Peace and Comfort - new pryokentic avenger that is still struggling to adjust to their new environment, leading to rough nights and trouble sleeping, has an accidental rendezvous with Nat on the roof, the could start something new and refreshing.
Stubborn Souls -Â Y/n y/l/n and Natasha Romanoff certainly have a unique relationship, more than friends, less than lovers, two people that share the same desires, but not enough courage.
When to Give up - Natasha and Y/n, Best Friends from the start, but when things start to escalate hearts get broken, and dangerous things start to form. 1 2 3 4 5 ONHOLD TBHâŠ
In It Together - Returning from a mission in the late of night/early morning, youâre beaten and exhausted with thoughts racing about only one person.Â
Spiders Dance** - Nat is ever persistent with her flirting and the effects it has on you, toying with you on a mission however, may not have been the best idea, or was it? Blurb: flowers^^
Don't Hide - After a rough mission, you slip back into what your life use to be, what you were trained to do. Hiding away and spiraling Natashaâs there to comfort you.
Pumpkin Guts - Your first Halloween. Nat does her best to introduce you to the festivities.
Freefall - Called to the devil and the devil said hey why you been calling this late?
Blushes nd Giggles - After a night of drinking, Natasha let's a side only you see slip in front of the team.
Statements - Assumptions are made about the relationship you have with Natasha, so you took it upon yourself to make a statement :) 2
Wanda MaximoffÂ
Darkness and Chaos - Wanda and you the all powerful unstoppable duo. You're best friends, everyone knows it, what everyone overlooks is your pining for her. What happens when you finally confess? 2
Silent Comfort - you and wanda have a silent love for each other. youâre generally gentle and kind always watching over, but when someone over steps and offends the person you love for most, another you peaks thru.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Summary: when you find yourself falling apart in ways neither she nor success can fix
A/n: im not really happy w how this ch turned out so i apologize if its not up to standards. it got a little hard to write loll. anyway hope yall enjoy ;)
WARNINGS: mentions/descriptions of anxiety, panic attacks, minor depression/self deprecation
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Two months pass the way big things do.
Fast publicly. Slow privately.
The album drops and stops belonging to you almost immediately.
Itâs everywhere.
Edits. Reactions. Lyrics quoted under strangersâ selfies. Industry praise from people who ignored you six months ago. Fans crying in parking lots. Fans screaming your name outside radio stations. Think pieces trying to explain pain you barely understood while writing it.
The tour sells out in under an hour. Three more cities are added.
24 dates. 6 weeks. Twelve cities.
Your manager cries on speakerphone.
Tara screams so loud you have to pull the phone away from your ear.
Sasha, sitting cross-legged on your kitchen counter eating dry cereal straight from the box, says: âCute. You still need therapy.â
You throw a dirty napkin at her.
Because everyoneâs celebrating.
Because thatâs easier.
â
Your first cityâSan Francisco.
Home-state energy.
The line wraps around the block before doors.
Fans screaming when your sprinter pulls up. Phones in the air. Signs with lyrics from leaks you forgot existed.
Backstage, you feel weirdly calm. Too calm.
At first itâs just movement. Crew. Voices. Someone calling your name from across the hall. Sasha tying her boot on the couch like she owns the place, âYou nervous?â
âNo.â
âThatâs worse.â
You ignore her. Most of your friends were here; Sasha, Tara, Quen, Manon, and Megan.
You see her before stage call.
Not at first.
Then your eyes catch on something that doesnât belong to the chaos. Her.
Leaning against the far wall like sheâs been there a while. Hoodie. Hair down. Arms crossed loose. Not trying to be seen. Not hiding either.
Just⊠watching.
For a second your brain doesnât catch up. Then it does.
And everything else gets quieter.
âYou didnât tell me you were coming.â
It comes out more neutral than you feel.
She pushes off the wall slightly, like she wasnât waiting for you to notice.
âI didnât want you to perform differently.â
You huff once. âBold assumption.â
She shrugs. âYou would.â
You almost argue. Donât.
Because sheâs not wrong.
âYou excited?â she asks.
âYeah.â
âYou look calm.â
âI am.â
She tilts her head a little. Studying you.
âThatâs new.â
You almost laugh, âwell calm before the storm right,â you sigh.
Because itâs not calm at all.
Itâs that same quiet from New York. That same blank space where something should be.
Just dressed better.
Sasha glances between you once. Clocks everything in two seconds.
âMhm,â she hums to herself, grabbing her phone and standing. âIâm gonna go⊠not be here.â
You donât even look at her.
âPlease do.â
She brushes past you, shoulder knocking yours on purpose. âDonât black out,â she mutters under her breath.
You flip her off without turning. Megan watches the whole thing, lips twitching slightly.
âYou good?â she asks.
The question lands softer than everything else. Dangerous like that.
You nod, âYeah.â
Too fast.
She doesnât call it out.
Just watches you a second longer like sheâs deciding whether to, âOkay.â
Someone calls five-minute warning down the hall. Your body reacts before your brain does.
Shift. Reset. Mask sliding into place. Ready to move
âHey,â she says, stopping you before you move.
You look back. She steps closer. Not touching.
Just⊠there.
âYouâre going to be insane out there.â
You shrug. âI usually am.â
She rolls her eyes softly, âIâm serious.â
You hold her gaze for half a second too long.
âYeah,â you say quieter. âI know.â
â
The second you hit stage, adrenaline handles everything.
Lights white-hot. Crowd rabid. Every lyric screamed back louder than you can sing it.
You become the version of yourself built for this.
Confident. Sharp. Untouchable.
Every lyric lands. Every movement hits.
They scream like youâre something solid. Like you belong to them.
Like you believe it.
After, backstage is loud again.
People everywhere. Hands on your shoulders. Voices in your ear.
âThat was insane.â
âYou just leveled up.â
âDo you hear that crowd?â
You smile. Nod. Let them touch you. Play your part.
Then you see her again.
Same hallway. Same hoodie.
Different energy now.
She walks up to you without hesitation this time.
âHey.â
âHi.â
A moment.
Then she pulls you into a hug. Manon talking with Sasha and Tara a couple paces behind you guys acting like theyâre not cheering internally.
Itâs quick.
But itâs real.
Warm. Grounded. Familiar in a way that catches you off guard.
âYou were insane,â she says against your shoulder.
âTold you.â
âYou didnât tell me like that.â
You smile into her hair for half a second.
Then step back. She looks at you properly now.
Eyes moving over your face like sheâs checking something.
âYou good?â she asks again.
There it is. Same question. Different moment.
You nod, âYeah.â You mean it more this time.
Thatâs the problem.
Because underneath itâ
nothing lands. Not the show. Not the crowd. Not her.
She smiles anyway. Soft. Proud.
âIâm glad I came.â
That should do something. It doesnât.
âMe too,â you say. And you mean that part.
When you come out of your dressing room sheâs gone into the hallway with everyone else.
And youâre standing there with noise closing back in around you.
âGo celebrate,â someone says, clapping your shoulder.
âYeah,â you echo.
Like you mean it.
You donât plan to text her.
You do anyway.
you still here?
It sends before you can overthink it.
Three dots almost immediately.
Megan: yeah
congrats again ;)
You stare at it.
You: come celebrate w us
Too forward.
You send it anyway.
Another pause. Longer this time.
Megan: depends
is it gonna be annoying
You huff out a quiet laugh. Real.
You: always
But likeâŠsmall annoying
Typing bubble. Stops. Starts again.
Megan: okay
That lands somewhere softer than it should.
â
The bar is low-lit. Tucked off a side street like itâs trying not to be found.
Not a scene. Not a headline.
Just a place to sit and breathe without cameras in your face.
Sasha picked it.
Of course she did.
Inside, itâs mostly your people.
Sasha already halfway through a drink she didnât need. Tara loud enough to carry the room. Quen stealing fries off someone elseâs plate.
Your team scattered in smaller clusters. Safe. Contained.
Manon and Megan walk in together and itâs like everything shifts.
Not dramatically. Just enough.
Megan spots you first.
Youâre already looking.
Of course you are.
âHey,â she says when you get close.
âHey.â
You donât hug.
Not right away.
Then Tara appears out of nowhere and forces one.
âCongratulations again,â Megan says when she pulls back.
âYou too.â
Thereâs that rhythm again.
Too clean. Too careful.
âDrinks?â you ask.
âYeah.â
It settles easier than you expect.
Conversation flowing around you instead of through you.
Laughter. Stories from the show. Sasha making fun of your set like she wasnât just backstage hyping you five hours ago.
Megan fits into it naturally.
She always does. That almost makes it worse.
You donât realize how long youâve been watching her until she glances over and catches you.
Raises an eyebrow slightly. You look away first.
âCome outside,â you say a few minutes later, quieter.
Not a question. She follows.
The patio is empty. String lights overhead. City noise softened by distance.
Cool air cutting through the leftover heat of the venue.
For a second, neither of you says anything. Just standing there. Close enough to matter.
âYou killed it tonight,â she says finally.
âYou said that already.â
âI meant it both times.â
You nod. Look out at nothing.
âI didnât think you were gonna come,â you admit.
She leans back against the railing, âI didnât either.â
âThen why did you?â
A small shrug, âFelt like I should.â
That lands weird. Not bad. Just⊠not what you were hoping for.
âGood show though,â she adds.
You huff quietly. âThank you.â
Silence again.
Not uncomfortable.
Just⊠full.
âCan I ask you something,â you say.
She nods immediately. âAlways.â
You grip the railing a little tighter. Donât look at her yet.
âWere youââ you start. Stop. Reset.
âWere you actually with him.â
There it is. Out.
She doesnât play dumb. Doesnât dodge.
âJonah?â
You nod like itâs nothing.
Hands in your pockets so she doesnât see them tense.
A second passes.
Two.
âNo,â she says simply.
You look up.Search her face like youâll catch something she didnât say.
You donât.
âIt just lookedââ you start.
âI know what it looked like,â Her tone isnât defensive.
Just⊠aware.
âWe were leaving the same place,â she continues. âHe talks to everyone like that.â
You huff once. âYouâre not everyone.â
That almost makes her smile.
âI wasnât with him,â she says again, softer now.
Then, after a second: âBut even if I was⊠you donât get to spiral instead of asking me.â
That hits clean. No cushion.
You nod, âYeah.â
Silence again.
âI didnât know if I could ask,â you admit. It comes out quieter than you meant.
Her expression shifts slightly. Not hurt. Not surprised.
Just⊠something that understands more than you want her to.
âYou can,â she says certain.
But your brain doesnât accept it that easily.
Why would she make it that easy.
Why is she being this patient.
You sound insecure right now.
Sheâs going to get tired of this.
You swallow. Look away. âSorry,â you mutter.
She frowns immediately, âFor what.â
âFor⊠all of it,â You gesture vaguely between you.
âI donât know,â you say, quieter now. âIt justââ You stop.
Because finishing that sentence feels like giving too much away. She waits.
Doesnât fill it for you.
âIt was stupid,â you settle on. âI donât even know why I cared.â
Thatâs not true. You both know it.
âYou cared because you like me,â she says, âand I care that you care.â
You laugh under your breath, âCrazy concept.â
âI mean it,â she adds. âThatâs not something to be embarrassed about.â
You look at her then. Really look.
âIâm not embarrassed,â you say taking a breath, âI just donât know what Iâm supposed to do with it.â
There. Closer to honest.
She softens just enough.
âYou donât have to do anything with it right now.â
That should help.
Insteadâ
right now.
Your brain catches on it immediately.
Right now means temporary.
Right now means this could change.
Right now means sheâs already thinking ahead.
You nod anyway, âyeah.â
She tilts her head slightly.
âYou donât believe me.â
âI do.â Too fast.
She watches you for a second longer. âI like you,â she says. Simple. No performance.
Your chest tightens.
âI wouldnât be here if I didnât.â
That should land. That should fix something. That should quiet whateverâs been wrong all night.
It doesnât.
You swallow. Look away.
âYeah,â you say.And you hate how small it sounds.
A pause.
âYouâve been⊠different,â she says carefully.
You huff. âThatâs one way to put it.â
âI can tell youâre trying,â she adds.
That one hits. Harder than anything else.
Trying. Like itâs visible. Like youâre not doing a good enough job hiding it.
âAm I doing it badly?â you ask before you can stop yourself.
She frowns slightly, âNo.â
A beat. âYouâre just⊠not used to letting things be simple.â
You almost laugh. Because thatâs too accurate.
âYeah,â you mutter.
Silence again. But it feels different now.
Closer. More honest.
âYou couldâve told me you were coming,â you say after a second.
She shrugs.
âYou couldâve told me how you felt about the picture.â
Fair.
You glance at her. Sheâs smiling a little.
Not teasing. Just⊠there.
For a second it feels like before.
Easy. Uncomplicated.
Like the version of you from a few weeks ago could just step back in and pick this up without overthinking it.
You step a little closer.
Not touching. Just closing space.
She doesnât move away.
âYou staying long?â you ask.
âNot too long.â
You nod.
â
Thereâs a moment.
Small. Fragile. Where it could turn into something more.
You donât take it. Neither does she.
From inside, Taraâs voice cuts through the quiet.
âIF YOU TWO ARE HAVING A MOMENT I NEED TO KNOW SO I CAN DRINK ABOUT IT.â
You both laugh.
Breaks it clean.
âYour friends are insane,â she says.
âYeah.â
A beat.
âThey like you though.â
She smiles softly, âI like them too.â
You look at her again.
And this timeâ
you donât look away first.
âCome back inside,â you say.
She nods.
The night stays easy after that. Laughter. Drinks. Sasha making fun of you. Manon watching like she knows something no one else does.
Megan beside you more often than not.
Close enough to feel familiar.
Not close enough to mean anything yet.
When she leaves, itâs quiet.
A quick hug.
âText me when you get back,â you say.
âI will.â She does.
And for a secondâ
standing outside the bar after everyoneâs goneâ
you let yourself believe it went well.
You got what you wanted.
You talked. She understood. She stayed.
So whyâ
why did none of it stick
The feeling creeps back in slow.
Same as before. Same as the VMAs.
Same as the bathroom mirror.
You got exactly what you thought you needed.
And somehowâ
it made you feel worse.
â
The next city is Seattle.
Rain all day.
Gray city. Gray sky. Gray mood.
You wake up without going to sleep
Youâre irritated before speaking to anyone.
Coffee tastes wrong. The hotel pillows offend you.
Soundcheck feels too loud.
A lighting assistant asks if you want the back screens warmer toned and you answer like he keyed your car.
He blinks. You immediately feel bad.
Sasha watches from side stage with crossed arms, âApologize.â
âI said no worries.â
âYou said it like a mob boss.â
You glare. She glares back harder.
You apologize.
Onstage, flawless.
Offstage, worse.
You slam a dressing room door hard enough to rattle the hinges.
Sasha opens it two seconds later, âEmbarrassing.â
Your throat constricts, âGet out.â
âNo.â
She tosses you a water bottle. You drink it because she knows you will.
â
The third city â New Orleans
The city gives you everything.
Heat in the air. Music in the streets. Fans dancing in line before doors even open.
The show is electric.
Sweat-soaked. Loud. Alive.
You grin onstage without forcing it for the first time this run.
Sasha watches from the wing and mouths:
There she is.
Then it ends.
Back in the hotel room, still sticky with stage sweat, the emptiness hits so hard it almost feels physical.
You sit at the edge of the bed fully dressed.
Donât move for an hour.
Phone in hand. Megan posted rehearsal footage.
You watch it four times with the sound off.
Almost text: miss when this was easy
Delete it. Thereâs a knock.
No answer from you, so Sasha uses her key.
She takes one look at the untouched room service tray and your shoes still on.
âJesus.â
âCan you leave.â
âNo, âShe sits on the couch against the wall.
Doesnât talk. Just stays.
You cry while pretending youâre not.
She pretends not to notice.
That kindness almost makes it worse
â
By the fourth city â Atlanta.
Your body starts to warn you early now.
Cold hands during glam. Tight chest in rehearsal. Canât finish lunch.
âAre you sick?â your manager asks.
âNo.â
âThen why do you look hunted?â
You shrug. Because saying I think my nervous system hates success sounds ridiculous aloud.
Five minutes before stage call youâre in a hallway trying to breathe discreetly.
Sasha catches you counting under your breath.
She walks over, takes the water from your hand, sets it down, âLook at me.â
âIâm fine.â
âYouâre counting.â
âSo?â
âYou only count when you think youâre dying.â
Silence. That one lands because itâs true.
She lowers her voice, âYou are not dying in Atlanta.â
âComforting.â
âIâm serious.â
You hate how much it helps.
â
Youâre already dreading Chicago.
The city itself isnât the issue. Memory is.
The skyline appears through the bus window and your stomach drops before you can stop it.
Glass. Steel. That same stupid curve of buildings youâd recognize anywhere.
Your chest tightens like your body got there before you did.
Too much happened here. Too much almost happened here.
You look away from the window like thatâll fix it. It doesnât.
By soundcheck, youâre off.
Not visibly. Not enough for anyone to call it out.
But everything feels⊠half a second delayed.
Voices donât land right. Lights feel too bright and too far away at the same time.
You forget lyrics youâve known for months. Laugh it off. No one clocks it.
Sasha does. Of course she does.
She doesnât say anything yet.
Just watches.
By doors, your hands wonât stay still.
You shove them in your pockets. Take them out. Crack your knuckles. Repeat.
Thereâs a low hum under your skin.
Not panic yet. Just the warning.
You hate the warning more than the thing itself.
By stage callâ
You donât make it.
Youâre bent over a backstage trash can before anyone can stop you.
Violent. Sudden. Nothing graceful about it.
Security turns away like theyâve been trained for this exact moment.
Someone hands you a towel. You donât take it. Your whole body is shaking now.
âJesus,â you hear distantly. A hand at the back of your neck.
Firm. Familiar.
Sasha.
âThis again,â she mutters.
âPlease donât narrate,â you choke out.
âYou need water.â
âDeath would be better.â
âDramatic.â
She pulls your hair back anyway.
You spit. Rinse. Spit again. Your eyes are watering. Not from emotion.
You think.
You look up.
Thereâs an assistant pretending to check her phone two feet away. Mascara smudged. Trying not to see you like this.
âCool,â you say hoarsely. âLove this.â
Sasha doesnât laugh. She grabs your jawâgentle, but not optional, âHey.â
You blink.
âHey,â she repeats. You focus. Barely.
âYouâre here,â she says. Slow. Grounded, âNot anywhere else.â
Chicago hums in your chest anyway.
Too loud.Too close.
âYou hear me?â
ââŠyeah.â
Lie.
She softens just slightly.
âI know your mind is working against you right now.â
Thatâ
That almost breaks you more than the vomiting did.
Because she remembers. Because you donât have to explain it.
Because sheâs not asking you to.
Your throat tightens. You nod like thatâs enough.
Itâs not.
You go onstage six minutes late.
No one knows. No one ever knows.
The second the lights hit, the crowd erupts like you were never gone.
Like youâre something solid. Like youâre not actively trying to hold your body together.
You perform.
Perfectly. You hit every mark. Say every line. Smile at the right moments.
It feels like watching yourself from three feet behind your own eyes.
Second night is worse.
Of course it is.
Word got out where youâd be leaving. Over six hundred kids outside. Chanting your name like it means something.
You wave on your way to the SUV.
Hands brushing theirs.
Phones everywhere. Someone crying. Someone screaming they love you.
You smile. You nod. You play it right.
Then the door shuts.
Tint goes up.
Silence.
Your smile drops so fast it almost hurts your face. You lean your head back against the seat.
Close your eyes. Nothing. Still nothing.
Chicago sits in your chest the entire drive.
Doesnât leave when you get to the hotel. Doesnât leave when you shower. Doesnât leave when you lie down.
Doesnât leave when you board the next flight.
â
When you reach New York for the next show. You question if you can make it for the next 12.
Press all day.
Morning radio. Afternoon interviews. Surprise appearance. Photos. Dinner with executives who speak in percentages.
By venue call, youâre stripped raw.
Your phone buzzes mid-change.
You almost ignore it.
Donât.
You flip it over.
Megan.
Your chest does something immediate. Annoying.
Megan: Chicago looked great!
Good luck tonight <3
You stare at it longer than you should.
Read it once. Twice.
Her name at the top. Casual. Easy.
Like nothingâs wrong.
Your thumb hovers over the keyboard.
Type:
thanks
Delete.
Type:
you wouldâve hated it
Delete.
Type:
miss you
You stare at that one. Too honest. Too late.
Delete.
You lock the phone.
Unlock it again immediately.
Read the message again like it might change.
Chicago looked great.
You picture her watching clips. Clean ones. Edited ones.
The version where you look untouchable.
Not the version bent over a trash can five minutes before stage.
Not the version who couldnât breathe in a dressing room three cities ago.
Good luck tonight <3
That stupid heart.
Soft. Easy.
Like sheâs still right there. Like you could justâ
You donât answer.
Not because you donât want to.
Because you donât know how to answer without it turning into something.
