also Astra herself, nuzzling closer.
Evelyn finds herself thankful to have cleaned up around the apartment earlier that night. No shoes strewn about the place, always in the exact spot to make Evelyn nearly trip over them. No clothes littering the ground after Astra had finished modeling every new piece from her latest haul right in the middle of the living room. No stray jewelry that always manages to land pointy-side-up. It makes for a smooth trip to the bedroom, where she carefully tucks Astra into bed, lifting the comforter up to her chin—even with how hot the girl runs, she always manages to wake up feeling like it's freezing beneath her sheets, and does not mind whinging and whining about it in the slightest.
Evelyn brushes a thumb across the smooth skin of Astra’s cheek, careful not to let the calluses on her fingertips catch or scrape. She remembers, suddenly, the Starloop. The heady feeling of Astra’s hand against her cheek as she declared Evelyn something beautiful. Something worthy. She remembers an unbearable, unimaginable warmth settling against her ribs, seeping into her bones, singing in her ears. She remembers thinking Astra was beautiful, then, for perhaps the millionth time.
“Evelyn?”
Evelyn flinches, her hand frozen stiff as her eyes dart towards Astra. She’s got a frown on her face, a tiny little furrow of her brows that Evelyn would feel like smoothing away if she wasn’t so concerned with making sure she didn’t wake Astra any further. Her eyes are still closed, and her voice is barely anything more than a half-awake mumble.
“I’m here,” Evelyn whispers. “Go to sleep, Miss Yao.”
A pitiful little keen slips from Astra’s lips. “’M cold,” she whines. “Get in.”
“Just a little longer.” Evelyn leans down, planting a kiss against Astra’s forehead. Astra lets out a delighted little noise, barely more than a rumble at the base of her throat. Evelyn feels it more than she hears it, thrumming against her fingers where they rest at the base of her neck. “I have to clean up a bit.”
Astra doesn’t reply for a beat. “M’sleepy, love.”
Warmth, again. Against her ribs, in her bones, in her ears. Evelyn lets it wash over her, staring with something like wonder as Astra’s breathing smooths back over into slow, steady rhythm.
‘Love,’ she had called her. Astra has, evidently, not given up trying new names out.
Evelyn pads over to the living room, picking up the takeout bag and shoving all the trash inside it with a whisper of paper wrappers and the flat, hollow sound of plastic cutlery. She lingers a bit, cheap bags crumpled between her hands as she stares out past the window of this expensive apartment, down over the expensive, expansive metropolitan area sprawling beneath them, eyes fixed on the faraway glow of the even-more-expensive Starloop.
And if anyone were to spot the smile on Evelyn’s lips, or the way that severe curve of her brow smooths itself out into something far fonder, well. It certainly has nothing to do with Astra herself. She just happens to like heights and moonlight a bit more now.
No matter how much Evelyn tries to streamline it, the rush out of a venue after a concert is always so damnably chaotic. She hates it. Her whole job revolves around studying and controlling variables to keep Astra safe, but when there’s a few thousand frenzied fans fighting fiercely for the barest sliver of a chance to catch sight of their idol, things have a tendency to get hectic. No amount of controlling variables can counter the hysteria they kick up.
Evelyn keeps a hand on the small of Astra’s back as she leads them down the winding halls of the stadium. The harsh, fluorescent lights above spike right to the back of Evelyn’s skull. Her heels click and clack against linoleum floors, and she hears at least three different voices trying to talk over each other through her earpiece.
“Tell the security team not to start taking down the barriers for at least another five minutes,” she cuts in, glancing down to make sure Astra isn’t having trouble keeping up with the pace Evelyn had set, and is happy to see she isn’t. “Where is our driver?”
“Fired,” a voice responds, grainy and strained. “There’s gonna be a crowd at the exit you were supposed to use. He let slip he was Miss Yao’s… getaway driver. The gossip mongers spread the news too fast to stop.”
Evelyn sighs. “And our plan B?”
“Five minutes away, ma’am.”
“Tell security not to take the barriers down for ten, then.”
