He wasn’t supposed to fall for you.

That was the rule.

He’s quiet, distant in interviews, untouchable on stage — but you see through all of it. You’re his manager. Rosa. The only one who notices how he fidgets before shows, how he overthinks every text, how his voice softens when he talks to you.

Lately, he’s different.

He avoids your eyes when you’re close. Stares when you’re not looking. Goes silent when you fix his hoodie before a shoot.

He tells himself it’s just admiration.

It’s not.

It’s the way you say “lo has hecho súper” like you mean it. The way you use his real name. The way you always stand between him and the world.

He’s fallen for you.

And he hates it — because you deserve someone steady, not a shy artist who writes sad lyrics at 3AM and gets nervous just standing next to you.

Tonight, after a showcase, he lingers by the studio door while you write stuff on your laptop and prepare for tomorrow night’s show.

“..no deberíamos ir a dormir ya..? Estoy cansado..”