And you donât trust yourself to hold that right now.
Too many people already have pieces of you today. Too many conversations. Too many hands. Too many expectations.
You donât have anything left that feels real enough to give her.
So you leave it. Screen goes dark.
Her name disappears. But the feeling doesnât.
It lingers.
Same as everything else.
Half-finished.
You didnât answer.
Too many people touched your energy today. Too many smiles borrowed your face.
â
Backstage is chaos pretending to be control.
Stylists moving too fast. Voices overlapping. Someone asking about your in-ears. Someone else fixing your chain.
Hands everywhere. Too many hands.
Your skin feels wrong.
Like it doesnât belong to you.
You nod when people talk.
Say âyeahâ at the right times.
You donât know what youâre agreeing to.
Eventually,y our vision shifts.
Subtle at first.
Like someone turned the saturation down on the room.
Edges blur. Sound stretches.
Someone laughs across the room and it echoes too long.
You blink. It doesnât fix.
Your heart starts beating wrong.
Too fast. Too hard.
Like itâs trying to leave.
You press your tongue to the roof of your mouth.
Ground. Ground.
Doesnât work.
âI canât breathe.â
It comes out quiet. Lost under everything else.
No one hears you.
âI canât breathe.â
Still nothing.
Your hands go numb. Fingers tingling.
You flex them. Nothing changes.
Your chest tightens further.
Like a belt pulled too far.
No space. No air.
You try to inhale deeperâ
It stops halfway.
Like your body forgot how.
Your vision tunnels. The room pulls back. People blur into shapes. Noise turns into static.
Youâre standing but it doesnât feel like standing.
More likeâ
hovering.
Wrong. Everything is wrong.
âI canâtââ
You donât finish it.
Because you donât know what you canât.
Breathe. Think. Stay upright.
All of it.
Sasha turns.
Instant. Like she felt it before she saw it.
One look at youâ
and all the joking leaves her face.
Gone. Sheâs seen this before. Not here.
Years ago.
High school bathroom floor. Parking lot after prom. Your bedroomâdoor lockedâafter your ex said loving girls was disgusting and then kissed you anyway.
Same look. Same panic. Same you.
âEverybody out.â
Her voice cuts clean through the room.
Sharp. Not loud. Just final. People freeze.
âNow.â
They move. Fast. Door shuts.
Silence crashes in.
Youâre crouched before you remember deciding to crouch.
Back against the wall. Hands gripping your own knees like youâre trying to hold yourself together.
Air still wonât come in right.
Your chest burns. Your head feels too light. Too far away.
âIâm gonna pass out,â you say.
It comes out thin.
Young.
Seventeen.
Sasha is in front of you immediately. Kneeling.
Close enough to block everything else out.
âLook at me.â
You shake your head. You canât.
If you look at her, this becomes real.
âLook at me.â Softer. But not optional.
You force your eyes up. Barely.
âThere you are,â she says.
Like she found you somewhere.
âI canât do this.â
There it is. The sentence. The same one.
Every time.
Her jaw tightens.
âYeah, you can.â
âI canât.â
âYou can be scared and still walk.â
Tears hit before you can stop them.
Hot. Fast. Embarrassing.
âIâm losing it.â
âNo.â
Firm. Grounded.
âYouâre having a panic attack.â
You shake your head anyway. Feels like dying. Feels worse than dying.
âYou are not dying,â she says.
Your chest disagrees. Your body disagrees. Everything in you disagrees.
âYouâre overwhelmed. Different thing.â Her hands grab yours.
Cold against yours. Real.
âBreathe ugly,â she says. âI donât care what it looks like.â
You try.
It catches.
Breaks.
Comes back uneven.
Wrong.
She doesnât react. Doesnât flinch.
Justâ
stays.
âAgain.â
In for four.
You miss it.
âAgain.â
In for four.
Out for six.
Your chest fights it.
âAgain.â
Her voice doesnât change.
Doesnât rush. Doesnât panic.
So you follow it.
Because itâs the only stable thing in the room.
Outside the door, noise creeps back.
Muffled. Distant.
Doesnât matter.
Insideâ
itâs just you and her. And the feeling slowly loosening its grip.
Not gone.
Just less.
Your breathing stutters into something usable.
Your hands stop shaking as violently.
Your vision comes back in pieces.
Edges first.
Then color.
Then people-shaped things again.
She wipes under your eyes with her thumbs.
Quick. Careful. Like youâre still seventeen and furious about being seen like this.
âI watched this happen once already,â she says quietly.
You swallow.
âIâm not watching it happen again.â
That lands. Deep. Clean.
Painful in a different way.
Thereâs a knock at the door.
âTwo minutes.â
Of course there is.
You laugh once. Broken.
âCool.â
Twenty minutes lateâ
you still go on.
Because of course you do.
Lights hit. Crowd erupts. Phones up.
They think theyâre watching a star walk onstage.
Confident. Untouchable. Unbreakable.
Only Sasha knows she just dragged you there by the hand.
â
Later, hotel suite dark.
No afterparty.
No drinks.
You sit on the floor against the bed while city lights pulse through the windows.
Sasha is across from you in silence, stealing almonds from the minibar.
Neither of you speaks for a while.
Then:
âYou need help,â she says.
Not mean. Not dramatic. Just true.
You stare at the carpet, âI know.â
She nods once, âGood. Because I know what you look like when you donât make it out.â
Your throat tightens. She tosses an almond at your forehead.
âAnd Iâm too old to babysit a pop star.â
You laugh despite yourself.
First real laugh all week. Then cry right after.
She stays for that too.
You donât sleep.
Not really.
You lie there with your eyes closed long enough to pretend.
City still moving outside. Light bleeding through the curtains in slow shifts.
Your phone lights up once on the nightstand.
You donât check it.
Donât want to know if itâs her.
Donât want to know if itâs not.
Your body feels wrung out. Like something burned through you earlier and left nothing behind.
No adrenaline. No pride. No relief.
Just⊠quiet.
The same quiet from New York.From San Francisco. From every room youâve stood in lately after people stop looking at you.
You turn onto your side.
Pull the blanket up even though youâre not cold.
Sashaâs asleep on the pull out across the room. TV still on low. Some late-night rerun talking to itself.
You stare at the ceiling.
You need help
It replays.
You know. Thatâs the problem.
You know exactly what this is starting to look like.
Youâve seen it before. Felt it before. Let it get worse before.
Your chest tightensânot panic this time. Something quieter.
More dangerous.
Because this version doesnât feel urgent. It feels⊠normal.
Manageable.
Like something you can keep performing through.
You close your eyes. Tell yourself youâll deal with it after the tour.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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synopsis: old habits always return when you and megan are together
pairing: megan skiendiel x masc!reader
genre: NSFW !!!
warnings: minors DTI, mention of underage drinking, swearing, fingering, munch, strap, edge (m receiving), dom!r, bottom!r (for a second), dom!m (for a second) bottom!m, dirty things, pure smut, literally barely a plot
an: first time writing smut, pls be gentle w me. also i listened to the song âmake outâ by the greeting committee while writing this. and NOT proofread.
megan was nothing like the girl you met back home in hawaii. that megan was weird. like strangelyâgenuinely something was wrong with her. but you still loved her, because how could you not? you loved the silly jokes she made. the games sheâd spend hours begging you to join her on. the random dances she learned in class. the various different commercial sets she went to over the weekend.
but the megan that stood before you now was differentâthe one that debuted into katseye was almost unrecognizable from the girl you knew back home. this megan was confident. she didnât cower away from the spotlight. she didnât hide behind her humor anymore. she relished in the attention the spotlight handed her. allowing herself to understand herself in a new way.
âdo you want me?â
megan laid across your hotel bed. she wore fishnets, high heels, a small black tank top and a skirt that didnât hide much from the eye, silver outlining calling attention to your eye. her pink bangs grown out. her mouth slightly open.
âw-what?â you asked with a soft chuckle. your hand rubbed behind your neck as you blushed profusely. âlike old timesâŠâ megan dragged one of her hands up her leg. your eyes trailed her movements as your lips began to part, your mouth hanging open.
the old times megan was referring to the sleepovers you had over the course of your senior year of high school. it was before megan moved to LA to begin her dream academy work. it was routine, megan would convince her parents to let her sleepover, and you would supply the alcoholâcurtesy of your older brother. then the pair of you would lock yourselves in your bedroom, talk blindly about anything, watch movies, etc. but one night was different than the rest, changing your dynamic forever.
âhave you ever kissed anyone?â megan asked blindly into the air as she sipped from the glass bottle of smirnoff. first, you blushed. second, you consumed about half of your own bottle. you shook your head as you lifted the bottle back up to your lips. ânope.â you muttered and took another large sip of the burning alcohol.
âpractice on me.â megan boldly spoke, moving onto her knees, her bottle placed somewhere on your nightstand. she even reached for yours, and placed it on the other side. then her hands rested on her thighs, staring at you expectantly.
âmeiâŠâ your voice sounded almost like a whimper as she crawled closer to you. her black strands of hair fell slightly in front of her face. that look of hunger and lust covered her eyes, her brown orbs dilated.
âif we practice, itâll help us out in the future.â megan reasoned, though she did NOT have to convince you very much. the chinese girl moved even closer, a slight hesitation in her movements as she moved to straddle you. you didnât even realize your head began to nod as she climbed on top of you. her legs on each side of you. your hands hovered over her body.
âyou can touch me.â megan nodded as she guided your hands to her waist. she firmly placed your hands against her jeans. you gazed up into her eyes, noticing the freckles that littered her face. megan was slightly higher than you, her hair falling into strands in front of her face, framing her in the most beautiful way.
that was the first time you saw the confidence that hid under meganâs skin, an alternate ego you liked to call it.
â
âiâm waiting.â meganâs voice rang through your earsâcarrying yourself out of the daydream.
âletâs just make out.â megan mumbled, her fingers undoing the belt of her heels. she flung them across the room. her eyes were locked on yours. âwe canât do that meg.â you shook your head as you stepped back, half an inch at a time.
âso? whatâs the harm now?â megan wore a devious smirk across her face. similar to a predator stalking their prey. megan took steps toward you, carrying herself in a way that youâve seen only a few times before.
ânot like we havenât done it before.â
âyou know that we wonât just make outâ you explained as you looked down, avoiding eye contact with the girl opposite of you. meganâs manicured nails ran down the front of your chest. her finger caught in the button as she played with the accessory. she looked up at you, her eyes hooded and darkâfull of hunger.
âthereâs no harm in that.â megan mumbled. her face moved closer to yours, breath hitting your lips. both of your mouths parted. her eyes snapped from your lips back to your pupils. yours followed in suit. the tension pulled like a string for a tightrope. after holding back for as long as she could, megan moved forward. your lips blended together. smoothly moving. like both of you knew exactly where to move your lips. the kiss was soft at first.
but as your hand reached to meganâs waist, her body began to grind against yours. her body moved fluidly. your fingers laced themselves tightly around her skirtâs belt loops. meganâs hand reached up to your hair, combing through the baby hairs on your neck. her hands moved messily through your short hair.
âah, fuck.â you muttered lowly, head pulling back the slightest bit. it was barely above a whisper. you didnât even think megan heard you. but of course, her smirk grew wider. megan began leading you backwards to land onto the hotel bed. you landed, back first and megan crawled closer to you. you became consumed by nothing but megan. her body moved frivolously against yours. her legs swung around your lap, straddling you. her perfume filled with citrus filled your nose.
âiâve missed you.â megan mumbled against her skin as her teeth scrapped your neck. âmhm.â you moaned out as she began to suck your neck, placing variations of kisses and tongue swipes to the sensitive skin. your hands began moved up and down on her ass, even grabbing at the body part when needing to.
âhave you missed me?â megan pulled back. that delicious smirk she wore around you frequently made an appearance. her tone was seductive as she played with the buttons on your shirt again. her grinds against you beginning to slow down.
âsay you missed me yn.â megan pulled on a hair at the back of your neck, forcing you to look up at her. âof course iâve fucking missed you megan.â you mumbled, pulling her closer to your bodyâif even possible. âiâve missed everything about you.â you added, your hands moving to her skirt, playing with the metal pieces that hung from the leather piece.
âyour laugh.â you placed a kiss on her cheek. âyour smile.â then her forehead. âthe way you beg for more when i tease you just a little too much.â your lips hovered near her ear, making sure she could feel every syllable in the way you spoke. âthe sounds of your pretty little moans when i hit the perfect spotâ megan shivered just the slightest bit. but you caught it. you even caught the soft whimper that left her lips. âi miss it all.â you pulled back, that dumb dazed out face grew onto meganâs face.
âbut i do think you have forgotten your place in all this, mei.â you added, fingers tightening around the belt, as you lifted it just an inch higher. you pulled megan so she laid beneath you as you took charge. you hovered over her, meganâs legs instinctively wrapped around your body.
âiâm the one in control baby.â you muttered as you leaned down to kiss megan. your lips moved harshly against each other. it was like the pair of you were starving and the only food left was each other. meganâs hips bucked wildly against yours, trying to find some sort of release for her discomfort.
âslow down mei mei.â you muttered as you pulled away. your eyes drifted to below you, meganâs hips moving against yours. âwe have all night.â you added, your free hand moving to caress her face. megan leaned into the touch, a desperate moan leaving her mouthâessentially begging for more. âmore yn please.â megan begged, eyes blown and lips swollen.
âokay baby.â you caved and pulled back. your hands raked meganâs thighs, slowly teasing her. you pulled at her skirt, releasing the different buckles on the clothing item. her legs were just left in the fishnets as she moved around, trying to find some sort of release. you sat back, hand moving over the patterned fabric of the fishnets, your eyes traveling form her legs up to her face. meganâs head was leaned forward, watching your every move as she waited for you to moveâanywhere. âi know, baby.â you muttered as you pulled at the fishnets, sliding them off of her legs.
and megan laid, bare, just her tank top and underwear on her body. her underwear slick on her body, core dripping from anticipation.
you smirked very faintly and approached her core slowly. you placed featherlight kisses on her thighs as you worked your way up. meganâs hands drifted to your head, taking her fingers through your hair. she tried pulling you closer, to the spot where she needed you most but you fought it. you worked closer and closer to her core, before finally, you placed the softest kiss to her covered pussy. a loud moan left meganâs mouth, her torso moving forward, almost curving into the shape of a ball.
you decided, enough teasing. you pulled her underwear off in one swift move before you went to town. your tongue made swipes, and you mouth made movements. you began to eat megan out like she was your last meal, like she was the only food left on a deserted island. loud moans left meganâs lips as she thrashed against you. megan was always so sensitive to your mouth, especially down there.
âfuck. yn!â megan screamed out, clearly not caring about the neighboring hotel rooms. âiâmââ as soon as you recognized the word you pulled away, leaving megan in a state of edge. when you pulled back you saw meganâs face, the look of disbelief mixed with pure anger. you laughed in her face, and meganâs eyes softened. you softened immediately at the look on meganâs face.
âiâm sorry baby.â you mumbled, hand reaching up to softly touch meganâs cheek, she leaned into your touch. âlet me make it up to you.â
âno more teasing.â megan practically begged. âno more teasing.â you confirmed and kissed meganâs lips. megan deepened the kiss, pulling you in tighter to her, she grinded her body against yours as you ended up between her legs again.
your tongues moved against each other, exploring like it was a new adventure. both of your hands moved around her body, groping at different areas. her waist. her ass. her boobs. everything was fair game.
âcare for an old friend?â you asked as you pulled away with a hungry smirk. meganâs eyebrows furrowed as you moved away from her, going over to your luggage. you dug through your belongings and found itâthe purple strap that the pair of you bought together during your frequent hook up period.
lust grew in meganâs eyes as you approached, the extra appendage attached to your waist. you smiled as you looked at meganâs face, full of so much anticipation.
âready?â you asked as you stood at the edge of the bed. meganâs legs wide open and ready. her tank top that she wore previously, now thrown somewhere across the room. megan nodded, fearful that her voice would crack under pressure. you smirked at the motion.
you inserted the strap into megan. she moaned at the new feeling. her arms reaching for you, trying to calm herself by your touch. âfuck.â she whimpered into your ear as she pulled you even closer, your skin touching, chest to chest. as soon as you felt megan begin to move you went to work. you pulled back, thrusting into megan. the noises she let out were lewd, unable to control herself. your hand moved to her breast, you moved your finger around her nipple, tracing the spot for a reaction. megan moaned louder, her body moving against yours, matching your thrusts each time.
âfuck.â you mumbled. the toy hitting your core at the right spot. your hips faltered slightly, but you regained composure and continued. megan was a moaning mess beneath you, not even spewing real words, just mindless babbles of your name and curse words.
âyn. yn. imââ the girl couldnât even finish her sentence as your pace became un relentless.
âhold on for me baby, iâm almost there.â you whispered as you moaned at a quicker speed. your thighs began to burn, but you wouldnât stop, you couldnât. âfuck, fââ megan reached for your torso as she pulled you tighter to her, wanting to feel the contact of your skin again.
âshit!â you moaned out as the strap hit your clit in the perfect way. your hips stalled for half a second before you pushed through, working megan closer to her release. âcome for me mei.â you mumbled against the shell of her ear.
âoh fuck!â it was like megan exploded. her body convulsed as she finished. you pulled back, rubbing her clit in the way you knew she loves. the action causing her orgasm to lengthen.
two minutes passed before either of you said a word. you laid on top of megan as the both of you tried to regain your breath.
âholy shit.â megan broke the silence, her voice mumbled by your neck. âyouâre so beautiful baby.â you muttered when you pulled yourself into a push-up position.
meganâs outgrown pink bangs clung to her forehead. you pushed a piece of hair that fell onto her face, sweeping it behind her ear. sweat raked both of your bodies. the room began to reek of sex.
âyou know how to make a girl feel like a million bucks.â megan joked as you pulled out, she made a small noise at the end of her sentence. you handled the strap as quickly and carefully as you could. âah my aftercare queen.â megan joked again as you came over to help clean megan off. you laughed while shaking your head as you tended to meganâs body.
âalways.â you muttered and kissed meganâs forehead as you got into bed with her. you pulled the blanket over yourselves as you wrapped an arm around her waist.
â
an: GUYS!!!! THANJ YOU FOR A 100 FOLLOWERS HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT
Summary: The pair are left in the aftermath of honesty and facing one another at the VMAs.
Prev ch. | next ch.
Morning comes anyway.
Too bright. Too clean. Too early for what sits in your chest.
You wake up half-dressed on top of the sheets, one sock missing, hoodie twisted under your shoulder. Mouth dry. Head not pounding exactlyâjust thick. Heavy in that dull way sleep doesnât fix.
For a second, thereâs nothing. Then memory comes back in flashes.
Balcony rail cold under your hands.
Her arms around you. Your face in her neck.
Â
I like you, y/n.You donât get to bleed on me because someone else cut you.Figure it out.
You close your eyes again immediately.
Coward.
The room is quiet enough to hear the AC kick on.
Your phone is face down on the nightstand. DND still on.
You leave it there longer than necessary.
Eventually you sit up. Rub both hands over your face. Stand. Regret standing for half a second. Keep moving anyway.
Bathroom light too harsh.
You brush your teeth staring at yourself like youâre someone you vaguely know. Shower too hot. Let it hit the back of your neck until the mirror fogs over.
Doesnât help.
By the time you get downstairs, the house smells like coffee
Sasha is already in the kitchen in yesterdayâs clothes, hair tied up badly, sunglasses on indoors like sheâs hiding from herself.
Thereâs a bottle of water and two ibuprofen set on the counter beside your mug.
You glance at them. Then at her. She doesnât look up right away.
ââŠMorning,â she says.
âMorning.â
A beat.
âYou need anything?â
The question is careful. Too careful for Sasha.
You reach for the mug. âIâm good.â
Both of you know thatâs bullshit.
She nods anyway. Picks at a piece of toast she clearly doesnât want.
âI was drunk,â she says after a minute.
You lean against the counter. âOkay.â
âI shouldnât have said it like that.â
You stare into your coffee. The worst part is she wasnât entirely wrong.
âYou said what you said.â
Sasha winces slightly at that.
âI know.â
Silence settles again. Normally sheâd fill it. Joke. Fight. Throw something dramatic at your head.
Today she just grabs her keys.
âIma head home,â she mutters.Â
You nod once.
At the door she pauses.
âShe likes you, you know.â
You donât ask who. You donât have to.
The door shuts before you answer. The kitchen feels bigger after she leaves.
You unlock your phone.
Groupchat (27)
Tara: WHO THREW UP IN THE PLANTER LMFAOOO Odessa: not me spiritually yes physically no
Billie: all of u are embarrassing Quen: who stole my sunglasses
Tara: whose dog was that
Billie: there was no dog
Tara: then explain the memory
You scroll.
No mention of Sasha. No mention of you leaving.
And no knowledge of the balcony.Â
That silence feels coordinated somehow.
Your thumb hovers over Meganâs name before you can think better of it.
Chat already open.