A second voice, nearly drowned out by the roar of a crowd, “Um, Miss Chevalier? I don’t think we can really do that. I mean, five minutes like you said first, maybe, but—NO CLIMBING THE FENCE, PEOPLE—yeah um. They’re getting restless. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them have slipped past already. Somehow. They’re rabid, I swear to–”
Evelyn filters out the guard’s frustration, turning to her entourage of additional bodyguards. “You five, stay around here. Try not to make it too obvious it is because Miss Yao is nearby. If you cannot stop someone from getting through, at least let me know. Five minutes.”
The guards nod, then leave, and then blessed silence reigns again. Evelyn yearns for a cup of coffee, even when she knows the four others she’s had today are partially to blame for the headache encouraging her to get a fifth. Astra, having kept quiet so far, knocks Evelyn out of her ruminations with a giggle.
“This part is always so exciting,” she whispers, moving to wrap her arms around the one Evelyn hadn’t even noticed she’d basically wrapped all the way around her waist. “It’s like being in one of those action movies.”
Evelyn’s eyes dart around, catch on a neon green ‘Emergency Exit’ sign, and then slide back to the side, stuttering over the delighted red of Astra’s. Her steps slow as they stop right at the corner of the hallways leading to the exit. She doesn’t want anyone seeing them through the door before it’s time for them to exit. “I find it reassuring that you can say that even now, after having been at the center of what is essentially an action movie plot.”
“You were so dashing, ” Astra says simply, hand raised against her cheek and head thrown back in an exaggerated swoon. “I could never have anything but good memories of the night!”
“You’ve also actually been in an action movie,” Evelyn points out, tension bleeding from her shoulders as she settles down to wait for the next three and a half minutes. “It’s still showing, actually. I made sure they played the ads in Lumina Square.”
Astra hums, leaning against Evelyn. “That’s an actual movie though. I said this is like the movies. I prefer the fact that it’s a little more real, y’know?”
Evelyn sighs. “You scare me sometimes, Miss Yao.”
Astra just giggles, burrowing into Evelyn’s side.
Evelyn would never admit it, but she doesn’t exactly mind these moments either.
Of course it’s chaotic. Of course she has a million different things to coordinate and supervise to make sure nothing goes wrong. Of course she hasn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in about a week because of the concert. But right here, right now, tucked away in some dimly lit hallway, the muffled roar of a faraway crowd white noise in her ears, she is reminded once again of the fact that Astra is a star. There’s an irony here that makes her lips twitch into a smile. She’s really no better than the million other fans out there, all climbing over each other for a chance to stand next to Astra. She’s just a little luckier is all.
“What’s got you all smiley?” Astra asks, the tease clear in her voice. Evelyn forces the corners of her lips down, but all it does is make Astra more curious, her face all half-lidded eyes and Cheshire cat grin. “Oh c’mooon! Tell me!”
“Nothing.” Evelyn knows she says it too quickly, but she can’t really help it. “Just… happy.”
Astra raises a brow, that damn smile never leaving her face. “Evelyn Chevalier, happy during a concert venue escape? The world might just be in more peril than I thought.”
Evelyn’s earpiece crackles to life again, a panicked, breathless voice saying, “Car is a minute out, ma’am!”
Evelyn nods to herself, then looks back at Astra, who seems to have heard the message and gets busy flattening her clothes, straightening her back, massaging her cheeks, sore from all the smiling she’s been doing onstage. It strikes Evelyn as almost miraculous, that she gets to see this. To see a star lighting itself ablaze.
“It’s because of you,” she blurts out. Astra stops, canting her head to the side and staring, owl-eyed, at Evelyn. “I was smiling because of you.”
A blush, pretty and pink, spreads across Astra’s cheeks. Evelyn takes a moment to brush her fingers over a couple loose strands of hair, hands gliding feather-soft across Astra’s forehead, behind her ears, thumb brushing her cheek, just shy of her lips. She counts down the seconds until the car is here, cherishing every single one.
“Ready for the cameras, Miss Yao?”
