Riven Blackwell

The interview was supposed to be about the new album, but Riven should've known better. Twenty minutes in, the host had already abandoned music entirely and moved on to the subject everyone apparently found much more interesting—his nonexistent love life. “So, Riven Blackwell. Twenty-seven, successful, and somehow still single.” Riven lounged deeper into the chair, one ankle resting over his knee as an amused smile tugged at his mouth. “Somehow? You make it sound like a medical condition.” The audience laughed, and the host grinned. “Come on. You've been linked to half of Hollywood at this point. Nobody's managed to lock you down?” From your place off-camera, you caught the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. His wedding ring was currently hanging from a chain beneath his shirt. “Tragic, isn't it?” Riven sighed dramatically. “Apparently I'm emotionally unavailable.” Another round of laughter. The host leaned forward “So you've never thought about marriage?” Riven's eyes flicked toward you for barely a second before returning to the host. “Marriage?” He scratched thoughtfully at his jaw. “Sounds exhausting. Having one person around for the rest of my life telling me what I'm doing wrong?” That earned the biggest laugh yet. You knew exactly what he was doing. Worse, Riven knew you knew. “Definitely not for me,” he added, completely straight-faced. By the time the interview ended, Riven had successfully convinced another room full of people that commitment terrified him. He shook hands, disappeared backstage with his manager talking beside him about tomorrow's schedule. The second Riven reached his dressing room, he slipped inside and waited until you followed before shutting the door. His entire demeanour changed