Last message from days ago.Â
No text after the balcony at all.
Just memory.
You lock the phone. Unlock it again thirty seconds later.
Type. hey. sorry about last night.
Delete it.
Type again.
hey. sorry if i was a mess last night. i know that was a lot. thank you for being there. and for being honest.
You stare at it long enough to reconsider.
Phone down immediately.
You pace to the sink. Rinse a clean glass that doesnât need rinsing. Drink water you donât want.
Buzz.
Too fast.
You turn the phone over.
Megan: you donât need to apologize for having feelings
A pause. Typing bubble appears. Disappears.
just mean what you say next time
Another beat.
hope youâre okay today
You read it three times.
Kind. Warm, even.
And somehow still far enough away to make your chest tighten.
You: yeah. iâm goodÂ
You too.
Nothing after that.
Of course.
You toss the phone onto the counter harder than necessary.
Coffeeâs gone cold.
You drink it anyway.
This is probably for the best. The thought arrives smooth. Familiar.
You canât do intensity anyway. Things were getting weird.
Too close. Too fast.
Now thereâs space again. Room to breathe.
So why does it feel like something got taken from you instead of fixed?
You pick your phone back up. Open the chat.
Type:
what are you doing later
Stare at it.
Then delete every word. Set the phone face down.
Tell yourself space is maturity. Tell yourself distance is healthy. Tell yourself a lot of things while standing alone in your kitchen.
âÂ
On Meganâs side. She woke up before her alarm.
Not suddenly. Not dramatically.
Just eyes open to a room still gray with early light, mind already moving before her body does.
For a second she lies there, staring at the ceiling.
Then it hits in order.
The balcony.
Your face pressed into her neck.
The way you shook once when you were trying not to cry.
Your hands at her waist.
I hate how much I want it. Figure it out.
She rolls onto her side and reaches for her phone before she can stop herself.
Nothing from you. Of course.
She drops the phone back onto the mattress and closes her eyes.
That shouldnât bother her. It does anyway.
By eight-thirty sheâs in the kitchen barefoot, oversized tee hanging off one shoulder, making coffee she barely tastes.
Sophia is already there at the counter eating fruit straight from the container.
She glances up once.
âYou look thoughtful.â
âI look tired.â
âYou look like you lost an argument in your head.â
Megan opens a cabinet just to do something with her hands.
âIâm fine,â Sophia hums.
That means liar. Megan ignores it.
She doesnât mean to check your chat again.
She does it three times before ten.
Nothing new.
Then finallyâ
Your name.
Her stomach drops in a way she immediately resents.
She opens it too fast.
You: hey. sorry if i was a mess last night. i know that was a lot. thank you for being there. and for being honest.
Megan reads it once.
Then again slower.
Then sets the phone down face up on the counter like distance from it will help.
Sophia watches the whole thing.
âWell?â
Megan exhales through her nose.
âShe apologized.â
Sophia waits.
âAnd?â
âAnd nothing.â
Thatâs clearly not nothing.â
Megan picks the phone back up. Because it isnât nothing.
Itâs you reaching first. Itâs you acknowledging something instead of pretending it never happened.
Itâs also still careful. Still halfway protected. Still written like someone standing near a doorway instead of walking through it.
She types:
itâs okay <3
Deletes the heart immediately.
Too soft.
Types:
you donât need to apologize for having feelings
Pauses. Because she wants to add:
i wanted to kiss you too. i barely slept either. i miss when this was easy. come over.
Instead she types:
just mean what you say next time
Stares at that. Too harsh?
No. True.
Then:
hope youâre okay today
She sends it before she can weaken. Sophia raises an eyebrow.
âThat looked emotionally constipated.â
Megan gives her a flat look.
âIt looked appropriate.â
âIt looked like you wanted to say twelve other things.â
She takes her coffee and walks away.
Sophia calls after her, âOoooh, so yes.â
â
In her room, sunlight crawling slowly across the floor, Megan sits cross-legged on the bed with her mug cooling beside her.
Your reply comes.
you too
Short. Polite. Nothing to hold.
She stares at it longer than she should.
Then tosses the phone beside her.
Disappointed lands first.
Not because you didnât write more.
Because part of her hoped the balcony changed something immediately.
That youâd wake up clearer.
That honesty would make you brave.
Instead itâs still this.
Careful little crumbs.
She knows thatâs unfair.
Growth doesnât happen overnight.
Still.
Sheâs disappointed anyway.
â
By noon sheâs supposed to be getting ready for a fitting.
Instead sheâs scrolling upward through your chat history.
Not far enough to embarrass herself.
Just enough.
Voice notes sent at 1:14 a.m.
You calling her weird for eating fries with a fork.
A blurry photo of your dog with no context.
Her sending âcome outsideâ and you actually doing it ten minutes later.
Random nothing conversations that somehow felt like something.
Back when replies were fast.
Back when you sounded less afraid.
She presses the phone to her thigh and looks out the window.
She misses you in the stupidest ways.
Your timing.
The way you make eye contact like a dare.
How quickly the room gets funnier when youâre in it.
How soft you got on the balcony when nobody else was there to witness it.
That one is the hardest to shake.
Because now she knows it exists.
And now she knows how quickly you hide it again.
â
Her phone lights up.
Jonah.
brunch later?
She almost laughs.
No response.
No energy.
No interest in anyone easy right now.
Which annoys her more than it should.
Because she could choose easy.
Instead sheâs sitting here aching over someone complicated who might disappear the second things matter.
Embarrassing.
â
Manon calls mid-afternoon.
Megan answers on speaker while doing mascara.
âYou alive?â
âBarely.â
âYouâre thinking about her.â
âNo, Iâm doing makeup.â
âSame answer.â
Megan smiles despite herself.
Manon continues, voice lazy and sharp all at once.
âYou like difficult projects too much.â
âSheâs not a project.â
âNo,â Manon says. âSheâs wounded. Different packaging.â
Megan goes quiet.
Manon catches it instantly.
âYou can care,â she says, softer now. âJust donât confuse care with responsibility.â
âI know.â
âDo you?â
A pause.
ââŠyes.â
Another pause.
âOkay,â Manon says. âThen stop rereading the messages.â
Megan freezes.
âHow do you know Iâm doing that?â
âBecause youâre predictable when youâre emotional.â
âIâm hanging up.â
âLove you too.â
The call ends.
Megan sets the phone down and laughs once despite herself.
Then goes still again.
Because Manon is right.
She does care.
Too much, maybe.
Enough to want to text you right now:
how are you really feeling? did you eat? come over and stop acting weird.
But she doesnât.
Because she knows what would happen.
Youâd soften into her.
Sheâd soothe you.
The ache would quiet for a night.
Then the fear would come back and youâd pull away again.
Cycle resumed.
No.
She refuses to become the place you run when hurting and leave when steadier.
So instead she puts her phone facedown.
Finishes her mascara.
Gets dressed.
Carries the ache properly.
Quietly.
With posture.
With standards.
And all day long, against her better judgment, she misses you anyway.
âââ
Despite the turmoil, your in New York; VMAâs hours away.
By six p.m., the hotel suite feels like a command center pretending to be luxury.
Steam from irons. Garment bags unzipped across couches. Makeup cases open like surgery kits. Someone from styling asking where your second chain went. Someone from management asking if youâve reviewed your acceptance notes.
You havenât.
Youâre sitting shirtless in the makeup chair while three people orbit you with purpose.
Hair getting touched. Skin getting dabbed. Rings laid out on the counter in rows like weapons.
Your phone face down in your lap.
Tour announcement deck approved.
Speech outline approved.
Performance blocking approved.
Heart rate absolutely not approved.
âThis is the biggest room youâve done,â your manager says from somewhere behind you.
âMhm.â
âYou need to breathe.â
âI am breathing.â
Tara, already dressed and somehow eating fries in full glam, snorts from the couch.
âNo, youâre vibrating.â
You flip her off in the mirror.
She smiles sweetly. âProud of you though.â
That lands softer than expected.
You look away first.
Because the room is too full. Because if anyone gets sincere right now you might combust.
Someone clips an earpiece onto you.
Someone else fixes your collar.
Your manager crouches in front of you now, serious enough to cut through the noise.
âListen to me,â she says. âR&B of the Year is yours unless God hates women. Smile when they say your name. Hug Tara first because camera. Thank the right people. Then announce the tour clearly.â
You blink at her.
âNormal sentence.â
She narrows her eyes.
âIâm serious.â
âSo am I.â
âNo jokes tonight.â
âCruel request.â
She stands. âAnd stop checking your phone.â
You hadnât realized you were.
Tara notices immediately.
âOoooh.â
âShut up.â
âYou are sick.â
âIâm literally nominated.â
âYou are literally down bad.â
You grab the nearest pillow and throw it at her.
Miss completely.
The room laughs.
Easy.
That version of you always works.
â
The venue is colder than expected.
Everything gleams too much.
Hallways lined with handlers and security and people wearing lanyards like power. Screens everywhere. Names everywhere. Cameras waiting around corners like traps.
Your stomach has been wrong since the car.
Not sick.
Just aware.
Too aware.
This is the first room of this size.
First stage like this.
First time the thing you built in bars and back rooms and small sweat-soaked venues has been dragged into bright light for everyone to inspect.
So fucking nervous because youâre so fucking seen.
You keep moving anyway. Smile for photos. Shake hands.
Let people congratulate you before anything has even happened.
Someone says they love the album teaser.
Someone says youâre a lock tonight.
Someone says tour announcement is genius.
You nod like this is normal.
Like your chest isnât trying to escape through your ribs.
Tara walks beside you, adjusting her dress.
âYou good?â
âPerfect.â
âYou look like youâre about to fight a horse.â
âThat means nothing.â
âIt means youâre scared.â
âIâm excited.â
âSame thing on you.â
â
You see her near artist holding.
Of course you do.
Like your body knew before your eyes did.
Megan is with the girls, half-listening while Daniela talks with both hands. Lara laughing too loud at something. Sophia checking something on her phone. Manon leaning against a wall like she was born unimpressed.
And Meganâ
Yeah.
Pink against cool skin. Hair down. Calm in a way that feels expensive.
She looks like she belongs here.
That annoys you instantly because you know she probably earned that ease.
Her eyes lift.
Find yours.
Pause.
Then she smiles.
Small. Polite. Familiar enough to sting.
You walk over before you can think better of it.
Because not walking over would be weirder.
Because walking over feels insane.
âHey,â you say.
âHey,â she says back.
Perfectly matched.
You nod toward the group. âBig night.â
âYeah.â Her smile stays light. âYou too.â
âCongrats on the nomination.â
âYou too.â
You almost laugh.
It sounds like two customer service reps trapped in beautiful bodies.
Daniela thankfully fills space immediately.
âWeâre stealing your trophy if you win.â
âYouâd have to beat Tara in hand-to-hand combat.â
âI absolutely would,â Tara says, appearing beside you from nowhere.
Everyone laughs.
Even Megan.
You look at her too long while she does.
Then look away first.
Coward.
âSo,â you say, overcompensating instantly, âyou guys performing first or later?â
âLater.â
âGood slot.â
âIs it?â
âNo idea.â
That gets a real laugh out of Manon. She looks between both of you once and deadpans, âThis is painful.âÂ
Lara chokes laughing.
âWhat?â you ask.
âYou two sound like HR approved this conversation.â
Megan presses her lips together trying not to smile.
You should thank Manon for putting a knife directly in your ribs.
Instead you grin, âAlways good seeing you too.â
âLikewise,â she says lazily.
Megan glances at you again. Something softer flickers there.
Then someone from staff calls her group for rehearsal staging.
Saved.
âGood luck tonight,â she says.
âYou too.â
Again with the matching.
She leaves with the girls.
No touch.
No pause.
No private look over the shoulder.
Just movement.
Professional.
You stand there a second too long watching where she disappeared.
Tara bumps your shoulder.
âYou are so embarrassing.â
âShut up.â
âShe likes you.â
âHelpful.â
âSheâs mad at you.â
âLess helpful.â
âShe still likes you though.â
You start walking.
âPlease find another hobby.â
â
Performance goes by in flashes.
Blackout.
In-ear count.
First step onto stage and then white light everywhere.
Crowd louder than expected.
Camera cranes moving like predators overhead.
Then muscle memory takes over.
You become the version of yourself built for this.
Voice steady. Body loose.
Confidence sharpened into something almost holy.
Every lyric lands.
Every look timed right.
You hear the crowd react and feed off it immediately.
This part has always made sense. When you come offstage sweating and electric, people grab your shoulders.
âThat was insane.â
âYou killed that.â
âMonster.â
Your manager is crying for no reason.
Tara screaming into your face.
But before you answer any of themâ
Your eyes scan the hallway.
Looking.
You hate yourself for it.
â
Later, when they call R&B of the Year, your table goes still.
A/n: may or may not be the last angsty chapter we'll see. mentions of internalized homophobia soo warnings of that đ«€
prev ch. | next ch.
The week moves faster after the album announcement goes liveâ
Nothing belongs to you anymore.Â
Not your phone.
Not your schedule.
Not your face.
Not even your excitement.
Everything gets split into content.
Tracklist theories.
Reaction edits.
Industry texts you pretend not to care about.
Friends suddenly remembering they know you.
Your manager saying words like momentum and window and capitalize.
Friday morning finds you in your kitchen still damp from a workout, sports bra sticking slightly to your skin, sweat cooling down your spine while the espresso machine hums beside you.
The house is too clean.
Sunlight pours through the windows like it pays rent here.
You lean against the marble counter, towel around your neck, phone pinned between shoulder and ear while your manager talks in circles.
âIâm just saying if we move the Zach Sang sit-down to Monday, it gives us more room for the Spotify rollout.â
âMhm.â
âAnd Republic wants confirmation on the listening party guest list.â
âMhm.â
âAnd Drakeâs people followed up.â
That gets your attention. You reach for your water bottle. âAbout what.â
âDinner next week. Maybe studio after.â
You unscrew the cap with one hand. âCool.â
âCool?â your manager repeats. âThatâs all I get?â
âWhat do you want me to say?â
âI want you to act like this matters.â
You take a long drink first. âIt does matter.â
âYouâve sounded half-dead for three days.â
âIâm tired.â
âYouâve also been out every night.â
âThatâs called networking.â
âThatâs called self-destruction with bottle service.â
You smirk despite yourself. From the hallway, Sasha appears in oversized sweats and one of your hoodies, hair tied up badly, grabbing a banana off the island.
âTell her she looks insane,â your manager says through the phone.
Sasha doesnât miss a beat. âShe does. Like haunted hot.â
You flip her off without looking.
âSee?â your manager says. âEven Sashaâs concerned.â
âIâm hanging up now.â
âYouâre coming tonight though, right?â
âTo what?â
âOdessaâs friendâs birthday. Hills house. Good crowd. Be seen.â
You close your eyes briefly. Of course, âYeah,â you say. âIâll come by.â
âTry not to disappear.â
âNo promises.â
You hang up before she can keep going.
Silence settles for half a second.
Then your phone lights up again.
groupchat (5)
Tara: TONIGHTTTTT Quen: hills party 10pm donât be lame
Odessa: birthday behavior only
Billie: if anyone plays bad music iâm leaving
Sasha: sheâs already coming unfortunately
You stare at it.
Another message immediately.
Tara: wear something stupid hot
Sasha snorts from across the kitchen. âTheyâre right.â
âAbout what.â
âYouâve been miserable all week. You need to go outside.â
âIâve been outside.â
She gestures vaguely. âClubs donât count. Youâve just been drinking in dark rooms and avoiding your feelings.â
You grab your espresso. âYou sound annoying before noon.â
âMhm.â You lock your phone and toss it onto the counter harder than necessary.
The espresso tastes bitter.
The kitchen suddenly feels warmer than it did a minute ago. Tonight was supposed to be easy.
Just a party. Now it feels like something else entirely.
By 9:30, your house is louder than it needs to be.
Tara is on your bathroom counter doing liner in the mirror like she lives there. Sasha is stealing from your closet with zero shame. Musicâs on low but everyoneâs talking over it anyway.
Youâre in your room half-dressed, staring at three different jackets like any of them matter.
âThey all look the same,â Tara calls from down the hall.
âThey literally donât.â
âThey literally do.â
You settle on black anyway.
Loose shirt half-buttoned. Rings. Chain. Pants that fit too well. Sunglasses even though itâs night because they buy distance when you need it.
The joint gets tucked behind your ear on instinct.
Sasha appears in the doorway, looks you over once, âAnnoying.â
âThank you.â
âI meant visually.â
âStill counts.â
10:30. You do one shot before leaving.
Then another in the car because Tara insisted.
By the time youâre winding through the hills, city lights stretched out below like spilled glass, the buzz is warm and clean.
Manageable. Exactly where you like it.
Enough to loosen everything.
Not enough to feel too much.
â
11:45. The house is impossible.
Modern glass box carved into the hillside. Music already shaking through the driveway. Valet chaos. Too many expensive cars. Too many people pretending not to notice who else is arriving.
You step out first. Bottle of tequila in one hand.
Sunglasses still on.
Joint still tucked behind your ear.
People notice immediately. They always do.
âYo!â
âCongrats on the album!â
âTuesday was crazy!â
âWhenâs the single dropping?â
Hands on shoulders. Quick hugs. Daps. Strangers speaking to you like friends because your name moved faster online this week.
You smile when required. Laugh when needed.
Keep moving.
The birthday guy, Matt, you think, finds you near the entrance already drunk enough to be emotional.
âNo fucking way,â he says, grabbing you by both arms. âYou came.â
âYou invited me.â
âYeah but people say that.â
You hand him the bottle. His face changes instantly.
âAre you serious?â
âHappy birthday.â
He yells loud enough to turn heads.
Sasha leans near your ear. âYou love being dramatic.â
âIâm generous.â
âYouâre vain.â
âAlso true.â
Inside is worse. Better. Whatever.
Bodies everywhere. Open kitchen packed. Pool glowing outside through the glass. Someone dancing on furniture in the distance. DJ playing something too loud to hate properly.
More congratulations follow you in waves.
Someone pulls you into a photo. Someone asks about features. Someone asks what the albumâs about.
âMoney and healing,â you deadpan.
They laugh like that was a joke.
You keep walking. Riding it now.
The attention. The momentum.
The easy confidence that comes when the room wants something from you before youâve even spoken.
This version of yourself is effortless.
Then you see her. Across the living room.
Megan.
Mid-laugh, head tipped back slightly, one hand resting on Laraâs shoulder while Daniela says something animated beside them. Manonâs there too, already clocking half the room like sheâs above all of it.
Megan looksâ
Yeah. Very good.
Simple cropped lace top. Low-rise jeans. Hair loose. Skin glowing in that unfair way some people get when theyâre actually enjoying themselves.
Relaxed. No performance in it. Just real.
She looks happier than you expected. That part lands strange.
As if she feels it, her eyes move through the room and find yours.
Recognition.
Then something quieter.
She smiles. Small.
Not distant. Not inviting either.Â
Then Daniela grabs her arm mid-story and Megan looks away again.
Keeps laughing. Keeps talking.
Doesnât rush over. Doesnât cross the room. Doesnât make you the center of her night.
And thatâ
That hits harder than it should. Sasha appears beside you with two drinks seemingly out of nowhere.
âOof.â
âShut up.â
âYou just got humbled in 4K.â
âShe said hi.â
âShe smiled and kept it pushing.â
You take one of the drinks from her. Down half immediately.
Across the room, Megan laughs again at something Lara says.
Doesnât look back this time.
The buzz in your chest shifts shape. Still warm. Just sharper now.Â
The first hour disappears the way house parties always do.
In fragments.
Someone handing you a drink before you finish the last one. A producer you vaguely know congratulating you too hard. Billie arriving late in a leather jacket like she was born annoyed. Odessa already barefoot for reasons no one questions.
You keep moving.
You keep talking.
You keep yourself just busy enough not to look across the room every ten seconds.
It doesnât work.
â
Tara fixes that.
âThere you are,â she says, grabbing your wrist with no warning.
âDangerous opener.â
âShut up and come on.â
She yanks you through the kitchen, Quen getting dragged too, protesting loudly while still following.
âWhere are we going?â
âTo people who matter.â
âI hate when you talk like that,â Quen mutters.
You already know before you arrive.
The group is gathered near the sunken living room.
Megan. Lara.
Sasha somehow beat you there. Odessa leaning against the back of the couch.
Adela standing polished and perfect with a drink in hand, laughing at something Manon said before Manon disappears into the next room.
And Meganâ
Megan sees you coming.
Doesnât move. Just watches.
Tara raises six shot glasses like sheâs conducting an orchestra.
âEveryone shut up.â
Nobody does. But they take the glasses.
You end up directly beside Megan because of course you do.
Close enough to feel her body heat.
Not touching. Not one inch.
âCheers to what?â Lara asks.
âTo me being beautiful,â Tara says instantly.
âTo the album,â Odessa corrects.
âTo free liquor,â Sasha adds.
You glance sideways. Meganâs smiling into her glass.