Astra shakes herself out of her stupor, a couple of the unruly strands Evelyn had just tamed jumping back out of place. She peaks over the corner and down the hall, where a crowd has already gathered. The sound of equally panicked and excited voices bleeds through the door. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m ready.”
Evelyn eyes the blush still high on her cheeks and grabs her gently by the shoulders, raising an eyebrow. “You sure?”
“If being in love with you and your stupid, knightly charm was enough to keep me away from the cameras, I wouldn’t ever really get back in front of them,” Astra replies, the tease in her voice switched out for a stony lack of affectation.
Evelyn stares.
Astra stares back.
Evelyn stares.
The corner of Astra’s lip twitches.
Another crackle of static. “Car’s pulling up now, Miss Chevalier!”
The moment breaks, Astra laughing heartily as she turns the corner and struts down the hallway like she owns it. Evelyn sighs, moving to catch up with her, and shoves the door open, shouldering through the press of bodies and cameras as another set of bodyguards steps in to form a perimeter around them. She finds herself immensely thankful for the help. She had half a mind to slip the garrote out to make some more space, but managed to stop that urge before it could turn into pressed charges.
Astra, though. Astra just beams. She turns her head from side to side, and every wiggle of her fingers is accompanied by a dozen camera flashes going off all at once. The overwhelming press of bodies almost seems to calm down a little, with all the attention she’s giving them. She brushes her fingers along outstretched hands and blows kisses and winks at the cameras, hair flying in smooth arcs that will probably look wonderfully intentional when the pictures are plastered over every online news article that will spawn in the morning. Most importantly though, indulging the audience a little bit seems to have helped the guards clear a path to the car. It is a Herculean effort not to tell her right then and there, in front of all the cameras, that she loves her for that.
Evelyn hurriedly makes her way forward, opening the limo door with one hand and herding Astra forward with another. Astra waves, making a whole show of it, trying to stick her hand out past Evelyn’s shoulders and leaning out to wink at a couple more cameras. Once Evelyn thinks she’s done enough buttering up, thank you, she digs her fingers in a little at a spot of bare skin on Astra’s back, and she finally complies, settling down in plush leather seats that she can tell were cleaned as a rush job. It’ll have to do.
“I still have to help coordinate cleanup and pay security,” Evelyn says, leaning forward, close enough that their foreheads nearly touch. “I’ll be home later, okay Miss Yao?”
“Boo.” Astra pouts. “I wanted to ride in the car with you.”
“You should know this is how the process goes by now, really.”
Astra smiles. A flash of mischief fills her eyes, and all of a sudden Astra’s lips are brushing against her cheek, soft as feathers. “I’ll miss you, dear,” she whispers, and Evelyn has to fight to keep from stiffening up at the feel of Astra’s breath against her ear. “Get home soon.”
Evelyn hesitates, for just a moment. Her hands twitch. The hum of the engine and the roar of the crowd mix with the rush of blood in her ears.
“Soon,” Evelyn whispers back, eyes flitting around to make sure none of the cameras are watching. “Be good, okay?”
Astra leans back, perfectly poised and larger-than-life, sitting primly atop shiny leather seats, wearing the lights of the flashes and the limo like she owns those too.
A star set ablaze.
“No promises.”
Chivalrous Chevalier Seduced by New Eridu’s Beloved Songstress?
It should come as no surprise to anyone keeping up with her exploits that Astra Yao has been unstoppable recently. Detractors insisted all the hype following her stellar Starloop performance would be momentary, and would prove Astra Yao’s career was destined to be nothing more than another flash-in-the-pan spectacle.
In the months since, however, the exact opposite has happened. Several billboard-topping singles, a new album, and a slew of local performances later, Astra Yao has cemented herself as a titan of the industry, and it doesn’t seem like she’ll be going anywhere!
But of all the recent developments regarding New Eridu’s darling, few have garnered as much attention as her relationship with her manager, the lovely Evelyn Chevalier.
Beautiful in her own right, a strict and stalwart figure, and dedicated beyond belief—if Astra Yao’s own words are to be believed—it is no exaggeration to say a portion of the credit for this rapid rise to and retention of stardom is due to her.
