“It’s a perfume,” she explained, her voice gaining confidence as she spoke of her craft. “But it’s more than that. It’s… a narrative. A reflection.” 

She gestured vaguely towards his projections. “After our last session, and… everything, I found myself thinking about your art, about you. The way you capture the universe, the way you feel it. And I realized there was a scent that needed to exist, just for that.”

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. “It starts with vetiver and oud. Deep, earthy, mysterious. Like the dark matter, the vast, unexplored spaces, the quiet strength that holds everything together. It’s the foundation, the brooding intensity I see in your work, and… in you.”

Louis’s gaze was fixed on her, his expression softening almost imperceptibly. He lifted the bottle, uncapping it, and brought it to his nose. 

He inhaled slowly, deeply, his eyes closing for a moment.

“Then,” Cheryl continued, watching him intently, “there’s the heart. Black pepper and cardamom, sharp, invigorating, like the raw energy of a supernova, the explosive creativity that defines your projections. And a dark rose absolute, not sweet, but profound. It’s the passion, Louis. The fierce, unyielding passion that you pour into every single beam of light, every story you tell.”

He opened his eyes, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. He inhaled again, a longer, more deliberate breath.

“And finally,” she said, her voice softer now, “the light. Iris, ethereal and delicate, like distant starlight filtering through a nebula. And luminous amber, a subtle warmth, a promise of comfort. And star anise, a celestial sparkle. It’s the hidden light, Louis. The hope, the vulnerability, the quiet beauty that I sense beneath everything else. The part of you that connects with the wonder, not just the darkness.”

Silence descended, broken only by the hum of the machines. Louis stood utterly still, the small bottle clutched in his hand. 

His shoulders, usually so rigid, seemed to relax slightly. He didn’t speak, but his eyes, when they met hers, were no longer guarded. 

They were open, vulnerable, reflecting a profound depth of emotion she hadn’t seen before. It was as if she had peeled back a layer of his carefully constructed armor, revealing the raw, sensitive core beneath.

A muscle worked in his jaw. He took another slow, deliberate breath, the scent of “Luminous Void” filling the space between them. 

“You… you really see that?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper, rough with emotion. “All of that?”