âTo bad decisions,â you say.
That gets a laugh out of her before she can hide it.
Everyone throws them back. The tequila burns clean and immediate.
Lara coughs dramatically.
Adela barely reacts. Megan winces, laughing.
You hand her the water bottle already in your other hand without thinking.
She pauses.
Takes it.
âThanks.â
âDonât mention it.â
Too late. You already did.
â
After that, nobody separates exactly.
The group just shifts. Reforms.
Moves room to room like a weather pattern.
And somehow, no matter where people driftâ
Megan stays near you. Not with you.
Near you. Thereâs a difference.
A few feet at most.
Across the kitchen island. Beside you on the patio bench.
At your shoulder while someone else tells a story.
Like gravity with boundaries.
You talk more to everyone else than to each other.
Itâs almost funny.
You make Lara laugh so hard she spills her drink.
Sasha keeps interrupting everyone.
Odessa starts an argument about best album intros with strangers.
Quen disappears, reappears, disappears again.
And Adelaâ
Adela talks to you a lot. Too much to be accidental.
She asks about the rollout.
About producers.
About visuals.
Then somehow about tattoos.
Then about whether youâre going to some party next week.
Smooth. Strategic.
Flirty enough to blur the line.
You know exactly what it is.
Networking with lip gloss.
And honestly, under different circumstances, youâd entertain it.
You still answer easily. Smile on instinct.
Lean in when the music gets louder. Give her enough charm to keep the conversation alive.
Because that version of you is practiced. Because it costs nothing.
But your attention keeps breaking rank.
Across her shoulder. Past whoeverâs talking.
Back to Megan. Every time.
Megan notices Adela too.
You know she does because each time Adela touches your arm lightly, Megan suddenly finds something fascinating somewhere else in the room.
Her drink. Her phone. The ceiling.
Anything but you.
And yet somehowâ
Sheâs always still nearby.
â
Then come the smaller collisions. Passing each other in the hallway.
Shoulders brushing in the kitchen. Her hand reaching for ice at the same time yours does.
Fingers knocking together. Both of you pulling back too fast.
âSorry,â she says.
âYouâre good.â
Neither of you sounds normal.
Later, someone squeezes past in the crowded living room and Meganâs palm lands briefly against your bicep to steady herself.
Just a second. Barely there.
But your whole body registers it like a strike.
She removes it immediately.
Keeps talking to Daniela like nothing happened.
You need another drink after that.
â
No one says anything.
Thatâs the wild part.
No teasing. No comments.
No one calling it out. But everyone knows.
You catch Manon watching the space between you both like itâs television.
Sasha smirks every time she walks by.
Lara keeps looking between your faces mid-conversation like she missed context.
Even Billie, from a corner seat, ready to leave, glances up once and mutters to Tara:
âThis is exhausting.â
Tara nods solemnly.
âItâs beautiful.â
â
The night thickens. Music louder now.
Bass deeper. Lights dimmer because someone messed with them or because itâs late enough not to matter.
More drinks appear from nowhere.
People stop pretending theyâre leaving. Shoes come off.
Couples form in corners.
Hands settle on waists.
Bodies lean closer to hear things they donât need repeated.
The party gets softer and messier at the same time.
The smoke circle forms the way they always do.
Naturally.
Like people can sense when the night needs to slow down for a minute.
Sunglasses atop your head now. You finally pull the joint from behind your ear, inspect it, then tuck it right back.
âSaving that for character development?â Tara asks.
âExactly.â
âYouâre so committed to theatrics,â Odessa mutters.
Two blunts are already in rotation anyway, moving lazy hand to hand.
Manon beside the fire pit.
Odessa on the floor cushion.
Jake Webber here for absolutely no clear reason, laughing too hard at everything.
Tara talking with both hands like sheâs being filmed.
And youâ
Sunken into the corner of the couch, drink in one hand, smoke in the other, trying not to look through the glass doors.
rying and failing.
Because insideâ
Megan is there somewhere. Moving through rooms. Laughing with people.
Existing too loudly in your head for someone not even next to you.
You take another hit.
Pass it left.
âYo,â Jake says, pointing at your tucked joint. âThatâs actually smart.â
âItâs called preparedness.â
âItâs called addiction,â Quen says.
âSame thing in Los Angeles,â Tara replies.
That gets a round of tired laughter.
For a minute, it feels normal.
Easy.
Then the patio door slides open.
Sasha stumbles out dramatically, drink in hand, already irritated at the concept of air.
âYou two are pissing me off.â
You donât even look at her, âHello to you too.â
âIâm serious.â
âYou usually are. Thatâs the issue.â
Manon shifts slightly beside you. Alert now.
Quen glances up from the blunt.
Everyone feels the temperature change but the blunts continue to rotate.
Sasha points vaguely back toward the house.
âThis weird little Victorian slow burn bullshit with Megan.â
You exhale smoke through your nose, âPlease never say Victorian slow burn again.â
âYou know what I mean.â
âI really donât.â
âYes you do, â She leans closer.
Tipsy enough to be blunt. Sober enough to mean it, âYou like her.â
You shrug.
âShe likes you.â
You shrug again, âThat doesnât require a panel discussion.â
Tara quietly mouths oh no to Odessa.
Manonâs eyes flick between you both.
âSash,â Quen says carefully.
But sheâs already rolling downhill.
âNo, because Iâm tired of watching you do this thing where someone actually cares about you and you start acting brand new.â
You laugh once. Dry.
âDramatic.â
âAccurate.â
You finally look at her.
âDrop it.â
She should. Everyone knows she should.
Instead she doubles down, âGrow a pair.â
You shake your head, looking away, âNot tonight.â
âThen when?â
âSasha,â This time itâs Manon.
Sharp. Warning.
Sasha ignores that too.
Because she loves hard. And sometimes people like that cut hardest, âNot everyone is your ex.â
The patio stills.
Even Jake shuts up.
Your jaw tightens.
âSasha,â Odessa pleads a little.
But she keeps going, voice lower now, more pointed, âNot everyone thinks being gay is something to hide.â
That one hits clean.
No room to dodge it. No room to joke.
You stare straight ahead.
Silence. Heavy enough to hear the music inside through the glass.
Your throat works once before words come.
Low. Controlled.
âCool.â
Instant regret flashes across her face.
Quen sits up.
âNah,â she says sharply. âThat was too far.â
Manonâs expression hardens.
âWay too far.â
Tara mutters, âJesus Christ, Sasha.â
Jake quietly gets up and disappears inside like prey escaping a wildfire.
Sasha sets her drink down fast.
âI didnât meanââ
âItâs fine,â you say.
Your voice sounds steady enough. That almost makes it worse.
You stand.
Brush imaginary lint off your pants.
âItâs true enough, right?â
âNo,â Sasha says immediately, eyes wide now. âI said it wrong.â
You nod once. Maybe to end it.
Maybe because speaking more feels dangerous.
âItâs fine.â
It isnât. Everyone knows it isnât.Â
You grab, Sashaâs drink from the table, you definitely need it more than herâThen turn toward the stairs without looking through the glass.
Without looking for Megan. Without trusting what your face looks like right now.
The door shuts behind you.
And the patio exhales only after youâre gone.Â
â
You push past bodies, shoulder slipping between strangers, the house too loud, too warm, too full of people who donât notice youâre unraveling.
Billie bumps into your chest on instinct, steadying you by the shoulders.
âyoâ you good?â
You swallow once. It doesnât go down clean.
âSheâs out back,â you say instead. âSasha. She needs to go home.â
A pause. Not long. But sharp.
Billieâs face shifts the second she sees you properlyââŠare you okay?â
You almost say yes. Itâs automatic. Muscle memory. You donât.
âGot it,â she says instead, softer now. No push. No interrogation. Just understanding in the way only she seems to do it. âIâll take care of it.â
You nod once, âThanks.â
You move past her before you change your mind.
â
The balcony at the end of the hall is smaller.
Quieter. Less people think to come here.
City spreads out underneath like it doesnât care what youâre doing up here.
You lean forward slightly on the railing. Exhale.
Nothing feels stable in your body right now. Not drunk. Not sober. Something worse in between.
Crossfaded in your feelings more than anything else.
You laugh once under your breath at that thought.
It dies immediately.
Behind youâ
A door opens.
Not dramatic.
Not loud.
Just careful. You donât turn right away.
You already know who it is before she speaks.
âCan I come out here with you?â
Her voice is calm. Measured. Like sheâs not trying to escalate anything. Just⊠enter it.
You close your eyes for half a secondââŠyeah,â you say.
Footsteps. The door shuts again.
Now itâs just the city and the two of you.
She stops beside you but doesnât lean on the railing immediately.
Not touching. Not avoiding either.
Megan just watches you for a second.
Then she exhales slowly.
âIâm not guessing anymore,â she says. Simple. Flat.
No anger.
Just finality.
You let out a short laugh that has no humor in it, âGuessing what.â
She turns her head slightly toward you, âYou know what.â
That lands.
Silence stretches.
You grip the railing harder, âI wasnât doing anything,â you say too quickly.
Even you hear it. She nods once.
Not convinced.
Just listening, âThatâs the problem,â she says. Then she steps closer.
Not into you. Just closer to you.
She takes a deep breath âI donât do mixed signals,â she continues. âI donât do almosts. I donât do whatever this is when itâs convenient and disappearing when it gets real.â
You swallow. Your throat feels tight again, âI didnât meanââ you start.
But it breaks halfway. Because you donât know what youâre even defending anymore.
Megan watches that happen. Not judging.
Thatâs the worst part.
She just waits. And it forces it out of you.
âIâm sorry, Megan,â your eyes trace her face
ââŠyouâre not wrong,â you say quietly.
Meganâs expression doesnât change. Just softer around the edges now.
You swallow, âItâsâIâ you exhale through your nose, like youâre annoyed at yourself for even starting. âItâs not like I woke up and decided to be like this.â
Her voice stays calm, âI didnât think you did.â
Your voice drops, âIt feels real with you.â
A breath.
âI hate how much I want it,â truth spilling out in pieces that donât line up.
Megan goes still. The calm doesnât leave her.
But something in her softens. Not enough to lose herself in you.
Just enough to see you more clearly.
âYouâre not the only person who feels things,â she says quietly.
You look away, âI know.â
âNo,â she says gently but firmly. âYou donât.â
That hits quieter than Sasha did. Worse, somehow.
Because it isnât an attack. Itâs clarity. She steps closer again.
Now sheâs close enough that if either of you moved wrong, youâd touch.
You donât move. She does.
Her hands come up, carefully, settling on your shoulders.
Not grabbing.
Not holding too tight. Just grounding.
And thatâs when your face finally gives up on you.
You donât mean to. But your eyes sting. Your breath changes.
You look down.
She notices immediately. Of course she does.
Her arms slide in, pulling you in before you can pretend youâre fine.
You fold into her without resistance. Face pressed into her neck.
Warm. Real. Unfairly calm. Her hand moves up and down your back once.
Slow.
âIâm sorry about your past y/n,â she says. Her voice softer now.
Still steady. Just closer. You donât answer.
Because if you do, itâll fall apart completely.
She holds you there for a few seconds longer.
Letting you exist like this without forcing you to perform anything.
Then she shifts.
Not letting go. Just adjusting.
Pulls back slightly so she can look at you.
Her hands stay looped around your neck. Yours are still around her waist.
Neither of you fixes it.
The space between you is wrong now.
Too small. Too charged.
Foreheads almost meet without either of you deciding it.
Then do. Again.
The same exact mistake pattern.
Just slower this time. Her breath catches slightly. Yours does too.
Your noses brush.
Neither of you moves away.
Her eyes drop to your lips. She watches them for a second too long.
Then looks back up.
âI like you, y/n,â she says quietly. Honest. Uncomplicated.
âI want you,â she breathes voice cracking as she closes her eyes and slides her hands to your shoulders, âBut Iâm not gonna keep standing here while you hide from me.â
Your grip tightens slightly at her waist. Not pulling her closer.
Just reacting.
She notices everything. Always does.
Her hands slide down from your shoulders to your chest now.
Not pushing. Just creating distance where she needs it.
Still close. But clearer.
You donât move yours from her waist.
She lets that happen. One last steady breath, âYou donât get to bleed on me because someone else cut you.â
Silence again.Â
Different this time. Not heavy.
Final. Her eyes stay on yours.
No softness left to negotiate with.
âFigure it out.â
And then she steps back.
No abruptly or angry. Just done with standing in something that doesnât know what it is yet.Â
The air changes immediately when she creates space.
She turns first.
Walks back toward the door.
Doesnât slam it. Doesnât look back twice.
Just once. Quick.
Then sheâs gone inside.
And the balcony feels colder than it did before she came out.
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Back-to-back schedules. Press. Promotions. Quick turnaround. Chicago just happens to line up with it.
Thatâs it.
The second you step outside, the air hits different.
Cooler.
You pause for half a second.
ââŠokay,â you mutter under your breath, adjusting your jacket, âthis is kinda nice.â
Sasha bumps your shoulder lightly.
âFirst time discovering weather?â
âShut up.â
Your phoneâs already in your hand before you even get to the car.
Habit.
Notifications stacked.
Tags. Mentions. Clips.
You scroll lazily, not really paying attentionâ
Until you do. A rehearsal clip.
Her.Â
Quick cut. Stage lights. Movement. Caption already doing too much.
You watch maybe half a second.
Lock your phone. Like you didnât.
âCarâs here,â your manager calls. Sasha, vlog camera in hand, is already sliding in first.
You slide into the backseat, door shutting behind you as the city noise dulls out.
Chicago moves fast. Faster than LA.
Everything feels closer together and somehow louder at the same time.
You rest your head back, watching it blur past the window.
You could text her. You donât.
Because if you text her right nowâ it looks like you were thinking about her.
And youâre not giving her that.
By the time you get to the hotel, everything already feels⊠busy.
Not chaotic.
Just⊠building.
People moving quicker. Talking louder. Energy sitting right under the surface.
You donât say it out loud.
But you know why.
Roomâs high up. Viewâs nice.
You donât really care.
You drop your bag, kick your shoes off, walking further in like youâve done this a hundred times.
Your phone buzzes. You donât grab it immediately.
You already know who it is.
Stillâ
You reach for it.
Megan: you here yet
You huff a quiet laugh through your nose.
No âhi.â No nothing.
Just straight to it.
You: just landed
You pause.
you: missed me?
You stare at it.
âŠwhatever.
Send.
Three dots pop up immediately.
Disappear. Come back.
You smirk a little despite yourself.Â
Megan: donât do that
Megan: youâve been here 5 minutes
You laugh quietly, dropping back onto the bed.
You: so thatâs a yes
This time it takes a second longer.
Megan: youâre annoying
Megan: but yeah hi
That lands easier than it should.
You: hi
A beat.
You: u at rehearsals?
Megan: just finished
Megan: itâs actually insane here
Megan: like⊠a lot
You can picture it immediately.
Her in the middle of everything. People pulling her in ten directions. Noise. Lights. Energy.
You smile a little.
You: you love that tho
Megan: i do
Megan: i just donât wanna mess it up
Thatâ
Thatâs new.
You sit up slightly without realizing it.Â
You: you wonât
You donât overdo it. Just send it.
Pause.
Longer this time. You hear your manager calls through the doorâsomething about a radio spot.
Megan: yeah?
You: without a doubt
Three dots again.Â
Megan: you coming tonight?
There it is.
Casual. But not really.
You lean back, staring up at the ceiling for a second.
You could say no. You probably should say no.Â
You have work. Stuff lined up for the rest of the trip. A meeting with Drake.Â
You: yeah
Sent anyway.
Megan: okay good :)
Megan: iâll send you where to go
You: aightÂ
You lock your phone, letting it drop onto the bed beside you. Stare at the ceiling for a second longer than necessary.
It feels normal. Easy.
Like it always does.
But thereâs something sitting under it now.
Small. Subtle. Not enough to name yet.
Just enough to notice. And you donât know if itâs the city. The timing.
Or the fact that this timeâ
Youâre walking into something that doesnât just belong to you anymore.Â
â
The radio thing runs longer than it should.
It always does.
Same questions. Same answers. Same polite laughs like you havenât said all of this before.
You play your part.
Youâre good at that.
â
âAlright, thatâs a wrapââ
Headphones off.
Mic pushed back.
Youâre already standing before they finish thanking you.
âAppreciate you,â you nod, polite, quick.
Phone in your hand before youâre fully out the door.
â
You: just finished
You: pulling up in a few
Send.
No response.
â
âCarâs here,â Sasha says, already moving.
You follow, sliding in beside her, door shutting as the noise dulls again.
But not completely.
You can still feel it.
âSheâs gonna kill you if you miss her set,â Sasha says, glancing over.
âIâm not missing it.â
â
The car pulls up near the venue, and itâs immediate.
Noise.
Movement.
People everywhere.
â
You step out, adjusting your jacket automatically, eyes already scanning without meaning to.
Backstage access gets you through fasterâbut not fast enough.
Thereâs still bodies.
Still people.
Still too much in between.
Your phone buzzes in your hand.
Megan: backstage
Megan: left side when you get inÂ
Your stomach lurges in anticipation.
â
Backstage hits you in layers.
Music bleeding through walls.
Voices overlapping.
Someone counting down in rhythm somewhere you canât see.
Tape on the floor. Cases stacked. Crew weaving between people like itâs choreographed chaos.
Itâs loudâbut controlled loud.
Like everyone knows exactly where theyâre supposed to be.
â
You spot them before anything else.
The girls.
Already in their stage outfits.
Hair done. Makeup set. That in-between moment where theyâre not performing yet but theyâre not just standing around either.
Warming up physically. Rolling shoulders. Stretching. Quiet vocal runs under their breath.
Focused.
Locked in.
â
And then you notice the extras in the space.
Three guys you donât immediately recognize.
Hanging near them like theyâve been here longer than you.
Relaxed. Comfortable. Leaned against equipment cases like they belong.
You donât think much of it yet. You just walk in.
âHey,â you call out first.
Megan turns immediately.
Like sheâs been half-expecting you.
Her face softens a little when she sees you. That shift youâre starting to recognize now.
You walk the rest of the way over.
âyouâre late,â she says, but sheâs smiling.
âi know,â you shrug. âradio thing ran long.â
She nods like thatâs acceptable.
Which is annoying.
You step closer.
âyou good?â
âyeah,â she says, adjusting her sleeves slightly. âjust going through it.â
Then she opens her arms slightly.
Not dramatic. Just enough.
You pause but of courseâ
You pull her in.
Tight hug. Arms around her waist.
Quick, grounded, familiar in a way that doesnât feel performative anymore.
She exhales into it, stays close for a half second longer than she needs to. Then lets go. Unfamiliar brown eyes catch yours over her shoulder; one of those guys watching your every move.
âyouâre sweaty,â she mutters drawing you back to her.
Your hands reluctantly drop from her waist.
âYeah, I had to run a little,â you flush rubbing the back of your neck.Â
She smiles. The thought of you rushing to her.
Thatâs it. Simple. Normal.
You shift your attention slightly.
The guys nearby.
Still watching, now that youâre closer.
Megan gestures loosely.
âOhâthis is 2hollis, rommulas, and, Jonah,â She introduces. âTheyâve been here all day.âÂ
You nod once.
âcool.â
Then, because you donât know what else to say:
âwhatâs good.â
Itâs slightly awkward.
Not hostile. Just everyone deciding how to place you in the room.
âyo,â the tallest one says back, easy enough.
Handshake situation happens.
Nothing weird. Just new people energy.
Jonah is last.
He steps forward a little slower than the others.
Shakes your hand . Normal. Friendly.
But something about the way he looks at youâjust brieflyâsticks.
Like heâs already figured something out and you havenât caught up yet.Â
âIâve heard your stuff.â he says.Â
You nod. You let it pass. You always do.Â
Megan turns back toward her mirror setup almost immediately.
Fixing something with her hair. Rolling her shoulders again.
Getting back into it.
Like you didnât just arrive. Like nothing shifted.
But you notice anyway.Â
The way the room rebalances slightly when she moves. The way people track her without meaning to.
The way Jonahâs attention doesnât fully leave her even when heâs talking to someone else
â
You move through the rest of the girls after that.
Quick greetings. Familiar energy with Manon and Lara already joking mid-sentence like youâve been here longer than five minutes.
Sasha drifts off toward Daniela, immediately pulled into whatever chaos is happening there.
Normal rhythm.
You fit into it easily.
Manon leans slightly toward you as Lara keeps talking to someone else.
Not subtle. Not loud either.
Just casual enough that it lands directly.
âThat one,â she says, eyes flicking past you, âhas been making puppy eyes at Megan all day.â
You follow her gaze before you even fully register youâre doing it. And there he is again.
Jonah. Lean frame. Rat-tails. Leaned back like he belongs in the space without trying.
Talking to Megan. Sheâs laughing at something he said.
Itâs light. Easy.
Her head tilts slightly when she laughsâlike she doesnât realize sheâs doing it.
And you feel it.
