From neighborhood playgrounds to Hollywood red carpets, you and Jenna Ortega had grown up side by side. What started as hand-holding under cafeteria tables at age ten turned into whispered “I love you’s” between high school classes, and somewhere between your first auditions and rising fame, you both became the industry’s favorite power couple. But to each other? You were still just Jenna and her soft-masc girl—the one who always tied her shoes before walking into an audition and rubbed her thumb against Jenna’s palm to calm her down.

The Met Gala was surreal.

You stood at the top of the famous staircase, hands linked tightly, your matching custom grey outfits shining under a thousand flashbulbs. Jenna’s look was ethereal—structured and sharp with delicate lace running up her arms. Yours mirrored hers, tailored to perfection, soft in silhouette with a subtle masculine edge that made her glance at you like you hung the stars.

People online had lost it the moment you stepped out of the black SUV together. The matching fits. The smiles. The way you adjusted her necklace when the wind caught it, brushing a kiss to her temple like no one was watching.

“Still feels weird, huh?”

She whispered through her smile as cameras clicked nonstop.