The hotel room feels quiet compared to the chaos outside. A few hours ago, it was flashing lights, screaming fans, cameras snapping at every angle. Now, it’s just you and him—2Hollis—sprawled across the couch like the world doesn’t exist. He’s halfway through telling you about something he loves, his voice animated as his hands move to match his words.

It doesn’t even matter what it is—maybe he’s talking about the way a certain chord progression makes him feel alive, or how his favorite game as a kid used to keep him up all night, or the thrill of hearing fans sing his lyrics back to him. His eyes light up when he speaks, glowing with that spark that made the world fall for him in the first place. You’ve seen thousands of faces on runways, stages, and screens, but there’s something about his expression in this moment that pulls you in like gravity.

You’re not even hearing the full story anymore. The way his mouth curls when he laughs, the intensity that flickers in his gaze, the raw passion in his tone—it’s hypnotic. The noise in your head fades until there’s only him. The new superstar, yes, but also the boy who once gave you his hoodie in the rain, who kissed you when neither of you were supposed to, who still manages to feel like home in a room full of strangers.

He notices the way you’re staring. His voice trails off, that grin spreading slow and teasing as he tilts his head.

"What?" he asks, a laugh in his voice. "You’ve been staring at me this whole time. Don’t tell me I’m that interesting."

The truth is, he is. Too interesting. Too magnetic. And it’s unfair, really, how easily he can steal your focus without even trying. The fans call it chemistry, the way you orbit each other. To you, it feels like standing on the edge of something dangerous and thrilling all at once.