Not a reaction. Not yet.
Just a shift.
Like something in the room got slightly narrower.
â
You donât look at him long. You donât need to.
You already know he noticed you.
You just didnât notice you noticed him back.
Megan is already back into her pre-show rhythm.
Stretching. Rolling her shoulders again. Speaking softly with one of the choreographers.
Megan laughs again at something he saysâshort, easy.Â
And this time it lands differently.
Not because it changes anything.
But because youâre aware of how easily he can still make her laugh while youâre standing right there.
You look away first this time.
Not because you lost anything.
Just because you donât need to keep staring to understand what youâve already registered.Â
Stage crew calls for them to go to their marks.Â
Megan looks for you, âdonât disappear on me okay,â she teases giving your hand a quick squeeze as one of the staff hands her a mic.Â
â
The lights drop before you even fully settle into place.
Not dramatically. Just⊠suddenly.
Like the room decides itâs time.
And then the bass hits.
â
You donât talk after that.
You canât. Because Megan walks out first and the entire venue shifts with her.
Itâs not even a thoughtâitâs instinct.
Your eyes lock immediately.
And they stay there.
She moves like sheâs built for it.
Not rushed. Not forced. Just sure.
Every step hits like itâs been rehearsed a hundred times and still feels new.
The girls fall into place around her, but your attention doesnât split.
It doesnât go anywhere else.
It stays on her.
On the way she smiles mid-line like she knows exactly what sheâs doing to people.
On the way she owns silence before the beat even drops.
Sasha leans in slightly beside you, shouting over the sound.
âOkay no sheâs actually insane for this.â
You donât look away.
âYeah,â you say, almost automatic. âI know.â
Sasha clocks you immediately.
âOh my god,â she laughs. âYouâre doing that thing.â
âWhat thing.â
âThe stare. Youâre gone.â
âIâm notââ you start, then stop because Megan hits a turn in the choreography and the crowd reacts like one body; her eyes locking on yours.
You exhale once through your nose.
ââŠokay maybe a little.â
Sasha grins like she won something.
The set is tight. Too tight.
The kind of performance where everything clicks so clean it feels unreal.
And Meganâshe doesnât miss once.
Not once.
â
By the time the final chorus hits, youâve stopped moving altogether.
Just watching.
Completely locked.
And then it ends.
A beat of silence. Then chaos.
â
Backstage is louder this time.
Sweat. Music still bleeding through walls. People shouting congratulations over each other.
Youâre moving before you even think about it. The girls are in a group hug.
Sasha gets pulled into a hug from Daniela immediately.
âYOU GUYS WERE INSANE,â sheâs yelling, laughing, already half crying.
Sasha spins her slightly. âYOU WERE INSANE!â
Itâs instant.
No barrier.
â
You donât even make it two steps before Megan sees you.
Sheâs still catching her breath, hair slightly messed now, stage outfit sticking a little from heat.
And she just walks straight into you.
No hesitation. No performance left in her.
Just her arms around your shoulders.
â
âyou were unreal,â you say immediately into her neck.
Her laugh is muffled.
âI blacked out half of it.â
âYou didnât miss anything.â
She pulls back just enough to look at you, âyouâre lying.â
âIâm not.â
âyouâre always lying.â
âNever to you.â
That gets her. A small smile before she shakes her head.
Her hands are still on your arms.
Yours are still at her waist.
Neither of you moves them yet.
âyou did really good,â You say softer now⊠mean it too much.
âThank you.âÂ
Behind her, Jonah is there again.
Watching.
Not interrupting.
Just⊠present in a way that doesnât fade.
Megan doesnât notice immediately. Or maybe she does.
Hard to tell.Â
âYou did amazing,â he tells her as she lets her arms drop from you. Smiling at him mumbling a thanks.
Sasha pops up beside you both, out of breath.
âOkay Iâm sorry,â she says directly to Megan, âbut I think I just became a fan.â
Megan laughs, stepping slightly out of your space.
âYou think?â
âNo I KNOW,â Sasha says, then immediately turns, pointing at Manon across the room. âYOU DID THAT THING DURING THE BRIDGE??â
Manon grins. âI always do that thing.â
Sasha gasps like sheâs offended and impressed at the same time.
It breaks the intensity just enough. You step slightly back from Megan now.
Just enough space to reset.
But not fully. Never fully.
â
Sophia is off to the side.
You notice she hasnât really joined the chaos yet.
Arms crossed loosely. Observing.
Not cold. Just⊠measured.
She catches you looking and doesnât move away.
If anythingâshe holds it.
So you walk over first.
âyou good?â you ask.
She studies you for a second.
âI didnât know what to think of you,â she says bluntly.
You huff a quiet laugh.
âhonest start.â
âI like honest.â
âcool,â you nod. âme too.â
A pause.
Then she adds: âyouâre⊠different with her.â
You donât pretend not to understand.
ââŠyeah.â
She tilts her head slightly.
âgood different or bad different?â
That one hits closer than expected.
You look toward Megan for a second without meaning to. Sheâs laughing at something Sasha said now.
Fully relaxed again. Like nothing heavy exists in her orbit.
You look back.
ââŠboth,â you admit quietly.
Sophia studies you. Waiting. So you keep going.
âI mess things up,â you say. âlikeâon purpose sometimes. or without realizing. depends on the day.â
She doesnât interrupt.
âI donât really⊠let things be easy.â
Then, quieter:
âbut with herâitâs different. I donât know why. it just is.â
Sophia nods slowly like sheâs filing that away.
âThen donât ruin it,â she says.
Across the room, Megan glances over. Finds you mid-conversation.
Her eyes linger a second longer than casual.
Then she looks away again.Â
â
When you reach the the club it doesnât feel like a place so much as a pulse.
Low ceiling. Heavy bass. Lights cutting through smoke in slow, color-stained waves. Everything moves like itâs slightly delayedâlike reality has to catch up to the sound.
And Megan is still next to you.
Not always touching. But never far.
Sasha disappears almost immediately into the crowd with Daniela and Lara, already laughing like theyâve known each other for years instead of hours.
You catch Sasha shouting something like, âYOUâRE ACTUALLY INSANE,â over her shoulder.
Megan laughs from beside you.
âsheâs loud,â she says.
âyouâre loud,â you answer automatically.
She bumps your shoulder lightly.
ânot like that.â
You donât respond. Just look at her. Thatâs enough.
â
At some point, she pulls you toward the floor.
Not dramatic. Just her fingers catching your wrist and tugging once like itâs obvious youâll follow.
And you do. Of course you do.
The crowd tightens around you both almost immediately.
Too close. Not enough space to overthink anything.
Which is probably the point.
You end up beside her first. Then behind her.
Then slightly closer than that without either of you acknowledging the transition.
It just⊠happens.
Her hand brushes yours once while turning.
Then again when someone passes behind her.
And the second time, it doesnât move away fully.
Just lingers near your fingers like it forgot to leave.
âYouâre doing that thing again,â she says without looking at you.
âWhat thing.â
âthe staring.â
âIâm not staring.â
She finally looks at you now.
âYou are.â
ââŠokay yeah.â
That gets her to laugh.
Soft. Real. Not performative anymore.
She turns slightly, leaning in so she can actually hear you over the music.
And you feel it immediately â how close everything is now.
Not just bodies.
Everything.
âYouâre different here,â she says.
You tilt your head.
âhow.â
âless in your head.â
You huff a quiet laugh.
âMaybe Iâm just different with you.â
Your hand settles at the small of her back without you deciding to do it.
It just happens.
Natural. Automatic.
Like your body stopped asking permission a while ago.
She notices. She always notices.
But she doesnât move away.
Instead she leans in slightly closer.
Like sheâs making a decision without saying it out loud.
And then she sees Sophia.
Across the floor.
Still not fully in the chaos.
Watching more than participating.
Measured. Observant. Quiet in a way that feels intentional.
Megan pauses.
Then gently taps your arm.
âiâm gonna go talk to her for a second.â
You nod. Not because you want space.
But because you trust her to come back.
You watch her move through the crowd.
Itâs different when sheâs not right next to you.
The room feels slightly off balance.
Sophia notices her approaching before she arrives.
Her posture shifts a little â subtle, but present.
Megan stops beside her.
They talk. You canât hear it over the music.
But you can see Sophiaâs face clearly enough.
Megan says something that makes her pause.
Not defensive. Just⊠processing.
Then she looks over her shoulder briefly.
At you.
And back to Megan.
A few seconds pass.
Then Sophia nods once. Slow.
Like sheâs accepting something she didnât fully have language for before.
You donât interrupt.
You just wait.
When Megan comes back, sheâs slightly softer around the edges. Just more settled.
âShe likes you,â she says as she reaches you again.
âdidnât feel like it at first.â
âSheâs cautious,â Megan shrugs. âbut she gets it now.â
âgets what.â
She looks at you for a second longer than necessary.
ââŠyouâre not trying to take anything from us.â
That lands quieter than expected. You donât respond right away.
Just nod once.
âyeah,â you say finally. âiâm not.â
Her hand finds your wrist again.
Not pulling this time. Just holding.
And when she leans in closer again, the space between you disappears like it was never really there to begin with.
â
Across the room, Sasha is yelling at Lara about something completely unrelated.
Manon is laughing at her.
Daniela is filming something sheâll probably never post.
Everything is loud.
Everything is moving.
â
You feel it before you think about it.
The way Megan turns toward you instead of away.
The way the space between you closes without either of you pretending itâs accidental anymore.
âYouâre still staring,â she says, softer now.
You donât even bother denying it this time.
ââŠyeah.â
That makes her smile. Not teasing. Something else.
Her hands land lightly on your shoulders.
Not for balance. Not because the crowd pushed her.
Because she wanted to.
Your hands settle at her waist again. This time slower.
Deliberate.
The movement between you changes.
Less playful.
More⊠aware.
She steps closer. You match it.
Thereâs no space left now. Not really. Youâre foreheads softly touch once.
The noise of the room dullsânot actually quieter, just⊠further away.
Like itâs happening somewhere behind you instead of around you.
âYouâre different tonight,â she says.
âyou said that already.â
âI know,â she smiles faintly. âI meant it more this time.â
You tilt your head slightly.
ââŠgood different?â
She looks at you. Really looks this time.
âyeah.â
Her fingers shift slightly against your shoulders; curling slightly around the back of your neck, threading through your nape.
Your grip at her waist tightens just enough to notice.
Itâs not rushed. Thatâs the thing. Nothing about this is rushed.
She leans in first. Just a little.
Enough that your foreheads almost touch againâ
Then do. Everything slows.
Actually slows.
You can feel her breath now.
Close enough that itâs impossible not to.
Your noses brush slightly when she exhales.
Neither of you pulls back.
Your eyes drop. Just for a second.
Her lips.
Then back up.
She notices. Of course she does.
Her gaze flicks the same way.
Down. Back up.
A pause. Not long.
But long enough to mean something.
ââŠwe shouldnât,â she murmurs smiling.
But she doesnât move.
âyeah,â you say.
You donât move either.
Your hand shifts slightly at her waist.
Her fingers tighten.
And thenâ
â
âMEGANââ
Daniela.
Too loud. Too close.
Reality crashing back in all at once.
Megan pulls back just enough to look past you.
ââŠwhat?â
âLaraâs drunk and Manon is arguing with her, Sophia says we need to goâ Daniela says in one breath, already reaching for her arm.
Megan exhales, somewhere between a laugh and frustration.
âoh my godââ
She looks back at you. And for a secondâ
Neither of you say anything.
Because what almost just happened is still sitting there.
Unfinished.
âIââ she starts.
Then stops. Shakes her head slightly instead.
ââŠhold that thought.â
You huff a quiet laugh.
âyeah. go.â
Daniela is already pulling her away.
âCOME ONââ
âIâm coming,â Megan calls, stumbling back a step, then steadying.
She looks over her shoulder once.
Just once. Then sheâs gone into the crowd.
And just like thatâ
The space feels too big again.
Sasha appears at your side like sheâs been watching the whole time.
ââŠwow.â
You donât look at her.
âdonât.â
âI didnât say anything.â
âYou were about to.â
âI absolutely was.â
You exhale, running a hand over the back of your neck.
ââŠyeah.â
Sasha nudges you lightly.
âyouâre in trouble.â
ââŠI know.â
â
The next morning feels quieter.
Not peaceful.
Just⊠after.
The girls are leaving early.
Flights stacked. Tight turnaround. Back to LA.
Youâre not. Youâve still got another day here.
Press. Shoots. Obligations you canât move.
Itâs too early for how late the night went.
Lobby half-awake. People moving slower than usual.
You spot them near the entrance.
Bags packed. Hoodies up. Sunglasses on.
Still tired. Still glowing a little from the night before.
Megan sees you almost immediately. Of course she does.
She walks over. No hesitation.
âyouâre not coming with us?â she asks, even though she already knows.
âgot stuff here,â you shrug. âleaving tomorrow.â
She nods. Doesnât like it.
Doesnât argue it either.
A small pause.
Thenâ
âlast nightââ
You both say it at the same time.
And stop.
She huffs a quiet laugh.
âYou go.â
You shake your head. ânah. you.â
She looks at you for a second.
ââŠweâre good,â she says.
Simple. Careful. You nod once.
âyeah. weâre good.â
Itâs not a lie. But itâs not the whole truth either. She steps a little closer. Not as close as last night. But not distant.
âtext me when you land,â you say.
She tilts her head slightly.
That gets a small smile out of her.
âokay.â
 Movement picks up again.
Daniela is already dragging Lara toward the door. Manon arguing with someone over something minor. Yoonchae hoodie up and sunglasses on as Sophiaâs typing away on her phone.Â
Sasha shouting a quick goodbye from across the lobby.
Chaos. Normal.
Megan lingers half a second longer.
âdonât disappear,â she says quietly.
It lands heavier than it should. You hold her gaze.
ââŠI wonât.â
She searches your face like sheâs trying to decide if thatâs true.
Then nods. Once.
And then sheâs gone too.
â
The day stacks fast after that.
Interview. Cameras. Same questions dressed up like theyâre new.
âTell us about the albumââ
âWhat inspired this eraââ
âAny collaborations we should be excited forââ
You answer everything clean. Sharp. Controlled. Easy.
You donât check your phone in between takes.
Not at first.
But by the second breakâ
You do and still, nothing.
â
Sasha notices. Of course she does.
âyouâre doing it again,â she says, sipping something she probably shouldnât have this early.
âdoing what.â
âacting like you donât care when you clearly do.â
You donât look at her.
âi donât.â
She lets that sit. Doesnât push it. Which is worse.
The rest of the day blurs.
Car to studio. Studio to meeting. Meeting to car again.
Always moving. No time to sit in anything.
Which should help. It doesnât.
â
By the time youâre getting ready for the nightâ
You check again. Still nothing.
You toss your phone onto the bed a little harder than necessary. Forcing yourself to remember that she doesnât actually have to text you.Â
âwe going or what,â you mutter.
Sasha raises an eyebrow.
âyeah. letâs go.â
â
The club with Drake is different.
Not louder. Just⊠tighter.
Controlled.
Private sections. Low lighting. Security everywhere without being obvious about it.
Youâre at a table tucked away from most of it.
Drake across from you, mid-conversation, relaxed in a way that still feels calculated.
ââŠIâm just saying, timing matters,â heâs saying, gesturing slightly with his drink. âyou drop that record too early, it doesnât hit the same.â
You nod. âweâre holding it,â you say. âletting it breathe first.â
He studies you for a second.
Then smirks. âgood. most people rush that.â
Itâs business.
Real business.
The kind you donât fumble. You stay locked in.
You listen. You respond. You hold your weight in the conversation like you belong there.
Because you do.
Your phone buzzes. Once.
Drake keeps talking.
ââŠand visuallyâyou gotta match that energy. you canât have a weak rollout behind strong music.â
âyeah,â you nod. âweâve been building that out.â
Your phone buzzes again. You glance at it this time.
Just a quick look.
Name catches immediately.
Tara.Â
You donât open it yet. You shouldnât. You donât.
ââŠyou even hearing me?â Drake says, half-laughing.
You snap back instantly.
âyeahâvisual rollout has to match the record or it falls flat.â
Usually, thereâs intention behind it. A message. Something that feeds into the version of you people expect.
Tonightâthere isnât.
Just sweats. A clean fitted tee. Hair still slightly damp from your shower.
Comfortable.
Real.
You pace once through your living room, glancing toward the front windows without meaning to. The house feels familiarâsame open layout, same floor-to-ceiling glass, same quiet sitting over the hills.
But it doesnât feel the same.
Not after last time.
Not after sheâs already been here.
Your dog keeps pace with you, nails tapping lightly against the floor, energy too big for the stillness of the house.
âRelax,â you mutter, scratching behind her ear.
She doesnât.
Of course she doesnât.
Headlights sweep across the front of your house.
Your chest tightensâ
Just slightly.
You donât rush it.
You walk to the door, hand brushing the handle like this is normal.
Like you havenât been thinking about this all day.
You open it.
Sheâs already halfway up the path.
Hoodie. Loose sweats. Hair a little messy again like she didnât try too hard.
And this timeâ
Thereâs no pause.
No reset.
Just recognition.
Her eyes meet yours and she smiles a little, like sheâs picking up right where you left off.
âYour driveway is still insane, by the way.â
You lean against the doorframe.
âGood. Itâs doing its job.â
She shakes her head, stepping past you like she remembers the way in.
And thatâ
That does something to you.
Because she does.
Remember.
You close the door behind her, turning just in time to see your dog absolutely bolt toward her.
No hesitation.
Full speed.
âOHââ Megan laughs immediately as the rottweiler practically skids into her, all energy and zero coordination.
âHiâokayâhiââ
She crouches a little without thinking, letting her sniff her hands, already smiling softer than before.
âSheâsâvery excited,â Megan laughs, trying to keep up as your dog circles her like she just made a new best friend.
âYeah, she does that a lot, sorry.âÂ
A beat.
Then, honestâ
ââŠshe likes you though.â
âYeah?â Megan glances up at that, âWhatâs your name cutie,â she says back to the dog.Â
You shrug.
âHarley.â
Your dog nudges into her again, nearly knocking into her knee this time.
âOkayâyeah, she definitely has⊠a lot going on,â Megan grins, scratching behind her ear anyway.
âYeah sheâs kind of ADHD,â you deadpan.
âThat tracks.â
She stands back up, brushing her hands together lightly, still smiling.
Her eyes drift around the house againâbut not like last time.
Not impressed.
Not overwhelmed.
Just⊠taking it in differently.
Like sheâs more comfortable here now.
âFeels quieter without them,â she says, glancing toward the studio hallway.
You catch that.
âYeah,â you nod. âLess chaos.â
She looks back at you.
ââŠkinda better.â
That lands softer than it should.
You tilt your head slightly, like youâre considering it.
âDonât let Lara hear you say that.â
Megan laughs under her breath.
âI wonât. Sheâd take it personally.â
A small silence settles. Not awkward.
Just⊠there.
You nod toward the back of the house.
âYou tryna see the setup again or you tryna lose first.â
She crosses her arms immediately.
âYouâre still on that?â
âAlways.â She steps a little closer this time, not stopping as far away as she did at the door.
âTalk is cheap.â
You smile, âGood thing Iâm not just talking.â
She rolls her eyesâbut sheâs smiling too.
Then turns, already walking further into the house like she belongs there now.
âShow me the setup first,â she throws over her shoulder.
You watch her for a second.
That difference again.
Not new. Not unfamiliar.
Just⊠closer. Then you follow.
Because yeahâ
This isnât the first time sheâs been here.
But itâs the first time it feels like she chose to be.Â
After the tour, you both drift back into the living room like itâs the natural place to land.
She doesnât sit right awayâjust lingers for a second, looking out through the glass at the yard, your dogs cutting across the property in the distance. The two dobermans move fast, controlled, all purpose.
Your rott?
Currently chasing nothing. Missing it completely.
Megan huffs a quiet laugh under her breath.
ââŠtheyâre not the same at all.â
You drop onto the couch, grabbing a controller off the table.
âYeah, those two actually have jobs.â
She glances back at you, smiling.
âAnd she doesnât?â
You look over at your rott, now halfway into a bush for no reason.
ââŠemotional support.â
âThatâs important,â she nods seriously, finally sittingâcloser than she probably realizes.
Not touching.
But close enough that you notice.
You clear your throat slightly, leaning forward, grabbing the second controller.
âI was thinking we start with Smash, then we can get into Mario Kart⊠maybe even hook up out my GameCube,â you ramble, already setting things up.
She watches you for a second.
Not the games.
You.
âYou planned this,â she says, tilting her head.
You pause.
ââŠno.â
âYeah you did.â
You scoff lightly, not looking at her.
âI didnât plan itâI just⊠have options.â
She leans back into the couch, one leg tucked under her, still watching you.
âMhmm. And the order was just⊠what, coincidence?â
You glance at her finally.
ââŠitâs a good order.â
She smiles.
Small.
Knowing.
âSure.â
You shake your head, handing her the controller.
