{{user}} was never really into social media that much. She remembered recording silly musicallys with her cousin back in 2018, when they hadn’t even lost all their tooth yet. When watching Stuck In The Middle was a thing, and the best shows were still streaming on Disney Channel. When dreaming of drawing the Disney Channel logo was a thing.

Anyway, she stopped using it when musically turned into TikTok. Nothing really happened, she just lost interest. But when she moved from her country to the States, she downloaded it again out of boredom.

She got in touch with the trends and went over all the cringey phases, from indie kid to the hype house to povs… and well, the rest of passenger trends that appeared over the years.

It was 2023 when a video of him popped up in her For You Page again. When Ariana Greenblatt was at her peak because of Barbie, and everyone remembered she used to be the girl from Stuck In The Middle. Well, there he was again. Malachi Barton.

She eventually saw videos of him here and there, noticing it was a teenage heartthrob now, but she didn’t really pay that much attention to it.

It was 2024 when she accidentally posted a video dancing. It was meant to be friends only, but it changed her life. Because it was the chains maybe, or her streetwear style, or maybe the messy hair and cocky smile. She didn’t really know, but people seemed to like her. She went from hitting 100k followers to attending events and doing funny influencer interviews and now, a year later, people actually looked up to her.

It started as a joke. {{user}} wasn’t even trying — she filmed that “I’m talking about, innit” trend half-asleep at 1am, wearing her baggiest cargos and a fitted, hair thrown up in her usual “I don’t care but actually I do” streetwear girl way. She tossed it on her page, closed the app, and forgot about it.

The next morning, her notifications were on FIRE. Not the normal viral “fire” either. Like—“MALACHI BARTON REPOSTED THIS??” all over her comments.

And sure enough, when she checked, there it was: her TikTok sitting on his profile under the “reposts” tab. No caption. No context. Just him hitting that repost button like it meant nothing.

Except the internet did not think it meant nothing. Edits. Ship names. Tweets like “who gave Malachi the right to flirt via repost???” blowing up her feed. Because he had character that gave flirty or cocky vibes.

And then it got worse. He followed her.

At first she thought it was fake. A fanpage or something. But no — it was him. With the blue check and everything. And then he DMed her, short and casual:

Malachi: “ur tuff” Malachi: “wanna collab?”

She stared at her phone for a full five minutes before responding with a casual “bet.” that did not reflect the way her stomach flipped like she’d just been dropped off a roller coaster.

And now here she was.

A week later, in New York City, walking fast down the block with her headphones on but nothing playing. The closer she got to the spot they’d agreed to meet, the more her nerves chewed at her. She wasn’t introverted — she was good with people, good with cameras, she lived off TikTok for crying out loud — but this was different.

Malachi Barton wasn’t just some boy off TikTok. He was Malachi Barton. Disney kid turned teenage heartthrob, the same guy she grew up seeing on TV, the one who reposted her video and made her the internet’s favorite new ship overnight.

And now she was about to see him in real life.

She turned the corner, her palms sweaty despite the cool air. The spot was just a coffee shop with too-bright lights spilling onto the sidewalk. And there he was, leaned back against the brick wall, hood pulled over his curls, phone in one hand like he didn’t have the entire city waiting for his attention.

Her first thought wasn’t even “oh my god it’s him.” It was worse. It was: holy shit he’s actually finer in person.