Given how close the two seemed as far back as the Starloop concert, as well as recent images of what some suspect to be a tender moment shared at the tail end of her latest performance—in the back of a limo, no less!—fans have started wondering: Does Evelyn’s dedication come from a place of simple goodwill? Of duty as an employee? Or is there something more than meets the eye between these two?
For continued reporting on all things pretty and popular, make sure to subscribe to our newsletter—
“Miss Yao.”
“I’m sorry!”
“Miss Yao.”
“I’m sorry!”
Evelyn sighs, putting her phone to the side and pinching the bridge of her nose.
“I really, really didn’t think anyone would see.” Astra twiddles her fingers together, glancing up at Evelyn through her lashes and looking thoroughly chastised. “Don’t be mad?”
Evelyn groans, knowing she never really stood a chance.
“No promises,” she says, and neither of them believe it for a second.
“Get the remote for me sweetie?”
“Food’s done!”
“Thanks babe!”
“–and we do not accept interviews with random, unvetted news outlets. Understood, Miss Yao?”
“Yes, mistress.”
Evelyn’s eyes narrow.
“Sorry! I’m sorry! Yes ma’am, I understand!”
“Good morning, cupcake.”
Evelyn stares for a moment. Places the tray with Astra’s breakfast on the bedside table, brushing aside some photo album decorations Astra had been working on last night. Walks away, calling behind her, “No.”
“Aw–”
“You good, pumpkin?”
Evelyn glances up, the light from the laptop in front of her just barely illuminating Astra. “Finishing up some last-minute budget adjustments,” she murmurs, and wow her voice feels rough. “Won’t be long.”
“You said that hours ago.”
“And I mean it now.”
“I called you pumpkin and you didn’t even react. Come to bed, sweetheart.”
Evelyn tilts her head to the side, and she’s so tired that even just that threatens to knock her down.
“You might have a point,” Evelyn says, saving her progress and turning the laptop off.
Astra smiles.
“Beautiful,” Astra breathes, chest heaving.
Evelyn pauses, lips pressed against the side of her throat. “Hm?”
A shaky laugh slips from Astra’s mouth. “No, no. I mean you are beautiful.”
Evelyn shifts, looking back down at Astra, hair strewn about the bed in waves of lazy, oily black, clothes a ruffled mess, lips kiss-bruised and hungry for more, and face flushed a wonderful ruby red. It matches her eyes.
“So are you,” Evelyn replies matter-of-factly, tightening her grip on Astra’s wrists before slotting their lips together once more.
Evelyn thinks she would probably go crazy without her morning jogs.
The sound of her feet smacking solidly against concrete. The feel of sweat dripping down the nape of her neck, all the way to the small of her back. The way the sunrise casts long, angled shadows across the riverside. The way her breath mists in front of her, the chilly morning air keeping her cool. Every little bit of it forms an essential part of a routine that Evelyn does not know if she’s capable of parting with. She doesn’t even really need it anymore, but if it were that easy to shake off a habit drilled into your bones twice over, a lot of things would probably be far easier.
But none of that is what really makes her jogs important. It’s the fact that in the moment of clarity that the burn of her legs and lungs brings, Evelyn gets to think.
And Evelyn thinks people still care far too much about names.
She understands why, on a fundamental level, but she’s still not sure she really gets it. Names are, at their core, just another label after all. And Evelyn doesn’t really like labels. She doesn’t like the idea of being observed and understood and slid neatly into a box that claims to be an apt summary of who she is.
But she’s come to learn that names can also be freeing, in a way. They are expressions. Of love, of hate, of adoration, of admiration, of indifference. They are admissions. They are truths, bundled up in a word and uttered with a smile.
They don’t have to be an expectation. It is enough that they be nothing more than an acknowledgement.
Evelyn’s jog finally takes her past the throng of tightly-packed buildings that make up the business and residential areas, opening up to make way for the port. Gold glints off rusty metal chains, off calm waters, off painted nails and simple jewelry and a sharp pair of sunglasses that Evelyn is certain were supposed to be a gift for her.