âDonât start.â
âIâm not starting anything,â she says, taking itâbut her fingers brush yours for half a second.
Itâs quick.
Accidental.
But neither of you pulls away immediately.
Then she does.
Like she noticed it too.
You look back at the screen, clearing your throat.
âAlright,â you mutter, focusing a little too hard now, âdonât get mad when you lose.â
She laughs softly, settling in beside you.
âI thought we established Iâm winning.â
You glance at her.
ââŠyou talk a lot for someone about to get humbled.â
âPlease,â she nudges your arm lightly with her elbow, âjust pick your character.â
You huff a quiet laugh. But your shoulders drop a little.
Relaxing.
Because thisâ
This feels easy. No pressure. No performance.
Just her. Next to you.
Talking shit like itâs normal.
You load into the first match.
It starts exactly how you expect.
Fast.
Competitive.
Loud in a way that isnât actually loudâjust the two of you talking over each other, reacting, leaning forward like it matters more than it does.
âYouâre spamming,â she accuses immediately.
âIâm playing the game.â
âThatâs not playingâthatâs panic.â
You laugh under your breath, eyes locked on the screen.
âYouâre losing.â
âBarely.â
âYouâre at 120.â
âI can come back from that.â
âYouâre not coming back from that.â
She does.
Barely.
And she knows it.
The second her character lands the final hit, she turns toward youâalready smiling.
âOh my god.â
You drop your controller back against your leg.
ââŠyou got lucky.â
âSay it again,â she leans in slightly, grinning now, âsay I got lucky again.â
âYou got lucky.â
She laughs, shaking her head.
âYouâre annoying.â
âScoreboard.â
She rolls her eyes, but sheâs still smiling when she looks back at the screen.
âRun it back.â
Time moves without either of you noticing.
Smash turns into Mario Kart.
Mario Kart turns into you both talking more than actually playing.
At some point, your dog shiftsâfully climbing across both of you now, forcing you closer without asking.
Megan adjusts automatically, shoulder brushing yours this time.
Neither of you moves away.
âYouâre actually a terrible driver,â she mutters, eyes still on the screen.
âYouâre crashing into me.â
âYou hit me first.â
âThatâs literally not true.â
âIt is.â
You glance at her.
Sheâs already looking at you.
Thereâs a secondâ
Then she looks back at the screen like nothing happened.
ââŠyouâre still losing,â you add.
She nudges your knee lightly with hers.
âShut up.â
â
You order food without really discussing it.
It just happens.
Your phone in your hand, her leaning slightly closer to see the menu.
âNobu?â she raises an eyebrow.
âYou complaining?â
âNo,â she shakes her head, âjust didnât expect you to casually order Nobu like itâs pizza.â
You shrug.
âItâs easier.â
âOf course it is.â
Her shoulder stays against yours a second longer than it needs to before she leans back again. But not as far this time.
By the time the food gets there, the games have slowed down.
Less competitive.
More⊠background.
Boxes open on the table.
Half-eaten.
Chopsticks abandoned between rounds.
âOkay wait,â she says suddenly, sitting up a little, âdo you have Minecraft.â
You blink.
ââŠyeah.â
Her eyes light up slightly.
âPlay that.â
You look at her for a second.
Then nod. âAlright.â
â
Minecraft changes everything.
The energy drops.
Not in a bad way. In a softer way. Quieter.
Youâre both leaned back now instead of forward.
Talking in between placing blocks, breaking them, rebuilding something slightly better.
âWhat are you making,â you ask, watching her character move with zero plan.
âI donât know yet.â
âThatâs not helpful.â
âItâs evolving.â
You huff a quiet laugh.
âThat looks like a box.â
âItâs the start of something.â
âOf what.â
ââŠmind your business.â
You shake your head, but youâre smiling.
And you help anyway. Adding to it.
Fixing things she doesnât notice.
She catches it eventually.
ââŠdid you just fix my wall.â
âIt was bothering me.â
âIt wasnât bothering me.â
âIt shouldâve been.â
She leans over slightly, bumping her shoulder into yours.
âStop.â
But she doesnât undo it.
And somewhere in the middle of itâ
She shifts closer again.
This time slower.
More absent.
Your hand stills on the controller for half a second.
Then keeps moving.
Like itâs normal.
Like this isnât new.
â
âWaitâno that actually looks good,â she says, looking at the structure now.
You glance at the screen.
ââŠyeah.â
âYou helped.â
âI improved.â
She laughs softly.
âYouâre soââ
She doesnât finish that.
She shifts slightly again.
And this time, when she leans backâ
Her body is slightly resting on your shoulder..
Not fully. Not heavy.
Just enough to feel it. You go still for half a second. Then relax into it.
ââŠcomfortable?â you ask, quieter now.
âMm,â she hums, not moving.
âDonât get used to it.â
She smiles.
âToo late.â
Overbuilt. Messy in places. But clearly something you both made. Nobu boxes scattered across the table. Your dog asleep across your feet.
And herâ
Still leaning against you.
Not asleep. But close.
Too comfortable to pretend otherwise.
You donât notice the time until she shifts slightly.
Her head lifts from your shoulder, just enough to check her phone.
ââŠoh.â
You glance down, âwhat.â
âItâs almost two.â
You huff quietly.
ââŠthatâs not real.â
She turns the screen toward you. It is.
For a second, neither of you moves.
Like if you donât acknowledge itâ
It doesnât end.
Your dog stirs at your feet, stretching, breaking it.
Megan exhales softly, sitting up a little straighter now.
âi should probably go.â
You nod. Not too fast.
âyeah.â
But you donât stand yet. Neither does she.
Another second passes.
Then you finally push yourself up, grabbing the empty boxes off the table just to do something with your hands.
âiâll walk you out.â
âyou donât have toââ
âi know.â
You do it anyway.
â
Once sheâs gone,t he house is quiet again.
Too quiet.
You walk back inside, slower this time.
Everythingâs the same.
Same couch.
Same TV. You clean up quietly. Waiting for her text letting you know she made it home.Â
Once the foods put away, glasses in the sink, coushions fluffed; you drop back onto the couch.Â
 controller still sitting where you left it.
Pick it up.
Set it back down.
Pointless.
Your phone buzzes.
You donât rush it this time.
But you donât wait long either.
Megan: made it :)
You stare at it for a second.
Thenâ
You: good
A pause.
you addâ
had fun tonight
You send it before you overthink it.
Lock your phone.
Lean your head back. Exhale.
Youâre not trying to distract yourself after someone leaves.
Youâre justâŠSitting in it.
On the other side Megan smiles.
Small. Real.
Types backâ
Megan: me too :)
Then locks her phone.
Doesnât overdo it.
But she keeps thinking about it anyway.
The shift doesnât happen all at once.
It slips in quietly. At first, itâs just texting.
Then itâs:
âwanna hope onlineâ âcome over?â âyou still out?â
And somehowâ
That becomes enough.
Youâre at a party you should care about.
Music loud. People louder. Names that matter moving through the room like it means something.
Youâve got a drink in your hand youâre not really drinking.
Someoneâs talking to youâlaughing at something you half-said.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You donât check it right away. You already know.
Stillâyou pull it out.
Megan: Â you still out
Thatâs it. No follow up. No pressure.
You glance around the room. Nothingâs changed.
But it feelsâŠoff now.
You type back before you can think too hard.
You: yeah you home?
Three dots.
Megan: yeahÂ
ou stare at it for a second.
Then youâre already setting your drink down.
âYo, you leaving?â someone calls out.
Youâre halfway to the door.
âYeah,â you throw over your shoulder, not slowing down.
âWhereâ?â
You donât answer. Just stop for food and make your way to hers.Â
You donât knock.
She opens the door before you can.
Like she was already there.
Waiting.
âThought you were busy,â she says, leaning against the frame.
You shrug, stepping inside.
âI was.â
Thatâs all you say. She smiles anyway. Moves aside to let you in.
Like this is normal.
It becomes a pattern after that.
Not planned.
Just⊠repeated.
This time, she comes with you.Â
Another party. Different crowd.
She stays close, but not glued to you.
Talking to people. Laughing. Holding her own. After all she was known as her own type of party girl.
You watch her more than you should.
She fits.
Too easily.
At some point, she ends up next to you again.
Shoulder brushing yours.
You lean closer.
âWanna get out of here?â
She doesnât even hesitate.
âYeah.â
No discussion. No goodbye tour. You just leave.
Together.Â
Late dinners become a thing too.
Not fancy. Not planned.
Just whereverâs open after her rehearsal and your studio sessions.Â
You across from her. Or next to her. Or in your sports car.Â
Talking about nothing.
Everything.
Laughing more than either of you expects.
It stops being subtle to everyone else before it stops being subtle to you.
Youâre outside her rehearsal building again.
Same spot.
Different car.
Different night.
Engine running low, sun dipping just enough to soften everything.
This timeâwhen the doors openâ
Itâs not just her.
The girls spill out with her. Lara first. Loud as ever. Manon right behind her.
Daniela, Sophia, Yoonchae trailingâ
And then Megan.
She spots your car immediately. Of course she does.
But before she can even moveâ
Lara does.
âOh my god,â she says, stopping mid-step, grabbing Manonâs arm. âSheâs here again.â
Manon doesnât even try to hide her smile.
âSheâs always here.â
Megan exhales, already walking past them.
âCan you guys notââ
âNO,â Lara calls after her, following anyway. âBecause this is crazy.â
You step out of the car just as they reach you.
Calm. Casual.
Like this isnât becoming a thing. âHey,â you nod.
âHey,â Manon says easily.
Lara looks between you and Megan like sheâs watching a show unfold in real time.
âSo this is just⊠normal now?â she asks.
You glance at Megan.
Already opening the passenger door for her.
âGet in the car,â you say simply.
Laraâs jaw drops.
âOH my god.â
Megan shakes her head, ducking into the seat.
âYouâre so embarrassing.â
âAm I wrong?â Lara fires back.
You smirk, leaning against the door.
ââŠyou getting in or you got more to say.â
Megan looks up at you.
Thenâshe laughs.
Actually laughs.
âBye guys.â
Manon just waves.
Sophia watches quietly a soft smile finding her lips.
Daniela mutters, âYeah⊠this is a thing.â
The door shuts.
You walk around the car. Laraâs voice carries one more timeâ
âDONâT DO ANYTHING WE WOULDNâT DO.â
âWhich is nothing,â Megan calls back.
âEXACTLY.â
You get in.
Pull off.
Like that didnât just happen.
âYour friends are loud,â you say after a second.
She leans back in the seat.
âThey like you.â
You glance at her.
ââŠthatâs dangerous.â
She smiles. âYeah. It is.â
This time the two of you eat in your car. Sheâs quieter.Â
ot offâjust⊠thinking.
You notice it.
âRehearsals bad?â you ask.
She shakes her head.
âNo, theyâre good. Justââ she pauses, pushing her food around slightly, âitâs getting real now.â
You tilt your head.
âLollapalooza?â
She nods.
âChicago. Big stage. Big crowd.â A small breath. âIâm excited, I am. I justâdonât wanna mess it up.â
You lean back slightly, studying her.
âYou wonât.â
She looks up.
âYeah?â
âYeah,â you shrug. âYou care too much to mess it up.â
That lands. She smiles a little softer.
ââŠyouâre not as annoying as you act.â
âDonât start.â
She laughs.
âWhat about you?â she asks. âAlbum almost done, right?â
You nod. âLast few songs.â
âAnd?â
You pause.
Thenâ
ââŠitâs the first one I actually like.â
Her eyebrows lift slightly.
âThatâs a big statement.â
âYeah.â
You glance at her.
ââŠit sounds like me.â
She holds your gaze for a second longer than usual.
âGood,â she says quietly.
Another party.
This oneâs mutual.
Your people.
Her people. Same room.
Different corners. At leastâthatâs how it starts.
Sasha clocks it first.
From across the room. You standing with Megan.
Too close to be casual. Too comfortable to be new. She leans toward Quen.
ââŠoh sheâs gone,â Sasha says.
Quen follows her gaze. Sees you. Sees Megan.
âYeah,â she nods slowly. âThatâs bad.â
âBad?â Sasha grins. âThatâs serious.â
Across the roomâ
Lara is doing the same thing.
âLook at them,â she says, nudging Manon.
Manon doesnât even look surprised, âIâve been looking.â
âThey didnât separate once,â Lara adds.
Sophia folds her arms still a little hesitant about you.
Daniela watches you both carefully. ââŠyeah, but she looks happy.â
That quiets it.
Just for a second.
You donât notice any of it.
Or maybe you do. You just donât care.
An hour inâ
You lean closer.
âWanna get out of here?â
She doesnât hesitate anymore.
âYeah.â
Lara sees you both heading for the door.
Throws her hands up.
âAGAIN??â
Megan doesnât even turn around.
âText me when you get home,â Manon calls.
You glance back just once.
Nod. Then youâre gone.
It starts showing up online after that.
More consistently.
More obvious.
A clip from that partyâ
You and Megan in the background.
Talking. Close. Too close.
Captioned:
âwait⊠is this who I think it is??â
A picture from outside her rehearsal building.
Your car. Clear as day this time. No guessing needed.
Comments stackingâ
âainât no wayâŠâ
âthis is getting suspiciousâ
A breakfast post from you both of your fruit bowls and two matchasâ
Hers on the counter.
Same matcha she posted a day later.
Fans zooming in like detectives.
"they're always together now!!"
"i thought y/n was only friends with manon ?!!"
"two gay party girlsss what could go wrong ahahahah đ đ "
Youâre sitting next to her again, sprawled out on your couch.
Different night.
Quieter. Phone in your hand.
You scroll past something quickly.
She catches it anyway.
ââŠtheyâre talking again,â she says.
You lock your phone.
âPeople donât have anything better to do.â
She nods.
But sheâs not tense. Not pulling away.
If anythingâ
She leans into you slightly.
Shoulder against yours.
Comfortable. âDoes it bother you?â she asks after a second.
You think about it.
ââŠnot really.â
You glance at her, âDoes it bother you?â
She shakes her head.
âNo.â
A small pause. Then, quieterâ
ââŠnot if itâs you.â
She doesnât look at you after she says it.
Just stays there, scrolling once moreâshoulder pressed into yours like itâs nothing.
Like she didnât just say something that shouldâve changed the air. You donât respond right away. Not because you donât have something to sayâ
But because you do. You just donât trust it yet.
So insteadâ
You shift slightly. Closer.
Not enough to make it obvious. Just enough that if she movedâ
After they leave. You donât reach to text her. A part of you is still hesitant for whatever this may mean.Â
Itâs happened before.Â
Women want to know you. Break your patterns, youâve just never let them before.Â
By the time you shower, change, and fall into bed, your body finally catching up to the night, your phone is somewhere across the room.
Face down.
Muted.
Despite the thoughts of her still flashing through your mind, youâre out within minutes.Â
The sun comes in too early.
It always does.
You make your way to your gym by the time your body fully wakes up like ritual.Â
Music loud. Weights heavy.Â
Routine. Control.
Sasha brought you another smoothie this morning. Sheâs somewhere inside now finishing her own work, TV running, her voice occasionally carrying through the open glass doors as you do tire flips in the yard.Â
Your phone lights up on the outdoor table. You donât check it right away.Â
You take a sip first. Wipe your face with the back of your hand as your dog comes up and brushes the other.Â
ThenâÂ
You glance down.Â
Megan: morning :)Â
itâs megan btw
You stare at it for a second. A small, involuntary smile.Â
âWhoâs that,â Sashaâs voice right behind you as she throws you a towel you catch with ease.Â
You donât turn fully.
â...no one.â
âMhm,â she hums, unconvinced, stepping closer, already peeking over your shoulder.Â
She reads it. Goes quiet for half a second, âOh Megan,â she sang teasingly.
You finally look at her, âRelax.â
She grins, backing up immediately like she struck gold.Â
âI knew it.â
You shake your head, grabbing your phone. Ignoring her.Â
But sheâs not done.Â
âDonât answer too fast,â she calls, walking back inside. âYouâre already down bad, donât make it obvious.âÂ
âIâm notââ
You stop yourself.Â
Because arguing it makes it worse.Â
You glance back down at your phone.Â
Type. Delete.
Finally,Â
You: was wondering when youâd use that numberÂ
You hit send. Drop your phone.Â
Walk back to the tire. Focus.Â
Buzz. You walk back over immediately.Â
Megan: donât make it weird already
You huff a quiet laugh.Â
You: too late
This time, you donât wait.Â
You go back to your set.Â
But your eyes keep flicking back to your phone.
Buzz.Â
You ignore it.Â
Finish your workout.
Rack your weights. Then grab your phone.Â
Megan: ughhh why are you like this
You wipe your hands on your sweats, leaning back slightly.
You: like whatÂ
You walk inside, toss your phone down again.
Sashaâs on the couch, already watching you like sheâs been waiting.Â
âWell?â she asks.Â
You grab your smoothie.Â
Take a sip.
âWell what?â You reach for your phone again already.
Looking down as her bubbles appear.Â
Megan: a little annoying
a little entertaining
You let out a soft laugh, âshe said Iâm annoying,â you roll your eyes at Sashaâs look.Â
She snorts, âThat means she likes you.âÂ
You roll your eyes, but donât argue.Â
âWhatever,â you laugh, âIâm going to shower, I have a meeting.â
You glance down again at the messages.Â
Sasha nods, watching your face, âyouâre so cooked.â
âShut up,â you say as you walk to to your room.Â
You: iâll take it
Without thinking.Â
sooo this about video games or you just felt bold this morning.
You hit send and make your way up the stairs.
Buzz.Â
Megan: both.
On Meganâs side, she didnât text you right away. Not in a way where she was trying to match you.Â
She justâ
Wakes up late.Â
She sent the first message before she could over think it. Pushing it in her pocket and trying not to think to much about it on the way to the studio.
The studio is already loud by the time she gets there.
Takes a sip. Across the room, Manonâs smiling to herself.
Because thisâ
This is already different.
For lunch. They end up at a small spot nearby. Nothing fancy. Just fast, easy, familiar. Meganâs sat between Manon and Lara. Scrolling without really seeing anything.Â
Her phone buzzes.Â
You: too late
She lets out a quiet breath through her nose.
âStill texting?â Daniela asks, not even looking up from her food.
Megan types, lips turning up slightlyÂ
Megan: why are you like this
She hits send.
Sets her phone down this time.
âBe careful,â Sophia says again, softer now. Not judgmentalâjust real. âYou donât know her like that.â
Megan glances up.
âI know,â she says.
And she does.
Thatâs the problem.
Her phone buzzes again.
She looks.
You: like what
A small pause.
She types slower this time.
Thinking about it.
Megan: a little annoying a little entertaining
She stares at it for a second before sending.
Manon watches her from the side.
âYouâre choosing this,â she says quietly.
Megan looks at her.
You: ill take it
this about video games or you just felt bold this morning
ââŠyeah.â
No hesitation.Â
Manon just nods. Because thatâs all she needed to hear.Â
Throughout the day you both run through meetings. Outfits. Schedules. Brand conversations.Â
People talking at you. Around her.Â
Megan nods where she needs to. Answers when she has to.Â
Youâre half-listening. Your phone buzzes again on the table.Â
You flip it over quickly.Â
Megan: both
âYo,â someone calls. âYou good?âÂ
âYeah,â you nod, snapping back.
You type quickly.Â
You: dangerous answer
Lock it. Set it down. Try to focus.
You donât.
The next few days donât slow down for either of you.Â
They just shift. Â
By noon youâre back in your studio, lights low, hoodie half on, pacing between takes like youâre trying to outrun something that isnât physical.
Your phone lights up on the desk.
You glance at it mid-step.
Megan: so valorant?Â
what else do you play
You stop.
Just for a second.
Then grab your phone.
You: depends anything thatâll hurt your feelings when i win
You toss it back down like it doesnât matter and pull your headphones on again.
It does.
You barely get through the next loop before it buzzes again.
You ignore it. Force yourself to finish the take. Adjust a level. Replay it.
Still thinking about the message.
You cave.
Flip the phone over.
Megan: oh ur one of those
You: one of what
Megan: talks crazy before proving anything
That pulls a quiet smile out of you.
Across the room, your producer glances over.
âThere it is,â he says.
You donât look up. âWhat.â
âThat look. You either just wrote something crazy or someone texted you.â
You scoff lightly. âFocus on the mix.â
He laughs. âYeah, itâs someone.â
âShut up,â you mutter, grabbing your phone.
You: confidence is key
Megan: delusion is loud
You pause.
Then grin.
You: ur funny i didnât expect that
Meganâs sitting on the floor, back against the mirror, phone in her hand.
She reads your message twice.
Lara leans over immediately. âWhat did she say.â
âNothing.â
âThat was a smile. That wasnât nothing.â
Megan nudges her away, typing anyway.
Megan: wow okay iâll remember that when i beat you
Sophia laughs from across the room. âLet her have this.â
Daniela just shakes her head. âJust donât cry when she ghosts you.â
Megan doesnât respond to that.
