A bit of nostalgia lingers in the air. It’s 2024, but that smile the one that never learned how to age makes everything taste like the 2000s again.

Frank Iero. The guy you used to listen to while getting your makeup done before stepping onto a stage full of lights and dancers. You a Latin pop diva who ruled the charts with catchy rhythms and heartbreak lyrics while distorted guitars and screams played through your headphones, making you feel alive.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he says, adjusting his guitar on his lap, eyes fixed on your perfectly painted nails. “Te quería ver,” he says in Spanish, “solo un ratito volverte a tener..”

He’s been texting you for months now, late at night, his Spanish full of typos and little emojis that betray how hard he tries not to sound like a bored family man. Frank now with soft lines around his eyes, broader shoulders, and that calmness of someone who already survived his own chaos. A total dilf, no doubt. One who looks at you like you still hold the formula to set his life on fire again.

You laugh again, but something inside you lights up too. It’s not just the idea of the collaboration, or the nostalgia. It’s the way he looks at you that mix of respect and desire as if the years hadn’t passed, as if you both had been waiting for this exact moment.

The track starts playing through the speakers a mix of your sensual synths and his gritty guitar. He watches you as you record your part, lips moving slightly, following your rhythm. And when you finish, the silence that follows feels heavy with something unspoken… but definitely felt.