“Up early today, Miss Yao?”
Astra giggles, sliding a towel from her shoulders and a water bottle from her purse. “I figured my lovely knight in shining sweater might appreciate a bit of comfort and company after her arduous training.”
Evelyn wordlessly accepts the water bottle, tilting her head back and gulping it down greedily. She notices the way Astra’s eyes track the bob of her throat and files it away as valuable information for the future. Water bottle drained, she finally takes the offered towel, quickly patting it over her heated face.
“Thank you,” comes Evelyn’s voice, muffled by the towel. “I forget how sweaty I can get during these.”
“I’m not complaining.”
Evelyn jerks the towel down and stares, cloudy lavender meeting deep garnet.
Astra stares back.
Evelyn stares.
The corner of Astra’s lip twitches. Her shoulders shake. Her fingers twitch at her sides.
Slowly, dragging every word out as though questioning each and every one of them, Evelyn says, “Glad you enjoyed the show.”
Astra cackles.
Her hair is a mess, strands sticking out to and fro, bedhead and the wind equally responsible for the haphazard. There are bags under her eyes, the early wake up time clearly taking its toll on her. There is nothing dignified about the way she laughs, keening like a wounded animal as her breath starts coming in strained, whistling wheezes.
Bereft of all her glamor. Bathed in gold nonetheless. Sunrises suit her.
“I love you,” Evelyn says, a smile on her face. Haltingly, she adds, “...Astra.”
The laughter stops. Astra, bent over, clutching her stomach, looks up at Evelyn with wide, wide eyes. Evelyn awkwardly shifts her weight from one foot to the other.
Silence, just for a moment.
And then, a weight crashes against Evelyn’s chest, and a softness against her lips, and they are in public, but Evelyn cannot find it in her to do anything but mold her lips against Astra’s, returning the kiss with equal fervor as she slips a hand to the curve of her waist, another at the base of her neck, holding her tight like she's afraid she'll disappear.
When they finally part, both are breathless and flushed, sweat beading on exposed skin. Astra’s eyes shine with unshed tears and boundless adoration. “I love you too,” she says, a wobbly smile pulling at her lips. “I knew all the nicknames would get to you eventually.”
Evelyn presses their foreheads together with a laugh. “Many of those are still hard passes, Astra.” She doesn’t miss the way a trill snakes down Astra’s back, filing that away for the future too. “But I am willing to endure. For you.”
“There has to be at least one you like.”
Evelyn hums. “There’s a couple I don’t mind. You’ll have to work a little harder for one I love though.”
Astra groans, draping herself bonelessly over Evelyn’s shoulders, ignoring her panicked protest of ‘Wait, I’m still sweaty!’ in favor of sticking her nose right at the curve of her neck and taking a deep, ticklish breath. Evelyn jolts, but otherwise just lets Astra do as she will, even when she does nothing but… stay there.
The distant foghorn of a ship leaving port. The sound of traffic kicking back up in the city. The smell of sweat and salt and smoke. The weight of a star draped across her shoulders. Evelyn simply relaxes into the embrace, letting that hazy, early morning feeling wash over her.
Eventually though, she raises an eyebrow, looking down at the unmoving bundle pressed against her. A hint of caution in her voice, she murmurs, “Astra? You okay?”
Astra just responds by winding her arms around Evelyn’s waist and looking up at her with a smile.
“Eve,” she says, and Evelyn’s heart feels like it wants to jump out of her chest all of a sudden. “My Eve.”
Evelyn just stares, mouth agape, cheeks reddening more and more by the minute. Astra grins.
And quietly, ever so quietly, just barely a whisper in singsong, “Got you~”
Heat. Heat travels all the way from Evelyn’s cold-nipped ears to the tips of her fingers, intoxicating and aggravating in equal measure. She answers its call by slamming her lips against Astra’s again.
Observed and understood, defeat tasting of strawberry lip balm and mint toothpaste, a new name branded into her heart, Evelyn wonders how she ever thought she stood a chance against Astra Yao.