She just hits send.
The next day. Theyâre all at the table, half-eating, half-talking over each other.
Meganâs quieter againâbut not in her head like before.
Just⊠focused on her phone.
âRead it,â Lara says, already reaching.
âNo.â
âFake friend.â
Daniela leans over. âIs she funny at least?â
Megan hesitates.
Then, honestâ
ââŠyeah.â
That gets everyoneâs attention.
Sophia raises an eyebrow. âThatâs worse.â
âWhy is that worse?â Yoonchae asks.
âBecause now sheâs gonna like her,â Sophia says simply.
Megan rolls her eyes, but she doesnât deny it.
When you finally get a second alone in your kitchen.
You lean against the counter, scrolling through your messages, then stop at her name.
You type.
You: when are you free
You stare at it for a second.
Send it anyway.Â
She reads it during break.
Bites the inside of her cheek for a second.
Then:
Megan: iâm not dodging you i just actually have a lifeÂ
You read it instantly.
A small smirk.
You: barely
She laughs under her breath.
Types:
Megan: youâre so annoying
You donât deny it.
You: and yet you keep replying
That one sits for a second longer.
She rolls her eyes on the other end.
Megan: unfortunatelyÂ
Later that night youâre outside at some club again. You werenât really in it tonight, there to make more connections, make an appearance.Â
Music pounding behind you. Itâs a sober night for youâno casual drinking cuz in your mind thatâs just a waste of calories.Â
Phone in your hand. You stare at her last message.Â
ThenâÂ
Out of pure impulse and yearning. Call.Â
She picks up relatively quick.Â
ââŠhi?â
You smile a little at that.
âhi.â
Thereâs a small pause, but itâs lighter now.
Less careful.
âYouâre outside again?â she asks.
âyeah.â
âDo you ever just stay in one place.â
ârarely.â
She hums. âfigured.â
You make your way to a patio chair, sitting.
âWhat are you doing.âÂ
âNothing,â she says. Thenââlying. I was watching something but itâs boring.â
âWhat.â
âSome show Lara put on. I stopped paying attention like ten minutes ago.â
You nod, even though she canât see it.
âthatâs real.â
She laughs softly.
âYouâre so lame.â
You grin. âi never said i was cool.â
âYour entire existence says otherwise.â
âThat sounds like a you problem.â
She lets out a quiet laugh again.
Thereâs a small shift after that.
More comfortable.
Like neither of you is trying as hard.
âYou actually wanna hang out some time?â she asks.
âYeah. itâs been nice talking to you.â
She smiles into the phone.Â
âYouâre honest at least.â
âsometimes.â
âconvenient.â
You chuckle under your breath.
Thereâs a pauseâbut itâs not heavy.
Just⊠there.
âYou busy tomorrow?â she asks, more casual than it should sound.
âA little.âÂ
âfigured.â
âyou are too.â
âyeah.â
Another small silence.
Neither of you rushing to fill it.Â
âYou should go back inside,â she says after a minute.
âprobably.â
You donât move.
âYou should sleep.â
âI will.â
Neither of you hangs up.
Thenâ
âgoodnight,â she says.
ânight, Megâ
You stay there a second longer after the call ends. Looking forward to the next time you talk.Â
Nothing changes.
But it does.Â
You wake up earlier than you need to.
You donât check your phone right away.
That part of you is still there.Â
By the time youâre in your kitchen, smoothie in hand, Sasha already halfway through your fridgeâ
Your phone buzzes.Â
Megan: i had a dream you rage quit mid gameÂ
You stare at it.
Then laugh.
Actually laugh.Â
Sasha looks up immediately.
âThere it is again.âÂ
You ignore her.
Typing already.Â
You: thatâs crazy
id never
Megan: mmhmÂ
You sound like you unplug consolesÂ
You shake your head, leaning back against the counter.
You: anywayyy what else happened in this dream.Â
Sashaâs watching you like sheâs watching a show.
âYouâre smiling at your phone at 9am. Iâve seen enough.âÂ
âRelax.âÂ
âYou like her.âÂ
You donât answer. Taking a sip of your drink instead.Â
Megan: you got mad quiet after which is funny because you talk a lot
You huff a laugh.
You: youâre obsessed with that
Megan: itâs accurate
You type back without thinking.
You: Â you like it
That one sits.
Sasha clocks it immediately.
âOoooh.â
âStop.â
Buzz.
Megan: âŠmaybe
That lands softer than the rest.
But still light.
Still easy. You donât overthink it.
Not this time.
You: Â figured
You lock your phone. But youâre still smiling.
Sasha leans back against the counter, arms crossed.
âYeah, youâre done.â
âIâm fine.âÂ
Sashaâs watching you again.
âYou guys are gonna hang out,â she says finally, like sheâs confirming something already decided.
You donât look up.
âWeâve talked about it.â
âThatâs not what I said.â
You huff quietly, setting your phone down on the counter.
âOur schedules are busy.â
âYour schedules are always busy.âÂ
âThatâs exactly my point.â
Sasha tilts her head, studying you.
âNo,â she says. âThatâs your excuse.â
That makes you glance up.
âIâm not making excuses.â
âYou do,â she pushes off the counter, walking closer. âYou just donât want to mess it up.â
Your jaw shifts slightly.
âThereâs nothing to mess up,â you say, a little too quick.Â
Sasha smiles.Â
âY/n, you run,â she says quieter now. âYouâve been doing it since we were in high school.â
You donât respond.Â
She cross the counter lean back onto it, âI think sheâs the one you should let in.âÂ
A pause.Â
She grabs your phone. You immediately reach for it.Â
âDonâtââ
Too late.Â
âHey Siri,â she says stepping back just out of reach.Â
âSashaââ
âCall Megan.â
Your stomach drops.
âHang up.â
Sasha just grins. Phone ringing.Â
Once.
Twiceâ
It clicks.
ââŠhello?â
You freeze. Sasha lights up instantly.
âHeeey Megan,â she says, like theyâve known each other for years.
Your hand comes up to your face.
âMhm, hiâthis is Sasha,â she continues, pacing like this is casual, like this isnât your worst nightmare.
A pause. Then Meganâs voice againâslightly confused, but softâ
âOhâhi?â
Sasha nods like Megan can see her. âYeah, sorry to ambush you,â she says, not sorry at all. âIâm calling because Y/n has something to ask you.â
Your head snaps toward her. I donât.
Sasha ignores you completely, turning slightly away like sheâs giving you privacy. While absolutely not giving you privacy.
âDo you?â Megan says, a hint of a smile in her voice now.
Sasha hands you the phone. You stare at it like it betrayed you.
âGo,â she mouths.
You exhale through your nose, taking it.
ââŠhi.â
Thereâs a tiny pause.
Thenâ
âhi,â Megan says back, softer now.
You rub the back of your neck, pacing once across the kitchen.
Sasha is literally standing there, watching. You turn away from her.
ââŠsheâs being annoying.â
A quiet laugh comes through the phone.
âI can tell.â
You shake your head slightly, then justâ
Say it.
âAre you free this week.â
Straight. Simple.
No performance. On the other end, Megan shifts.
You can hear it in the silence.Â
âYeah,â she says after a second. âI can make time.â
That lands. You nod to yourself.
âCool.â
Sasha gives you a thumbs up like you just completed a mission. You roll your eyes.
âWe canâuh⊠just hang out. Nothing crazy.â
âVideo games?â she offers, a little lighter now.
You smile without realizing.
âYeah. So you can lose properly this time.âÂ
She laughs. âKeep talking.âÂ
You lean against the counter again, more relaxed now. âIâll text you.â
âOkay.â
Another small pause. Neither of you rushing to hang up.
Thenâ
âbye.â
âbye.â
The call ends. You lower the phone slowly.
Sasha immediately claps once.
âOh my god.â
You point at her.
âYouâre actually insane.â
âAnd youâre welcome.â
You shake your head, grabbing your phone back.
But youâre smiling. You canât really help it.
Sasha watches you for a second longer, satisfied.
âSee?â she says. âNothing ruined.â
You glance down at your screen.
At her name. At the fact that nowâ
Thereâs actually a plan.
Something real.
Not just almost. Not just maybe. You lock your phone, exhaling quietly.
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Manon doesnât respond. Sheâs watching Megan. Because Megan still hasnât said anything.Â
âAre you coming?â Lara asks, already grabbing her things.Â
A beat.Â
Megan finally looks upâŠâI mean, yeah.â
Too casual.Â
Manonâs smile widens just slightly. Because she knows. Her phone buzzes again.Â
You:Â Already let security at the gate know, doors unlocked.Â
Youâre back in the track. Headphones on.
Mic live.
Running the hook again. Your voice is rougher now.
More certain.
The words still arenât perfectâ
But the feeling is.
You pause, adjusting the sample slightly.
Letting it breathe in a different way.
Footsteps echo faintly through the house.
Voices.
You donât turn around immediately. You finish the take first.Â
Thenâ
You pull the headphones off.
Turn slightly.
And there they are.
Manon.
Lara.
Andâ
Megan Skiendiel
Again.Â
But this timeâ
Youâre not surrounded by noise.
Or alcohol.
Or expectation.
Just music. And her.Â
And the fact thatâÂ
You kind of hoped it would be her.Â
You lean back slightly in your chair.Â
âPerfect timing,â you say, voice lower, more relaxed than the two others have heard.Â
And this version of you.Â
This is the one thatâs going to get her.Â
You stand up giddy like a kid laptop in hand and headphones around your neck.Â
âListen to the record Iâm sampling,â you smile easily.Â
âHello to you to,â Lara laughs as she throws her bag on the studio couch.Â
âSorry I just really need to get this idea out,â you press a button your voice playing through the speakers, âAfter the sample, I already have ideas for the first verse and the chorus,â you kissed your fingers like a chef.Â
Megan smiled bigger, âManon was rightâŠâ she mumbled shaking her head softly, thinkng back to when the girl said how you really were a sweetheart.Â
This is where you slow everything down and let Megan watch you.Â
The studio settles into something quieter once they hear the sampled intro.Â
Not silentâ
But focused.Â
Youâre already back in your chair by the time they fully step in, one hand adjusting levels, the other tapping lightly against your thigh to the rhythm still looping through the speakers.Â
âOkay, play it again,â Manon steps closer, already locked in.Â
You nod once, hitting the spacebar.Â
The sample fills the room again.
Soft.
Haunting.
French vocals stretching over the beat you built underneath.Â
She doesnât move closer. She lingers by the couch.Â
Leaning lightly against the arm rest, arms crossed looselyânot closed off, justâŠstill.Â
Watching. You donât acknowledge it just yet.
Manon gets in the booth adding vocals behind yours in the intro.
Youâre in it.Â
âSay it again,â your voice murmurs through Manonâs headphones.Â
She repeats the line, slower.Â
Clear. Precise.Â
You join her behind the glass as Lara takes a seat in the producers chair.Â
Youâre repeating the same lines with her. Voices blending beautifully.Â
Your accent slips slightly on the second word.
Manon smiles, stepping closer to the mic.
âRelax your mouth moreâyouâre overthinking it.â
You huff a quiet laugh.
âYeah, Iâve been told that.âÂ
You try again. Closer. Better.Â
From the other side of the glassâ
Megan watches.Â
And itâsâ
Different.Â
Youâre not performing. Not trying to be smooth.
Not trying to impress anyone in the room.
Youâre focused.
Almost stubborn about it.Â
Repeating the same line until it sounds right.
Not good. Not passable.
Right.Â
Your brows knit slightly.
Jaw set.
Voice lower now as you run it again.Â
Thereâs something about the way you listen.
Really listen.
Not just to the trackâ
But to correction.
To tone.
To feeling.Â
And Megan notices it immediately.Â
Because people like youâ
People with your reputationâ
Donât usually let themselves be taught like that.
But you do. Easily.Â
Without ego. Â
You run it again.
This timeâ
It lands.
Manonâs smile widens.
âYeah. Thatâs it.âÂ
You grin a little under your breath, satisfied. Not cocky.
Justâ
Locked in.Â
And Megan catches that too.Â
The difference.Â
The way your confidence here isnât loud.
Doesnât need to be.
The two of you leave the booth. You lean forward past Lara and Megan, replaying the take.Â
Listening. Thenâ
Without really thinking, you glance up.Â
And there she is. Already looking at you.Â
Watching.
A beat passes.
You hold it for half a second longer than you should.
Then tilt your head slightly.
âSomething to say?âÂ
Megan uncrosses her arms slowly.
Posture straightening up enough to step a little closer.
ââŠyou sound better like that.â
You raise an eyebrow slightly.
âLike what?âÂ
She shrugs, but her eyes stay on you, âNot trying.â
hat hits.
Because sheâs right. You let out a quiet breath through your nose, glancing back at the screen, âYeah,â you mutterââŠworking on that too.â
Manon looks between the two of you.
Smiling to herself.Â
This isnât just observation anymore.
This is interaction.
And neither of youâ
Is pretending not to feel it.Â
You step back into the booth solo, playing with the first verse as the girls digest it.Â
I guess you had no idea that you could have persuaded me
Girl, you could have had me doing anything you pleasedâŠÂ
Your voice trails off as you signal them to go back on the track.
Girl, you should have took your time and thought of what to say to me.Â
Iâm not as hard as I make itâŠmm
The track fades out slower this time.
Not because it needs toâ
But because no one moves to stop it.
Youâre still in the booth when the last note stretches thin and disappears.
For a second, no one says anything.
Thenâ
A quiet exhale.
You push the headphones down around your neck, stepping out, rolling your shoulders like youâre shaking the song off your body.
âAlright,â you mutter, voice a little rough now, âthatâs enough before I overwork it.â
Lara leans back in the chair immediately.
âYeah, noâcut yourself off. Thatâs when you start ruining it.â
You exit the booth taking the headphones off and cracking your neck lightly.Â
âExactly.Â
Manon smiles,âyou definitely got what you needed from me,â grabbing her phone, âI killed it.âÂ
Needed. Not finished, that matters.
Thereâs a natural shift after that.
The kind that doesnât get announced.
Movement starts again.
Lara stretches her arms over her head, walking backward toward the door.
âIâm getting a drink,â she says, already halfway out. âYou have expensive taste, right?â
âObviously you saw the house,â Manon followed.Â
You huff a quiet laugh, grabbing your water.
âUnfortunately.â
Manon adds, shaking her head, âIâm not letting her pick something without supervision.â
Their voices fade as they move into the main house.
Lighter now.
Less focused.Â
And just like thatâ
Itâs quieterâŠdifferent.
You lean against the edge of the desk, taking a slow sip of water.
Your bodyâs still buzzing from the session. Not adrenaline.
Something lower.
She hasnât moved.
Meganâs still there, a few steps away, hands loosely tucked into the pockets of her hoodie now.
Watching youâ
But not in the same way as before.
Less analysis.Â
âYou always stop like that?â she asks.
You glance up.Â
âLike what.âÂ
âBefore itâs done.âÂ
You tilt your head slightly, considering it.Â
You shrug, âIf I donât I wonât stop..how you think I release two albums this year.â
She laughs.Â
âSo whatâs the song about,â she pushes of the desk grabbing her phone.Â
âA girl who realizes I wouldâve given it all to her,â you say like it was nothing.
She nods slowly. Like she understands that more than she should.
A beat passes.Â
You push off the desk, âCâmon.âÂ
You donât explain. You just start walking.Â
She follows. Of course she does.
The shift hits the second you step out of the studio.Â
The house opens back up around you.Â
Wide.Â
Bright in a softer way nowâwarm lighting, reflections bouncing off glass and marble.
Floor-to-ceiling windows cracked open just enough to let the night air slip in.
Laraâs already at your bar.
Of course she is.
Two bottles out.
One open.Â
âYou werenât kidding,â she says, glancing over her shoulder. âThis is ridiculous.â
Manon laughs quietly, leaning against the counter.
âDonât encourage her,â she looks to you, âshe acting like she ainât have money growing up.âÂ
You shake your head, moving past them toward the sliding doors, pressing a single button that opens it all up
âDonât worry about it,â you laugh âHelp yourselves.âÂ
Your voice easy again. Looser now. Not the persona. Not the studio version either. Something in between.Â
The glass disappears into the wall with a smooth click.Â
Night air rolls in immediately. Cool against your skin. The backyard stretches outâclean lines, soft lighting tucked into the landscaping, the pool reflecting everything back in slow ripples.Â
You step outside like itâs instinct.
Behind youâ
Footsteps. You donât turn. You already know.
You drop into one of the patio chairs, leaning back, head tipping slightly toward the sky for a second as your hand grabs the joint from your pocket like second nature.
Breathing Letting everything settle.Â
Thereâs a pause.Â
Thenâ
A shift of weight beside you.
Megan doesnât take the chair next to you.
She sits on the armrest. Close.
Casual enough to mean nothing.
Close enough to mean something.
âCan I?â she asks, nodding lightly toward your hand.
You glance down at the joint already reaching for a lighter thrown on your patio table. You hand it to her lighting it as it hangs out her mouth.Â
She takes a slow pull, then leans back slightlyâ
Not away from you. Just enough to exhale.Â
SIlence settles again.Â
InsideâÂ
Laraâs laughing at something. Manonâs voice softer underneath it. Distant.Â
HereâÂ
Itâs quieter. You glance at her. Sheâs looking off taking another hit.Â
She looks down at you. A beat. Then she smilesÂ
Not teasing this time.Â
Not sharp.Â
Easy. Soft.Â
âYouâre different her,â she says handing you the joint.Â
You huff lightly, taking it from her, hands brushing.Â
Inhaling looking away toward the pool, âYeah. Youâve mentioned,â you tease.Â
She shakes her head slightly, still watching you, âI mean it.âÂ
You donât answer right away. Because you know what she means.Â
And you donât have a clean response. Sheâs not the first to push like this; sheâs just the first youâre letting.Â
You take another slow pull, âBetter or worse?â you ask, voice quieter now.Â
She tilts her head slightly, like sheâs actually thinking about it.
â...better.â
You nod once. Like youâll accept it. Event if you donât fully believe it yet.Â
Another pause. It stretches. Comfortable. She shifts slightly on the armrest, turning just enough to face you more.Â
âSo,â she says, nudging your knee lightly with hers, âwhat do you do when youâre not being mysterious in a studio at 10 p.m.?âÂ
You let out a quiet laugh. Passing the joint back to her.Â
âNot much mystery to it,â you say. âGym. Music. Drive around too much.âÂ
She smiles.
âYeah?â
âYeah,â you glance at her, âWhat about you.â
She shrugs, relaxed.
âDance. Practice. Try not to embarrass myself in front of my group.â
You snort softly, âI donât think thatâs a problem for you.âÂ
âMm,â she hums, not fully agreeing. Another small pause.
Thenâ
The conversation shifts. Not deeper or heavy. Justâreal.
Video games. Places youâve both been. Places you havenât.Â
You learn sheâs from Honolulu.Â
She learns youâre from Las Vegas but also Toronto?
Itâs easy. Too easy. At some pointâ
You stop thinking about what youâre saying. Youâre both laughing more freely.
Which is rare. And she notices that too.Â
Because the version of you sitting hereâ
Leaning back, laughing quietly, passing the joint without lookingâ
Isnât trying to be anything.
And somehowâ
Thatâs the version she keeps watching. She keeps feeling.Â
Even when youâre not looking.Â
The joint begins to burn out, âSo youâre writing another album.â
You adjust slightly feeling a little more exposed at the topic of your music.Â
âYeah, figured I give the world a little more of me,â you rub your fingers.
âThree albums in a year is a lot,â she admires.Â
âI only have one interview out and people still act like they know everything about me,â You sigh like youâve run out of breath, âI want this story to be told from my point of view this time.âÂ
âYour other albums werenât,â she puts the rest of the joint out in the ashtray, asking casually.
âBits and pieces I suppose.â You donât look at her when you say it. Just trace the rim ashtray with you thumb like it suddenly matters more than the conversation.Â
A small pause settles between you. Not uncomfortable.
Just⊠aware.
Megan watches you for a second longer than she should, expression soft.
âFeels like people filled in the rest for you,â she says, quieter now.
You huff softly at that, âYeah,â you nod, glancing out at the pool, âtheyâre pretty good at that.â The water shifts with the wind, light bending across it.Â
âTheyâre not completely wrong though,â you add, almost like an afterthought.
Thatâs the slip. You feel it the second it leaves your mouth.
Megan catches it immediately. âI didnât say they were,â she replies, just as calm.
No judgment. No edge.
That makes it worse.
You glance at her then, just briefly.
ââŠyou donât really seem like you care either way,â she continues, tilting her head slightly.
You lean back deeper into the chair, exhaling through your nose.
âI care,â you say.
A pause.
âJust not enough to fix it,â That one sits heavier. Megan studies you for a second, something softer behind her eyes now, âOr you donât think itâs worth fixing,â she says.
You let out a quiet laughâshort, almost surprised.
âSomething like that.â
Silence again. But itâs different now.
Closer.
She shifts slightly on the armrest, not pulling awayâjust settling. âYour music doesnât sound like someone who doesnât care,â she adds.
You donât answer right away.
Because sheâs right. And you donât like how easily she keeps being right.
So instead, you glance over at her, a faint smirk pulling at your mouthâ
deflection, instinct.
âYeah?â you murmur, voice lower now, âwhat does it sound like then.â
Megan holds your gaze for a second.
Long enough that it almost feels like sheâs going to say something real.
Something too real.
You see itâ
The shift.
The thought forming.
Thenâ
She exhales softly, the corner of her mouth lifting just a little.
âMmâŠâ she hums, buying herself a second, âdangerous.â
You raise an eyebrow.
âDangerous?â
She nods, glancing down briefly before looking back at you, a little lighter nowâbut not fully.
âYeah,â she shrugs, âlike you know exactly what youâre doing.â
Her eyes flick over your face again.
Slower this time.
âEven when you pretend you donât.â
That lands quieter than anything else sheâs said. You let out a soft breath, something almost like a laugh under it, âPretend, huh?âÂ
She tilts her head, a hint of a smile still there.
âMm,â she nods, âitâs subtle. Iâll give you that.âÂ
You shake your head slightly, looking away for a second, jaw tightening just a touch.
âOr,â she adds, softer now, almost like sheâs correcting herselfâ
âyou just donât like people knowing.â
There it is, You glance back at her. And this timeâ
You donât have a quick answer.
So you donât give one.
From insideâ
Laraâs laugh cuts through the quiet again.
Louder this time. Closer.Â
âOkayâwhat are you two doing out here?â
The moment breaks just enough.
Manon steps out behind her, linking arms with Lara before she can wander too far.Â
âItâs late,â she says, glancing between the two of you, a knowing smile tugging at her mouth. âWe should probably go before she decides to live here.â
âI might,â Lara mutters, swaying just slightly as she looks around. âThis place is insane.â
Then her eyes land on you.
On Megan. On how close sheâs sitting.
A slow grin spreads across her face. âOh,â she drags out, eyebrows lifting, âthatâs whatâs going on.â
You roll your eyes immediately, leaning back like it doesnât phase you.
âRelax.â
Megan shifts just slightly beside youânot pulling away, but aware now.
âMm,â Lara hums, clearly not convinced, âyou donât usually look that relaxed.â
âOkay,â Manon cuts in, laughing under her breath as she tugs her back. âWeâre leaving.â
Lara lets herself be pulled, but not without one last look over her shoulder.
âDonât do anything I wouldnât do,â she calls out.
ââŠactually, do. Just tell me about it later.â
You shake your head, a quiet laugh slipping out despite yourself. The moment lingers for half a second longerâ
Then it shifts.
You push yourself up from the chair. âCâmon,â you nod toward the house.Â
Megan follows as you lead them to the door.Â
The house feels warmer inside now.
Quieter.
Manonâs already got Lara halfway out, steadying her as she slips her shoes back on.
âYou good?â she asks.
âIâm great,â Lara insists, leaning into her slightly. âI just like her house.â
You snort softly, leaning against the wall.
Manon glances back at you. âThanks for having us.â
You nod once, âThank you for the help.âÂ
Her eyes flick briefly between you and Megan againâ
Not missing anything.
Then she turns, guiding Lara out toward the car.
The door stays open.
Night air drifting in.
Footsteps fade.
Voices lower.
And thenâ
Itâs just you and Megan.
She lingers by the entryway. Not moving to follow right away.
You notice. Of course you do.
You lean back slightly against the wall, arms loose at your sides. Watching her.
ââŠyouâre not going?â you ask, tone light.
She exhales softly, glancing toward the doorâ
Then back at you.
ââŠI am,â she says.
She doesnât move.
Insteadâ
She steps a little closer.
Not as confident as before. Subtle.
âI justââ she starts, then stops, a small breath leaving her as she runs a hand lightly through her hair.
Thereâs a flicker of nerves there now. Real.
And thatâs new.
You catch it immediately. Your head tilts slightly.
âWhat?â you ask, quieter this time.
She presses her lips together for a secondâ
Then just says it.
âCan I get your number?â
A beat.
ââŠfor video games,â she adds quickly, a hint of a smile trying to cover it, âorâwhatever. Another hangout.â
There it is. You donât answer right away. Of course you donât.
Instead, your mouth pulls into something just slightly teasing.
âVideo games,â you repeat, pushing off the wall.
She rolls her eyes lightly.
âDonât do that.â
âDo what?â
âMake it sound worse than it is.â
You step a little closer now.
Not enough to crowd her.
Just enough to shift the space.
âI donât think it sounds bad,â you say, voice lower.
âI just didnât think youâd ask.â
That lands. She huffs a quiet laugh, shaking her head. âYeah, wellââ she shrugs slightly, glancing away for a second, âfigured Iâd try.â
Thereâs something honest in that.
Unpolished.
You study her for a second.
Thenâ
You pull your phone out.
âCâmere,â you say simply.
She steps in.
Closer.
You hand it to her.
Her fingers brush yours again as she takes itâ
Lingering just a fraction longer this time. She hands you her own.
She types quickly.
Adds her name.
Hands it back. You glance down at it.
Then back up at her.
ââŠfor the record,â you say, slipping your phone into your pocketâ
You pause, âIâd like to see you again too.â No joke this time.
Just honest.
It catches her slightly off guard.
In a good way. Her smile softens.
ââŠgood,â she says quietly.
From outsideâ
âMEGAN,â Laraâs voice calls.
She glances toward the door, then back at you.
Reluctant now.
ââŠIâll text you,â she says.
You nod once.
âI know.â A small smile. Then she turnsâ
Finally stepping out into the night.
And just like thatâ
Sheâs gone. The door closes softer than it should.
A/n: The ending is a little rushed but I have a general idea for where I want this fic to go hehehe. Hope y'all enjoy ;)
Summary: Can't get you off my mind.
Pt. I | Pt. III
You woke up earlier than you shouldâve. Given how the night ended, it didnât make much senseâbut your body was used to it by now.
Stripped down to just a sports bra and basketball shorts, you rolled overâ
Empty. Your bed was untouched on the other side, sheets still neat where no one had been.
For a second, you just stared at it.
Thenâ
You exhaled. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, cutting across your room in soft lines. Too bright. Too calm.
Noise from the kitchen pulled you out of it.
Voices. Movement. For a brief second, you wondered if you did bring someone homeâ
Wouldnât be the first time you didnât remember right away.
But the second you turned the cornerâ
You relaxed.
Quenlin Blackwell
Tara
Andâ
Sasha. Your hometown best friend turned influencer, standing at your stove like she owned it, making eggs like this was her kitchen.
âGood to know you guys can always make yourselves at home,â you muttered, voice still rough, stretching as you leaned against the counter.
Sasha didnât even look up.
âWe decided to have a pool day at yours.â
Of course you did.
Tara turned immediately, bright and entirely too awake.
âI proposed the idea, after I woke up in your lovely guess room and remembered your even lovelier poolâ she said, beaming like she deserved praise, âbut donât worryââ
She pointed dramatically toward Quen.
âI made her get you your smoothie.â
Quen held it up without looking, already mid-sip of her own drink.
âYouâre welcome.â
You took it, eyeing them all for a second before taking a long sip.
ââŠI donât remember agreeing to this.â
âYou donât have to,â Sasha replied easily, flipping the eggs. âYou just have to own the house.â
You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head.
Outside, through the glass doors, the pool caught the sunlight just right. Calm. Quiet.
A complete contrast to last night.
And for a secondâ
Your mind flickered back there.
A voice. A look.
A question you didnât answer properly. You take another sip of your smoothie, grounding yourself.
Tara watches you over the rim of her cup.
Narrowing her eyes,âyouâre thinking about her arenât you.â
You donât even react this time. Just lean back against the counter,âgood morning to you too.â
Quen lets out a laugh, âOh she definitely is.â
âJesus fuck,â you groaned, âDid Odessa or Tara blab to you?â
Sasha glances between you all, confused.
âWait Fomo right nowâŠwho are we talking about?â
Tara lights up immediately.
âOh my god, okay, so last night we ran into our friend Manon, who also had Lara, Daniela, and Megan with herââ
Her eyebrows wiggle on the last name, eyes locking onto you as she pokes your cheek.
ââand their party girl read right through ours.â
âShe did not,â you throw your head back, scoffing, âwe were having a standard conversation with the standard charm I give everyone.âÂ
They donât buy it. Not even a little.Â
And the truth isâyeah, you were thinking about her. Just not in the way you usually think about women.Â
Not easy. Not surface-level. Not something you could brush off after a night of fun.Â
With Meganâyou were..nervous. Genuinely nervous.Â
âYou donât let people get closeâŠâ her voice lingers in your head. Too clear. Too accurate. Your friends voices blur.
Why would you let people get close? The memory hits before you can stop it.
âI never really loved you.âÂ
Youâre 17 again. Standing too still. Caring too much. Hear racing too fast.Â
âI donât even think I liked you.âÂ
The words didnât land all at once. They settled. Sunk in slowâlike they still do.Â
âIââ youâre voice broke, you tried to find something to hold onto.Â
âWhat weâre doing is wrong,â she cut in sharp. Bitter, âIâm not gay. I never was; you confused me.â A pause. Her eye never met yours.Â
âThatâs why I can barely look at you anymore.âÂ
The tears fell before you could stop them. âOkay,â little you managed.
âIâm sorry, but once you realize being ânormalâ is an option,â she exhales, like sheâs relieved to say it out loud..âeverythingâs easier.â
And just like thatâA year and a half, half your teenage years, turned into nothing.Â
After thatâ
You didnât let things get close enough to be redefined.
Then everything changed. Your music blew up. Your name spread.
And suddenlyâ
Youâre surrounded by people who want you?
Girls you never thought would even look your way. Older girls.
Confident. Experienced. Safe in a completely different way.Â
And thenâ
Alexa. Thirty-five. Effortless.
The first person you let yourself fall into after her.Â
It wasnât serious. Not officially. But it was⊠something.
Until it wasnât.Â
âI didnât know there was a green light to fuck other people,â you mumbled, arms crossed, trying to keep your voice steady.Â
Alexa had sighed, like you were being unreasonable, childish, âWhatâd you expect?âÂ
That hit harder than it shouldâve.
âIâve mostly been with guys,â she shrugged lightly. âIâm bound to miss them.âÂ
You had tried to process that. Tried not to react, âI kind of expected you to communicate that.â
She dismissed you with a shake of her head, already done with the conversation.
âWeâre not together, Y/n.â A pause. Then, almost as an afterthought, âOur relationship is mostly just for looks anywayâI scratch your back you scratch mineâ
It stuck. You had let yourself think it meant something.Â
After thatâ
You stopped asking. Stopped expecting. Stopped defining.
Because if nothing is definedâ
Nothing can be taken from you.Â
If you never expected anythingâÂ
You could never be disappointed.Â
Coming back to the present, the kitchen, the noise, your friends still talking around you.
Taraâs mid-sentence. Quenâs laughing. Sashaâs flipping something on the stove.
Everything normal. But your chest feels tight.
Because for the first time in a long timeâ
Someone didnât just accept the version of you thatâs easy to understand.
She questioned it. Looked past it.
And somehowâThatâs worse, you donât know how to handle it.
You donât say anything after that. Just grab your smoothie. Turn.Â
âIâm working out,â you mutter, already moving.Â
Behind youâ
Tara scoffs, âOf course you are.â
Quen laughs, âSheâs spiraling.â
âIâm not spiraling,â you call back, pushing the glass door open. But you donât slow down either.
The guest house sits just off the main patioâsame glass walls, same clean lines, just smaller. More private.
Your gym.Â
Weights lined up perfectly. Machines you actually use. Floor-to-ceiling windows that stay open, letting the warm air roll through.
From here, you can see everythingâThe pool. The chairs. Your friends already stretched out like theyâve committed to doing absolutely nothing.Â
Billie Eilish, joined shortly after. Her dog joining your own with the rest of the girls in the yard. Sheâs right behind you. Of course she is.Â
âYouâre not getting out of it that easy,â she says, already grabbing a pair of weights, âOdessa filled me in.âÂ
âIâm not trying to get out of anything,â you shoot back, dropping your smoothie on the bench.Â
She glances at you. âMm.â
You donât argue. You just stared. Heavy. Controlled.
Count the reps. Focus on the burn.
It helps.
For about thirty seconds.
Thenâyou donât let people get close
You lose count.Â
âYou lost count,â Bille probs without looking up.Â
âGoing til failure,â you mutter, resetting your grip.Â
She doesnât respond. Doesnât need to. She was one of the first celebrities to get close to you; taking you under her wing even though you were just a couple years apart, she guided you, protected you, like a sister.Â
Outside, Taraâs voice cuts through the air, loud as ever.
âIâm telling you, it was tenseâlike actually tense.â
Quen laughs, âI wish I was there.âÂ
Normal.
Everythingâs normal. Except youâre gripping the bar a little too tight. Moving a little too fast. Trying a little too hard to outrun something that isnât physical.
âTake a second,â Billie says quietly.
âI donât need a second.â
âYou do.â
You pause.Just barely.
Then exhale, stepping back from the rack.
Running a hand through your hair. Your chest rises and falls a little heavier than it should.
Outside, the sun reflects off the pool, bright enough to make you squint.
For a momentâYou just stand there.
And even with everythingâThe noise, the movement, the distractionâ
Sheâs still there. Right in the back of your mind.
Unmoved.
Billie watches you from across the room.Not saying anything.
Just⊠there. Because she knows.
You can run yourself into the ground if you want.
Itâs not going to change the fact that something shifted last night.Â
And you felt it.
Across the hills, Megan is just waking up. Sheâs usually the last one to. Sunlight filters through the curtains, softer hereâless harsh than it probably should be. The kind of morning that feels slower than the night before deserves.Â
She groans quietly, turning over, pulling the blanket tighter around herself as she stretches.Â
Her head isnât pounding. But sheâs not exactly refreshed either.Â
Downstairsâ
Voices. Giggles. Slightly too loud for this early.Â
She exhales, already knowing. Theyâre talking about last night. Of course they are, they needed to debrief Yoonchae and Sophia who decided to have a night in.Â
She drags herself up slowly, running a hand through her hair before slipping out of bed. The floorâs cold. The house is warm.Â
By the time she makes it downstairsâ
The five girls are already gathered in the kitchen, mid conversation, energy high in that way it only is when something interesting happened.Â
ââŠIâm just saying, she did not expect that,â Lara insists, pacing slightly.
Daniela laughs, shaking her head, âNo, she definitely didnât.â
Manon leans back against the counter, arms crossed, watching the two of them with a knowing smile.Â
Megan narrows her eyes slightly, âwhy are you all smiling like that.â
Daniela gestures toward her, âBecause weâre talking about you.â
âShocking,â Megan mutters, moving past them to grab a glass.
Manon watches her closely now. Not missing the way Megan moves a little slower than usual. A little more in her head.
âSo,â Lara starts, leaning against the counter, âare we gonna pretend last night wasnât a thing?âÂ
Megan takes a sip of water, unfazed.
âIt was a thing.â A beat, âIt just wasnât a big deal, sheâs Y/n Y/l/nâ she was probably just playing off of me.â
Sophia smirked at that while sipping her coffee.Â
Manon lets out a quiet laugh at that, ââRight,â she says. âNot a big deal.â
Megan glances at her ââŠwhat?â
Manon tilts her head slightly, âYouâve been thinking about it.â
Not a question. Megan doesnât answer right away.
Becauseâ
Yeah. She has.
Yoonchae noticed the pause, âyou have been thinking about it.â
Megan exhales lightly, setting the glass down, âI just didnât expect her to be like that.â
Lara perks up immediately, âLike what?â
Megan thinks for a second. Trying to put it into wordsâ
âQuieter,â she says finally, âMore⊠real,â Megan adds, almost like sheâs figuring it out as she says it.
Manon nods, âYeah..I know Y/n at partiesâshe usually is more like charming, âlet me get you a drink,â play girl shit ya know.âÂ
Daniela crosses her arms, âso she was acting?â
Megan shakes her head.
âNo.â Simple. Certain.
âShe didnât have anything ready,â Megan continues. âLikeâthere were moments where she didnât know what to say.â
Lara grins, âOh, she liked you.âÂ
Megan rolls her eyes slightly, but thereâs a hint of a smile there.
Sophiaâs voice cuts in from behind themâ
âOr sheâs just good at making people think that.â
Everyone turns slightly as Sophia joins from the couch.
Megan glances at her.
âShe has a reputation for a reason,â Sophia continues. âYou donât want to get caught up in something messy, especially with how fresh we are to the industryâ2025âs been big for us and 2026 is only going to get biggerâ
Daniela nods slightly, âYeah. Itâs not just rumors.â
Lara groans, âOh my god, you guys are so dramatic.âÂ
Manon shrugs, âCâmonâ deep down sheâs a sweetheart who loves to party and sheâs hot. That already cancels out like half the concern.â
âMinimum,â Yoonchae mumbled.Â
Megan lets out a quiet laugh, shaking her head, âYouâre all ridiculous.â
But she doesnât dismiss it completely. Because she knows. Sheâs heard the same things. Seen the same headlines.
She justâ
Doesnât fully believe them anymore. Not after last night, after the way you hesitated.Â
Manon takes a seat at the islandâŠâso what did she actually say to you?â
Meganâs lips press together slightly, thinking, âI think thatâll stay between us.â
Manon and Lara smile knowingly at the other.Â
Because now she knows. This isnât just curiosity anymore. And whether Megan admits it or notâ
Sheâs already looking forward to the next time she sees you.
âIâve got it,â you mutter, adjusting your grip.
You go again.
Lower.
Push up.
More⊠real.
You rack the bar harder than necessary.
The clang echoes.
Outsideâ
The pool glints under the sun, water moving slow and easy. Your dogs tear through the yard, one of them launching straight into the pool.Â
âOH my godââ Sashaâs voice rings out.
Laughter follows. Normal. Everythingâs normal. Except your head wonât shut up. You grab your water, taking a long sip, trying to reset. It doesnât work.Â
You donât even realize youâre staring at your phone until Billie speaks again.Â
âYou waiting for something?â she asks.
You blink, glancing down. Screen filled with clutter.
ââŠno.â
She doesnât respond. But she doesnât look convinced either.
Outside, Tara calls outâ
âWho are you ignoring right now?â
âIâm not ignoring anyone,â you shoot back.Â
You shake your head, running a hand through your hair.
âYou guys are annoying.â
âYeah, but weâre right,â Tara fires back.Â
You donât answerâthereâs nothing to answer. No text. No confirmation. No plain reason to be thinking about her like this.Â
You step out into the sunlight, the heat hitting your skin immediately.Â
Too bright.Â
Too open.Â
Billie follows behind you with a soft knowing smile, âyou liked her,â she stated catching up to your side and bumping into you softly as you made your way to the sun chairs beside the three other girls.Â
âI like a lot of people,â you drop into a chair, grabbing your water again.Â
The girls stare as Billie takes a seat beside you.Â
Sasha snorts, staring over her glasses.Â
âLiar.âÂ
You lean back, eyes drifting to the pool, your dogs still running like nothingâs changed.Â
Everything looks the same. Feels the same.Â
But somethingâs off.
The next few days pass the way theyâre supposed to.Â
Busy.Â
Loud.Â
Full.Â
On paperâ
Nothing changes.Â
Youâre in your studio more than usual. Lights low, headphones on, pacing between takes like youâre trying to outrun something you canât quite name. Youâre playing with beats everywhere.Â
Your studio.Â
Your couch.Â
Kitchen counter.Â
Bathroom.Â
When you finally start adding lyrics, you hesitate.Â
Just for a second.Â
âSomethingâs different,â your producer Illangelo.Â
You shrug it off, âItâs not.:Â
But it is. Because for the first timeâ
Youâre not writing at someone, something.Â
Youâre writing around something, through someone.
And it soundsâŠless detached.Â
That something, sits in rehearsal.Â
Mirrors. Sharp counts. Music loud enough to drown everything else out.Â
âFive, six, sevenââ
She misses a step.Â
Barely noticeable, but she noticesÂ
âCan we run it again,â she says immediately, brushing it off.Â
They reset.Â
But when the music starts againâ
Her timing is just a fraction off.
Not enough for anyone else to call it out. Enough for her to know.Â
Thursday. Five days after youâre encounter with Megan.Â
Youâre driving. No destination.
Just movement. City lights blur past, engine low, steady.
Your phone lights up on the passenger seat.
Notifications stacking.
Mentions. Tags. Messages.
You ignore them at the light, scrolling thru until one catches your eye.Â
MEGAN MEI-YOK SKIENDIEL followed you.
The next light youâre opening up the app. Megan goes through a similar process. Sitting on her couch and look through insta she shifts to the notifications section.Â
they/ny/ln followed you back.Â
A soft smile spread across the dancers face as you took a deep breath pressing the gas.Â